A/N: Hello there. This is my first attempt to write in the Hunger Games fandom and so I would appreciate constructive criticism where needed. This is the story of how Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark grew back together after the rebellion and their return to District Twelve. This type of story has been done before so I'm sure there will be some similarities between mine and other author's versions. However, I hope to keep this as original and canonical as possible. Reviews are ALWAYS appreciated and looked forward to. I love 'em! ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. All rights go to Suzanne Collins.

To Survive

Part One: Home

Chapter One: Waking Katniss

I wake up from my dreams screaming of bombs and fire, mutts and roses. Roses. My stomach clenches to think of the sickly stench of mingled roses and blood coming from President Snow. The paradox those two things represent to me would be comical under different circumstances. The beauty of roses masking the nauseating smell of fresh blood. How fitting that it would be the president of Panem who would be identified with such a combination. Panem itself is just such a paradox. Presented to the rest of the world as a brilliant bastion of lights and technology, progress and prosperity. Roses. But underneath the mask of beauty there was blood, so much blood. For decades, perhaps centuries, the districts were crushed under the iron fist of the Capitol.

I think of my father, who was crushed in the coal mines when I was just eleven years old. He was crushed so badly that there was nothing left of him to bury. He was crushed by the Capitol just as all the districts had been since as long as anyone could remember. The Capitol had so much blood on its hands. Blood beneath the roses. And as my mind wanders once more to the thought of roses, my stomach begins to lurch as I remember the brilliant light form the bombs and the noise they made as someone made the decision to drop a bomb on a fourteen year old girl; my sister, Primrose Everdeen.

I want to cry. I want to sink down into the couch and never be seen again; to never have to see anything again. The thought of Prim perishing in a cloud of smoke and flame when she didn't even have to be there is just too much. She shouldn't have come to the Capitol; there was no reason for her to go. Who in their right mind would ever send such an innocent child into the front lines of battle where the outcome was almost certain death? It is at that point that the irony begins to sink in for the first time.

The only one who could have made that decision was Coin, President of District Thirteen. She's the one who sent my sister to an early grave. After everything that had been done to break free from the Capitol, after all the lengths people had gone through to be different from the people who ruled the country for so long it was the leader of the opposition who ultimately became guilty of the same thing she had accused the Capitol of being so guilty of: Using children as pawns in her games. And that, I suppose, is why I killed her and not Snow. It doesn't matter. I made my decision to shoot President Coin and President Snow had died anyway; either by asphyxiation or by crushing. Either way, they were both dead.

And now, sitting here on this couch I begin to wish once again that I had joined the two presidents and simply died. How much easier that would be! If I could just die then I wouldn't have to think about Prim or my mother, who I haven't seen in nearly two months because she can't bring herself to return to the place where she used to have a somewhat "normal" life. I wouldn't have to think about my forced exile in this place where so much of my life was spent in anguish. Of all the punishments they could have imposed on me for assassinating the new president they chose the harshest one of all: Life in District Twelve.

Here I have nothing. No father, no mother, no sister; only the memories of the two people I loved the most. Memories of starvation and fear on every Reaping Day; memories of panic and a forced romance to be gawked at by the entire country; memories of finally believing that my nightmare was over, only to be sent back into the Hunger Games where the Capitol was certain that I would die. But no, I was forced to keep living even then. When I was first sent back to Twelve there was almost nothing left from the firebombs that consumed nearly our entire district. Today, some people have come back to rebuild and try to start all over again but it isn't the same. I wouldn't know for sure since I haven't left my house since I got here but how could District Twelve ever be the same after all that happened here?

And now the tears come. Tears over all the poor people who died during the attack, who couldn't get out in time. Tears over all the ones who perhaps tried to escape and saw the planes coming in just before they were blown away. There were so many of them. Madge, perhaps the only school friend I ever truly had, who gave me the mockingjay pin on Reaping Day that had become the symbol of the rebellion; she was gone, and her whole family as well. I think of Lady, Prim's pet goat who never stood a chance. The Mellark's, Peeta's father and mother and his older brothers. I remember how Mr. Mellark gave me cookies after I had been Reaped and assured me that he would look after my mother and sister to make sure they were eating. Mr. Mellark had once hoped to marry my mother long ago. He could have harbored resentment against me, the offspring of the man from the Seam who he couldn't compete with. But no. No, he vowed to take care of my family even though I was going in to an arena to kill his son. And at the thought of Peeta Mellark I simply lose it.

I can't bear the thought of how he was tortured for months by the Capitol. How the boy with the bread, who saved my life more times than I can count, who loved me unconditionally despite myself, had been forever altered by those twisted Capitol scientists. I knew of course, that Peeta was still alive. But the Peeta I knew, the handsome, thoughtful boy with his winsome words who caused the entire nation to fall in love with him during his interviews, who ensured that I would have sponsors in the 74th Hunger Games by making me seem desirable, who teamed up with the Careers and fought off Cato in order to protect me, to help me win, would never return. No, the Capitol had managed to take him away from me too through their hijacking, the implanting of false memories within his mind that caused him to hate me.

I haven't seen Peeta since I had shot Coin. They hadn't allowed me to see him before or after my trial and he has yet to return to District Twelve. I doubt he ever will. I'm vaguely aware of the lightening sky marking the early passage of night to day but I don't care. This day will proceed the same way it has for the last month and a half. Greasy Sae will come over at 8:00 to cook me breakfast and I'll sit there staring blankly at the meal she prepared. She'll tell me that I have to eat and that I ought to take a shower or go hunting, or both. I'll pick at my food and take a few bites to appease her and then she'll leave. Or perhaps she'll do some cleaning since I won't do any myself. Greasy Sae has long since removed any knives, forks, just about anything sharp that was lying around the house out of fear that I might use it to cause some harm to myself.

Perhaps Haymitch will stumble over drunk and tell me that I look terrible. When I don't respond he'll stumble out the back door grumbling and cursing about who knows what and I'll just sit on the couch and stare off into space; maybe take a nap and wake up form some other terrifying dream. At 7:00 Greasy Sae will return, maybe with her young granddaughter and cook me dinner. She brings news and the occasional gossip from town. Things like who has moved back to the district or who has moved in from another area. She seems quite interested in this because inter-district travel was forbidden before the rebellion. There's talk of building a new factory in the district that would create jobs and stimulate the economy but I don't care. How could I? I don't need a job; I have more money than I'll ever need and who would hire me anyway? I'm the town lunatic, holed up in her house like some side show.

But deep down I wish I could…do what? Talk to someone? Complain to someone? Cry to them? Tell them all my troubles? Perhaps that is what I do need. But who is there? I could talk to Sae of course. She's here every day like clockwork. But could I actually bring myself to speak? There's Haymitch. But he'd probably be passed out or too drunk to be of any comfort anyway. And the thought of Haymitch Abernathy being comforting is laughable even in my deluded state. I haven't answered a single one of my mother's letters or phone calls. I haven't spoken to Dr. Aurelius, the Capitol doctor into whose care I was assigned as part of my treatment and conditions for not being sentenced to prison or death. I should call him. Sae tells me it would help.

I think back to a time before all of this mess. Before the war and rebellion, before the Hunger Games. There was a time I carried on somewhat normally. Who did I talk to then? And then my stomach clenches again as I think of his name. Gale Hawthorne. To be honest, I haven't thought about Gale much since returning to Twelve. He and his family managed to make it out of Twelve before the place was bombed and Gale became an integral part of the rebellion. He also might have been the reason my sister was killed, those bombs being very similar to the ones Gale had helped design in District Thirteen. I know he never would have sent Prim into the Capitol and that he had no way of knowing that his creation might be used to snuff out my sister's life; but I can never forgive him for his near indifference to my pain afterwards.

What was it he said?

"That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family."

I bristle at his self-absorption. How could he be so worried about his romantic standing with me when I had just lost my sister, the entire reason I had volunteered for the Hunger Games and ended up in this mess to begin with? I just wish…and at this point I'm done with wishing. There's nothing realistic to wish for. My family is either dead or never coming back to Twelve, my sanity seems to have perished, my best friend, or so I thought, may have been partially responsible for my sister's death but was too concerned about his own standing to comfort me, and the only person left who I'm sure was always acting in my best interests, Peeta Mellark, is thousands of miles away quite possibly never to be seen again. And my heart aches when I think that even at that last moment, the last time I ever saw Peeta, he saved my life again. He stopped me from taking the nightlock pill. He put his hand in its place and endured a fierce bite from my mouth.

I have no other choice but to get up and stumble to the bathroom where I kneel down over the toilet and wretch. Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire, has burned out.

xXx

When I wake up I find that I've been draped in a thick, red blanket and that my head is resting on a small pillow. Oddly though, I'm still on my bathroom floor. I look out the window; it's bright outside. Greasy Sae must have already come by and found me lying here after my vomiting episode. Deciding that I might as well stand up I glance in the mirror. What a rude surprise I get.

I haven't bothered to look in the mirror or even bathe in the last three weeks. So seeing my reflection for the first time was a bit of a shock. My dark hair lays about wildly atop my head, frayed and uneven in places because of the bombs. Parts of it are matted and I vaguely register what my old Capitol stylists would think if they saw me like this. My normally olive toned skin is abnormally light and sallow, probably from the lack of sunlight. My bones are more prominent than they've ever been in my life, even during the darkest days after my father's death and my eyes have a sunken quality to them. The vain part of me regrets that I've let my body fall into such waste. I look almost nothing like that night on Caesar Flickerman's show where my dress transformed into a brilliant flame and Peeta first professed his love for me. If only Peeta could see me now, he might not be so quick to kiss me anymore.

And my heart sinks even further as I realize that I miss Peeta more than almost anyone else. But what would I do with him if he were here? I guess it depends on which Peeta we're talking about; mad, damaged Peeta or the sweet and generous Peeta from before the war. Knowing him, if he were here, he would want to spend time with me for some mysterious reason fathomable only to him. He might want to hold me or kiss me or maybe even something more. And a small part of me wishes he would just show up and tell me what he wants and I'd be willing to give it to him. But the rest of me is still in shock over all the things that have happened since Prim was blown up. I feel so confused.

And then I'm hit with a novel idea. I'm going to take a shower. It would be my first one in weeks and it sure would surprise old Sae when she returns this evening. Peeta wouldn't want me to waste away; neither would Prim. So I step into the tub and revel in the warmth of the water as it hits my body. The steady jets are soothing on my flaky skin that has been neglected since my return to District Twelve. I'm supposed to be applying liberal amounts of skin cream and salve to help with my scars. But I haven't. If I had I probably wouldn't even have scars right now. Oh the miracles of the Capitol's vanity.

It's while I'm shampooing my hair that it hits me. Another brilliant idea. I'm going to go outside today; better yet, I'm going to hunt. At first I wonder how I could ever come up with such an idea. Then I realize that it's Peeta. The shampoo's aroma reminds me of the shampoo Peeta would use in the Capitol just before our first Games. In fact, it may be the very same brand. When I step out of the shower to dry myself off I take another look in the mirror. There is only slight improvement. I appear to have washed away the growing level of grime that had coated my nails, nose, and lips; but my ribs are far too prominent. And although it makes me blush at the thought, I notice that certain parts of my anatomy that I'm sure Peeta would have loved to have seen at least once are nowhere near their original proportions. I seem to have shrunk overall and the thought that Peeta risked his life so that I could keep living makes me determined to regain my weight for his sake, even if I never see him again.

So at 10:30 I make my way out the back door dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans left over from the Capitol and a brown top. The jeans had once been very form fitting, accentuating the curve of my hips but they feel loose today because of my weight loss. The sun shines brightly overhead and I can hear birds singing contentedly, oblivious to the disaster that has wreaked such havoc on our area in recent years. The air is warm and there's not much of a breeze. By looking around at the trees that are still very full and green I gather that it is probably early of mid spring. April or early May

My walk towards the forest goes unnoticed since few people live in District Twelve in comparison to before the war. Ours was always the least populated district anyway. So I'm not stopped by anyone wishing me a good morning or congratulating me on surviving the war. No one sees me head towards my old stomping grounds with my bow in hand and arrows slung across my back. It is better this way; I can't handle too much interaction anyway. I've only seen three people since my return: Haymitch, Sae, and her little granddaughter. The metal fence that for so long blocked our district off from the forest has been torn down, no longer electrified, no longer anything. All that remains are a few pieces of twisted metal laying strewn about the grass here and there.

My mind goes back to my first time slipping through the fence after my father died. I was so afraid, so utterly terrified that I would be caught. But I never was. Only one time was I ever trapped in the forest and that was when the new, stricter peacekeepers had the fence electrified. That was the day I hurt my ankle, the day things really started to go downhill. Now there are no more peacekeepers, no fence, no ban on hunting, no Hunger Games. Life would be good if it wasn't so bad.

Before stepping completely in the woods I stop short. I haven't been back here in a year. There are so many memories; memories I'm not sure I want to relive. Memories of me and Gale hunting and trapping together, of Gale ranting against the authority of the Capitol, of the two of us working together to feed our families. I remember Gale asking me to run away with him, to leave District Twelve behind; I remember when Gale caught me by surprise and kissed me after my first Hunger Games. But Gale is gone now. Whatever might have existed between us was destroyed as assuredly as my sister was destroyed by those bombs. He's off in District Two with a fancy job and probably some glamorous young woman. And all for the best. It's less complicated with Gale gone. So I take a deep breath and then cross the threshold to the green world that was for so long my home away from home.

Within five minutes I realize that my personal neglect has affected me badly. I missed two birds I should have easily been able to kill. My first kill is a rabbit that on an ordinary day I would have shot clear through the eye. Instead, my arrow pierces its neck and there's some flailing around before it goes still. Minuets pass, then hours. I've lost track of time and figure it's time to head back home. The trek back to my house in the Victor's Village is made more difficult since I have a full pack of rabbits and squirrels to carry as well. But I'm comforted by the thought that I am still able to hunt; and I'm sure Greasy Sae will appreciate a full bag of fresh game.

I refuse to walk past the old area that used to serve as a sort of black market for District Twelve. The Hob. I remember all the times I traded in there; it's what kept my family alive for years. The Hob of course, no longer exists. It too was blasted away by the Capitol and apparently there's no need for it anymore. But my heart sinks a little when I remember how Gale and I would team up for our trades.

It takes about a half hour to walk back home and when I get there I see that Haymitch is outside my door sitting on a chair. He looks both smug and a little distraught so I decide to approach cautiously.

"Well I'll be damned" he says. "I can't believe you're out and about sweetheart."

Haymitch has definitely been drinking. I can smell it on him as I get closer.

"Well I figured it was time to do something" I say back.

Haymitch just smirks and says "I think that's the first time I've heard you speak since you got here. And you've showered too. Well, who'd have thought you'd get so far in one day."

I'm not quite ready to deal with Haymitch's sarcasm so I start to walk towards the door without another word when he stops me, holding out his arms so that I can't pass. I look at him questioningly and he is wearing a look that says I had better brace myself.

"He's coming."

"Who?" I ask.

Haymitch wipes the hair from his eyes and gives me a long, penetrating stare.

"Peeta" he says finally.

My mind is reeling. Peeta's coming I repeat to myself. Is that good or bad? I've longed to be able to speak to Peeta since Prim was killed but never got the chance. I've dreamt about him; about losing him, about finding him, about taking care of him and stopping the torture. Every night I sleep on the couch because I'm afraid that if I go upstairs to my own bed I will be reminded of how Peeta and I shared a bed on the train to the Capitol. I've wanted Peeta to be here for as long as I've been here but at Haymitch's word I'm suddenly afraid of what will happen. Will it be the old Peeta or the deranged one? Surely they wouldn't send Peeta back here if he was mentally unstable; but they sent me back here so who knows? Will Peeta hate me for all that I put him through? For leading him on during our first Games, for pretending he didn't exist for months after our return to Twelve, for allowing him to be captured and tortured by Snow, and for not trying to contact him once in months?

All these thoughts whirl through my mind but oddly, I ask Haymitch a sensible question.

"When will he be coming?"

"Friday" he says, "at 10:00 am."

"And what's today?"

Haymitch's eyes narrow. "Wednesday."

I need more information so I say "And what time is it now?"

Haymitch checks his watch and slurs "Three o'clock."

So I have about a day and a half before Peeta returns. I decide that for the next day and a half I'm going to do everything in my power to clean myself up. If for no other reason than I don't want Peeta to be anymore distressed when he gets here than he needs to be. Even if he no longer thinks of me in a romantic way I doubt his kind nature would be able to take the sight of Katniss Everdeen falling apart at the seams.

"Ok" I say. "Thank you for telling me." But there's something that pulls at the back of my mind, something I need to ask Haymitch.

"Have you been in contact with him all this time?"

Haymitch has already gotten up to leave but stops halfway down the front steps. He turns to me and says "Somebody had to answer his phone calls." With that, Haymitch walks off towards his own house.

My phone has been ringing ever since I got here. Was Peeta trying to talk to me? Did I shut him out just like all the rest? I vaguely register that my phone hasn't been ringing as often lately. Has Peeta stopped calling? Does he think I want nothing to do with him? Suddenly I'm filled with a vast range of emotions so I go inside, slam the door and toss my game bag on the kitchen counter before falling onto the couch to crash.

When I wake, the clock on the wall says 6:00. One hour before Greasy Sae returns for dinner. I register that I haven't eaten anything since the bit of scrambled eggs and bacon from breakfast that was wrapped up for when I left the bathroom so I'm pretty hungry. But more importantly, it's time for me to take another shower so that I can be as presentable as humanly possible for Peeta's arrival. I'm not quite sure why it's so important that I look good for Peeta. In an ordinary situation someone might say it's because I have feelings for him. And I do. I'm just not sure what those feelings are. So I content myself with saying that I just don't want Peeta to worry about me.

I take longer in the shower this time, washing away the scent of the forest and trying with all my might to clean every inch of my body. I almost wish my prep team were here to beautify me but then I stop short at the thought of Cinna. Cinna, the secret rebel who made me a national star with his flawless designs and who swore that he was betting on me to win. Cinna, who was beaten bloody before my eyes and then executed for his troubles. If Cinna were here he could make me beautiful; I know I could talk to him. But Cinna is also gone so I busy myself with scrubbing in between my toes.

Afterwards, I lather on the skin salve I was prescribed for my burns and scars. I'm surprised when I immediately feel a sense of relief pass over my skin. I know that this is good for me. I slip into a pair of white silk pajama bottoms and a matching top that feels so welcoming on my skin. I've made a point to tuck my wet hair behind my ears in an effort to look more put together and the effect of my appearance is such that when Greasy Sae arrives just five minutes after I get dressed she stops what she's doing and stares at me.

"I don't know what possessed you to do all that" she says "but I sure am glad to see you get cleaned up. You look gorgeous."

I know she's trying to be nice because I certainly do not look gorgeous, but after examining myself in the mirror after the shower I agree that clean hair and skin and fresh silk pajamas do wonders in making me appear less ugly. What a minute. Ugly? I was never a very feminine girl even when my father was alive although his death definitely hastened by journey into being what you might call a 'tomboy.' But I never thought that I was ugly. I just didn't worry about trying to make myself look good like so many of my peers. Obviously I was attractive enough that Gale was interested in me. Peeta proved time and again his love for me so I guess I must have something going for me. But the trials of the last two years have taken their toll on my looks and not bathing for weeks at a time hasn't helped either. But hopefully I'll be able to come back somewhat and look halfway normal. I'll try at least.

"I brought you some fresh game" I say, motioning to the bag on the counter. Sae looks around in mild surprise but only nods and says "That you did."

She busies herself with skinning and gutting the meat and then wrapping it up to place in the freezer. Then she sets to cooking up some beef and potato soup.

Sae continues to look at me in mild surprise as I eat the soup without protest, even filling up a second bowl for myself. It's the most I've eaten in who knows how long; I've forgotten just how good food is when you're enjoying it.

"Girl, what has gotten into you today?" Sae asks.

I gulp down my soup hungrily and wipe my lips carefully. "What?" I say.

The older woman, who by now must be in her mid seventies, shakes her head before speaking.

"You have barely moved an inch in nearly two months and haven't turned on that shower in almost as long. You barely eat the food I make for you and you hardly ever say a word. Now all of a sudden you're clean, you're eating, and you've gone hunting. What changed?"

"Peeta's coming back." I didn't mean for that to be my answer. I was going to say something about how I thought that Prim wouldn't want me to be miserable forever and that I couldn't let President Snow win. But no, the return of Peeta Mellark is what comes out as my reason for my sudden change in attitude.

"Oh, I see" Sae says with a smile.

"What?" I ask, somewhat more fiercely than I intended.

Sae just chuckles to herself and begins to wash the dishes. "Oh nothing" she says. "I'm glad the boy is coming back here. There's a shortage of good bread. It's just not the same when I make it. Sweet young man like him has been missed around here."

I don't know if Sae is referring to her need of good bread when she says that Peeta has been missed or if she means some of the teen girls who have apparently moved back in; but the thought of ditzy young girls talking amongst themselves about missing Peeta makes me irritated for some reason.

"Do you know when he'll be here?" Sae asks me.

"Haymitch says Friday morning at ten."

Sae nods. "Then I'll be sure to come by a little earlier Friday night and cook up a big dinner. Try and shoot a deer tomorrow and I'll make some venison stew. Should be nice for a welcome back dinner."

I nod, the reality of Peeta's imminent arrival starting to really sink in.

"Oh" says Sae, "and you might as well invite that mentor of yours. Someone probably needs to feed him too."

I smile for what seems like the first time ever. But it's actually a welcome feeling. In just 48 hours I'll be having dinner with Greasy Sae, Peeta Mellark, and Haymitch Abernathy. It almost feels like that's the way it should be.

The rest of the meal passes by enjoyably enough and Sae and I talk about the rebuilding of the district. I actually find this somewhat pleasant even though I've shut most of it out for the last month or so. Several families have moved in from District Five to start over fresh and a few of the originals have also returned. Delly Cartwright decided to remain in District 13 which has been moved back above ground and about six families from the Seam have returned. Starvation has not been a problem since the fall of the Capitol to the rebels; everyone in the district has been on a relatively even playing field and most are able to hunt or grow their own food.

I ask Sae how she's been surviving and she tells me about the butcher's shop she's opened in town, close to where the Mellark's old bakery used to be. When I ask her where she got the meat from she says "You're not the only one in town who ever hunted illegally." I smile at this and wonder who taught Greasy Sae how to hunt.

After Sae finished drying off the last of the dirty dishes, I thanked her for looking after me the last couple months.

"Don't thank me Katniss" she says dryly. "It's the least I can do. You've been through a rough couple of years; even longer since your dad died. But I do hope you'll start taking care of yourself better. It doesn't do to see a strong young woman like yourself waste away from despair."

I nod and promise her that I'll start to do better. She nods as well and sends a conspiratorial wink my way.

"That boy must be something special if he can pull you out of your haze and still not even be here."

My ears and cheeks burn at that comment but I don't say anything in response. I've already blurted out enough about Peeta today.

Sae chuckles and packs up her things. "Try and clean this place up a bit before he gets here" she says to me. I nod and she starts to head out.

Before she closes the door she turns around slightly and says "I'm glad to see you're finally awake Katniss." After that she walks out and closes the door behind her.

I stare after her for some time before I realize that for the first time in months I actually feel awake, alive. It's hard to describe but after existing in a semi-catatonic state for weeks on end I feel very much alive and energized. I go to sleep that night on the couch with my mind and heart racing with thoughts of recovery, rebuilding, and getting reacquainted. Perhaps the Girl on Fire still has some sparks left.