Author's Note: I hope you guys enjoyed the prologue. (:
I'm sorry about the delay, guys! I've been busy with college and I have writer's block like CRAZY!
But I'm back and ready to roll. Chapter 2 should be up soon too!


Chapter One

Before I realize it, I'm standing in the town square that has risen in the middle of District 12.

The cobblestone street, paved right after the end of the war, is dusted by a layer of snow as I begin to walk straight down the street.
This path will lead me to the alley that I use as a shortcut to get to the house where Peeta and I live. Everyone around here right at this moment either keeps to themselves or is crowded with others in the shops and other hangouts around the square. The only thing that I notice as I walk is the fact that some of these people raise their heads to stare at me.

I'm used to it. This is just a part of who I am now.

After all I am the one responsible for the rebellion that had brewed in Panem after the 74th Games.

Unfazed, I continue down the street and turn the corner to the left down the narrow alley leading to the house Peeta and I share.

When I reach the end of the alley, I am met with a marble wall that shoots up about four stories and is as wide as the eye can see on either side.

There are windows punched intermittently through the wall in perfect alignment, allowing me to find my way to the black wrought iron door that separates them in the middle. The door is heavy and I have to exert great force to push against it to gain entrance to the next area. It swings back into place, locking itself with a loud crashing clank and I flinch as it does so.

This door leads into a wide, open courtyard that is centered by a chattering, bubbling square fountain that is teeming with fish big and small beneath the surface of the water that is dotted with lily pads. The fountain itself is surrounded by a stone base and on each of the four corners sits a flowerpot occupied by several blooming primrose plants, all of which I planted in memory of my sister. When the small yellow flowers bloom in the spring, I see my sister's face and remind myself to stay strong for her. Unfortunately for me right now, because of the season, the primroses are nowhere to be found, all having died off so I make a mental note to immediately get more next spring.

From the sides of the fountain spring multiple lines, each jutting off into different directions that remind me of the twelve spokes of the clock arena from the third Quarter Quell, my second and last Games ever. For a moment, I can still hear the thunderous ticking of the clock we had heard within a short time of the arena and my anxiety seizes me for a few moments, memories flooding my mind.

Brutus, Enobaria... the morphlings... Beetee, Wiress, Finnick, Johanna... Peeta... and all of the other tributes...

Monkeys... blood rain... poison fog... jabberjays... the lightning tree...

I dismiss them with one shake of my head.

I follow the line that juts from the side of the fountain on the left, letting it lead me home, and I continue to walk in silence up the slight incline where the snow has begun to accumulate more, leaving patches of white all over the short, jagged grass and the roofs of houses around me. The house I share with Peeta sits just a little further up the incline where the ground levels out.

Our house itself is nothing like the ones in the Victors' Village which was destroyed soon after our return to 12 to aid us in forgetting the effects of the Hunger Games on our lives. Some of District 13's finest architects have made it here and over the past two years have constructed the new houses for us... but unlike the Victors' Village house, this house is a soft beige color so it has a warmer vibe to it.

Plus, as a gift to me and Peeta, it came with a few slight alterations.

Upstairs in the back of the house lies a large room where Peeta spends part of his days painting. This room faces the west so he can capture the light of the sunset on his canvases whenever he feels so inclined. Just down the hall is our bedroom where Peeta holds me, comforting me when my nightmares induce terror and I wake up screaming. The bottom floor of the house is made up of a large sitting room, a bathroom, a long hallway connecting the rooms, and a spacious kitchen. Since the war ended, Peeta has spent most of his time in the kitchen baking. He does what he can to provide for those who are new to the district by making sure they at least have bread to fill their stomachs when they come to settle.

Needless to say he is very popular for it.

When I reach the house, I walk very slowly up the steps of the front porch, my feet plodding against the stone, feeling like blocks of iron. My heart is burdened with deep emptiness and I try to ignore it as I fumble for my key to the front door that lives in my jacket pocket.

But to no avail.

I pull the key from my pocket, unlocking the mahogany door, and push against it. As I push it open, a flood of warm air attacks me, blowing my hair back and practically defrosting my fast as I enter the house. My nose detects the delicious aroma of bread and from the front hallway I head immediately toward the kitchen where Peeta's loving arms and lips will greet me. I round the corner into the kitchen's entrance and happen upon a blonde figure.

But it's not Peeta. My eyes dart to this person's.

Haymitch smiles slyly in my direction as he holds a clear bottle with amber colored liquor in it. It's uncorked and half-full. "Why, hello, sweetheart. Enjoy your walk?"

From where I stand halfway across the kitchen, I can smell the liquor on his breath and it makes my stomach turn.

I'm in no mood to see Haymitch so I merely grunt in his direction. "It was spectacular." I say flatly.

Haymitch smiles slyly again. "Always a piece of work."

I grow angrier in that instant. "What are you even doing here? Aren't you supposed to be slumped over in a chair passed out?"

He glowers at me.

"I came to get my alcohol from your lover boy."

"How did he get it?"

"He went to the trading post." Haymitch replies. "I ran out. Last night, Peeta came over to check on me and offered to buy some more."

Oh, you just won't get alcohol poisoning and die, will you? I think to myself.

"Lovely." I reply. "Feeding the addiction..."

"That's right." Haymitch replies contentedly, swigging from the bottle.

Usually I'm happy to be home with Peeta but Haymitch being here makes me want to go into the woods, find a handful of nightlock and stuff it down his throat.
It would serve him right.

"You're still messed up from the war, Katniss. That happened two years ago. I think a little refreshment could do wonders for you... you know, cheer you right up..." Haymitch tells me.

I make eye contact with him and force myself to repress violent things from coming out of my mouth.

"Why? So I can end up an old drunk like you?"

Haymitch laughs, giving no verbal response, and goes back to downing his liquor as I scan the kitchen for Peeta. I look back to Haymitch with an annoyed expression on my face, prompting Haymitch to point over the island counter in the center of the kitchen and to the stove. Peeta crouches in front of the oven, his eyes in an intent stare through the small window in the front, seemingly oblivious to the two of us.

"Hey, baker boy, your lover's home."

Peeta turns from the oven and stands, a wide smile on his face when he sees me.

"Hey." He says, making his way to over to me. I pull him toward me and we hug for what seems like an eternity. Then we pull away from the hug and our lips meet. That's when Haymitch decides to remind us that he's still in our midst.

"If you two don't mind," He tells us as he snatches up a dozen different assorted bottles of alcohol and heads for the door leading out to the back of the house, "I'm going home. If you need me, you know where I'll be... passed out somewhere."

The door slams shut and Peeta and I look to each other.

"Crazy jackass." Peeta smiles. "Why do we put up with him?"

I lean in and kiss him, trying to forget the world around me at the moment. Unfortunately for me this tactic doesn't work. "Because we have to. We're a team, remember?"

"Yeah."

"Speaking of our team..." Peeta begins "...have you heard from Effie lately?"

I shake my head. "I've seen her on TV once or twice. She's one of President Paylor's assistants now, but other than that I'm in the dark about how she is."

"Hmm." He replies. "Oh, well."

"She'll get in touch with us eventually. You know Effie." I tell him.

We both laugh quietly. I take Peeta's hand and hold it, feeling extremely fortunate that someone like him loves me. Unsure of how to handle this situation conversation-wise, I sigh and look to the floor. We stand there in silence and I find that it is more than fine with me. I love being with Peeta. He makes me feel secure and he loves me. That's all I truly need anyway after all that's happened. Ever since the war ended, he's all I've known as far as affection is concerned.
He's my everything.

"Want some bread?" Peeta asks me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze that pulls me straight out of my stupor.

He knows just what to offer and say when I'm in this mood.

"That would be great." I answer quietly.

He pulls me toward him and places a small kiss on my lips, causing my stomach to erupt into butterflies.

"I love you." I offer to him.

Peeta's eyes meet mine. He often gets uppity when I say this to him. He doesn't think I should, that it wears away the true meaning if it's said too often.
I watch as his lips curve into a small smile and he squeezes my hand again. I most certainly do love him but I refrain from saying it often because I agree that it takes away from the words' effect if thrown around carelessly.

"I love you too." He replies softly.

We let our foreheads touch gently for a few moments and he backs away, turning to the oven to check on the bread that he's been baking. My hand scrambles for his again once he's released it but I pull it back and sigh. Nothing could be better than me being alone with him and I decide to cherish each moment, counting the seconds, knowing that they are short. Someone is bound to be stopping by soon for their ration of what Peeta has made and anger rises within me.
Peeta should be with me and no one else. We hardly get any time to spend with each other. I close my eyes and sigh contentedly, enjoying the moment of silence.

That's when the phone on the wall next to the oven rings.