A/N: I thought I'd post the next chapter today to get the ball rolling with this story. It's still early but I thank all those who have reviewed or are following this story (all two of you!). If this chapter seems to jump through different emotions quickly it's for a purpose. Katniss isn't going to be completely normal just because Peeta's back. Hopefully you all will enjoy it. Also, I wanted to include a little hisotry so I took what little is mentioned about history in the first Hunger Games book and took it from there. What I say about it reflects the attitude of Katniss and not necessarily my own. You'll see.

Chapter Two: Madly In Anger with the World

I can't believe a day and a half has passed so quickly. In just an hour's time I'll be walking with Haymitch to the train station waiting for the arrival of Peeta Mellark. I promised myself on Wednesday that I would do my utmost to look presentable for Peeta and I really have tried. I've taken two showers a day, gorged myself on Greasy Sae's breakfasts and dinners, made sure that I ate a good lunch each day, washed all of my nicest clothes, and have even gotten my hair cut by the new District Twelve stylist who came all the way from the Capitol to set up shop. I like her. Her name is Isabel and she's not much like most of the Capitol people I know; she reminds me more of Cinna who, although born and raised in the Capitol was very much an ordinary person, lacking the pompous styling's and effects so common in that part of the country.

Isabel recognized me instantly as Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire, but she didn't ask any questions about why I looked so different from how most Capitol citizens remember me. Perhaps, like Cinna, she knew just how grueling my life had become since Reaping Day almost two years ago. So instead of asking how my hair got into its messy, uneven state, she went about working wonders with her scissors and blow-dryer, applying surprisingly little product. When I asked her why she wasn't trying to turn me into some sort of Capitol clone she said "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

I'm surprised to hear that she doesn't think I look broken. I certainly think I do. But she just continued snipping and spraying and drying until finally my hair looks as good as it's ever looked outside the Capitol.

"There" she says. "You look lovely."

And I do. My hair is now shoulder length and styled in such a way that I don't even think I'd be able to tell that it had been uneven. Its volume has increased so that it doesn't look as though I'm just wearing a horse tail on my head; my bangs have been blended with the rest of my hair and it falls down like luxurious curtains with a part down the middle. I smile slightly because for the first time in a long while I think that I actually look decent.

I thank Isabel for her work and she replies that she's up for cutting my hair any time. So now I'm waiting anxiously in my kitchen for Haymitch to come over so that we can walk together to meet Peeta. This morning I feasted on a delicious ham and peppers omelet and I think Greasy Sae is near giddy that I'm eating so much now. Of course, nowhere near enough time has elapsed for there to be any substantial weight gain; but in just the few days since I learned of Peeta's return I've noticed that my stomach seems to bulge just slightly. Hopefully soon the weight will distribute to the rest of my body and not settle only in my stomach.

Before long Haymitch arrives and he's surprisingly sober. I guess he takes Peeta's return just as seriously as I do. Haymitch pauses to take in the sight of me and for a moment I become very self-conscious. I'm relieved when he says "Maybe there's hope for you yet kid."

So together we head off into town to await the train that will bring Peeta Mellark back into my life. I have to admit I'm a little frightened. The last months I spent in Peeta's company were very difficult with him alternating between his ordinary self and the Capitol's maniac version. Peeta even tried to kill me once and even though I know it wasn't really him, the memory of it sends chills up my spine. I don't know what to expect when I see him. How will he look? Will he be strong and fit like he used to be? Or will he be just as thin as I've become? What will he expect from me? Friendship, love? Companionship, romance? Everything or nothing at all? It's the unknown that scares me more than anything since I don't know what I'm willing to offer Peeta either.

We went into the Hunger Games together and we both saved each other's lives more than once. There's no one else who's been through so much of the same terrible things with me like Peeta. Not my mother, Prim, Gale, or even Haymitch. No, Peeta and I share a unique bond. I would like to be Peeta's friend; in fact I think I might break down if Peeta rejects me as a friend. But how far am I willing to take things with him? It's no secret that Peeta wanted more. But do I? Truthfully, I don't know. I must have kissed Peeta hundreds, thousands of times even, for the Capitol cameras. But that was all staged, an act to gain sponsors so that we could get out of the Games alive. Or to try to convince President Snow that I wanted no parts of the burgeoning rebellion. But then I think back and remember that perhaps it may not all have been just an act.

It certainly wasn't for Peeta. He one hundred percent wanted to be the loving couple the Capitol presented us as. And there were two times that I can specifically remember wanting more than the phony kisses I staged for the Capitol audience. Both happened during the Hunger Games; our first Games and the Quarter Quell. The first one was in the cave. I can clearly remember the warm sensation that spread through my body and the yearning I had for more exploration before Peeta stopped me because of my injury.

The second and last time I felt that feeling, that desire for something more, was on the beach during the Quell. Everyone else was asleep and Peeta had revealed he was willing to give me everything, including his own life so that I could return home and be rid of this nightmare forever. He was even willing to forfeit his romantic attachment to me so that I could go home and live happily with Gale. His words still haunt me today.

"Your family needs you Katniss. No one really needs me." And what was it I said to him?

"I do. I need you."

And then I kissed him. I initiated it. But instead of it being a fake one for the cameras, I really felt it. I meant what I said to him. I did need Peeta. And when our lips met on the beach I knew that there was more meaning behind it then there had ever been before. Any kiss I'd shared with Gale had been nothing compared to this. I was hungry in a way that had nothing to do with food.

So there was something there. But the question is, would that something, whatever it was, still be there when Peeta arrives? Gale is gone. There's no one to interfere with us now. But I'm still confused and I really don't know how to handle these emotions so I force myself into a conversation with Haymitch.

"How does he sound on the phone?"

"About as good as he ever did. They wouldn't be sending him here if they didn't think he was safe enough to interact in ordinary society."

This is a good thing I tell myself. "Has he explained to you what his treatment has been like?"

Haymitch chuckled darkly. "Not in any detail, no. But it's no easy task to reverse a person's memory once it's been reversed already. What Peeta experienced in the Capitol was more torturous than you and I could ever imagine. I doubt he'll ever be completely cured. They probably have him on some high powered drugs among other things."

And again my heart breaks for Peeta. Why did someone so sweet and loving have to be forced to endure such barbaric tortures? I want nothing more than to throw my arms around his neck and sob into his shoulder. But the last time I threw myself at him he tried to strangle me so I don't think that's the best idea.

As we near the train station I stop in the middle of the road and Haymitch turns around to look at me.

"What is it?" he asks.

My heart is pounding so fast I'm afraid I might go into shock. "Haymitch" I begin. "What if he's not the same? What if he hates me because of all he's been through?!"

And it starts to come out, bubbling to the surface. My true fear is that the boy with the bread will turn against me. Not because of some wicked torture of the Capitol's but because he's made a conscious decision. Very few people would blame him if he did reject me. He had a crush on me for years and I never paid him any mind. After he admitted his crush in front of the entire nation I went ahead and slammed him into a wall accusing him of trying to sabotage me. In the Games I dropped a Tracker Jacker nest on him, although admittedly I didn't know he was trying to protect me at the time. I faked a romance with him without telling him that it was fake; I led him to believe that I actually returned his feelings when I was really just using him to gain sponsors. I avoided him for months after our return home and spent my time growing closer to Gale which surely pained Peeta to no end. And to top it off I never even answered his phone calls when he was in some hospital thousands of miles away from home. If I were in his shoes I would reject me.

But I feel like if he does I'll just die. I might even be sent into a worse downward spiral than when Prim died. All of this spills out of me and so Haymitch has no other choice but to wrap his arms around me in an attempt to soothe me.

"Shhh, listen" he says. "It's going to be fine. That boy is not going to reject you sweetheart. To think that he will is doing him a disservice. He's about the most upstanding person I know. He won't leave you; you're his life."

And I look up at Haymitch wondering how Haymitch knows that Peeta said those exact words to me before. Then I remember that it was during the Games so the whole country probably heard it. A few people have stopped to see what all the commotion is about and I realize that I'm making a scene. So I disentangle myself from Haymitch and mutter a choked "thank you." Haymitch pats my back lightly and motions for us to move on.

The rest of our journey passes by in silence and when we arrive we're ten minutes early for the train. Haymitch leans against a column and looks out into the distance before he starts to speak.

"I wonder sometimes what our lives would be like if those wars never happened."

His comment is kind of vague so I ask him to elaborate.

"The wars" he says. "The ones that happened centuries ago."

I realize he's talking about the Great Territory Wars that nearly caused the end of human civilization. They briefly gloss over these wars in school but some of the older folks who remember a time before the Dark Days still tell stories about what they learned before the Capitol instituted such heavy censorship.

About four hundred years ago the Great Territory Wars erupted after a series of events that led to disaster after disaster. There were skirmishes within nations after necessary supplies like food, water, and oil became scarce. The climate was changing and the oceans had started to rise in many coastal regions, covering once prominent cities with feet of water. Yet, in other places, it was not water but unbearable heat and fire that scorched much productive and fertile land leading to famine. Droughts that spread across hundreds and hundreds of miles caused widespread death of people, animals, and plant life.

Overpopulation became a problem. The national governments were unable to provide adequately for everyone within their borders, especially once the disasters started. Skirmishes within nations quickly became skirmishes between nations. Large scale wars erupted between nations who fought over available territory that had become so precious since much of the land had been consumed by fire or water. Eventually, nuclear weapons were used and in some cases entire countries, entire ethnic groups were obliterated, wiped clean off the map. Countries that had the largest populations survived better than the smaller ones. But even they lost much land and people.

There were five major surviving powers. Most of their names have been lost to time, at least in this part of the world, but it's said that two of them lay off in the far eastern part of the world. The smaller areas that were not completely destroyed were forced to become dependent on these larger places for support. In this part of the world, one of the surviving powers was called America. But it too eventually splintered and broke down until rebels living in a mountainous area called the Rockies became powerful enough to wrest control from the central government that was located, oddly enough, not far from District Twelve. The new government called itself Panem, which means 'bread' in some language long since forgotten. That was the point. The original leaders of Panem, the rebels who took down America, promised the people food. Bread. And hunger won out. Thus, Panem was born.

The rest of Panem's history has been recorded at length by Capitol historians for centuries. But I wonder why Haymitch has brought this up.

"Why are you wondering about those?" I say.

Haymitch shrugs. "I just wonder how life would have been different. Would we even be here if circumstances hadn't forced our ancestors to move around? And if we would still be here, how would our lives be different?"

It's an interesting question I'll admit but it seems an odd moment to ask such a question. I've never known Haymitch to be so introspective so I'm somewhat at a loss for words.

"Well…I guess it doesn't really matter much does it? The wars did happen so there's no point in wondering about what if's."

Haymitch smirks and says "Guess not." Then he's silent.

While we wait for Peeta I can't help but wonder how my life would have been different if I hadn't been born in Panem. What if the old order had survived? What would I be doing right now? In what way would things be different? Would they even be much different? It would be easy to look back and long for some bygone years where things seemed better but the one thing I've learned from the Great Territory Wars is that our ancestors were a very selfish people. Wasteful and self-concerned. If a problem wasn't staring them in the face they didn't want to deal with it. That's how the disasters started. That's what led to the wars. I've never really thought much about my ancestors. I never knew any of my grandparents and I think my mother only knew one of her grandfather's. But suddenly I'm concerned about what legacy future generations will be left with.

There are no more Hunger Games. Panem is transitioning from being a dictatorship into a republic. I'm told that's the form of government that existed in this land before Panem. What will my children be forced to deal with when they're my age or older? And suddenly I stop because I remember I'm never having children. I wonder why I forgot that? It couldn't have anything to do with Peeta could it? And I can't help but smile slightly as I picture Peeta with a little boy that looks exactly like him: Golden blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. Any child would be fortunate to have Peeta as their father. But there's a chance Peeta will never get to have them. I refuse to bring children into this awful world and if Peeta wants me then children are out of the question. Will Peeta even be able to father children in his condition? I don't know but I certainly hope that whatever Peeta wants, he gets. He deserves it.

I'm snapped out of my daydream by the sound of a loud whistle signaling the arrival of the train from the Capitol. I take a deep breath. Peeta is on that train. Any minute now he's going to walk off and see me for the first time in months. I'm so nervous right now my legs are shaking. Haymitch pulls me lightly by the arm and leads me closer to the platform so that we'll be more visible. There are surprisingly more people getting off the train than I had anticipated. Why are so many people interested in coming to District Twelve? Then, not more than thirty seconds after the train came to a stop a tussle of blonde hair appears by one of the side doors.

As he steps down from the stairs he seems to be looking around as if looking for something. Is he expecting me? No, it must be Haymitch. Haymitch must have told him that he would be waiting for him at the train station. After what seems like an eternity, Peeta notices us standing a few yards away and his face brightens into that happy look I had grown so accustomed to before the hijacking. He speeds up his walk and I notice he has a slight limp; the consequences of losing his left leg from our first Hunger Games. I hope his prosthetic isn't bothering him too much.

When he gets about five feet away from us, Peeta drops his bags and lunges at me. I'm about to scream because I think he's going to try and strangle me like he did in 13 but instead he wraps his arms around my waist instead of my throat and pulls me into a tight embrace.

"Katniss! I'm so glad to see you here; I've been worried sick about you! They had me medicated throughout your trial so I barely knew what was going on and then before I knew it you were taken back to Twelve. I tried calling you but there was never any answer. And then Haymitch told me how you were so depressed after Prim…"

Peeta unwraps himself from around me only to cup my face softly in his hands.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

It's such a simple question but I find that I've become lost in the sapphire orbs that are his eyes. I've forgotten just how vibrant they are up close and I wouldn't mind if we stayed in this position for a while longer. My face in his hands and my eyes locked onto his. But I nod slowly and whisper "Yes. I'm glad you're home."

And I am. It's strange though. I haven't thought of District Twelve as my home since before I destroyed the force field in the Quarter Quell; and that was before I lost Prim. But all of a sudden I'm reminded of more comfortable times as Peeta holds me here so that maybe I really can think of this place as home again.

Haymitch clears his throat pointedly although he has a slightly knowing smirk on his face. Peeta gives me a sweet smile and then moves over to Haymitch and offers his hand. Haymitch takes it but is unexpectedly pulled into a tight hug by the deceptively strong Peeta. Haymitch looks as though he's experiencing the pangs of death itself while locked in Peeta's embrace but slowly, he pats the younger man's back. I work hard to stifle a laugh at the sight. I know Haymitch has always gotten along better with Peeta than with me. Haymitch stayed in touch with Peeta before and after I assassinated Coin. He answered Peeta's phone calls while I moped around my house for over a month. I think Peeta has become something of a son to Haymitch; or maybe a nephew of some sort.

I let out a very soft laugh, almost nonexistent, as I gaze at the sight of the two men in my life: Haymitch Abernathy, the surly, drunken victor of the 50th Hunger Games, who carried on deception after deception in order to keep me alive; and Peeta Mellark, the multi-talented boy who put everything on the line to save my life more than once, who has made me feel things I didn't know it was possible for a girl from the Seam to experience. It's a strange world we live in because I'm suddenly happier then I've been in what seems like an eternity. After spending all my spare time crying and thinking of ways to kill myself I am now determined to keep this moment fixed in my mind forever.

Peeta relinquishes his hold on Haymitch and turns back to me.

"You're hair looks different."

I raise my eyebrows at him. He didn't say he either liked it or hated it; only that it was different.

"I got it cut" I reply. I neglect to mention that I did it because I didn't want him to see me in my deplorable condition.

Peeta nods and says "I like it, although I miss your braid; that was kind of your signature, you know? But I think you look amazing however you style your hair."

And there it is. Peeta has a way of saying the most complimentary things without a shade of embarrassment. It's as if he's unafraid to fall flat on his face and fail miserably. Meanwhile, I turn an interesting shade of red at his compliment and fumble with the proper words to thank him.

"I, um…" Think Katniss, think!

"I'm glad you like it. I cut it because of you." Great. It's true, but I didn't exactly have to tell him that flat out. Peeta looks surprised for a moment but then he breaks out into a warm smile. Haymitch decides it's time to stop talking and head back to the Victor's Village where Peeta's empty house is waiting for him. I go to help him pick up his bags
but he waves me off with a flick of his hand and says "I've got them Katniss; you don't have to carry anything."

I take Peeta's hand in mine and say very clearly "I want to. You just got back from the Capitol after being gone for nearly a year. Let me help you."

Peeta looks at me carefully as if trying to decide something but then smiles and hands me a bag. I feel relieved that Peeta hasn't had one of his flashbacks yet and that he's willing to let me help him. After all the times he's helped me it feels good to do something for him.

Our trio makes its way back to the neighborhood that's occupied by only Haymitch and me with Peeta just about to move back in. I wonder how long the Victor's Village will continue to be exclusive to Hunger Games victors. With the Games outlawed and a new government in power, it would be strange to continue to abide by any of the old laws related to the Hunger Games. Peeta asks about what's been happening in District 12 and so Haymitch proceeds to fill him in on who has moved in or moved back and what the plans are for the District's future. Peeta expresses interest in rebuilding his family's bakery and I feel sad knowing that not a single one of his relatives has survived. It's just Peeta; all by himself.

When we arrive at Peeta's house, number 3 Victor's Lane, Haymitch says something about having to go check on the geese and leaves the two of us standing outside Peeta's front door.

"Do you want to come inside for a minute?" he asks me.

"Sure" I say back.

Peeta opens the door that has been unlocked since before the war and together we take in the sight of his dusty, empty house. It has a barren feeling that unsettles me a bit. My house seems unlived in only because I've barely moved from my living room couch since I've been back. The rooms upstairs are still packed with personal effects that I haven't bothered to use since I've been back. But Peeta's house is completely silent and unnaturally empty; it doesn't fit Peeta's attractive personality at all.

"It needs some work doesn't it?" Peeta remarks.

"You just need to put a little bit of yourself into it. In a few weeks this place will be screaming Peeta Mellark."

Peeta laughs and I laugh with him. It's very comfortable, laughing with Peeta. There's been so little to laugh at lately that I'm beginning to think Peeta's return may be the best thing ever to happen to me. We set his bags down on the floor and I move to help him unpack but he stops me short.

"No. I can do it. You don't need to do anything Katniss; you've done enough already."

I don't agree and I tell him so, seeing how all I did was carry one bag.

"Just being there to meet me meant the world to me Katniss. You really don't have to go out of your way to help me."

"It isn't out of the way" I protest. "I want to help you. I…"

I what? I want to stay here with him? I want to cry into his chest and have him tell me everything will be alright? What do I want? From the moment I was told of Peeta's imminent return I've been holding on to some glimmer of hope that maybe things can return to normal. Well, as normal as they can be. But I realize now with him here that I'm not entirely sure what I want. The days and weeks that I've pondered over our relationship and what exactly it is and isn't have all led to this moment: Peeta's return to 12. That's as far as I ever allowed my mind to go because Peeta wasn't here. I didn't know if he would ever return, so every thought or daydream I had of the future culminated in him returning here. What came beyond that was a mystery.

Peeta just stands there silently waiting for me to continue and I feel foolish for seeming so confused. Finally, I steel myself and tell him "I haven't had much to do since I came back. So if you don't mind I'd really like to keep busy."

For a moment I think Peeta might reject my offer again; that he might insist that I go home. But instead, he says "Ok then. You can help me unpack and set things up." There's a faint hint of amusement in his voice, as if he enjoys the idea of having me work for him. But I won't really be working for him; we'll be doing this together.

So for the next twenty minutes Peeta and I unpack the contents of his travel bags and go about arranging them in piles according to function or purpose. His toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, towels, and other grooming needs he takes upstairs into the bathroom adjacent to the master bedroom which he will be occupying. In another pile are brightly colored paints, paintbrushes, pencils, and a particularly fancy looking camera that I don't remember him ever owning before.

"What's this?" I ask, holding up the camera.

"Oh, that was one of my parting gifts from Dr. Aurelius's staff. I was in their care for a while and some of the nurses got kind of attached to me, being a fragile nutcase and all. It also helped that I was a Victor and the tragic lover of the Mockingjay. So they thought that in addition to painting I could maybe take up photography as an art form. It's all the rage in the Capitol to be a photographer and I thought it was a very nice gesture so I took it."

At the mention of the words 'lover' and 'Mockingjay' I wince a little, as if those words are actually capable of causing me harm. But I let it pass and smile as warmly as I can.

"That was very thoughtful of them."

Peeta seems not to have noticed my consternation so he just continues on with his story.

"Oh yes. You'd be surprised how normal the people at the medical center were; the staff I mean. If I didn't know I was in the Capitol I never would have pegged them as being Capitol citizens. They were just like regular people. By the way, Dr. Aurelius wants you to call him. He says he can't pretend to treat you forever."

There's a part of me that wants to ask what kind of treatment Peeta experienced under Dr. Aurelius but an even greater part of me doesn't want to know. I don't want to imagine Peeta being hooked up to machines and being force fed powerful medicines that altered his mind. So I go back to setting up the piles.

Peeta has brought surprisingly little with him back home. Just some clothes, his art supplies, toiletries, and a stack of books that have fancy sounding medical titles.

"Light reading?" I say jokingly while holding up a particularly massive tome.

Peeta rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I got into the habit of reading the medical textbooks they had there. Some of it is actually quite interesting once you understand the basics."

Most people from the Seam never had books in their homes. We were taught to read at school and some of the wealthier families may have had Capitol approved books of some sort; but most people could never afford the luxury. I can remember my mother telling me as a little girl that her grandfather remembered a time when there were these grand libraries that housed literally thousands of books. Books about history, cooking, animals, plants, and even books about people and places that were not even real.

"These were all left over from before the Wars" my mother had been told.

Eventually the Capitol decided that allowing the Districts to possess copies of free-thinking literature was dangerous and so introduced heavy censorship of anything that was not approved by the Capitol. Possession of an unapproved book was punishable by death.

Suddenly I'm quite upset at Peeta for bringing these books back to 12 and I toss the one in my hands onto the floor carelessly. It makes me angry how the Capitol controlled every aspect of our lives for so long while they reveled in all the luxuries of prosperity. There a young child could hope to possess a book without fearing that they would be arrested for treason. Those books Peeta brought back came from the Capitol, and their very presence disgusts me.

This time Peeta notices the change in my emotions and he looks at me curiously.

"Is there something wrong Katniss?"

Wrong? Of course there's something wrong. The whole world is wrong! I know I shouldn't be angry at Peeta just because he has some Capitol books but my emotions, so fragile since the Reaping Day so long ago, threaten to boil over furiously. All the joy I felt over Peeta's return is evaporating and I'm in danger of simultaneously crying and screaming in frustration.

It just isn't fair! The Games, the starvation, the poverty, the politics, being used as a pawn in some perverse games; the knowledge that so many people died because of the Capitol's brutality and that I was right in the center of it simply because I was trying to survive. Yes, it all went downhill when Peeta Mellark confessed his love for me on national television. Why couldn't he have just kept that to himself? Why couldn't I have simply been ignored by the Capitol and left to die in that first arena? The moment he told the country how he felt about me I was forced into an imaginary world of fake romance, lies, and deception. And I couldn't get away from it. Even after the Games I was forced to perpetuate the lie that Peeta and I were in love by a vindictive president bent on snuffing out an as yet unrealized rebellion.

And all the anger, all the sadness, all the raw emotion I've felt over everything that's happened starts to come out. Pretending to be something I'm not for the Capitol, the bombing of 12, Boggs with his legs blown off, Finnick being devoured by angry mutts, and Prim being blown to bits; all of this happened because of a foolish confession of Peeta Mellark's.

Deep down, I know it's illogical to be angry at Peeta, to blame him for any of this. When he said he loved me that first time he was only being honest; he was actually trying to help me, to make me desirable so that I might have a better chance at winning the Games and making it out alive. But my mind is not ruled by logic at the moment so instead I'm shaking with rage at all the injustices I've been forced to experience. All the injustices others have experienced because of their association with me. And one way or another, it all goes back to that night on Caesar Flickerman's show where Peeta Mellark told the world that he was in love with Katniss Everdeen.

So I let out a scream and glare menacingly at the confused boy next to me. And suddenly his eyes turn glassy and a look of pain shoots across his face, followed by rage. Peeta squeezes his eyes shut and grips the closest piece of furniture he can find, a sofa. He falls onto his knees and then the floor looking as if he's having some sort of seizure. I open my mouth in terror as I realize what's happening. Peeta's mind is being hijacked because of the menacing treatment of Katniss Everdeen. What the Capitol wanted Peeta to believe all along has become a reality.