Somehow I manage to make it back to my house, still reeling in shock over Peeta's reaction to the squirrels. Sitting on the couch in the living room, I replay the entire exchange in my mind, but for the life of me I can't figure out what caused his sudden mood swing. Is it possible the memories of his father triggered a hijacking episode? I think back to what his face looked like just before he snapped. His eyes were still bright blue instead of black and didn't have that deranged wildness that they'd had in the Capital, but it's been so long. Maybe he's recovered to the point where that's no longer a 'tell' for an episode? I think harder, picturing him standing in the doorway, with the squirrels clutched to his chest and tears running down his cheeks. There was definitely grief there, but no madness. No, this wasn't the beginning of an episode. This was a young man struggling with unimaginable grief. Grief that I understood better than most, having also lost almost everyone and everything I cared for.

I also understood that I was the root cause of all his pain, starting when we were children and he suffered a beating so my family wouldn't starve, and continuing when I pulled out those berries what seems like ages ago, setting in motion a chain of events that caused consequences neither of us could have comprehended at the time. No wonder he pulled away and hurled those vicious words at me. He has every right to hate me, to think that I'm just using him because he's here and not Gale. I recall the words he'd said right before slamming the door, 'I DID care for you and look what it got me'. He said 'did', not 'do'. As in past-tense, as in he's realized the mistake he made all those years ago and finally sees that I'm not worthy of his love or friendship.

You'd think I'd feel relief at this; at never having to worry that I'll become as attached to him as my mother did to my father, relief that I am now free to move on with my life. A year ago, I would have rejoiced at this realization, but after everything that's happened, everything we've been through together and survived, I feel confused and bereft. I've grown so used to Peeta always being there, so used to his thinly veiled references to his undying love for me, that it comes as a huge shock to think that those feelings are gone. The thought that those eyes will never again look upon me with kindness is enough by itself to send me into a downward spiral of despair but then I also consider the loss of his strong arms to hold me through the night, and of his firm yet gentle lips that made me feel a hunger that threatened to consume us both. I push those thoughts aside immediately. I have no right to receive comfort from Peeta anymore and he's made it perfectly clear that he has no intention of ever sharing that closeness with me again.

I feel a burning in the back of my eyes and suddenly it's all too much to handle. I run upstairs to Prim's closet, where I shut myself in amongst all the clothing she left behind. I spot her reaping outfit and the tears that have been threatening to fall come out in a torrent. I wrap my arms around my middle and sink to the floor, letting out gasping, ugly sobs. I allow myself to just sit and cry for what I've brought onto myself, for what I've done to Peeta, for the loss of Prim and countless others.

Eventually, my sobs devolve into hiccups then stop altogether. I wipe my eyes and snotty nose on the sleeve of my shirt and take a few deep breaths to steady myself. 'Crying AGAIN? What the hell is happening to me today?' I whisper to myself.

dwdwdwdwdw

I've been sitting in the closet for a good while when I hear a light scratching at the door and an inquisitive "Meow". Buttercup. He's either hungry or angry that I've invaded Prim's room, which he's deemed as his private domain since his return a couple weeks ago.

I think back to that night and sigh at the memory. It was a particularly bad day and I hadn't moved from the chair in the kitchen since I sat down after breakfast. The sun had long since gone down, and as I sat there I became aware of a presence in the room with me. I turned and there he was in all his tom-cat glory. We stared at each other for a few moments then what followed was a mutual-misery party with a lot of screaming, yowling, and crying culminating in the two of us coming to an understanding. He comes and goes as he pleases then sleeps in Prim's old room and I don't interfere.

Our relationship has blossomed into one of mutual tolerance – he no longer hisses at me and I stop threatening to drown, skin, shoot or otherwise harm him. It's a situation that has worked well for us so far, but now it looks like in his eyes, I've crossed some sort of line.

There's another "Meow", a bit more forceful this time, and more scratching at the door. I open it up, fully expecting him to pounce at me with his claws raised. Instead, Buttercup comes into the closet and looks at me, his yellow eyes alert and his tail twitching. He cocks his head to the side and gives another small "Meow", almost as if he's asking if I'm ok, before crawling into my lap where he lies down and starts to purr.

This is so unexpected that I let him sit there and start stroking the ugly orange fur of his back without realizing what I'm doing. He seems to like the attention and stretches his body, elongating it so that I can reach more of him while rubbing his head on my arm. I continue stroking his fur for a few more minutes, until he's decided he's had enough and gently nips my hand. I'm just about to hurl him out of the closet when he runs off of my lap, jumps on to Prim's bed , curls up in the middle and promptly falls asleep. I guess I've used up my goodwill allowance for the day.

I chuckle and haul myself up and out of the closet. My joints ache from sitting there for so long; especially my back and my knees, which protest with loud pops as I stand.

When I come out of Prim's bedroom, I notice the sun has gone down, indicating that I was in the closet for several hours at least. I stop in the bathroom to splash some cool water on my face before heading back downstairs. A glance at the clock in the kitchen confirms that its now dinnertime, so I gather up yesterday's leftover stew from Greasy Sae and some bowls and utensils, then head over to Haymitch's to make sure he's still alive.

As I walk across the square to Haymitch's, I turn my head and glance over at Peeta's house. There's smoke from the chimney again, so he's either baking or making use of the squirrels. "Good", I think to myself, "at least they won't go to waste."

I step around Haymitch's geese, which have returned from wherever they'd disappeared to yesterday, and climb up the front steps to his door. I give a knock -more out of habit than anything else, since I know he won't answer- then take a few deep breaths and go inside. The mess that assaults my senses is of epic proportions. Piles of rotting garbage are everywhere, mixed in with dirty laundry, empty bottles and what I'm really, really hoping are goose droppings. The smell, which can only be described as a noxious mix of cauliflower, vomit and soiled body odor, makes my eyes water instantly. I pull my shirt collar up over my nose to try to lessen the stench, but it doesn't really help.

The buzzing of flies from the piles of garbage drones in my ears as I walk through the foyer and past the living room to the kitchen. There are splatters of some unknown brownish-green substance all over the floors and walls and I have to avert my eyes to keep from retching. My shoes stick to the floors as I walk, pulling away with a squelch at each step. Finally I come to the kitchen, which is relatively cleaner than the previous rooms, but not by much. At least there doesn't seem to be piles of anything questionable lying about.

Haymitch is asleep in a chair, leaning down onto the tabletop. One hand is curled protectively around a half-full bottle of white liquor, while the other one clutches his ever-present knife. I set the container of stew, the bowls and utensils down on a relatively clean section of the counter, making sure they are well out of the way of Haymitch's reach. I find a water pitcher that someone, probably Greasy Sae, brought over once before, and fill it with the coldest water I can get from the tap. I position myself behind Haymitch where he can't reach me with the swing of his knife arm and pour the water over his head.

He jumps up as if it were burning lava poured onto him instead of water, knocking the chair backwards and swinging the knife around madly.

"What the hell?"He cries, "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" He still has the bottle clutched in his other hand, drawn close to his body as if it were an infant to keep it protected. He shakes his head like a dog, sending water droplets all over the kitchen.

I put the pitcher back on the counter, trying really hard not to laugh. "Sorry,"I say, but he knows I'm not sorry. "This seemed like the easiest way to make sure you're still alive without running the risk of being knifed."

Haymitch gives me a glare that can only be described as lethal and puts his knife in the holder he wears under his jacket. He sets the bottle back down on the table carefully, as if it's a precious treasure - which I guess to him, it is. He uses the tail of his dirty shirt to wipe the water out of his eyes and swipes it up over his hair, giving me a glimpse of his pasty white stomach and chest. Before I am blinded by the doughy expanse of white, I turn back to the counter to get the stew. It's already in a pot, so I put it on the stovetop and turn on the flame to heat it through then set the table with the bowls and utensils. A search of his cabinets turns up a relatively clean glass and run it under the tap to clean off the dust that's collected from it not being used. Once it's clean enough for me, I fill it with water and go back to stove to stir the stew.

Thankfully, by this time Haymitch has tucked his shirt back in and is once again sitting at the table, leaning back in his chair. He takes a healthy swig from the bottle and watching me with narrowed eyes. "So Sweetheart, to what do I owe the pleasure of your fine company this evening?" It's hard to miss the sarcasm dripping from that statement.

"Can't I just have dinner with my favorite mentor?"I say sweetly as I continue to stir the stew on the stovetop.

"Favorite mentor? HAH! I'm your ONLY mentor, sweetheart. Not to mention one of the few people left around here who can tolerate your sunny disposition for more than a few minutes." Haymitch says with a snort. "What's the matter? The boy didn't want to come over and play house with you?"

Before I can catch myself, I turn and give him the iciest stare I can muster.

Haymitch's eyes widen and he lowers the bottle that was he in the middle of taking a swig from. "Damn, who pissed in your corn flakes? Or is it just your time of the month?" He slaps his knee and laughs like he's the funniest man on the planet.

I ignore him and turn back to the stew, trying not to let him notice how much his words bother me while he continues to chuckle softly. The stew is heated through now, so I turn off the flame under the pot and carry it to the table, placing it on a pot holder so the heat doesn't scorch the table top. Not that it would really matter since the table is covered in layers of grime and other unmentionable substances. Haymitch watches me carefully as I spoon the stew out for both of us, not saying a word and not drinking. He's still looking at me as if he's trying to puzzle something out when I sit down and start eating. We sit like that for a few moments, him staring and me eating, when he seems to come to some internal decision and, shaking his head, begins to eat as well.

There's just the sound of our spoons scraping the bowls when he speaks again. "You know what would make this stew taste even better?"

"Not using wild dog meat?"I say without looking up.

"Don't be a smartass. While you do have a point, I was referring to bread, fresh baked bread to sop up the gravy. THAT would make this taste better."He leans back in his chair as if waiting for my reaction.

I think of the remaining half of the bread Peeta had given me this morning. "Yeah,"I say, quietly.

"Too bad you didn't think to invite Peeta. I'm sure he'd have whipped up some nice baked goods to bring over for his 'Favorite Mentor'."Haymitch says this nonchalantly as he goes back to shoveling stew into his mouth.

I gasp before I can stop myself and feel the tears threaten again. I know Haymitch is baiting me though, so I keep my eyes trained on my bowl, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "Well, he did just get back today. Maybe he's not up to company."I reply with an ease I don't feel.

"Humph,"snorts Haymitch, "And why wouldn't he feel up to company just yet? I'd have thought for sure he'd want to take right back up where you two lovebirds left off before the Quell. Especially since tall, dark and glowering is off in District Two doing who knows what."

I'm grasping my spoon so tightly that my knuckles are white, his words hitting me like slaps in the face.

"He slammed the door in my face,"I say softly, still looking at the contents of my bowl.

Haymitch's smirk falls and he looks genuinely concerned for the first time. "What? When did this happen?"

"Earlier this afternoon,"I admit, looking up at him for the first time. "I had gotten some squirrels for him when I went to the woods this morning. I brought them over to his house, you know, as a thank you for the primrose bushes, and as a welcome back to Twelve. At first, when he took them from me, he seemed pleased, even remembering that they were his Father's favorite. That's when things went downhill. Peeta started to cry then he accused me of coming to see him because Gale wasn't around and that I was there because I pitied him. I told him I wanted to be his friend, that we WERE friends. I told him that I cared for him and when I said I thought he cared for me, too…."I trail off as the memory becomes almost too much. "He said that was the problem, he did care for me and look what it got him. Then he slammed the door."

Haymitch sits there considering everything before leaning back in his chair. "Well, I guess I really don't blame him for feeling that way."

"What do you mean?"I ask him, anger rising inside me.

"Look at it from his point of view. He's been lied to and manipulated from the moment his name was pulled from that reaping ball. By you, me, the Capitol, Coin, everyone he thought he trusted. Add to that the fact that most of his memories have been stolen AND his family is dead, it's no wonder his cheese slid off its cracker,"says Haymitch matter-of-factly. "Also, he knows that you lied about loving him in the first arena, that it was a means to keep you both alive. Then everything happened with Snow threatening everyone you cared about, and don't forget your reaction to Gale's whipping. All of that makes it harder to puzzle out what your real feelings were versus what was part of the act. Are you friends, lovers or strangers?"

He pauses and looks at me expectantly and I sit there, stunned. The seconds tick by as I consider what he's said.

"I don't know,"I finally answer.

"Then that's your first step,"He leans back in his chair and takes a swig from his bottle."You've both gone through horrors that no one ever should, and you've survived in spite of overwhelming odds that were never in your favor. Now that you're free to have a choice, you need to seriously think about what that choice will be and I strongly suggest you do NOT start up again with that boy if your heart isn't truly in it because I don't think he'll survive having his stomped on again."

I look away from Haymitch at that point, taking a long drink of my water before finishing the rest of my stew. He finishes off his bottle of white liquor and puts it down on the table then picks up his spoon and starts eating again. After a short pause, he decides to impart more wisdom to me. "There's an old saying from before the Dark Days – 'You don't know what you've got until it's gone'. Basically it means you shouldn't take anything for granted because when you finally realize it's what you want, it may not be there anymore and then it'll be too late.

Look, Katniss, despite the way he reacted to you earlier, that boy still cares for you. The primrose bushes prove that more than any words he could have said. You need to figure out what you want then work your way up to it. If you decide you do want a relationship with him, don't expect him to jump right back into whatever it was you had before. Neither of you are anywhere near ready for an emotional commitment, so you'll have to start off small."

I think about his words and the fact that he's always annoyingly right. I sigh, shake my head at him and say, "Since when did you become such an expert on this stuff?"

"Effie."he says with a laugh, "She used to watch these horrible Capitol programs called 'Soap Operas' and this shit seemed to happen at least once a week on the shows. She used to talk about them. ALL. THE. TIME. Clearly some of her crazy took root. What an insufferable woman."

"Speaking of Effie, I haven't seen her since she escorted me to assassinate Snow. What happened to her?"I surprise myself by sounding genuinely concerned about our former escort.

Haymitch sighs, "She's fine. She works for Plutarch on his stupid singing competition. She's a 'Talent Wrangler' or some stupid title. She had my phone fixed and calls every now and then to, ah…, 'check on the geese'."

"Oh,"I say knowingly, "Next time she calls to 'check on the geese', please tell her I said hello and I'm glad to hear she's doing ok." Haymitch gives me a frown at my implication and I give him a smirk.

We've both finished the stew by that time, so I gather everything to take back to my house for cleaning while Haymitch roots around for another bottle of white liquor. I'm fairly certain if I tried to wash the dishes here they'd come out even dirtier than they started. This thought sparks an idea and I make a mental note to speak with Thom to see if there's anyone in Town who could stomach taking on the toxic-waste dump that is Haymitch's house and clean it up for him.

When I have everything together, I tell Haymitch, "I'm going back to my place now. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow."

He sits back at the table, opening the new bottle and taking a generous swig. "Sure, Sweetheart, whatever you say. Try not to let any geese in when you leave; they make a hell of a mess in here."

I just stare, the irony of his statement clearly lost on him. I take a deep breath and say, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For listening to Effie, even if it was against your will."I tell him and walk back down the hallway to the door, holding my shirt over my nose to block out the smell so my dinner has a hope of staying down. As I softly close the door, I hear him laugh and say, "I'm getting too old for this shit".

When I get back to my house, I wash the dinner dishes and set them out to dry. Then I set the kettle on the stove and prepare to make myself a cup of tea. While the kettle is heating, I go upstairs and change into pajamas for the first time since coming back. I clean myself up a bit then go back downstairs to the kitchen, where the water has just come to a boil. The whistle of the tea kettle is cut off sharply as I turn off the flame. Using a dishrag, I pour water into my mug and immediately smell the peppermint rising from the bagged tea and mint leaves. The smell calms me almost instantly and I hold the mug up to my nose, inhaling deeply. I let it steep for a few minutes, and then remove the fragrant bundle, placing it on a dish by the sink. Even though there's no longer a shortage of tea, I can't bring myself to toss out the used leaves. Once dry, they're still good for another use or more, if you combine several bunches. Old habits die hard, I guess.

I take the tea into the living room and sit on the couch, fully prepared for another sleepless night. As I take a sip of the steaming liquid, I think back I think about Haymitch's question: What DO I want from Peeta? He's absolutely correct that Peeta has been used horribly, especially by me and has lost his ability to trust. The question is whether or not he'll be able to regain that ability and, more importantly, where that leaves me. Like Haymitch said I need to figure out what I want from Peeta before we can move on with our lives.

I sip my tea and force myself to think back over the last couple of years. Most of the memories are horrible scenes of death, either ones that I caused, like Marvel, Cato and Coin, or ones that I was powerless to stop, like Rue, Mags, Finnick and most of all, Prim. The grief I feel over Prim's fiery end threatens to choke me and I force the images of her burning flesh that are branded in my mind to recede, replacing them with any good memory I can latch onto.

The first one that comes is Peeta and I on the roof of the Training Center the day before the Quarter Quell. I remember how it felt to just give in and let myself enjoy being with him. To not worry about how any of this would affect Gale or my family or what would happen the next day. To just accept his love for what I had thought would be the last moments of my life. I picture the sunset from that day, how Peeta kept his arms around me as we stood there watching the sky fade from orange to pink to purple and finally to black. I can practically feel his arms and the way his breath would skitter across my ear and neck with each exhale as he stood behind me, the way he always smelled of cinnamon and dill, no matter how long it had been or how many showers he'd taken. This leads me to memories of those nights on the train, how much better we both slept when we were together. How he was always there to hold me after a nightmare, how safe I felt, even though we both knew we were anything but.

I look around the room and my eyes fall on my family's plant book, the one Peeta and I worked on together after I'd hurt my ankle dropping over the fence. I think back to those afternoons, how Peeta had said it was the most normal thing we'd ever done together. He was right, those afternoons were as real and carefree as our lives could ever be and I find myself wishing we could have had more time like that.

I force myself to think about all of the kisses we'd shared, both in the Games and during the Victory Tour. My heart races when I remember that kiss in the cave before my head wound interrupted us, the one on the beach in the Quell, interrupted again, this time by Finnick. Where would things have gone if either of those had been allowed to progress naturally? Then I think about our last kiss, the one in the Capitol that brought him back from the brink of an episode. That was the only kiss that wasn't televised for the cameras and for that reason it felt like it was our true 'first kiss', even though there was nothing romantic intended. It felt right at the time and I can't bring myself to regret it for one second. First of all because it brought Peeta back from his episode, but also because that was the moment I realized how much I needed him. Regardless of the fact that I fully expected to die shortly thereafter, I needed him to be there, to be present when we said goodbye.

I sit up on the couch and put down my now cold mug of tea. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I need Peeta. I need him, not just because he's here and Gale's not, but because he makes me whole. He makes me want to be better, to be the person he always knew I could be, but was too stubborn to see it. I know at this moment that I will do anything to repair all of the wrongs he's endured in the past and make him see that he's always been my choice, ever since that day in the rain with the bread. It just took me forever to stop being stubborn and see what's been in front of me all along. I don't know if this means I love him, but I know that I need him in my life, even if it's just as friends.

With the decision made, I realize just how tired I am after this long, long day. I turn off the light and cocoon myself in blankets on the couch. I'm not worried about the nightmares tonight, they're inevitable, but for the first time in months, I have hope in my heart and that's enough for now.

A/N: again a huge thank you to everyone who has followed and favorite this story. And to those of you who've left reviews – you make my heart happy! Special thanks to marycontrary82 for her mad beta skills and Ro Nordmann for creating such a beautiful banner (see it on tumblr – famousfremus)!