The problem with revisiting my old fics is that I hate my own writing. *lol* As a result, I've had to do a lot more editing than I'd thought, so it's probably going to take me quite some time to get through all the 40 chapters.

Chapter three: Going home

When we board the train in the afternoon, a cheering crowd of Capitolites is there to see us off. The roar is deafening as Peeta, by popular demand, kisses me. I can feel his anger and frustration in the kiss, but I know it's almost over, and that's all that's keeping me on my feet right now. That, and Peeta's steadying presence. I'm absolutely exhausted, and when the train doors silently slide shut behind us, I exhale in relief. My knees are shaking.

"Are you okay, Katniss?" Peeta looks worried as he studies my face. "You're so pale." He quickly steers me into the lounge compartment, and gives me a glass of ice cold water after I've sat down on the couch. My mother and Prim follow us, but Peeta's family, as well as the Hawthornes, have gone to their rooms. Haymitch probably headed straight for the bar.

"What's going on?" My mother says as the door closes behind us and we are alone. She looks worried, too.

My hands are shaking so badly I spill a few drops of water on my dress. I look up at her. "It's just been a few really long days." Which is not a lie, but it's not the whole truth, either.

She narrows her eyes. "What did Snow say to you in the limo?"

I can't hide my surprise. My mother seems to start to understand how the Capitol works. I wish neither she nor Prim had to understand, but perhaps they'll be more careful if they know at least parts of what's going on. This is not the time or the place, though. I have to weigh my words carefully. "The President reminded me of my place, and my duties as a victor."

She nods slowly. Her eyes dart over to Peeta, then back to me.

"What happened last night?"

I pale, and Peeta's hand finds mine. "Nothing that wouldn't have happened eventually anyway," I finally whisper. Peeta squeezes my hand, but doesn't say anything.

I've rarely seen my mother angry. I've seen her happy – with my father, so long ago. After my father died, I've seen her heartbroken, devastated, and nearly suicidal. I've also seen her only exist, not really living, just an empty shell - for year after year. But I've never seen her angry, not until now. "Katniss, what is that man doing to you two?"

"It was Peeta or the highest bidder," I whisper.

I meet her eyes, and I gasp. Her Town blue eyes are on fire.

I suddenly see myself in her. I'm not like my father. I don't have his loving disposition or his positive outlook on life. I am like my mother - I see my own strengths and weaknesses reflected in her. It's scary to look into the eyes of my mother, who I resented and even despised at times because I found her weak, because she betrayed her daughters when we needed her the most - and realize that I'm like her.

"So much for victors living in luxury for the rest of their lives," my mother finally says. Peeta is staring at the floor, as if ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Everdeen", he says. He looks like he's close to tears, too.

"Don't be. None of this is your fault. I saw you two this morning, and I saw that you were… different from the day before. But in a good way. The way Katniss looked at you... I hoped it meant that…" Her voice trails off.

"Mom, this is important," I say insistently. You have to be careful." I make a discreet gesture in the direction of the nearest wall. My mother frowns, but then she nods. I think she understands. "You need to be careful when we come home, too. Don't talk about any of this, not to anyone. Peeta and I will be alright. Okay?"

Her face tells me that nothing about this is okay, but she still nods.

With every passing minute, we get further away from the Capitol. And as we get closer to home, I feel the tension slowly leaving in my body. After dinner, we are all in the lounge. Even Haymitch has left the bar, but he still has a glass in his hand. Peeta and I sit on a plush red velvet couch together. My feet are drawn up under me, and I lean on him. His steady heartbeat underneath my ear lulls me to sleep.

I am swimming in a sea of white roses. The thorns pierce through my skin, all over my body, and my blood stains the roses red. I try to stay afloat, but no matter what I do, I sink. The synthetic smell is overpowering, and then white petals enter my mouth, my nose. I can't breathe. I'm suffocating. I want to scream, to gasp for air, but I can't. The petals are drawn into my lungs, as I desperately fight for survival.

"Katniss! Katniss!" Peeta is shaking me. "It's just a dream! It's not real! Wake up!" All of them stand around me. Peeta's family. My family. Gale and his family, Effie.

Haymitch, too. He looks older than I've ever seen him. So tired.

Peeta's holding me, and I break down in his arms. My throat is sore, and I realize it's not from nearly being drowned in rose petals, it's from me screaming my head off. I am mortified that they all witnessed this.

The tension of the last few weeks is finally released, and my body shakes from violent sobs as I cry against Peeta's chest.

"Peeta, why don't you take her to your room?" Haymitch suggests gently, with a hand on his shoulder. He wisely doesn't touch me. I suppose he's no stranger to nightmares. "Do you need some sleeping pills?"

I shake my head. "They make it worse," Peeta says, his voice low. "She'll just get trapped in the dream longer."

He should know. He has nightmares, too.

I pass Peeta's mother as we leave. She gives me a cold look, but doesn't say anything. I'm mortified that she, of all people, witnessed my nightmares.

I sit down on the bed in what is now officially our compartment. Before, Peeta and I used to have separate compartments, but everyone knew that we'd always sleep together anyway. They just didn't bring it up, except Effie, who would sometimes mutter something under her breath about our sleeping arrangements being "not proper". We don't have to pretend anymore now that we are married, though.

"Your mother hates me," I say to him.

"Oh, she hates everyone from the Seam," Peeta says and rolls his eyes. "Don't take it personally."

"But it is personal."

Peeta doesn't answer right away. "Yes, it is," he finally agrees.

A long time ago, his father was in love with my mother. But she chose my father, the miner with the heavenly voice, instead of the merchant baker. Peeta's mother can never forget or forgive that she was her husband's second choice. And now her youngest son is married to the daughter of the only woman her husband has ever loved.

He helps me take off my clothes, my body feels so numb that I'm not even sure if I can lift my arms. There is nothing sexual about him taking off my dress, it's like he's helping a child.

As he tucks me in, he says, "Try to sleep, Katniss. We're going home now. You'll feel better in the morning."

I nod. With every mile that separates me from the Capitol, I feel better, even though I know I can never truly escape. "Stay with me," I whisper, and he smiles, stroking my hair.

"I'm not going anywhere, Katniss," he answers. He gets into bed with me. He holds me in his arms and whispers loving words to me until I start to fall asleep.

We're going home.

I wake up to the sound of the train as it exits a tunnel. The morning sun is shining in through the window. Peeta is awake. His face looks gaunt and drawn.

This is the second morning we wake up together as husband and wife.

"Did you have nightmares?" I ask him as I trace the line of his jaw with one finger.

"Yes."

"Did you get any sleep at all?"

He shrugs. "Here and there. I've mostly been watching you sleep, though." Watching over me. Always trying to keep me safe. "Did you have any more nightmares after the one earlier?"

Memories from last night come back to me. I should've known better. I shouldn't have fallen asleep among so many people, most of whom knew nothing about my – our – nightmares. I wonder what they are all thinking now. Especially Peeta's mother. Not only is her son married to a scowling Seam girl who knows nothing about cooking and cleaning, she also screams her head off in her sleep.

Great.

I shake my head. No more nightmares that I can remember, anyway. He kisses my forehead lightly. "I didn't think so. You looked so peaceful." He pauses. "How are you feeling? About everything." I can tell it's hard for him to ask that question, and it's difficult for me to answer it, too.

"I'm still trying to process everything. It's all pretty overwhelming."

"For me, too. I just wanted to know if we were, you know, okay. With what… happened on our wedding night." His voice is hesitant, and there is fear in his eyes.

I'm scared, too.

"I'm angry that we were put in that situation," I say hesitatingly. "It's something that should have happened at a time and place that we chose."

"So you really think we would've done that eventually? Like you said to your mother?"

"It was always going to be you," I tell him.

He shakes his head. "No, that's not true. If Prim hadn't been reaped, do you think we would've ever gotten married?"

I think about how he never dared to tell me about his feelings for me. And how I swore I would never get married, never have children that could be reaped. He has a fair point. I shrug. "Probably not," I admit. "But it did happen, so there's no point in thinking about what if's." I take his hand. "I think that we did the best that we could, considering the circumstances. And if it had to be anyone, I'm glad that it was you."

His body stiffens, and I know that I've hurt him. Again. I'm so bad with words. "I'm sorry," I blurt out. "I didn't mean it like that."

"No, it's okay. I understand what you mean. I'm sorry, too." He kisses my forehead. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it." He bites his lip, he looks flushed. "I hope I didn't do anything – too quickly? I mean, I know it hurt, and…" His voice trails off

"It didn't hurt that much, really," I smile shyly. It's hard to look him in the eye now. Talking about how I feel is bad enough, but talking about sex? It's not something I've ever discussed with anyone. I clear my throat. "After a while, it started to feel… good. Really good."

"Do you think we'll… do it again sometime?" I can barely hear his voice now, his whisper is so low.

I lean in to kiss him. "Yes," I whisper. "Not now, but… Later. When it feels right and it's just us."

His fingers are combing through my hair, again and again. "Yes," he breathes. "Katniss, I know that you don't feel the same way about me that I do about you. I know this is sudden. But I just want you to know that if you need time, or feel that we're… too much... Please let me know? Okay?"

I suddenly realize how difficult it must be for him, to get married to the girl he always dreamed of, knowing that it's something she was forced to do. "Okay."

We lie in bed together until we can't ignore the growls of our stomachs anymore.