Author's Note: Hey Guys! Here's another chapter for you, it's a little bit longer than the previous ones. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games series or characters, even though I might want to. :)

Hiraeth

Chapter 3

Effie woke me up the next morning by yanking open the shutters in my room in the train. The light sent in through the newly open windows shot white hot waves of pain through my head. I suddenly felt even worse for Haymitch.

I groaned.

Effie turned towards me and spoke softly.

"Katniss, dear, it's time to get up." I sat up reluctantly, clutching my head, and pulled my robe on.

"You know, you really shouldn't be drinking." Effie scolded, but it was half-hearted, we both knew it.

Effie led me out to the dining room where Haymitch sat at the mahogany table. There were a whole variety of dishes on a separate serving table, the smell was exquisite, but I couldn't even think about eating when my head was throbbing so badly.

As if reading my mind, Effie spoke.

"Here, drink this. It should help" She handed both me and Haymitch each a silver goblet that held a pink fizzling drink. It smelled faintly of strawberries, maybe a hint of mint and something else a bit sweet, maybe floral. I couldn't quite place it. Nevertheless, it was a very appealing smell. I barely took a sip and the headache and fogginess of my hangover began to fade away.

"Why didn't I know about this before?" Haymitch asked, shooting Effie a pointed look.

"Because then you'd never learn to correct your behavior." Effie said in an appropriately reprimanding tone. In that moment her words seemed almost humorous. I guess there was something about the both of us marching on to our deaths that made everything else seem small.

Haymitch must have thought so as well, for he gave a light chuckle before he finished off his drink. I was glad to see that his spirits were a little bit higher today. It suddenly made me wonder if I could expect the same from Peeta, but his empty seat at the table made my stomach drop.

"Where's Peeta?" I asked, the silence that I received was indicative of the answer I already knew before I asked.

"He… well, he already ate." Effie spoke uncomfortably. I nodded, turning before I could let myself become too emotional. He didn't want to see me, I understood.

After breakfast I was beginning to make my way back to my room. My plan was to close the shutters back up and take a few hours to wallow, maybe sleep a little bit more. I couldn't think of anything better to do anyways.

Everywhere I went in the train I was greeted by faces riddled with sympathy and I couldn't take anymore of it.

It was almost as if he had anticipated it, for I found Haymitch propped against the door to my room, blocking the entrance.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Come with me, Sweetheart. I want to talk to you." He said simply, offering no further explanation.

Since it was clear that I wasn't going to be able to get back into my room, and there was no other place in the train I wanted to go, I followed him. But for some reason, I really didn't want to.

Haymitch led me to his room, I walked into it and he closed the door behind us. Even though we had only been on the train for a short while, the room was already littered with several bottles and the putrid stench of vomit drifted out from the partially open bathroom door. I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

"Why did you want to see me?" I asked, hoping he'd cut straight to the chase. I didn't have any desire to stay in Haymitch's room longer than I needed to. Luckily, he seemed to feel just about as uncomfortable about it as I did.

"Katniss, I know this isn't… natural for you, but I need you to listen to everything that I say. Don't question it, just do what I tell you."

"What?" I asked, caught off-guard by his request. He pretended not to hear me.

"I need you to go and apologize to Peeta."

"What?" I asked again, feeling more defensive.

Haymitch sighed.

"How do you expect to get any sponsors if you two aren't even talking to each other? Nobody's going to care if you get out of there alive if you have nothing to live for.

For some strange reason that boy is head over heals for you, Sweetheart. So you better be hopelessly prepared-to-die-for-him in love by tomorrow night."

"You have to know that I don't have a chance of making it out of the games alive, Haymitch. So what's the point?"

"You listen to me." He growled, the urgency in his voice was frightening. Haymitch grabbed my arm, his fingernails dug painfully into my skin though I doubted that he noticed. The hangover tonic that Effie gave him barely began to mask the liquor that was apparent on his warm breath.

"Go talk to the boy and make things better. I'm not asking." He released my arm and stepped back. It was clear our talk was over. But I still stood stunned for a moment before I was able to find my way out of the room.

I knew there was something that the man wasn't telling me. I wasn't sure what game Haymitch was playing but I knew that I had no choice but to play along. I just hoped he knew what he was doing.

I stood in the hallway for a few moments, gathering my thoughts. I looked up at Peeta's door just a little ways down the hall. As much as I wanted to just forget about Haymitch's request, I couldn't forget that urgency in his tone. It sent shivers up my spine.

"Fine, you win." I said out loud and I made my way over to Peeta's door. I didn't even bother knocking, I knew he wouldn't answer if I did.

Peeta looked up from the painting he was working on, the shock on his face at seeing me was fleeting. It only took him a second to compose himself.

"Hey." He said simply. He set down his paintbrushes and watched me from across the room.

"Hey." I said back, walking slowly towards him. His paintings were spread all throughout his room, covering the walls. Most were quite obviously inspired by the 74th Hunger Games.

Rue surrounded by the flowers

Cato covered in blood and standing on the Cornucopia

The Tracker Jacker nest split open on the ground

And me

A lot of the pictures were of me. The one that he had been working on when I came in drew my attention. It was a painting of me standing with with my bow, the string pulled back tight preparing to shoot. He caught every detail, my focused expression, my tense stance, and he had painted me surrounded by a white fog that gave me a sort of angelic glow. It made me feel sick. I finally pulled my gaze away from it.

"I didn't mean to hurt you." I said simply.

"I know." Peeta sighed. It was apparent that a lot of the anger he had felt had softened significantly over the night, though it was still tense. Surely nowhere near where Haymitch said we needed to be.

"I miss you." I admitted to him, it wasn't much, but it was a start.

He just gave me a sad smile in return.

"Do you want to see some of my paintings?" Peeta suddenly asked. I nodded tentatively, not really sure that I was up for seeing more memories from the last Hunger Games. Peeta must've known that, for he led me over to the other side of the room to the paintings I had missed when I had just walked in the room.

A loaf of bread

His father laughing

A beautiful orange sunset that perfectly illuminated the lush green grass and the tall trees.
It was stunning.

"It's like us." I said in awe, I traced my fingers over the patterns on the canvas without ever actually touching it. I imagined every soft brushstroke and that look of deep concentration on his face as he created it...

"Yeah, it is." He replied, a small smile began to tug upwards at the edges of his lips.

Suddenly he looked up and rushed over to the window.

"There it is." Peeta said.

And there it was.

The Capitol.

Author's Note: Dun, dun, dun... The Capitol. ;) Again, thank you guys for reading! Any reviews/comments will be appreciated! I hope you enjoyed that one! :)