Before you begin reading I'd like you all to know that I am grateful you are still reading my story. Thank you! I also want to give you a brief explanation of what I'm attempting to do. I want to see the two teenagers finally be able to act, to live and love like their age. Yes, light and fluffy, but with good heaps of drama for flavor. Let me know what you think of this chapter. Enjoy…..

4 Night Life

As I made my way towards town, I found myself becoming apprehensive to the idea of taking it nice and easy as Haymitch emphatically phrased it. I decided I will not even make a move. If Peeta loves me then it should be him to make the first move. Look at me, I sound like a silly school girl. Just then, Haymitch's words ring true. I am still young. I have every right to be silly. Okay maybe not, since those type of girls drove me to distraction. I will play it cool, like I always have.

Just as those thoughts are running through my head, I hear music and a crowd of people gathered in the middle of the square. No, I won't play it cool, I decided, I'm going to make new friends, to find other interesting people. I'm sure District 12 has many colorful characters to discover now that I can afford to be distracted, rather than being strictly focused on hunting to feed my family.

"Katniss! So nice to see you out and about!"

I turn around and I am thrilled that it is Delly, who comes up to meet me. We were never friends, but I am already indebted to her for standing up for me to a deranged Peeta back in 13. Before I know it, we embrace each other. As we pull away, I catch this look in her eyes that promises everything will be okay. This is a look, I've seen from some of the victors before the Quarter Quell and who became our allies in the arena. Delly went through a battle of sorts for me to bring Peeta back, the old Peeta, my Peeta. There I go again, playing silly, not cool.

"I just came to get Haymitch something…." I start to say, but she's got me by my elbows and leading me towards a crowd. A bunch, who were bouncing to the music immediately freeze, except for their widening eyes as we approach them.

"Hey everyone. It's Katniss!" Delly announces, and they all simultaneously pick their kegs up and make some sort of noise like a loud incoherent bar greeting.

Someone hands me a cup of what they're drinking. I take a sip and it reminds me of a distinct scent that usually emanates from Haymitch's vomit, but I want to make friends so I keep holding on to the cup to give my hands and mouth something to do when there is a lull in the conversation. Since I managed to make more lulls, I successfully gave myself something known as a buzz. I could tell as I felt a low humming sound around my ears before it went numb.

"What is the occasion?" I ask Delly.

She is taken aback, and stifles a laugh as she answers, "The end of the workday week? We've been celebrating this occasion since the rebuilding of the town. "

I've been back for a year, and I realized this is the first time I've ventured farther than Victor's Village at night. I've kept Peeta cooped up with me, and its no wonder he's going crazy.

I've seen people quickly becoming engrossed in their conversations, they have to pull to the side, but with us it's an assembly line of people coming towards us, shaking our hands, kissing our cheeks and moving on. I was sure Delly made me approachable. Some thanked me for being the Mockingjay, but some just thanked me, and went on their merry way engaging in longer conversations with others. They're still intimidated I assume, but I promise to take care of that, by hanging out here more often. I want them to see I'm normal. I actually want to feel more than normal. I want to feel ordinary, since ordinary people don't fall into deep despair without a moment's notice like I do.

While Delly and I were inundated with streaming grateful residents, I caught from the corner of my eye those blond waves. He was sitting comfortably in the center behind a table telling a story as a crowd gathered around him. Flashbacks came to me of lunchtime at school. Except this time, he didn't avoid my eyes. We kept on with the task at hand, greeting, story-telling, but kept returning glances with every opportunity that arose.

Finally, Delly and I get to have an engrossing conversation.

"He looks so much better," she says.

My eyes have been locked, admiring him, for some time now, and I say, "Yes. He does. He's a fighter."

I listen to her stories of how the people felt during the 74th Hunger Games, and what they did to cope in 13, waiting for a dark story to emerge but Delly never made a downturn. It was refreshing to hear nothing but good things, positive point-of-views and I realized I enjoyed her company tremendously.

Then she pulled me up to dance with the others. This was my breaking point. I don't know if it was from the drink that made me less inhibited or of the last memory of Prim and I dancing, but the tears started flowing and I didn't notice it until Delly asked me if I was okay. I told her they were probably tears of joy, because what I felt in my heart wasn't a constricting pain, but a swelling gratitude for the love I was given tonight. Although I miss Prim terribly, I can feel her smile and laughter around me.

"Can I have this dance?" Peeta asks.

I must look a mess! Flushed and flooded with tears, but he gently wipes them away with his thumb as we sway together. I start to feel this wave of anger rising up in me as I ask myself why is he able to touch me in front of a crowd, and when I make the move, he high tails it to Haymitch's. But then I hold back allowing myself to rationalize that I'm not making the move. He doesn't have to question his intentions, and it starts to work wonderfully for me. He's holding me in his arms, he's caressing my face. This was definitely nice and easy.

Present Day: Hospital room.

"Careful. Nice and easy, now." I say as I slowly transfer my son over to his rejuvenated father, who was holding out his hands as soon as he unlatched from me. I say it for my sake, feeling very sore and raw inside and out.

He gives me a look that signals its a subject I shouldn't tread into. He snuggles back against the pillow beside me, and reminds me, "The radical therapy was anything but nice and easy."

"So is childbirth," I say, attempting to put a smile on my face, but wince instead from the throbbing pain shooting up inside me. In mid-spasm, I turn to meet his glance, and we both voice in agreement, remembering the sweet torture we both underwent with….

"Radical therapy."

Next chapter: The two teens must undergo radical therapy before they can begin to live ordinary young adult lives.