I am sitting on the edge of Peeta's bed, watching as the landscape outside rushes by. After my bursting into his room, I felt embarrassed and childish, but Roman was right. I need Peeta's friendship now more than ever, and I think he knows it. As fragile as we both are, we need each other's support to stay strong.

Peeta is leaning against the wall, tapping his fingers on his leg. We both agreed that we couldn't do this on our own. Whatever the distance between us amounts to seems to slowly be fading away.

"I just think—I'm afraid that going back to the Capitol will only make it worse." I say, and he turns towards me.

"Will make what worse?" he asks.

"My life." I say, managing a half smile. He laughs, but I can see that he understands. With the light hitting his face, highlighting each feature, it's obvious to see how tired he is. It's likely that the dark circles under his eyes were covered for the ceremony back in 12, but now, face clean, there is no hiding it. When he lets out a long yawn, my suspicions are only confirmed.

"You're tired," I say, looking at him expectantly.

"I don't sleep well these days," he pauses, and then adds, "Do any of us?" I sigh, shaking my head. The nightmares, I know, will never be gone. The arena has been permanently tattooed into my broken mind, as well as Peeta's. I can only imagine the fragments of torn memories that haunt Peeta each night. Not only does he have to deal with the horror's of the arena, but the altered thoughts as well. Constantly fighting off what's real and not, dreams or real life, must be pure torture.

We sit in silence for a while, Peeta's eyes drooping. I'm tracing the outline of his jaw against the sunlight. His blue eyes seem to act as the focal point of his face, drawing the attention of anyone who glances at him. They remind me so dearly of Prim that I eventually have to look away out of pain. My eyes run down his cheek and to the floor, but then, I am hit with an odd thought.

"Why didn't anyone grow a beard in the arena?" I say suddenly, but I realize how silly it sounds. He jolts up, looking at me oddly.

"What?" He asks, laughing. I can feel my cheeks turning pink.

"In the arena," I say sheepishly, "No one ever grew facial hair or anything."

"Would you have preferred I grew some sort of elegant mustache?" Peeta asks with a smile, and I start laughing.

"I wouldn't have minded." I reply, and he starts laughing too. Maybe it's the moment, or the fact that we are both a little crazy, but our laughter, it makes me feel so good. My life has become so mundane; laughter is nice, especially when someone is there to share it with.

When we both calm down, I look up at him expectantly.

"You really want to know, don't you?" He asks, shaking his head in happy disbelief. I nod, smiling again.

"Truthfully, I'm not really sure." He says, shrugging.

"Oh, come on. Don't you remember it at all?"

"Well, I know they would put this gel all over my face, and I thought that it felt really warm and tingly." He says. And maybe that's it. I remember that too, now, thinking back. They spread it nearly everywhere on my, my legs, my arms, trying to keep the hair away. It makes sense that they would use it on the boys as well.

"Hm..." I hum, and I run my fingers through my curled hair. My stomach grumbles, and Peeta laughs when he hears it.

"Is it supper time already?" He asks, and I smile. I really am hungry, ready to scarf down whatever cuisine they set in front of me. I hope that they come for us soon, telling us that dinner is ready. I don't want to seem to eager, though, so I just chuckle lightly.

"You've met Roman, then?" Peeta asks, interrupting my daydreams of soup and potatoes and bread. I think back to the hallway, and my eyes dart back and forth.

"Oh, uh, yes. In the hall, I talked to him for a while." I say hesitantly, but I can tell that Peeta senses something strange. He's sending me a suspicious look, and an air of awkwardness is hanging above our heads.

"He seems nice, I guess." I say, trying to fill the empty spaces. Peeta nods, but he's still looking towards me.

"He's young," Peeta says, "But he's bright. I don't think we'll have to worry about him falling behind." I wonder what he means by this. Fall behind? During the Ceremonies, maybe? But, something tells me that isn't it. I think that Roman knows more than one might realize.

I sigh, stretching out my arms. Peeta sighs too, and his shaggy blonde hair blows up and then falls again against his forehead.

"This is nice," Peeta says, grinning.

"Hmm?" I ask, cocking my head sidewides.

"Just talking with you, nothing staged or anything. Just here, two..." He slows for a moment, and then adds "...friends."

I'm not sure what he is implying, or if I should be worried. But, I don't want to ruin the moment, because he's right. It is nice to finally have time with someone normally.

When we are finally called to supper, Effie walks in on us unexpectedly, causing both her and myself to blush. Peeta just laughs, jokingly assuring that had he wanted to make a move, it wouldn't be here in this small train compartment. We all laugh nervously, and then make our way down to the dining room.

A small buffet of rolls and soups has been spread out, and Peeta and I don't hesitate to grab a bowl. I start with a potato soup and a large, warm roll. I sit down at the table, and Peeta slides in next to me.

We have both already begun to eat when Roman walks in, followed by Haymitch. I catch Roman's eye just for the quickest moment, and he gives me the slightest nod, unnoticeable to anyone who wasn't really watching the way I am. I turn my head quickly and continue slurping at my soup.

Haymitch and Roman sit across from us, passing salt and pepper and pouring drinks. Effie stands at the end of the table, her hands crossed at her waist. As soon as everyone has made themselves comfortable, she clears her throat, forcing our attention's toward her.

"Now, seeing that we won't be arriving until tomorrow morning, I don't see any point in holding off plans any further. We have so much to do during the next week, I don't even know where to being!" She chirps, her hair bobbing as talks.

"She's right," Haymitch says gruffly, clearing his throat. "And before we step off this train tomorrow, we need to decide where we stand."

"Yes, of course." Effie says, "As you know, even now after everything, impressions are still being made. We are here to represent District 12 as best as we are able, and we hope to do so accordingly." Her words sound ever-so familiar to the way she spoke to us before the Games, about representing our District and bring pride back home. It makes me feel a little sick, being here, hearing that, and I set down my half-eaten roll, unable to eat any more.

"And what does that mean?" Peeta asks as he crosses his hands. I can see that he too is doubting her words.

"All it means," Haymitch pauses, taking a swig of liquor, "is that we are going to try our best to stay sane, at least for the cameras. No acting, no lies."

"What Haymitch means to say is that no one will be controlling your actions. You aren't trying to gain sponsors or fans any longer. We are only representing the District, however we choose to do so." Effie adds.

"And how do we mean to do so?" I ask, looking back and forth between Haymitch and Effie.

"That's what we're here for now." Says Effie, and she pulls out a clip board from her bag resting against the table. She clicks a bright purple pen, and scribbles down a few notes, then looks back to us expectantly.

"Well, first, you all know Roman." Effie says, directing towards him. He looks up, pursing his lips. "You three will be the main focus point of District 12, so I figure we need to come up with some sort of plan. How will we present ourselves?"

The room is silent, except for the occasional scrape of a fork coming from Haymitch. He doesn't even seem to be paying attention. If Effie is considering playing the romance card again, it is not possible. The last thing I need right now is a fake romance getting in the way of the broken friendship we already have.

"Oh, now, come on! Someone must have something!" Effie exclaims, tapping her long purple nails against the table. Again, silence.

But then, Roman looks up, clearing his throat.

"The sunsets," He says, and Effie leans in. "The theme that we used back home, people liked it." I'm surprised that he is even speaking up, although it's not the first time he has made is voice relevant.

"Ah, yes. The crowd simply loved the idea of the sunset. Maybe we could spin off of that, don't you think?" We all numbly nod, and then Peeta speaks up.

"As if the sun is setting on our day of war, moving on to a better time."

"Oh, I like it!" Effie says, and she is frantically scribbling things down on her notepad. I remain quiet, not quite ready to speak my opinion yet, although truthfully, I loved the idea of the sunset. What it represented, not just for the District, but for me.

Peeta, Haymitch, and Effie shoot ideas back and forth for a while, with the occasional idea from Roman as well. But, I just sit there, rolling my spoon around in my soup. After a little while, Effie informs us that the train will be stopping soon, most likely to pick up goods. We're going to break, she says, and meet back up in half an hour. I rush out as soon as I can, leaving the hectic chatter behind.

I can feel the train slowly coming to a stop as I walk down the hall towards my compartment. When I sit down on my bed, I already feel compacted and closed in by my walls. I'm pacing, up and down the room, and soon, I have to burst free. I'm running, back down the hall, through the dining room, to the door. I am trying to open the door, fumbling with the handle. It finally slides open, and I step forward, ready for the cool spring air to hit me. But, all I feel is the embrace of a hand around my arm, pulling my back.

"Trying to escape?" Peeta says, a quirky smile on his lips. I am taken back, surprised for a moment as his hands lock around my arm.

"You scared me," I say, shaking my head. Why is he not letting me out?

"You know, Effie gave us strict orders not to leave the train." Peeta says, and I groan, going to turn around. I was really hoping to finally get some air, but obviously, that's not happening now. But, when I step away, Peeta speaks up.

"Katniss," He says, and I turn back toward him. "You don't think I'm actually going to listen to that, do you?" He asks, motioning for me to come with him. He slides the door back open, pulling me outside with him. We both jump to the ground, our feet hitting with a gentle thunk against the grass beneath us. I look around, the evening light falling behind the trees that surround us. I can see a small stream running down hill only about twenty feet away, sprouting trees and grasses outline it's edge. I am itching to dip my feet in the water, just once, to feel the woods around me, to get a sense of home. Peeta sees my eyes tracing the stream, and smiles. He slips his boots off, and then his socks, revealing one bare foot and one wired metal one. I do the same, and we both run to the stream.

The minute my feet hit the water, a chill runs up my spine. It's not just the cold water, but something more. This sense of familiarity, here with Peeta, almost like I'm home again. Even though we are miles from home, I feel more calm now than I have in ages. I try to forget about the train, the Capitol, anything, letting just this moment fill my thoughts and senses.

"The sunset," Peeta murmurs, gazing towards the west. He is shaking his head in awe.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Do you remember when I told you that this color," He motions towards the sun, "was my favorite?" He asks. I nod, thinking back to that day. I had also told him that my favorite color was green, and I smile.

"And how no matter how hard I try, I could never capture it in a painting?" I nod again, and so does he.

"Well, today, when you showed up to the Square in that dress, I could only think of two things." He says.

"And what were they?" I ask as I rub my toes over a smooth river rock.

"How closely you reminded me of that setting sun, vibrant and bright, and then, how beautiful you looked." He admits, his blue eyes gazing into mine. My chest feels heavy, and I am not sure how to respond. He steps towards me, the tip of his toes just barely rubbing against mine. His strong and tall figure hovers over me, and I look up to him. The sun is shining through us, warming my back, hitting against his face. His hands reach for mine, and I don't resist. I know that it's not right, I can feel it, but something is telling me otherwise. It's that feeling, the same one I felt in the cave, and then on the beach, that hunger deep in the pit of me, a wanting that can't be satisfied. He is leaning in, his face inching closer to mine, and my eyes can just barely trace the shape of his jaw. His body his pressed against mine, and, if he leans any closer, his lips will be too. His hand slides around my neck, and I am just waiting for the warm embrace of his lips.

"I don't know what's going on over there, but this train is about to leave without you two," Haymitch shouts, his head hanging from the door. I instantly pull away, but my fingers linger in Peeta's hand. His arm slides away from my neck and down my back, and I can feel my cheeks burning.

"Katniss..." He says, but my face is burning so brightly I don't even look toward him. We are both running back, and we grab our socks and shoes as Haymitch lends his hand to pull us back in the train. He's chuckling and shaking his head, and I just want to disapear. When Peeta steps back on, he follows me down the hallway. He stops when I reach my door, lingering, looking over me.

"I don't..." I mumble, but I can't finish. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it's no use. Peeta gently brushes my hand, but he is shaking lightly.

"Later," He says, "Come later." I nod, letting my hand fall, and he nods too. He turns away, heading for his room. I shut the door to my compartment, slumping against the bed, my head spinning. And although a thousand thoughts are swirling in my head, I can pick out one dominant idea.

I wish he would have kissed me.