There is so much to keeping promises.
Nothing can fill you with as great a sense of accomplishment.
But nothing else can hurt as much
as forcing yourself into a pact with your own demise.

A/N--I'm ba-ack! Hehe. Okay, so this chapter is longer than all my previous ones... about twice as long actually. I was thinking about breaking it into two parts, but I think it goes better as one. Good thing too, because it might be a while before I have the time to update again. And I'd like to give a special thanks to my friend, who without knowing it, helped me write this chapter. You see, I wore the princess crown that you gave me for my birthday, the whole time. It is my new 'thinking crown'. Thank you!

Disclaimer--You all know by now that I'm not Suzanne Collins. Which means that most of this isn't mine.

Since Ms. Collins owns Peeta's brothers, yet she never named them, I couldn't bring myself to name them for her, which is why it may sound strange in this chapter, when Peeta doesn't directly address his siblings with proper names :).

This first bit of text is from the last chapter, if you recall. I thought you might need the refresher.

Enjoy!


But I can't do it alone. Katniss will have to fight to heal. Not just getting better from the fire, but healing from the Games, themselves, and all their consequences. I will do everything I can to make this easy for her. I will stay out of her way so that she can have time with Gale, but I won't abandon her again. I will be there for her, in whatever form she needs of me. Even if it breaks me into even more pieces, I will keep her whole.

Gale jumps up and shoves past me before I finish taking a breath. Prim's eyes don't stray from my face as Gale runs through the door and into the room that is holding meaning for both of us. Prim has the strangest look on her face, as if she doesn't know what I'm going to do. And the truth is, neither do I.

I remember the promise that I made to myself a few minutes ago, when I didn't know whether or not Katniss was going to make it. I will keep that promise, that I so hastily made in a moment of weakness. I will keep it forever.

Prim seems to sense that something has changed. She is so intuitive for a 12 year-old, that sometimes I wonder if she wouldn't have made it through the Games without Katniss volunteering for her. But I know that you need more than just brains to win the Games.

"Peeta," Prim says hesitantly, reaching out a hand and resting it on my forearm. I look at her. I know that my eyes are filled with countless emotions, and I wonder which of them she is latching onto.

"Tell Katniss--," I begin, making my decision. This is what I have to do if I'm to keep my promise. And I will keep my promise. I smile a little brokenly. "Tell her I'll be at my--," I break off, not able to finish. My house is gone. One of my brothers had stopped by earlier to tell me that they had put out the fire, but they hadn't salvaged anything. I had been beyond noticing at the time he was here, I was so worried for Katniss. But now I remembered; I no longer have a house.

"Stay here." Prim tells me, her eyes pleading. She is such a sweet girl, she wants me to be happy. My happiness depend solely on Katniss, and her little sister knows that. I would be happy if I stayed here with them, that's true, but I would also be broken apart each time Katniss didn't want me around, each time I was turned down by her. I couldn't do that. Besides, my promise wouldn't let me stay here. That wouldn't make Katniss happy either, she wouldn't be able to heal with me constantly around.

I shake my head, sadly. "No, Prim. I can't stay here. Just tell Katniss that I'm glad she is okay. I'll be back later today, I hope."

"Where will you go?" She questions. I don't know where I'll go.

"My parents." I tell her with certainty, although that is one of the last places that I want to go right now. I owe it to my dad and my brothers, though. I've left them these last months since I've been back from the Games. They may have left me first, but that is no excuse to abandon my family.

She nods her head slightly before turning around and going back into the room with Katniss. I want to follow her in there so badly that it feels as if part of my soul breaks off and floats into the room. More than I want to be there, I want Katniss to want me there. But I know that she doesn't. She probably isn't even thinking of me right now, surrounded as she is by all the people she cares about. Except me. She does care about me, even if it's not in the way I want her to care. I know that much; that she cares in some way, at least.

I leave the house behind, walking around in the cold. The sun is just beginning to rise, and it's so beautiful. My favorite color is dominating the sky. Taking over the pinks and blues, is that perfect shade of soft orange, that always inspires me to paint. I don't feel inspired to do anything now, though. I want to go back to my house, to forget about everything, and just be. I want to go back to Katniss, to leave behind my promise and stay with her for the rest of eternity. But I can't do that. I won't do that.

I wonder if she is even thinking about me, if she even notices my absence. I can believe that, I can hope that she wants me to be with her. Without hope, I have nothing left, after all. Without deciding to, I end up in front of Haymitch's house. I don't knock, I just go inside. He never really cares, as long as I don't wake him up from a nap. It's not safe to do that anyway, since he always sleeps with a knife in his hand. I haven't resorted to that yet, my knife stays under my pillow. Well, stayed. It's burnt up with the rest of my house now. Nothing was saved.

"Haymitch?" I call out softly. If he is here, he wouldn't have heard me anyway. I don't know why, but I don't really feel like letting him know that I'm here.

He's in his kitchen, bent over his sink. "Whadaya want?" He asks me angrily, not looking back.

"Hi." I say. I don't know how to answer his question. Why am I here? I should have done what I told Prim I was going to do, and gone back to my parents. Maybe they did abandon me in a way, but that was still my family, still my home. I couldn't leave them.

"Boy." Haymitch says, turning around and facing me. I am surprised; he's sober. I thought for sure he'd be drunk considering he was slurring his words. "You don't belong here. You're better than this."

I'm not sure to what he's referring, but Haymitch is always so insightful, that I decide he isn't talking about his house. "Then where do I belong, Haymitch?" I ask. There is an angry inflection in my voice, but I'm sincerely asking this question.

To my disappointment, he just shakes his head at me. "Not here." He says, then leaves the room. Haymitch has never been much help to me, except when he kept Katniss alive. Why should it be any different now?

So I leave his house. He's right, I don't belong there. It's too depressing. He channeled all of his hate for the Capitol into his house, and an aura hangs over the whole place. I swear to never let myself turn into another Haymitch. Then I realize what I just did. Made another promise with myself that I would have to keep. Just one more thing to hang over my head for the rest of my life. One more thing I didn't need.

By the time I get to the bakery, it is opening. I can see my mother hurrying about getting ready for customers, just inside the front door. I smell the bread baking, feel the heat of the oven, hear my brothers' laughter as we joke around behind my parents' backs. My memories serve me well these days. They help me remember the good, even while they are forcing the bad upon me. And I can handle the bad, as long as I can keep the good, because my favorite memories so far outweigh my least favorite that I could live in the actual moment of the pain for days and still be happy remembering the best times of my life.

I close my eyes, not wanting to enter the bakery yet. I think of Katniss, finding me next to the creek in the Games, saving my life. I think of all the times we kissed, how much she seemed to genuinely love me. I can't harbor any resentment for her pretending to love me. She saved my life, and above that, she saved her own life--something infinitely more important to me than anything else in this world. More important than having her love me, is having her alive.

I can see her so clearly in my mind. I can see her as I did the first day I ever saw her; a little girl with a red, plaid dress and two braids. A sweet innocent face, and a voice that makes the birds stop to listen. I see her trading with my dad, never noticing me in the background. But that didn't matter, because she was so close to me.

I see my brothers wrestling, and arguing in that friendly, playful way that can only come from a connection blood-deep. I see my father telling me things that help to keep a smile on my face. I see my mother the way she was before she realized my father didn't love her, back when I was still a baby, practically. She always had a smile on her face, loved all of us. Before she turned bitter.

All the awful images threaten to come to my mind, but I push them back with the smiling faces of my family, of Katniss, of Prim. The hopeful expressions worn on the faces of the people I love most in my life. It gets me through the day, through every day.

I open the door, walk inside. My mother sees me, but she doesn't smile. That's okay, I was expecting that. "Hi, Mom." I say, walking over and giving her a hug. She just stands there, but it doesn't really matter to me that she isn't hugging me back. I pull away and shoot a beaming smile at her before I walk past, into the back where I smell fresh bread baking.

Both my brothers are there. "Peeta." They say at the same time. My appearance doesn't seem to surprise them. "Sorry about your house." One of them says.

"I don't care about my house," I reply to them. They look at me with an expression that can only be shock. "Where's Dad?" They point out the back door, and I walk through it, smiling the whole time, imagining them as they were, rather than as they are. That's the key, to remember the good, even if the bad is trying to overpower me.

"Dad." I say when I see him leaning against our house, staring up at the sunrise. It's in full force now, not just the beginning of a day, but the start of it. The difference isn't lost to me. The oranges are being slowly taken over by pinks, and even more than that, the blue of the sky is fighting to make itself known. Soon there will just be sky and sun.

"Peeta?" He says. He sounds surprised, not like my brothers, who don't seem to care where I've been. "Peeta." He repeats, more sure of himself this time. "I'm sorry about your house, son. We did everything we could to save it, we just got there too late."

"It's fine Dad. I don't care about the house. I can always move into a new one." And It's true. I could move into a new one, but I don't really want to. I don't really see the point. But at the same time, I know that I will. My place isn't here anymore, not in this house with my family. I don't belong here, either. "What have you been going through?" I ask, flat out. I get straight to the point, because if I wait any longer, I might delude myself into thinking he is fine. He looks fine, here, staring up at the sky. But the image of him holding that bottle doesn't leave my head, and I have to know.

"What do you mean?" He asks, not at all convincingly.

"You know. Since when do you drink?" I look pointedly at his hands, which at the moment don't hold anything, but I can still see the phantom bottle there. He knows what I'm thinking of, and decides to just get it over with.

"Fine, Peeta. So maybe I've been a little off since the Games," He says, shuddering. I understand what he means. I've been a lot off since the Games. "But that doesn't mean anything. I almost made a bad decision yesterday, but I didn't. Things have been weird without you around." His words make me feel guilty for leaving him, but I remember that he pulled away first, and I was only trying to give him what I thought he wanted. "Your mother doesn't talk anymore. Hardly at all. And your brothers... they haven't been the same since you went into the Arena."

"So things are different with them. But why are things different with you?" I ask. I think that my voice is going to come out whiny and complaining, but really it is strong, forceful. I know that he will answer me.

"They won't be anymore. I promise." And there's that word again. So many promises, so many little things that can tear us all apart inside. "You can move back in with us if you want."

"No I can't. But don't go there again, Dad. Don't be that man. You're above that, you've always been above that." An expression of guilt crosses his face.

"How's Katniss?" My dad asks me, seriously sounding concerned. I believe that he is, because he is one of the kindest men I have ever known.

"Awake. I haven't seen her, though. Gale is with her. And her mom, and Prim. I left when she woke up."

"Why?" He asks, astonished. "Don't you think she'll want to see you?"

I realize that this man, who has known me my entire life, cannot see my deepest feelings the way that Prim does. Prim, who has only known me for a few short months, yet knows me better than I even know myself sometimes. "I don't know." I tell him honestly. "But I'll go back and check on her tonight. As for now..." I say, a smile creeping onto my face. "Got any cakes that need frosting?"


A/N--well... did you like it? Please Review, I had a ton of writers block with this chapter, at the beginning, and reviews are a great incentive to get me writing faster :).

Review, review, review!!! :))))) Thanks!