A/N: Thanks to lha1 and kardamon for their thoughts on Peeta's return, and to premadora girl as always for her notes.

Chapter Ten

Katniss

Seeing Peeta standing there is so unexpected that for a moment I can't move. I stare at him, taking in how much healthier he looks – and how he hovers in the doorway. He's smiling at Haymitch and it's like seeing a glimpse of the old Peeta. Then he sees me and my legs start moving before I can think – just like how I ran when I heard he'd been rescued from the Capitol. His arms surround me, like before, but at the same time all I can think about are the differences. I can feel that some of his strength is gone, worn away by torture and recovery – like me it'll take a while to build that strength up again. He smells different, unfamiliar, almost like it's not him after all.

He pulls away and looks at me shyly. 'Hi.'

It takes me a second to find my voice and I'm suddenly embarrassed by how I ran to him. What will he think it meant? 'Hi.'

It's then that I notice how tense he is. There's something tight in his expression – and I know at once that Peeta isn't fully healed yet. Maybe he never will be. I sense Haymitch nearby, and know that he's realised the same thing.

But a second later Peeta's hands unclench and he manages a small smile, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He looks at me fleetingly, then at Haymitch, then at the floor. 'Sorry,' he says quietly. 'I'm not one hundred per cent yet. Dr Aurelius tried to get me to stay me in the Capitol for a few more weeks – but I couldn't stay there another day.' He pauses. 'I tried to call first, to give you some warning. But no one answered.'

His voice is carefully controlled, and he's still looking at the floor. I can't take my eyes off his face.

'I'll be moving back into my old house.' The corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile. 'So you'll know where to find me.' He raises his head and smiles first at Haymitch, then at me. 'Well, goodnight.' Then he turns and heads out through the open door and down the steps.

I take half a step after him, his name on my lips – but then I stop. I watch him cross the street and go into his house, shutting the door.

'It'll get easier,' Haymitch says behind me, his voice barely audible. 'Give him some time to get used to you again.'

I tear my eyes away from Peeta's house and look at Haymitch. He's right. Peeta's so much better than he was in the Capitol, and I have to focus on that.

He nods, exhales. 'Well, I'll see you tomorrow.' He sounds strained. Maybe he's worried I'll start slipping back into the shell I once was, retreating to the rocking chair and never leaving.

I open my mouth, then close it again, not sure what I wanted to say. He waits. 'Goodnight, Haymitch.'

His smile is fleeting, scarcely there. ''Night.'

…

Haymitch

The day after Peeta's return, Haymitch sleeps in until it's almost evening, waking with the worst hangover he's had in weeks. He heads over to Katniss's with dragging steps, lets himself in through the back door – and sees at once that Peeta isn't there. He's not sure whether he's more relieved or disappointed.

Katniss sits at the table with a glassy look in her eyes, only smiling at him briefly as he sits down opposite her. He's tempted to get up, make some excuse so he can leave, but he knows she needs him there, until Peeta's settled in enough to visit.

While she cooks, Sae informs them that Peeta's asked the Capitol for supplies for a bakery here in 12. Paylor approved the request at once, and supplies were secured in a matter of hours. 'The flour and the ovens will be coming tomorrow, on the Capitol train,' Sae says. 'In a couple days we'll be having fresh bread again.'

Katniss just stares into her soup. There's no meat today; clearly she couldn't muster the will to go hunting.

…

Two days later Haymitch is with Katniss in 12 helping move supplies for the temporary infirmary when they see Peeta walking past, carrying a sack of flour. Katniss falters, her face lighting up, but Peeta just nods, half-smiles, and keeps walking. Her smile freezes on her lips. For the rest of the afternoon she's quiet, barely paying attention as she stacks rolls of bandages into cupboards.

That evening Haymitch goes to knock on Peeta's door after seeing him arrive home, covered in flour, an hour earlier.

He waits for a long time before the door is answered.

'Haymitch.' Peeta doesn't quite smile. He looks exhausted. 'I can't see you right now. I'm sorry. I wouldn't be good company. I worked too much today, and my medicine…'

Haymitch feels a knot of pity. He finds himself remembering how Peeta looked on the day of his first reaping – young, scared, but comparatively less careworn. 'It's all right. I get it. Just checking how you are.'

Peeta does smile this time. 'Thanks, Haymitch. I appreciate it.'

Haymitch shrugs, embarrassed. 'Yeah, well. Just doing my job.' He pauses. 'Katniss misses you. Why don't you go see her?'

Peeta looks down, searching for the right words. 'I'm sorry, but I can't. Not for a few more days at least. Aurelius told me I need to think about myself first, get settled in here properly, before I see her. Otherwise … it would be so easy to fall back to square one.'

He means his flashbacks, Haymitch realises. 'All right.' He wants to tell Peeta that he's sorry about everything that happened to him, but he doesn't know how to say it.

Peeta smiles; and Haymitch knows he understands. 'See you in a few days, then.'

Haymitch jerks his chin in farewell. 'Yeah. 'Night.'

As Haymitch walks down the steps Peeta calls his name. He turns back. Peeta has one foot on the front steps.

'Did Katniss … did she ever talk about me?'

He looks away. 'I don't know. For the first month and a half she didn't really talk at all.'

Peeta's digests this. 'I can understand that.' He gives Haymitch a quick smile, starts to step back into the house. 'Well, goodnight.'

Haymitch stands still, his fingers tensing. Then – 'Wait.'

The boy turns back, expectant.

'I gave her one of your letters to read.' He pauses. 'Anyone could see how glad she was that you were getting better.'

Peeta goes still, his face working. 'Thanks, Haymitch. That means a lot.'

…

Katniss

It's been a week since Peeta got back, and he still hasn't talked to me or even waved to me. If he sees me in town he makes sure to keep out of my way. I try not to take it personally, telling myself it's just taking him a while to settle in. But I can't stop worrying that his distant behaviour is caused by something I've done – or haven't done. These thoughts creep into my mind in the middle of the night, keeping me awake for hours. I find it difficult to concentrate while hunting, and take increasingly long walks in the afternoon to distract myself. When I'm at home I jump whenever the back door opens, thinking it's Peeta, but it's always Sae, or Haymitch.

What was it that made Peeta decide to come back so suddenly? And what does he expect from me? Does he want friendship? Or more than friendship? Because I don't think I could be that way with anyone. Not now. Not for a long time.

One morning half my arrows miss – and I decide this agitation has gone on long enough. As soon as I've dropped the game off in 12 I march to Haymitch's. If anyone can tell me what I need to do, it's him.

Haymitch blinks up at me from his armchair, his eyes glazed. Clearly I've interrupted an introspective drinking session, but I'm too worked up to apologise.

'Good of you to drop by,' he comments dryly, as I flop into the chair opposite him.

'It's Peeta.' I fight the urge to bite my nails, which are already almost down to the quick. 'I don't understand. He looked so happy when he saw me – the night he came back.' I hate talking about this, admitting how much it bothers me. But I have to talk to someone, and Haymitch understands me better than anyone. 'I need to see him. But I don't know how when he never gives me a chance.'

Haymitch makes an indistinct noise.

My head snaps up. 'What?'

There's a wry set to his mouth as he looks at me, but it's sour. 'Sure. You mean the chance where you finally give him the time of day and go knock on his door.'

I stare at him. 'What are you talking about? He's avoiding me.'

His eyes have a shuttered look. 'Have you ever stopped to think that he might feel the same about you?'

At first I'm too annoyed to think about anything. But then, painfully, his words sink in. Oh. My face goes red, and I'm all too aware of what my expression must look like.

He laughs. There's something hard and cynical about the sound. 'And the coin drops.' He gets up, swaying slightly. 'Now if you don't mind, I've got things to do.' He crosses to the other side of the room and gropes through a crate of liquor.

I watch him pull out bottles, weighing them to see how full they are. He has his back to me, and I feel my temper rising. 'Oh sure,' I say bitterly. 'You mean drink. Because that always helps so much.'

He whirls on me, eyes flashing darkly. 'Listen, girl; I don't know what to tell you.'

I flinch. He hasn't been this angry with me in months, and his anger hurts more than I expected.

At once he relents. 'Sorry.' He runs a hand across his face and I realise how tired he looks. 'You have to be patient. He hadn't seen you in three months – and the last time he saw you he was still mostly hijacked. These things take time. Give the boy a chance.'

Somehow these words strike a chord deep in me. Time. Like he's given me time, over and over again. Surely I can manage to give Peeta the same patience Haymitch has given me.

He's waiting for me to respond. I manage a weak nod. We look at each other for a moment before I leave.

I don't go straight home but head into the woods to clear my head. I know Peeta won't be back until evening, so there's no point knocking on his door and I don't want to interrupt him at the bakery. I walk for almost two hours before I get back to Victor's Village. My head is bowed as I reach the steps to my house – and almost trip over Peeta.

He must have been sitting on the steps, but springs to his feet when he sees me coming. He's holding a cloth-wrapped bundle in his arms.

I stare at him and he looks back at me good-naturedly. 'You could have gone inside,' I say at last, then immediately feel rude.

He doesn't seem to notice. Probably it's all he expects of me. 'I didn't want to go in while you weren't there.' He stands, wipes his hands on his apron. I can see traces of flour. There's a smudge on his cheek. The old Katniss might have felt the urge to wipe it away.

'I made you some cheese buns,' he says. 'They're from the first batch. Haymitch had one too; he says it tasted good, though it would've tasted better if I hadn't woken him up.'

A tiny smirk settles on my lips. 'Sounds like him.'

He smiles back, and that smile brings back a wave of memories, so that my own smile fades. He shifts. 'Are you going to let me in?'

'Oh. Sorry.'

We head inside and he places the bundle on the kitchen table, looking around the room, taking in the small changes since he was last there. His eyes linger on the mantelpiece, where I've put Haymitch's carving. He turns back to me.

'You look well.'

'So do you.' It's true. There's a healthy glow to his cheeks that wasn't there when he arrived a week ago. Starting up the bakery must be doing him a world of good.

'I'm sorry for staying away so long,' he says. 'You must have thought I was avoiding you.'

'I'm sorry too,' I mumble. 'You must have thought the same about me.'

He smiles. 'Well, I guess that makes us square.' He hesitates. 'The truth is… I guess I really was avoiding you. But it wasn't to hurt you. I just wasn't ready to see you. All the memories…'

The silence becomes painful. He runs a hand through his hair, leaving behind faint dustings of flour. 'Look. This is awkward for both of us. I just want to say: I don't expect anything from you.' Then he grimaces. 'That didn't come out right. What I'm trying to say is – everything that happened before this – none of it matters any more. I mean, of course it matters, but it's in the past, and it can stay there until we're ready to talk about it again. I don't know how much Aurelius told you, but these last couple of months have been really hard for me. And I know they must have been hard for you. I nearly didn't come back at all. But in the end I did.' He pauses, studying the floor.

'Why did you come back?' I ask nervously.

'Twelve is my home. After everything, I still feel that way. I know the people – and I want to help them put this place back together again. That's why I'm here.'

So he didn't come back for me. The thought makes me disappointed somehow – and relieved.

'So, whatever happens from now on, it'll be because we want it to. Not because of the Capitol, or because of a war we've both been forced to take part in.' He looks at me. 'Agreed?' He offers his hand, still slightly sticky with flour.

I look at it for a moment, then shake it firmly.

We both manage tiny smiles. Then he wishes me a good evening and heads across to his house.