Peeta's POV

For once her eyes don't flicker away. They're soft and almost vulnerable. I can't resist kissing her again, convincing her that I'm still the same person that has loved her all of these years. A dull pain pierces my side as she leans into me, but I ignore it as I become engulfed in a wonderful sense of warmth.

My hands travel down the curves of her waist, playing with the hem of her deep green shirt. I briefly open my eyes and somehow recall that she wore this exact shirt the day we first kissed in a long time-the day the bomb went off in the lobby. I remember because her favorite color is green.

When we break for air, our foreheads still pressed together, I meet her silver gaze a second time, suddenly noticing something strange in her appearance... Maybe it's just a feeling, but something seems slightly off.

"Katniss, what exactly were you-" I begin, but she hastily cuts me off.

"Peeta, I have to tell you something," she murmurs, her breath against my jawline. Again, I'm aware of our intimacy, and my uneasiness fades away as I become sucked in by her presence. Damn, she really is my weakness. My lips travel across her olive skin, caressing her neck. Katniss remains still for a moment before untangling herself from my grasp and settling into a chair beside the bed.

"Yeah?" I sputter, feeling slightly hurt that she decided to distance herself from me so soon.

"Paylor... she wants me to leave right away," Katniss tells me sorrowfully. I'm taken aback.

"Right away? Why?" I wonder, my voice filled with confusion.

No, not when I just got her back. Several moments in the past similar to this one replay in my head. I hate it when we separate-something bad always happens... Or maybe it was just that the last time we parted, the final time I embraced her in the Quell, kissed her like I did just now, ended so terribly that I refuse to let go of her again. Even if it's only for a little while.

"Well... with what has been going on with Haymitch and I suppressing the rioters, Paylor thinks it's best if I stay out of trouble now that they're beginning the serious trials," Katniss gradually explains. Her voice has a weird tone to it. I glance down at her hands knotted tightly together.

"Okay..." I begin. Whatever is going on, I just want to be with her. We should go home together. I'm feeling much better anyway, they may let me out early.

"I'm coming with you. There's no need for me to sit around here longer anyway. All they can do is give me more meds for the pain," I announce, swinging my legs off of the bed. Katniss abruptly stands, taking hold of my arms.

"Peeta, no. I'm sure you still need to heal," she tells me, trying to force me back onto the bed. I resist her, standing on my own two feet now. The dull pain I experienced before shoots up my right side, but it's bearable.

"Katniss, can you go get the nurse? I need to get this IV out, and then we can both get the hell out of here," I say gladly. I didn't think it was still possible, but a bittersweet homesickness creeps upon me as I picture District Twelve. Even my home in the Victor's Village, the very product of the Capitol, seems inviting.

A peaceful train ride home with Katniss is exactly what I need. Maybe we can even ditch Haymitch for a while. No offense to the guy, but I'd rather not endure his annoying comments and disgusted looks only enhanced by alcohol whenever he sees Katniss and I together from now on. I'm sure he'll understand that we'll need a little space.

Katniss shakes her head, her face almost tired.

"No, you've got to stay here. I know you feel fine, but that doesn't mean you are," she says. I appreciate her concern, but her words only amuse me.

"Look, would you stop treating me like I'm some wounded puppy all of the time? While you were off saving the Capitol from terrorism and another Hunger Games, I rotted away in this room for nearly a week," I exclaim with a chuckle. Katniss presses her lips tightly together.

"I know, I'm sorry... You sure you can make it onto the train home?" She asks seriously.

"Do you see me standing? In fact, I can walk, too," I inform her, bounding about to prove my point. She breaks into a grin that I hardly witness. I realize how wonderful it is to be the reason Katniss is smiling.

Just then the nurse appears before Katniss has the chance to search for her. With a doubtful look, she notifies us that she'll have to bring in the doctor for an assessment. I at least persuade her to remove my IV for a while. She hands me my daily dose of pills to take in case the pain increases. When she leaves, I feel too restless to wait for the doctor's approval. I'm not sure what has come over me, but I can't stand sitting in this hospital another second. It reminds me too much of my strenuous recovery in Thirteen.

"I think I'll just check myself out," I murmur to Katniss.

"Peeta, shouldn't you at least wait to see what the doctor says?"

"Turn around so I can throw on my clothes, I know how naked people make you uncomfortable," I smile knowingly, ignoring her imploring question. Katniss stares at me as if I've gone insane, and then slowly reddens.

"Yeah, well I did back then. During the games and the war I forced myself to get used to those kinds of things," she replies almost defensively.

"Okay then," I reply, peeling off my hospital gown in front of her.

"God, Peeta!" She exasperates, swiftly turning her back to me. I grin as I slip on my clothes.

"Sorry, thought you said you were used to it," I reply innocently. I'm almost positive she's scowling furiously. When I'm finished, I stick my head out into the hallway to make sure my nurse isn't around.

"Come on, let's get to the station," I tell Katniss, taking her hand. At this point she's stopped resisting my crazy scheme, quickly following behind me as we escape from the hospital and into the city.

The next train to Twelve leaves within the hour. I suggest we retrieve our bags from the storage area at the Turtle Doves hotel. Our items were hastily placed there after the bombing.

"What should we tell Haymitch?" Katniss asks me anxiously as we wait on the platform, our belongings between us. I study her face. It's difficult to tell what she's so worried about. I wish I was as good at reading her as I used to be.

"We can call him from the train," I reassure her. "I'll tell him the hospital let me out early, and we're going home. He can meet us there any time."

"Bet he'll be pissed at me," Katniss mutters bitterly.

"Why?"

"Because he'll probably think I snuck you out of the hospital, and I'll be in even more trouble..." her voice trails.

"You mean since you're already on wavering terms with everyone because of Coin's death?" I ask confused.

"Uh, yeah. And he just hates me anyway. It's you he likes, remember?"

I give Katniss a fond smile. "He's indifferent to me, really. I can see why he wanted to get you out in the first games. He may have disliked you, but at least he knew you had the grit to win. You practically dragged my ass out of that arena," I tell her honestly. Katniss simply rolls her eyes.

"You're so self-deprecating," is her response. I try to hold in my laugh, but I fail. She's one to talk.

The train arrives, and I take both of our bags and heave them into the second compartment. Each of us have our own bed and bathroom to use for the trip. Finally, we will take the familiar two day trip home to District Twelve.

Katniss and I search for the most private place in the dining car for a meal away from prying eyes. There are still plenty of curious people who could easily spot us, especially after our interview segment with Caesar and the news about the bombing accident resulting in my injury. As we dine on butternut squash soup and some biscuits, Katniss pauses to glance up at me.

"Peeta, I have the silver chain you bought the day of the accident," she says, reaching in her back pocket to slip it out.

"Oh good, I'm glad it didn't get lost somehow. It's for you," I say, strangely feeling shy about sharing my intention for purchasing it. I did worry before that she might find the reason silly.

"Thank you... but what is it for?" her dark eyebrows knit delicately together. I twiddle with my spoon, staring down at my soup.

"I thought maybe you'd like to keep the pearl I gave you around your neck. You know, so it doesn't get lost," my eyes find her silver ones again. I'm happily surprised to discover that they're sparkling.

"Oh, Peeta... that's a great idea," she says quietly, her voice thick with emotion. She leans forward to kiss me, but the train jolts to begin moving so we end up bumping our foreheads together.

"Sorry," Katniss gets out as both of us laugh. I shake my head, taking her face in my hands. It's surreal to have her here with me, not pulling away from my grasp, but in fact inviting me to hold her. My hands travel down her neck and arms to weave my fingers through hers. A doubtful voice in the back of my head always told me that this would never happen. My mind was too destroyed and Katniss's emotional state too fragile to ever make an sort of relationship work between us. And yet somehow, here we are.

The day passes relatively fast, and Katniss and I wander throughout the compartments, eventually finding ourselves admiring the sunset from the empty caboose. The way the colors gleam on Katniss's face and flicker across the dark tendrils of her hair make me wish I had my easel and paintbrush. The image is too breathtaking to forget. She notices me staring.

"What?"

"Nothing... I just think you're beautiful," I admit. I'm sure I've told her countless times before, but in this moment it seems like the first time I've ever said it. Her expression appears surprised, and then she nostalgically denies it like it's the silliest comment I've ever made. Oh yes, I remember now how she can never take a compliment.

I slide closer to her on the seat, and she leans into me with her head on my chest. My arms engulf her, and we watch the velvet blue darkness overtake the sky until the sway of the train lulls Katniss to sleep. Around midnight, I nudge her awake so we can move to our beds. However, Katniss slips under the covers of my bed without hesitation. I drape an arm around her waist, and we drift off in utter peace.

Of course the nightmares tear my tranquility to pieces, and I snap my eyes open frozen in terror. I can't remember exactly what caused me to wake, but I glance over at Katniss shaking beside me in the fetal position. Tears stream down her face as she sleeps, her hands clamped over her ears. She mutters things I don't understand. It all oddly reminds me of Annie when she would fight against her own nightmares in the cell across from me.

I desperately fight against a flashback sneaking up on me. My eyelids droop as I experience tunnel vision.

No! Snap out of it. Don't give in. Help her. Katniss needs help.

I blink furiously, regaining consciousness. I reach over and rest a hand on her shoulder.

"Katniss, wake up. Wake up, it's okay," I tell her, shaking her slightly. She whimpers.

"No... can't do it again... don't take him..." she pleads, her voice nearly physically piercing my soul. It's agonizing to see her upset, and even worse when each word she says threatens to drag me into my own horrific hallucinations.

"Katniss, please, you have to wake up," I now have my arms around her, forcing her hands off of her ears so she can hear me. I fight against the flashback with all of my strength, resulting in yelling her name.

"Katniss, Katniss!"

"Peeta?"

"Yeah, it's me! Open your eyes. It's okay, it's-it's not real!" I assure her. Her hands grip my arms, and she squints up at me. A few stray tears trickle down her cheeks and before she can hastily wipe them away I take care of it with my thumb. As I stare at her face, I'm relieved to feel myself calming down.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, letting out a shattered breath.

"Don't be," I tell her firmly.

"Are you okay?" She asks, suddenly alarmed, probably at my screams.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I give her a nod. Katniss slowly sits up, but allows me to keep my arms around her. I reach over her to turn on the lamp. The clock on the bed stand reads 4 a.m.. We should be home by the late afternoon today.

"What was it about?" I ask her after a long period of silence. She's calmed down a bit, and her heart isn't thumping loudly against my chest like before. With a sigh, she presses the heels of her hands to her eyes.

"It's... hard to explain..." she says quietly. I don't dare press her, understanding how sometimes it's difficult to talk about the nightmares. I gently press my lips to her hairline. It becomes so quiet I think she has drifted off again until she speaks.

"Did I wake you?" She asks, turning to look at me.

"No, I was already up," I explain, trying to remember what dream I was having. Now that I think of it, Katniss was in it. Her face was stony as she spoke to two other people in a dark room... then a bunch of peacekeepers stormed in and attacked them... Katniss was calling my name... then I witnessed her lying in a cell, in the similar position I found her in when I awoke.

Katniss nods, finding my hand under the covers and grasping it tight. We sink deeper into bed, ignoring the light still on. Although it may be childish, I think we both fall asleep better with it on. In the morning, Katniss suggests we order breakfast to the room. I think she wants to avoid the other watchful passengers as much as possible. I don't really blame her.

We sit on the unmade bed, devouring an assortment of muffins, fruit salad, and two delicious stuffed omelets. Katniss glances out the window, watching the small hills and thick patches of trees swoosh past us.

"I think we're getting closer," she says, a hint of a smile on her face. A knock sounds at the door.

"I got it," I say reluctantly, climbing off of the bed. I open it to find a young cleaning lady holding out a telephone.

"Mr. Mellark? Mr. Haymitch Abernathy is on the phone and would like a word if possible. He wanted to speak with Miss Everdeen, but she wasn't in her cabin room," the lady explains. I'm sort of surprised Haymitch contacted us so soon, if at all. I glance over my shoulder at Katniss, who gives me the look like she'd rather die than speak to the man. I chuckle.

"Okay, I'll take it," I say, grabbing the phone.