Song Suggestion: Foxes—"Home"… recently, they took this off YouTube, and I can't find it anywhere. I'm decided to put it up anyway because it fit the theme/ mood so well. If you find it (I'm assuming this problem is only for the U.S.), please tell me how! It's worth the search. Some of the remixes are okay.

Thank You: HalleyJoe, 3vlee, slightlytwisted84, Sandraanatalia, Lucy Greenhill, Guest, Obscure-Reference-Girl, Guest, californiadancer, SweetStarre123, Fireteam Kodiak, Beauty422, Guest, and HeyBirdy! Thank you!

To californiadancer: Yes, Jace will be in the story in the future. In a very big, important way. Get ready, in about four (or so) chapters, I'm going to start rocking your world haha. Until then, some significant things need to happen.

Home Again, Home Again

The train screeched to a halt, rumbling under her feet and almost throwing her forward with the force of stopping. Glinting metal doors whooshed open, revealing her home. Prim wanted to run then, throw herself onto the ground and kiss the dirt, grind it into her skin.

They arrived at night, just the two of them. Cato didn't want Coral to come. Stars twinkled in and out above them, but the moon hid behind the clouds, afraid of the monsters that howled to it.

A few reporters snapped pictures of their arrival, but other than that, there were few people waiting for them. Prim wondered if the district did not care, did not know, or was making a protested point. Her eyes searched the sparse crowds for Rory, and she couldn't help herself, but she searched for Gale as well. She couldn't help but imagine his smiling face in the crowd.

"I promised your sister, didn't I?" he said in her fantasies, "I've come to take you back, to marry you."

But neither Rory nor Gale was there. Or her mother. Or anybody else she knew.

Tears welled in her eyes. Yes, she was home, but what was home without family or greetings? The warmth she had been anticipating was absent, and she did not know what to do with herself without them. She couldn't cry; the cameras zoomed in close to her face to monitor her reactions. Spreading her mouth wide, she faked a smile, attempting to blink away the wetness, looking upwards to mask her emotions.

A figure darted from the crowds and raced towards her. It took until she flung herself into Prim's arms that she recognized Madge, the mayor's daughter, Katniss' best friend.

"I'm so glad to see you," Madge whispered in her ear. Every time Prim heard the girl speak, it surprised her, since she spoke so rarely. It made Prim treasure it even more.

Normally, her feelings on Madge were conflicted because of Gale's attention towards her. But tonight with the distant moon and sparse crowds, she was grateful for any kind of reminder of home. It was a face she had grown up with, both familiar and comfortable.

Madge stepped back and eyed her up and down, taking in the soft silk dress lined with fur to block out any errant winds, a more expensive ensemble than anything anybody in district 12 wore, even the Mayor's daughter.

"You look beautiful. Being engaged to a Victor suits you."

Prim hesitated before answering, not liking the direction of the conversation, and not knowing what to say back. She missed the long silent walks they used to take, strolling around the district to pick flowers in the spring time. They hadn't talked, and they didn't need to. Now the air was rife with tension and secrets, and Prim realized that even if she did return, nothing would be the same again.

"Y-you look beautiful too." Prim answered back dumbly.

"Oh... well..."

Madge blushed and glanced down at her dress, a pretty but plain cotton dress. She immediately regretted speaking. Prim had spent hours trying to pick out the correct outfit, but nothing she owned fit in with the dusty air and the rough people. Instead of belonging, Prim stood out like a white paint stripe on a black canvas, and not in the good way.

People, who once came to her to heal their injuries, revered her for her knowledge and kindness, now turned their noses up at her. She saw the negative expressions from here, as if she betrayed them.

Prim didn't blame them. The image she projected, nearly married off not only to a victor, but to a career, dancing at Captiol balls in glittering dresses on the arms of murderers when most of her district couldn't afford food. She would hate herself too.

"It's time we get home," Cato interjected. He grabbed Prim's arm and steered her away from Madge. Prim didn't have time to protest, and Madge just stood there, wringing her hands.

He tugged her along and threw her into the car. He was angry, and she didn't even want to know why. It wasn't until she crawled inside, and he slammed the door behind her that she realized that he wasn't angry but tense. His shoulders hunched together, and he looked as if he might spring at any moment.

"Welcome home," he spat, after clambering in on his side. The driver lurched them forwards.

"Are we going to stop by to see my mother?"

His lips curled in disgust.

"You'll never have to see that shithole again."

She bit her lip, deciding against pushing him in his foul mood.

"Then where are we going?"

"Are you being intentionally stupid?"

Prim almost replied: no, but you're intentionally being a bastard, but again she held her tongue in front of the exposed beast.

He sighed, rubbing his face with his palm.

"Ignore what I said," he said, "If you must know, we're visiting the house I built you. Tomorrow the Capitol will snap a few pictures, and then we'll be on our way, and we'll hopefully never have to come back here again."

He kept looking out the window nervously.

Her heart hurt. It physically hurt. She hadn't known it could do that when she was little. Then Katniss died, and her chest ached for months, something heavy pressing a weight against the lungs, the heart straining to beat normally.

"Will I get to see my moth..."

She trailed off, because out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure in the alley between two shacks. Prim almost dismissed it, but she took a second look because it occurred to her: the person was hiding.

Why would someone be hiding?

In a flash the figure stepped out and ran around the side of the house, and that was when she had a good look at him: long legs, trim hips, wide shoulders, dark brown hair.

"Rory!" She smashed her fist against the window, uncaring about Cato's reaction. "Rory!" She screamed, banging against the glass so hard in her attempt to get his attention she thought it would crumble.

At least she thought it was him? He was turned away from her, but who else could it be?

She had to get out! She had to see him, even if she had to crawl to him with bloody fingers.

"Rory!" She screamed one more time, before Cato ripped her backwards. He held her down, but she struggled against him, biting, scratching, kicking. Not aimed to hurt, just for release.

Strong legs wrapped around her body. She struggled and raged, but it was no use. He was an iron chain wrapped around her body, cinching tighter and tighter. She had forgotten the weight, far from home, but now that she was here, the memories rushed back. The thousands and thousands of memories that punctuated her life like exclamation points, each one featuring faces and voices and smells.

Most of all it reminded her of Gale, and the thought that someone so vibrant, so alive, could be rotting under the ground, worms digging into his skin. She felt sick, as if she might throw up.

The sight of Rory… of her friend…

Their siblings were friends, but they had never really interacted much, not in their early years. He was always in the popular crowd, while she tended to be reclusive. She came over to give his mother a little butter from Lady, he would smile, thank her, and then she would go home.

Her lack of friendship should have caused her heartache, but it didn't really. At least, not then. She had Katniss.

And then Katniss died.

And Prim was alone.

It didn't take long after Katniss died before she gained a shadow. Rory followed her everywhere. At school, he plopped down next to her.

"So did you hear about James? He fell into a mine shaft and broke three bones. Everyone is shocked, but I'm not. He's always been tripping over something."

Prim just stared at him, open-mouthed, unable to comprehend what he was saying. She had been almost comatose for months, wandering around almost like her mother, drifting and floundering under the weight of grief, and here this boy came and with one sentence woke her up. Everyone tiptoed around her in silence, as if a single whisper could shatter her, but Rory barged in unworried and the normality in the way he spoke to her was refreshing and needed.

Besides, who the hell was James? And why was Rory, one of the most popular boys in school doing talking to her?

If he noticed her confusion, he never let on. He kept talking, and slowly over a period of several months he brought her out of her depression. She hadn't forgotten, she wasn't healed, but she could see and breathe and live now. She found her purpose again and started to take in the patients that were once her mother's.

She owed him a lot, and she loved him. Not in that way, not in the typical way a woman loves a man, but like a brother, a friend, a permanent fixture in her soul.

And Cato, brutal, cruel Cato, was trying to keep her from him.

Why? To what end?

The anger towards him burned and bubbled, getting hotter and hotter with time, until the car pulled to a stop. Cato's arms and legs released their hold, unbinding her, she felt the physical freedom, but could still sense the invisible shackles around her wrists made tighter by his next words.

"Don't do anything stupid." He reached across from her and opened the door, "You won't get far."

It had been so long since their last confrontation, Prim had almost forgotten how to be angry at him.

She jumped outside, breathing in the air of her home. It wasn't as clean or fresh as the air around Cato's home. The dust from the mines created a hazy smog, attaching to the skin, sticking to the fibers. A person could taste the coal with their food. But it was familiar, and she sucked in a deep breath.

The pictures Cato gave her of the house before the engagement party didn't do the house justice. It was a log cabin hewn from the surrounding forest. But it had more feminine touches than Cato's with a cream colored porch and a delicate swing on the front. The stained glass windows illuminated in the night, showing scenes of beautiful birds and flowers.

Cato's hand slipped into hers and squeezed. And she couldn't help but think that as much of a farce the house was, he put a lot of thought into it. If it didn't come with all the connotations, she would love it.

"I made it to please the capitol," he said, pulling her from her thoughts, "But that doesn't mean I don't want you to like it. I made it for you, and maybe one day … maybe we could enjoy it."

She refused to look at him, and he noticed it. He sighed and his shoulders gave a brief slump as if tired.

"Prim…"

"Don't talk to me."

"Don't be cruel."

The thought that she was cruel, her-Primrose Everdeen!- was astounding and absurd. Especially after what he did in the car.

"That's rich coming from you." Prim stepped away from him, crossing her arms and facing the woods.

"Prim," he said, and she hated the way it sounded on his lips, hated the way it made her want to give up fighting and forgive him. He brushed his hands on her arms, running them up and down. The breath from his mouth heated her ear. "I don't want to keep you from your family. I wish I didn't have to but… you're just not ready. You don't understand… If you saw them, you might—"

"Might what? Wish I was with them instead of you?"

The hands on her shoulders tightened, and for the first time, she felt guilty for what she said to him, despite what he had put her through that night. He was right, she was being cruel. Theodora's words haunted her: just show him kindness; I believe it's what he seeks in you. The words had played over and over again in her head.

Maybe she was right; maybe if she just let her guard down and initiated the contact instead of just reacting, something could change. Prim bit her lip and twisted in his arms, looking up at him. The fragments of cold left made their breath into visible wisps, and they mingled in the air.

"Just tell me," she said, softer, "Just explain why. Just be truthful for once. Maybe I'll understand. We don't have to be enemies, Cato. You can trust me; we could work together. But I can't trust you until you tell me the truth and stop hiding things from me."

The olive branch floated between, a shining beacon of hope, just waiting to be grasped and appreciated. He must see it. He must understand.

They both searched each other's eyes. Prim tried to pry into his mind, guarded and strengthened by walls so strong she had no hope to knock them down; he'd have to let her in.

His eyes flicked over her face, and he kept almost speaking and then stopping.

"I-I," and then a few seconds later, "I—I, "and then a few more seconds later, "I can't" He looked sorry to say it, and Prim was sorry to hear it.

She wished things could be easier, but they weren't.

"Just know," he pushed a strand of hair out of her face, a habit he liked to do, "I don't want to hurt you. I want to protect you."

Prim brought up a hand and placed it over his. The movement of his fingers stopped. She pressed his warmth into the groove of her cheek, feeling the lines of his hands: the lifeline, the heart line, the love line. They tried to imprint on her.

"If you want to protect me," she ripped his hand from her face, rejecting his comfort, for it only meant to placate, "Then save me from yourself."

He stood as if stuck and did not follow as she walked into the house and shut the door. She found a random room and hid herself within. Several hours later she saw his dark shadows of feet with the sliver of light coming from the hallway in her doorway. He stood still for a moment, as if indecisive.

A part of her, a larger part than she wanted to admit, wanted him to walk on through and join her, forget her sorrows and worry and hate, forget herself with their breath and sweat and heat. But the hesitating feet made a decision and walked on down the hallway, leaving her alone.

In the middle of the night, she crept out of bed, burying her toes in thick, white carpet. She attempted to become wind, like Gale tried to teach her one time.

They had been trying to hunt a rabbit one time several years before.

"To capture your prey, you must become the environment. If a tree stands still, so should you. When the leaves rustle, resemble them, move with the wind, move as quickly as nature, and then when the leaves stop, you stop and listen as well."

She assumed it would also be good advice for escaping a predator.

It was a good lesson, but she had never had a reason to use it until now. At this moment, she wanted to run, feel the gravel crunching under her slippers, feel the gritty wind seeping through the silk of her nightgown. She wanted to run and run until she could find home, find the place she belonged. Her mother. Rory. She did not care which came first or last, but she could not sleep a mile from their bodies and not attempt it.

The only problem was that she could not become the wind indoors. There was a lack of trees and leaves and birds to mask the sounds you wanted to keep quiet. Each step creaked and groaned, each breath exhaled with a whistle from the lungs. The sounds made her cringe, and she hoped Cato slept through them.

No luck.

As her slippered foot touched the marble of the foyer, the overhead light flicked on, revealing Cato standing in the shadows of the entrance to formal dining room. His eyes glowed against the darkness, bright electricity bolts directed straight towards Prim's fear.

"Going somewhere?" He asked.

Her breath caught in her throat, and a hand went up to protect her heart. For the first time in a long time, she felt afraid of him. Mortal fear. His boots clicked forward, until the light illuminated his entire person. She was suddenly aware of how much smaller she was then him. She remembered how his hands felt on her neck, pressing tight, twisting it to the side as if to snap. He could still do it without much of an effort, even if she struggled against him with every ounce of strength in her body. In the end, she was nothing.

Despite her trembling, Prim straightened her spine and met the challenge of his eyes.

"I'm leaving," she sputtered as best she could. "I'm going to see them."

She marched forward toward the door with her chin held high, her own fire blazing in her eyes.

"Like hell you are!" He marched after her, and before her fingers could grasp the doorknob he wrenched her backwards and flung her behind him, standing in the path between her and the door.

He created an impasse and she clenched her jaw, unwilling to stand down.

There were several moments before he spoke, slow and measured.

"Damn you," he started pacing, "Damn you, damn you, damn you. Why can't you be easy?" Whatever anger that had been present seemed deflated. "Why would you even want to go back to that old shack of yours anyway? It's filled with roaches, the whole district is, and the people are just as dirty. You'd think you'd be grateful, happy to be out of there. Not trying to slip out at night to go back. You're acting as if I treat you horrible." He stopped for a moment, and she heard him take three deep breaths, as if to calm down. "I know in that self-righteous little head of yours I'm a fucking irredeemable monster, but tell me? What have I done that's so bad? I've saved you; I've healed you, even when I should've broken every bone in your body. Other men would've. Do you not see what I could be, my potential to break you? Even when you do dumb shit like this, I can't bring myself to hurt you."

He turned and kicked the door with the toe of his boot with a muffled scream.

"Don't you fucking see?" He screamed.

She had no idea what he was getting at.

"Why would I want to go back?" Prim placed a hand over her heart, "It's my home. It's my heart, Cato. Every memory I have… my father carving in the corner, Katniss snoring in my ear, my mother… Buttercup…" Prim choked on a breath. "You can tear me from it, but you can't make me forget." The sadness turned to anger. It blazed in her, like a bonfire, growing higher and higher, engulfing everything in its path until she couldn't stand it anymore. "If only death can depart us, I hope it happens soon."

It came out of her, fast, like a hiccup. And she regretted it just as quickly. Did she mean it? No, she didn't. The words felt wrong in her mouth, like chewing on bark, nasty and uncomfortable.

"You don't mean that."

Despite his countenance her anger still swirled and raged, unable to be controlled. She lashed out with the only thing she thought could wound him.

"I'd rather be with Gale."

Cato crossed the several feet left between them and gripped her hair like a clamp, bringing them nose to nose. She tasted his breath, drunk it in, the sweetness and familiarity like a drug to her body.

"I've given you everything, haven't I?" His voice clipped out, low and dangerous, daring her to refute it. "Food, clothing, a soft bed, a big house. More than you could ever ask for; more than you've ever had in your life. And you'd still rather go back to the dead slum rat? What could he have given you? A hole in the ground, for your children to be raised in dirt? What more do you need to be fucking happy?"

"Love." The word rushed from her, leaving Prim feeling empty.

"What?" His hands released their grip, yet stayed threaded through her hair, resting lightly against her scalp. It was an intimate pose with their faces resting so close together.

"Gale would have given me love. It's worth more than you can buy."

"I-I could give you that too." His voice was soft and faltering, "Maybe not… maybe not like it would have been with… maybe not in the way you wish. Or, fuck I don't know what I'm trying to say, but I could give it to you," he paused, his face showing his rare side of vulnerability, "If that's what you wanted."

Her heart stopped and her throat felt made of cotton. She found herself leaning in, tilting her head to the side as if to kiss him subconsciously, but stopped herself.

"You don't understand, do you?" Her voice was soft as well. "Love works two ways, and it has to be received… not taken. You can't own this," She meant to place the hand on her heart but placed it over his. His heart was pounding so fiercely it thumped against her finger.

She pulled away, and he let her. She back away and then turned.

"I know," he said behind her as she climbed up the stairs.

Prim had lied. And it was just starting to weigh on her now that her emotions evened out.

She had said that Gale could have given her love.

But Gale couldn't have given her love. Not really. Not in the way she wanted.

But Cato said that he could. It was a statement with the power to knock her over with its weight. How often had he said something like that? Had he been telling the truth? Could he really give her love? Prim swallowed for her throat felt parched.

The Next Morning

Before breakfast, Cato grabbed her by the arm suddenly. He looked conflicted.

"I don't want you to go back to your old life." He said out of the blue.

"Okay?" Prim went along with his madness. She had decided last night to pick her battles better. Random bouts of insanity like the one he displayed right now were not worth engaging him.

"But," he ran a hand through his hair, "that doesn't mean I want to be cruel. I want you to be happy."

"Okay?" She said again.

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling as if annoyed.

"So..." He said.

"So?" She cocked her head to the side in confusion.

What was up with him today?

"So," he threw his arms up in the air, "What do you need for that to happen? I'm not good at this, you know."

Prim stilled, wondering what he was trying to do. For once, they were almost having a civil conversation despite the way he grabbed her arm and despite the usual intensity in his expression that she was beginning to suspect would have been a part of his natural personality no matter what life he had led.

"You could let me see my mother, for one. I'm sure that'd bring a smile or two."

"Are you still on that?" He frowned and crossed his arms, as if about to walk out. "Forget I asked anything."

Well, it was worth a shot.

She decided to reach out with another olive branch.

"I'm not done," Prim said, and he stopped. "Remember when I told you I'm a healer?"

He nodded.

"Well," she took a sip of orange juice, "That means I like to heal things. You know, set bones, bring relief. Things like that. It makes me feel good."

"Heal things," His mouth rounded over the words slowly, as if tasting them, and then he nodded. "I still think it's an odd profession to want to do. But to each their own, I guess." He stopped again, and said softer, "Anything else?"

"I like animals. I had two at home."

He sat down on the bar stool beside her, dragging the juice pitcher towards him. He didn't bother with a glass and took a large gulp straight from the container. Prim couldn't contain her scowl.

"That's disgusting."

He gave an exaggerated smack of his lips and smirked. "What were they?"

"What?"

"Your animals."

"Oh," she said. The memories of her old familiars almost brought tears to her eyes. It wasn't the first time she thought about them, and it wouldn't be the last. She wasn't worried about Buttercup. He was a tough old Tom. But what about Lady? Was she being taken care of? "Well..." She trailed off, unable to answer. She looked away, trying to blink away the salty water welling up in her tear ducts.

Cato eyed her expression, his shoulders slumping.

"Fuck," he said, "I did it again, didn't I? I said the wrong fucking thing."

"No… No… " she sniffled, "It's just I miss them. Buttercup, my cat. And Lady, my goat—"

"Who names their animals?" He rolled his eyes, teasing her. "Oh, that's right. Primrose Everdeen, the bleeding heart—"

"Of course I did. They were like my children. I had a pet mouse once too when I was a child that I named Thimble... well, until Katniss killed it for a stew. I never knew until several days later."

"I could see that." He said, "I bet you cried."

He didn't say this in a mean or taunting way, just a statement of fact.

"Yeah," Prim sighed. Their conversation edged into dangerous territory, into Katniss territory. It was the first time in a long time that they toed the line. "I don't blame her too much. She had a lot on our shoulders after my father died and my mother zoned out. We did what we could."

Even though she had loved the mouse, the thought of her sister stalking it around the room made her smile. The memories of her like that, determined to do right and survive, always were the most bittersweet.

It was the most personal thing she had ever shared with him.

"Prim…" His voice was deeper and full of something, as if he was about to say something important. But whatever he was going to say would be forever unsaid because he was cut off by a knock on the door.