The memories arrived as Peeta's train began approaching the place formerly known as District 12, now a subpart of the NorthEastern Panem. He had no clue about what he would find there besides Katniss, his old mentor, and a gigantic pile of rubble. As for her, he wasn't sure she'd ever want to see him.
Or if he wanted to see her.
He could feel the fear spreading through his limbs as the train sailed closer and closer, as he recognized the corn fields of what used to be D11, nearing his birthplace. He could feel the black hands of the tracker jacker venom trying to get a hold of him, trying to break him over and over, to take him back into madness. Peeta was stronger now, prepared for the attacks. He knew how to focus on what mattered - what wasn't shiny. The small stain on the window. The noise of the train. The drop of sweat falling down his neck.
This had become one of his routines now that he knew how to fight back the flashbacks.
It had taken a lot of time working with the team of experts Dr Aurelius had assembled for him for Peeta to be able to overcome his episodes on his own. A lot of time for him to forgive himself too, to understand it wasn't his fault, or Katniss's fault in the first place. A lot of time to make the decision to come back to the only place in Panem he knew besides the Capitol. A lot of time to realize he didn't really have any other place he wanted to go to, if he wanted to find peace within himself.
This had to start with saying goodbye - to what he once was.
To his family.
If he could.
As the train entered the so familiar decor of the mountains, he could feel the memories coming back. Memories of a time that seemed so long ago, but was only distant a few years.
1095 days.
Three years.
Or something like that.
He would always remember the precise date of his reaping, June 16th as the day that changed his life, not for the better.
Gone were his childhood dreams, lost in the reality and cruelty of a war that was never his to begin with.
Gone were most of his friends, lost in the bombing of the only place he could call home.
Gone were all the members of his family, lost in the rubble of the bakery that was the only place he had called home for a long time.
Gone were his hopes of a normal life, forever.
June 16th was the next day.
Irony was a bitch.
He knew if he wanted to start anew, he needed to make peace with his past.
The past started in the rubble of District 12.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be arriving in the former D12 in two minutes. " the toneless recorded voice chimed in the ears of the passengers.
Two minutes.
He had to get ready.
The train was already slowing down, the landscape outside becoming more and more familiar as the scenery became more discernible while they approached the train station.
Peeta grabbed his bag by the handle, holding on to it as if for dear life.
He knew he had to come back to start this new part of his life, if only to pay a last visit to his family if staying there was too hard.
"This is the Former District 12. Five minutes stop."
The recorded voice echoed in his ear. It was time.
Time to get out of the private compartment in which he had travelled on his own. His only request.
Time to face the world.
He didn't pay attention to the persons disembarking the train with him, not wanting to draw attention to himself - he had been careful to hide his curls under a cap, to keep his eyes down, to act as anonymous as possible.
All his efforts were ruined in a second, though.
"Come on, Boy, I'll walk you home." Haymitch's voice cut through the crowd of people to reach his ears.
Peeta lifted his eyes, searching for his old mentor. He easily spotted the older man, leaning against the door jamb of the main door, arms casually crossed on his chest, hair unkempt, dirty clothes.
"What are you doing here?" Peeta asked, once he had reached Haymitch.
"Well, looks like someone's forgotten his good manners in the big town. What about a hello first?"
"Nobody knew I was coming back, Haymitch. Nobody." Peeta insisted on the last word. He had made sure to buy his train ticket himself, to not tell Aurelius when he was leaving. He had been extra cautious with all his preparations to avoid being stared at or recognized in the train station.
"I knew. I just didn't know the date." Peeta watched as Haymitch walked towards him, until he found himself in the unfamiliar embrace of his mentor's arms. "I missed you, kiddo."
It's only then that Peeta realizes how much he had missed physical contact with someone. It had been months since someone touched him so close - the last occurrence he could remember being Katniss hugging him before leaving Tigriss's shop.
Months since he had felt the warmth such an embrace could bring, months since he had felt the rush of feelings, the simple and plain goodness of it.
Haymitch was the first to pull away, finishing his hug with a gentle squeeze of Peeta's shoulders.
"Come on, we'll talk."
Without another word, turned to leave the station, heading -
"Haymitch? That's not the right way? The town is …." Peeta followed the move of his hand towards what used to be the town of District 12. Now, he could only see rubble and ashes.
Of course, he had seen footage of his former town during his sessions with Dr. A., preparing him to come back to what had once been the only home he had known.
Seeing it in person really was something else.
He could still make out the edges of Main Street, could still see the remnants of what had been the Justice Building, thanks to what was left of the facade. The place that once held the platform where he and Katniss were reaped some three years ago was now nothing but a field full of rocks, full of planks, full of the ashes of what had been District 12.
"You okay, kiddo?" Haymitch's growl tore Peeta out of his contemplation of the ruins.
Peeta shook his head. No, he wasn't okay. In front of him, he could see the destruction of his town, of his home, of the life that had once been his, that was forever lost.
Knowing it was a thing.
Seeing it was something else.
He felt like his insides were torn apart, his heart ripped out.
He knew if he looked closer, towards the eastern part of the town, he could see the familiar remains of the family bakery.
His family's tomb.
He closed his eyes, hoping the tears wouldn't fall, his heart wouldn't crash, his head wouldn't explode.
But he wasn't strong enough yet.
He felt the moisture on his cheeks, then hands, the scruff of fabric under his face, the smell of alcohol so strong.
"It's okay, m'boy. It really is going to be okay." Haymitch grumbled in Peeta's ear. "Let's get you home."
Peeta felt his old mentor turning him gently, before they started walking away from the ruins of District 12.
Home.
An empty house, empty of happy memories.
Filled with a deafening silence.
Covered in dust and spider webs.
It took Peeta several minutes to be able to get rid of his old mentor, assuring him he would be fine on his own, that he might not even be in the district for too long, and that no, he didn't need him to stay.
Or rather, didn't want him to stay.
He wanted to be able to bid his old life goodbye before starting over, somewhere else, anywhere where the pain in his chest would go away.
Shaking his head, Peeta moved from the windows he had opened, from where he had been contemplating the new town that was slowly rising around the former Victor's Village. He had watched as one after another the small lights at the windows had vanished, leaving the stars and the moon shining over the district.
He took the comforter off the bed carefully, trying to avoid the dust as much as possible, before he changed the bed sheets, finding comfort in the simple, mechanical moves.
When he heard screams.
Unbearable shouts, so close.
Deafening shouts, that made him hang onto the sheets tighter.
Heartbreaking shouts, laced with fear, with tears.
He knew the voice. How could he not ? He had spent more than half of his life waiting for a word from that rich voice, had spent the last year fighting this very same voice in his head, trying to get rid of her.
He knew he had to do something.
So he did the only thing he could think of.
Placing his hands on his ears, he started walking as fast as he could in the dark of his house, in the shadows of the rooms, until he reached the kitchen's door, the one leading to the garden he never went to.
The garden which led to the woods he never went to either.
He took his hands off from his ears, glad for the small relief he got - knowing also the nightmares wouldn't stop that easily.
He needed out. He started jogging towards the woods, towards the place where he knew the voices wouldn't catch him.
He slowed down quickly, the dark of the trees preventing him from seeing where he was going.
He walked straight for a few minutes, until the sounds of the forest started their soothing.
He stopped, looking around him.
He was standing in the middle of a clearing. The same stars and the same moon were giving the place a silver light, adorning the leaves of the trees, bathing them in sparkles, touching the petals of the flowers, rendering their fragility unbreakable.
Something in him suddenly came back to life. He took in every single detail - the soft breeze bending the lush green of the grass, the shivering of the trees talking to one another, the lights of the glow-worm giving here and there a touch of glitter.
His fingers itched for something. For a pen, some paper, something to do.
Until his eyes fell on a little bush.
Evening primroses.
Peeta felt his heart breaking.
Again.