A/N: The reviews and favorites and follows have dwindled down but I'm finishing this fanfic no matter what. Thank you guys for the support though.

They leave for District Four the next morning, Finn excitedly carrying a box of green-colored cookies made by Peeta. The snow's definitely starting to melt, giving us a cool breeze. Annie promises to write to us more often and invites us to visit them in Four sometime. We tell them we'd see what we can do, seeing that I'm not allowed to leave the district just yet. We leave that last bit out, though. They leave us with smiles on their faces and a hint of sadness in their eyes. But it's the good kind of sadness, the one that means they're not ready to leave yet. But according to Dr. Brax—Annie's doctor—that's just how much time he allowed her, or them, to visit. There's nothing we could do about that.

By midday, we've gone back home from the station, every bit of energy drained from our bodies. I don't think we can handle any more visitors. So, we head straight upstairs and take a well-deserved nap. Peeta holds me close as we sleep, with me nestled against his torso.

The nightmare comes unexpectedly and before I even know it, I'm thrashing around, trying to run away from whatever it was that was chasing me… and something—someone—else.

"Katniss! Hey, wake up, wake up."

Eventually reality catches up to me and I register what I'm seeing. Peeta's on top of me, both of his hands pinning down both of mine. His eyes look frantic and he's breathing heavily.

"You're okay, Katniss." He drops his head down and presses his forehead against mine. "You scared me."

What he said confuses me, "Scared you? Why?"

"You were screaming like mad. You were screaming my name. I had no idea what to do." He explains. The nightmare is fading every second, harder to recall. Peeta doesn't push me and settles on holding me instead as I try not to cry.

I fail terribly.

My sobs wrack my whole body, it's like an earthquake that has been suppressed for so long has now been released and is shaking every last bit of muscle I have. I'm not crying about what I dreamt, I'm crying because I thought the nightmares have finally left me for good. I had none for months! I thought I was doing great, that whatever Peeta and I are doing, it's working, but it wasn't. And now that they're back, I feel worse than before.

I don't realize how tight I'm hugging Peeta until he squeezes me. Loosening my clutch on him, not too much though, I start to relax. There won't be progress without setbacks, right? I convince myself that it's alright. I've been through everything. I'm allowed to have nightmares every once in a while.

"It's alright, Katniss. I'm here."

"I know," I whisper back. My voice sounds so frail.

"Oh, it's actually getting late. I'll go get some dinner, you can stay here if you want."

"No!" I scream. The thought of being alone frightens me. "I'll- I'll come with you."

"You don't have to, I'll just be downstairs."

"No, Peeta. I… can't." He observes me, then he understands. He sighs, pulls our blanket higher up our entangled limbs. I feel him drop a kiss on my head.

"Of course," he says. "I was dumb not to get it right away. I'm sorry."

By the time we open our eyes again, sunlight is streaming through our almost constantly open bedroom window. A mockingjay is perched on the sill, its head tilted to the side, watching us. It whistles a few tunes before flying away. Peeta looks at me, then to the window, then back at me again. His eyes widen, "Oh God! I slept in!" He swipes his palm across his face in exasperation. "We had no dinner, then now, no breakfast!"

"I'm sorry," I say. "That's partly my fault."

He just sighs and pulls me up to my feet. Together we go down the stairs, our arms on each other's waist. He lets me sit on the kitchen stool as he tries to find something to eat.

A couple of cabinets and drawers later, we finally have eggs and some bacon strips on our plate. A knock on the door disturbs our rather peaceful morning. I tell Peeta I'll get it. A delivery man, a real delivery man, stands by our front door holding a box and hands it to me.

"Delivery for Mr. Mellark?" he asks. He's about to say something but he must have understood what was happening, why I'm in front of him, and why the delivery is addressed to my house instead of his. "Oh, Ms. Everdeen, please just sign here, here, and here."

I do as he says, and he leaves. As I'm turning to get inside the house, a very familiar voice calls out my name.

God. No, not him.

"Hey, Catnip." I can hear a smile in his voice. Deep breaths. Be civilized. Do not try to kill him.

I turn to face him, "Hello, Gale."

He has—had—a smug smile on his lips but it falters as he takes in my appearance. My hair is still in its braid but its all messy now. My shirt's crumpled. I look like a hurricane.

"You look… different."

"Ditto," I say, because it's true. He's had a haircut, recently too. The sides of his head are shaved, there are wrinkles starting to appear on his forehead. He looks like he's aged 10 years. His clothes are of the same kind as the soldier's uniform who delivered his letter a week ago. I hear footsteps from behind me and in an instant, I'm trembling. Cursing under my breath, I feel him emerge from behind me, taking his place beside me.

"Oh," he breathes. "So that's why. Hello, Gale. Tea?"

"Mellark," the dark haired man in front of me nods his head a bit as a form of greeting, I think. "Didn't think I'd see you here so soon."

Peeta ignores Gale's jab at his mental state. Instead, he wraps his arm around my waist and guides me back to the kitchen. "Come in, if you want. We're just having breakfast," he calls as we walk away.

I'm surprised to see Gale sitting at the other side of the table when we turn around. I sit on my chair as Peeta prepares a plate for our unexpected guest. The said guest is looking around, probably taking inventory of everything in our house as trained soldiers do when they're in unfamiliar territory.

"Lots of knives here," he says. "Probably one too many."

I'm fuming. I'm about to make a very nasty comment about etiquette and personal choices but Peeta shoots me a look that says be nice, Katniss.

"Well, this is the kitchen. Of course there's a lot of knives."

"When did you get back, Peeta?" he asks.

"Months ago, August, I think."

Gale raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, just 5 months after the war?"

Peeta nods then places the plate in front of Gale. A bit too heavily, though. As we're eating, Gale never takes his eyes off of Peeta. I pretend not to notice. "Wait, when did they promote you to being General?" Peeta asks, waving his fork in the process.

"Right after I've completed my training. They said I was born for it," Gale answers. "Good aim and coordination and other things."

Peeta just nods. He finishes first and cleans his plate. A pitcher of juice lands on the table with a soft thump a minute after. "I'll be upstairs. Need to take a shower."

Gale looks confused but he says, "So, Katniss, how are you? I'm back here now, you can tell me anything."

Can you stop acting like someone that isn't you? "I'm okay, life's surprisingly boring. Which I like since we've experienced too much action to last us a lifetime."

"Nothing you'd want to change? Bring back or leave?"

At this very moment, I'm extremely tempted to throw my fork at him. I keep it together though, and answer calmly, "I'd—I'd like my sister back. But aside from that, nothing else." He clenches his jaw at this and lowers his head.

"Nothing else?" He stands and sits on the chair to my right. Please Gale, don't do anything stupid. "Not even a chance to undo and change things?"

"Well, I'd like my old best friend back, Gale. Not this person you are now," I snap. "I'd like the one whom I can count on when I'm having problems, the one who doesn't try to force himself into my life as someone he can't be—"

"So, you can never really love me that way?" His voice is tainted with so much hurt but I shock myself by not feeling any kind of emotion for him except anger. I'm angry at him for leaving me, for not being the best friend he should have been. I'm angry at him for trying to force me into loving him in a different way when he knew I couldn't. Because we only trusted each other due to necessity. If my dad hadn't died, then I wouldn't have accepted him into my life. He's too famous and handsome for my liking, too aggressive, too snappy and hotheaded. At least for Peeta, if he had more courage to approach me and showed me the kindness and love he shows me every day, I think I would have let him.

"No, Gale. I thought you would have realized that. And I think I've told you before."

"But why?" he asks, stubbornly.

"Because Peeta now knows me better than you do."

"Because of the Games? That's one thing! How about the grief of losing a father? Of having to feed your family when you should have been frolicking around and kissing your schoolmates and having fun? He doesn't know that! You don't love him, the Capitol forced you! It was just an act, you told me so."

"Gale! Things change, okay? And Peeta's no stranger to the grief of losing a father. He lost everything—father, mother, siblings—I'm all he has now. And, no, before you make a comment about that, let me tell you that isn't the reason why I'm staying with him. It's not pity I feel for him. I love him, Gale. And I'm really sorry I can't feel that way when it comes to you. I really am sorry. But if all you're going to do is to try to replace him, then leave."

He looks like I've slapped him, angry. Then his eyes soften, "No chance?"

I shake my head at him. "I'm sorry."

"It—it's alright, Katniss. I think I've got it. You've made it well clear."

Silence. It feels like forever. He stands and goes for the door. He steps out and I hear the knob click into place. A hand places itself on my shoulder and pulls me against a chest. My mind's wandering freely, from every little bit of me I shared with Gale up to every bit of me I now share with Peeta. I don't realize I'm crying until I wipe my cheeks.

"He just needs some time to himself," Peeta says. "What you told him was a lot to process. I would have broken down, too, if our roles were reversed."

Wait, what? Broken down? Gale broke down? I ask Peeta this and he confirms it. "But don't worry. Give him time and you'll have your best friend back. Trust me."

I do.

The rest of the Hawthornes pay us a visit the following morning. We have tea and biscuits. They've all grown up, Hazelle looks less stressed—not having to look after them constantly now. Gale's absent, and Rory tells me he said having a headache so he didn't join us. Peeta and I know better. They leave before afternoon, and at the last minute, Peeta convinces me to accompany them. I walk them to their assigned house, the one farthest from ours, which is the first Victor's mansion in the village, since Gale is someone with a title. As I turn to head back, I catch a glance of him watching me from the window inside one of the rooms on the second floor. I don't acknowledge him, still too… disappointed in him for not understanding.

When I get home, I grab Peeta by his collar, pin him against the wall and channel all the anger I have for my old friend into a kiss. He kisses me just as hard and somehow, we end up on the stairs. I feel hot all over.

"Katniss," he breathes. "What—Wha—"

Before he can even complete his question, my lips are on his again. He pulls away again though. "Katniss, wait. Why… What…"

"I want you, Peeta!" I scream.

He studies me for a moment like I'm some sort of intricate design on a cake. It frustrates me. "No, you don't. You're just troubled and you want an outlet."

"Oh, forget it! Screw this!" I stomp out the house and run to the only place I know I'll be at peace.

The cabin's floor is damp, its walls a bit moldy and cracking. Much like my insides. Curling up on the floor, I cry again for the nth time in two days. I cry for everything that has gone wrong in my life that I can probably never fix. I cry for my dad, for him leaving too soon. For Prim, for not having enough time. For me, for losing my best friend, for being stupid, childish, stubborn, hatful, unlikable, forceful, moody, impatient, irrational. For being every negative thing in this forsaken world. It's too late when I realize that by crying, I'm just rubbing it in more deeply, all of my what-ifs and should-haves. This makes me cry harder.

I must have fallen asleep because when I lift my head up from my position, the sun's shining through the cracks in the door.

God, Peeta must be worried sick. But he didn't want you, remember? Or were you too busy being an emotional wreck to do so?

Ugh, even I annoy myself.

I ignore me, just like everybody else does nowadays, and distract myself from everything. Traveling back to the edge of the forest, I spot geese peacefully drinking from a small stream. I retrieve my bow and arrows and shoot two of them. I shoot a squirrel, skin it and cook it so I have something to eat on my way back home. I forgot that I didn't have my bag with me so I tie my haul together and hang them from my shoulders. When I get home I'm sweaty and bloody and oily. No one's inside as far as I can tell. Randomly, I leave the geese on the counter and head upstairs for a shower.

Maybe I was half expecting Peeta to show up because when I see that our room's empty, I feel a stone set in my stomach. It weighs me down, and when I've reached the shower, I crumple to the floor and let the hot water droplets wash away all the soot and dirt from my body. I wish it could wash away the dirt on the inside, too.

Peeta's sitting on the side of the bed when I get out and the sight of him surprises me. The sight of me being half-naked surprises him, too. "Oh, you're here."

"I—uh, Katniss?" he stands, leans forward a little, probably deciding whether or not to walk up to me, then lingers there. "I'm… I'm sorry if I- I pushed you away last night. It's not that I didn't… feel the same way about you. I did. I do, but I want us to take this slow. The last time we rushed into things, I ended up deranged and you, broken."

I don't say anything in reply. I just walk. Walk towards him. He looks frightened—afraid—that I might slap him, maybe? But I don't. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck and lean my head against his shoulder. We've only been apart for hours, not even days, but I've missed him. His touch, his feel against me.

"You're right, I was stupid to do… that."

"So, we're okay?" he queries.

"We're okay, Peeta. You're too important to let go."

He chuckles. "Um, Katniss?"

"Hm?"

"Maybe some clothes on?"