As if Thom's words serve as a release on a valve, people immediately begin streaming out of the trains.

You can see District Two discipline on display as most seem to have an air of stocism about them. Though at the same time, many also have an air of resentment and reluctance, as if they were forced to be here.

All that changes when they walk further.

Because when these new arrivals get a good look at the ruins of this community, their demeanor takes a sharp downturn and most of them — even ones who obviously saw and experienced a lot this past year — freeze in horror as they survey the devastation. Stoicism breaks and resentment is replaced with wide-eyed shock.

After the initial shock, the crowd continues on its way in a markedly subdued manner. And indeed, when Thom and the others begin to assign them roles, they take their responsibilities without complaint, with the only possible commentary being requests for clarification.

If the arrivals were bothered at first sight, actually working here seems to tear into them further. One youth reminds me a bit of Cato in build and complexion… except for the little fact that he vomits and wears a stricken expression on his face when the retching stops; all the while, his companion tries to get him going even though she herself is at a loss for words. A group of well-dressed elders remain in despondent silence as they walk through what used to be the Peacekeeper complex. And, even with his respirator on, a man — one who most likely fought during the war; judging by his relatively fresh scars — can be seen visibly breaking down as he carries the charred remains of a child.

Then again, it makes sense. From what I've been told, most of the real assholes among the Peacekeepers have either been killed off in the war through combat or executions… or they became even bigger assholes by joining the Corsairs or Heirs of Winter. That leaves human beings who were simply on the wrong side; many of whom probably have friends and loved ones of their own. I won't mince words though, because they were on the wrong, not just opposite, side even when factoring in Thirteen and the monster that's Coin. At the same time, it would not just be a dick move to remind them of that fact but also completely ; our surroundings seem to be sending a clearer message than anything I could attempt to say.

While it's clear that they're aware of my presence, most from Two seem to be actively avoiding me as much as possible, with any glance my way followed quickly by their eyes going to the ground. The strange thing is that they don't seem to be ignoring me out of spite; actually, for whatever reason that escapes my attention, it's almost as if they're afraidto speak to me.

However, eventually one of them decides to break away from that pattern and walks in my direction, albeit with an obvious amount of hesitation. As he gets closer, it occurs to me that it's the same boy I saw puking earlier, and next to him the girl is evidently trying to dissuade him from approaching me.

So right when he's a couple feet away, and before he can change his mind — it's clear that he's only a few thoughts away from turning around and fleeing — I decide to initiate the conversation: "Mornin'. Can I help you?"

If anything, my question seems to distress the guy further, and he proceeds to mumble, "This… this isn't who we are. We… I…"

"Give it a rest, Onyx," the girl mutters; her attempts to steer him away from me finally appear to come to fruition. "Like Mellark wants to talk to any of us." I don't miss how heavy her tone is with resignation.

In any case, Onyx's shoulders slump as he bows his head and begins shuffling away with the girl's arms around him. "Yeah, you're probably right." For a brief moment though, he raises his head to glance back at me and offer up a quiet, "We-I'm sorry."

I want to say some words of reassurance to them. I want to say that the apology isn't necessity; that I don't hate the people of Two; that we're merely thankful for them coming even though they didn't have to. However, my usually trusty rhetorical skills fail me as they wander off.

So with no idea what else to do, I sidle up next to Marcus to watch the progress of everything; the former Peacekeeper's settling quite well into his role of overseeing his fellow district citizens.

"Loyalists hugging rebels…" he mutters while watching the couple. "I mean, Alvar was a Peacekeeper before he became a rebel, and I don't think either of them fired a shot in the war. But still…"

All the former Peacekeeper's commentary earns from me is a raise of the eyebrow.

"I… dammit. Point," he concedes before shaking his head. "I guess it truly is a new era."

"Nothing wrong with that," I note.

"I guess not."

Watching everyone, I voice an earlier observation: "Some of the younger ones seemed a bit reluctant at first."

"Well," Marcus states with a shrug, "those eighteen-and-under don't exactly have a choice in the matter."

That last part takes me aback. "You didn't make it purely voluntary?" Seriously, I would rather have people who are willing to help out rather than those press-ganged into assisting.

"If we had no problem with that age bracket open for reaping or conscription, we should have no problem with this," he counters. "Keep us from being a district of victims, and believe me when I say that there're plenty of reasons to do so. No matter how valid the actual tactic was, I'm still angry about the rebels gloating over the Aedes Bellonae. And there's no excuse for Camp Victory or how… how…" Marcus is unable to finish his statement and can only bow his head with clenched teeth.

I don't say anything to that — he's probably got enough vocalized condolences as it is for what happened to his family — but simply rest my hand on his shoulder. He tenses up for a moment, but ultimately the relaxing of his muscles hints that he accepts the gesture.

"However," the former Peacekeeper continues, "there's no excuse for the Games or how our Soldiers in White were used. There's no excuse for what happened to you and… so many others the Capitol detained. And there's certainly no fucking excuse for this. More people may have died several times over in the Aedes Bellonae alone, but it doesn't make this any less of an atrocity."

"But a lot of the people here probably didn't even set foot outside of District Two," I counter, "much less participate in all that you mention."

"That doesn't absolve us of our complicity. Unlike the rest of you, we were happy to be the Capitol's slave, and our willing and blind compliance made sure that its crimes were able to be carried out. That's why it's so important that this happens. Without knowledge of this atrocity, there would likely be many who continue to deny there being reasons the other districts came knocking on our door; instead, they would do nothing but continue to play the victim.

"That changes if you present them with the awful truth firsthand. It's why, after looking at proof from several bomb fragments gathered here and documents found back home, we decided on this. To help someone as a slight recompense was one reason, and like I said before, the other reason is so that reality would finally set in."

"It's apparently also why Marcus here told me to keep the Peacekeeper facility untouched," Thom adds, "at least until everything else has been completed."

"Yeah," the former Peacekeeper notes with a nod. "It's to show them just how much of a shit the 'Guiding Light' that's the Capitol really gave about us."

"Though," I point out, "if that's your intent, I probably should mention that it's probably impossible to get every citizen of Two here, even with your troop transports." Seriously, it would take almost a whole year to reach their population numbers.

"We don't need all or even the vast majority of people; just enough to spread the word. That's why the obligatory members for this trip consists of the regional leaders from every community in Two. And it's why we decided to include kids, albeit ones of reaping age, and teachers; to plant the seed in the next generation." Marcus proceeds to add, "Similar to that, it's why Gale pressured Paylor to force all regional and rebel military leaders to tour the Aedes Bellonae and what's left of Camp Victory. Like us, they may have not been directly responsible for wartime atrocities, but it doesn't change their complicity."

"Huh, none of us got the memo," states Thom. I don't miss that he already seems a bit exhausted from directing people. On the upside, all that military discipline hammered into those from Two means that there's very little he needs to say for them to proceed with whatever they've been assigned to do.

"I think it's because we don't really have any regional leader," I mutter in turn. It's more than a bit generous to call Twelve a district before the bombing; I'm not even sure what it is now since the current population isn't even in the triple digits.

"Oh… right. Well… I'll be willing to serve as a representative ASAP if you want. I mean, I'm not exactly enthusiastic about going there — the footage Cressida aired was bad enough — but it's just as fair that I participate."

The former miner's offer seems to take the former Peacekeeper completely by surprise. "O-oh okay. I'll let Gale know and give you word when I come back."

"Speaking of which, what does Gale think of all of this?" I ask. It's not hard to imagine that the old Gale would have truly enjoyed rubbing everybody's face in this… and then some.

"He's glad that someone's helping you guys out. But other than that, he's been noncommittal and purposefully out of the loop for now. We also have barred him from the meetings, and extensively recorded them to show a lack of his presence." When I ask why, Marcus adds, "It's so that any accusation of us being Gale's puppet will be completely groundless. Not that it would stop the more zealous in my district, but it should be in the tiny minority."

Huh, smart move. I'm also pretty damn impressed that they were able to get everything organized in such a short amount of time. "Well, I've said it before, but I really mean it that I'm thankful at what all of you are doing."

"Same here," adds Thom. "At the rate we were going, we probably wouldn't have been finished even by the year's end. Which would have kept people from returning, which would have left us with no workers, and so on… Seriously, you have no idea how much help this is. Some of the guys may not appreciate it right now, but I think they'll come around."

"Also," I add, "I really do hope that this would cause the other districts to quit shitting all over yours like I've been hearing." Though the fact that there's no propo crew to film this would probably make that unlikely.

My comment earns a noncommittal grunt and shrug from the former Peacekeeper. "As nice as that would be, I'm not holding my breath." There's not even the slightest trace of bitterness; just a matter-of-fact tone tinged with resignation.

I'm about to retort when the familiar sound of light footfalls — normally they should be silent but rubble-caked earth sort of makes that difficult — reaches my ears, and I turn to see Katniss trudging down the hill; probably to go hunting judging by the way her bow and arrow are carried. While there's still some distance for her to go to recover, I don't miss how much life seems to have returned to her since the day I returned, and by this point she looks like she's capable of moving around on her own two feet without it visibly exhausting her. She must be in her own little world at the moment because she doesn't even seem to notice anybody until she's pretty much in the midst of us. When she does finally look up however…

On any other situation, the sight would probably be hilarious, and you could probably be forgiven for thinking this is some elaborate Capitol sculpture garden. Because everybody is frozen in place as Katniss and the people of Two stare at each other like some wild animal caught in the crosshairs… except both are the prey. Considering how they were familiar with each other this past year, said context ends up taking the humor out of the situation … at least somewhat. I definitely don't miss how Katniss is piecing together the origin and background of our current guests… or how many of the vistors' eyes continuously flit over to the bow and sheath full of arrows.

In the end, Katniss is the one to break the tableau first by continuing on her way towards to the forest. In other words, she bolts off and continues to run in a full sprint until she's out of sight. The visitors themselves seem to be trying to figure out as to whether what they just saw was real or not as they gradually begin to resume their work duties.

During this resumption, Thom decides to be the one to break our uncomfortable silence. "That… probably could have gone better."

That just makes me snort: "You think?"

In Marcus' case, it doesn't seem like he knows what to think. "So… that's her…" he mumbles soberly. "I guess that's what you meant when you said that she 'could be better'."

"Yeah; though she's improved quite a bit than when we last talked. Still…" I can't deny how worried I am about her, and it probably shows in the form of a grimace on my face.

"So why the fuck are you still standing here?" the former Peacekeeper growls, and to my surprise, he's actually glaring at me.

As I piece together what he means by that, my attempt at a response just comes out in a pathetic sputter: "I… I can't just go after Katniss! What kind of help can I give in this situation? If anything, I'll probably just end up scaring her off even more! She-she doesn't want anything to do with me!"

"Uh huh…" Great, now you have to pile things on, Thom?

"NO! No opinions from any of you!" Though that doesn't cease the fact that I have to deal with everybody, Twelve and Two alike, around me giving me the kind of judgmental stare that bores into my skull even though I'm not even looking at all of them. Do you all think I don't want to help? I do! It's just that it's too soon; I need to keep things gradual so as not to cause any shock. I need to give her space. It… I… "… Son of a bitch…"

And so with that muttered oath, I set off in a run of my own; well, at the very least, I try my best at it. It's bad enough that the replacement leg I got while I was recuperating in the Capitol these past couple months is pitiful at running with, and running through rubble is not exactly the easiest thing to do in general; the mixture of these two factors raises the level of suck to new heights.

Yet I still manage to keep up the pace — okay, maybe I stumbled and fell into a crumpled heap one… or two… or five times — all the way to the busted fence.

Where did she go? Where would she go?

Since I haven't actually been in the woods with Katniss, the only thing to do is a time-honored technique of mine: wandering around aimlessly — I do sort of utilize some strategy by following what looks like a path — in the hope of running into her.

Which to my surprise, I actually do. I don't know how long I've been wandering — it could've been minutes; it could've been hours — but I finally come across Katniss perched on a rock overlooking the forested hills. I admit that for a moment, the scenery holds my attention captive — this early in the season, everything is either a light green or a patchwork of flower-laden colors — until I'm almost right on top of her.

Of course, I also probably should have called out Katniss' name ahead of time. Because the moment she notices me — honestly, I'm a bit surprised that I actually saw her before she saw me — she strings her bow and whips around to aim right at my heart.

Okay, so this isn't the first incidence of this happening, but my balls are probably not going to be coming down any time soon; granted, I'm pleasantly surprised it didn't cause me to go nuts. "Whoa, it's just me." Honestly, I'm also surprised that my voice is able to come out as calm as I hold my hands up in a placating manner.

A few seconds seems to pass for my presence to register because that bow's still strung as Katniss stares at me with a panicked expression, but that panic soon shifts to mortification and shame before she lowers the bow and allows it to clatter to the ground. While she pulls her knees up to her chest and turns to face away from me, I slowly walk towards to the rock and just as slowly lower myself down upon it as if any sudden movement would scare her away.

It's best not to mention how I almost got a free offering of heart surgery and instead focus on what's important. "You gave us a bit of a worry running off like that. Something spooked you?"

Of course I have a good idea as to what spooked her, but sometimes with Katniss, if you want to get a reaction you need to do something that she finds exasperating. Which I succeed in because she looks at me as if I'd just declared my love for the Capitol. "Haven't you seen our district?"

A bit of a noncommittal shrug. "So we've gotten a few new guests."

"From District Two! You know what we did to them! And now… now they're coming to finish the job! They've come for me, and I'll probably deserve it."

See, this is why it was a bad idea for me to come! Because things are obviously going downhill. I mean, I guess that the upshot of this means that Katniss has regained some sense of self-preservation if she's rambling in fear, but I don't want her to stay in some state of paranoia for the rest of her life.

In the following seconds, I don't know what comes over me. Because before the two of us realizes what's happening, I do something that's probably on the stupid side: I wrap my arms around Katniss and hold her close to me. Within my embrace, I can feel her tense up a bit and pull away, and I'm about ready to let go and apologize; however, to my surprise, she relaxes and melts back into my arms… though her ramblings seem to turn into small dry sobs.

"It's okay. It's okay," I breathe as I gently rub Katniss' back. As the she finally falls silent, I add, "No one's coming to get you. They're here to help."

That seems to catch her short, and she pulls back to look at me in a puzzled manner. "Help?"

"Yeah, they're part of a rotating crew that will be working daily to get Twelve cleaned up in due time. It's kind of a way of them saying sorry for our district being obliterated. You actually met the guy who arranged the thing."

More puzzlement. "I did?"

"He's the one who stuck a gun in your face before you got shot." Okay, maybe the phrasing should have had more tact.

Recognition finally seems to click behind her eyes. "At the Nut…" And that's when a hopeful tone enters her voice: "He's still alive?"

I nod my head. "He asked about your wellbeing. In fact, while they did hate you during the war — actually they sort of still hate the rebels now — many people from Two actually admire you for calling to give them a chance. And that's why they are here. So you don't have anything to worry about from them."

My hope was that the statement would reassure Katniss and calm her down. For some reason, though, it actually does the complete opposite. "This just proves I don't belong," she mutters.

"Katniss—"

"I thought they were coming to kill me! I thought you were someone else who was coming to kill me, and I almost killed you because of that!"

"'Almost'," I note. "Key word there, and not exactly the first time you aimed an arrow at me. Real or not real?"

"Real." Good to know that routine still works. "But that's not the point. They were right in sending me here, and still it's not enough. I'm probably going to treat everybody as a threat because that just the kind of person I am: distrustful and deadly. I'm a threat. It… it's why I should probably go."

What. "What?" Is she saying what I think she's saying?

"I should go." Katniss' voice sounds so tired when she repeats that, but those three syllables still cut into me. "Leave and head off into the wilderness. I'll be breaking my parole, but it's not like they'll waste their time looking for me."

Is she… is she really considering this? "But… but you can't go."

"Who says I can't?" she retorts, and to my horror, there's actually some conviction that's creeping into her previously-wavering voice. "I know how to survive out he—"

"I'm telling you, please don't go!" I don't even realize that I'm screaming, or that my hands are clamped down on Katniss' shoulders as I kneel on the ground, until I finish that statement. Though right now, even I'm aware of how pitiful I look and sound. "Please…" Except I don't care.

"Peeta…" I look up to see that she seems to be looking at me with a mixture of shock and concern, but it's not until she brushes a slender hand against my cheek that I realize I'm actually crying.

"You once told me that you needed me…" I mumble as I hear drops of my tears hitting the leaves beneath me, "during the Quell. Real or not real?"

For some reason, she flushes dark. "Real. You were trying to convince me that no one needed you and that you should die in the arena."

"Well, I'm telling you right now: I need you."I really do. "I-I know it's selfish of me to say, especially after all that's happened, but it's true. When you were wasting away in that fucking prison they put you in, I felt like I was losing my mind. And now I know that, I… I don't think that I can manage if you… if you…"

"Peeta…" Whatever she says next, I can't discern it.

"So I'm begging you… please don't leave!"

Silence settles on the wake of my plea, and we remain stuck where we are: Katniss standing and me groveling at her feet. Great work, Mellark. Because being all pathetic and making demands like this would really convince her to stick around.

It's only when my tears finally abate that I hear her quiet voice: "It's just… I don't feel like I can fit in Twelve anymore."

"It's because you've been pretty much shut in for the past… who knows how long." Okay, that was a bit harsh. "At this point, many people probably don't feel like they fit in anywhere. Doesn't mean that they can't give things a shot."

"Maybe…" Admittedly to my own selfish glee, I can hear her conviction wavering.

"Definitely," I state and finally look up to see that there's still lines of concern and worry etched on Katniss' face. That's when I get an idea: "Tell you what, why don't you give this a couple weeks. If you really feel that you can't fit in by the time those weeks have passed, I won't even try to stop your departure. How does that sound?" Please say yes.

Several agonizing minutes pass in silence as she appears to mull that over in her head. Finally though she mutters, "Fine. But I can't make any promises, and I think you don't give yourself any credit in being able to survive on your own."

She really does have no idea the effect she has… Still, my response is to give her a big hug and ramble out a varied string of thanks; this time, I manage to do so without breaking down and blubbering without stop.

When we finally part, Katniss adds, "If it's okay, can you just… give me a moment? I'm not ready to go back just yet."

"But you will be back by evening," I add, trying and failing to hide the desperation in my voice, "right?"

"Don't worry," she says with a huff and scowl, "I promise I'll be back by then. Okay?"

"Okay!" With one final hug — I've probably surpassed my hug limits long ago — I move back towards the town. It's clear that Katniss needs her space for the moment, and I should be helping our guests; I actually have an idea that will make me useful for once.

I just need to… just need to… uh… dammit.

"Um… heh… Katniss?"

"Hmm?"

"Which way is home?"