The Lover and The Best Friend

by writersblock700

When Katniss is forced to marry Peeta after the 74th annual Hunger Games, she longs for the life she wants with Gale. But when the unexpected happens and everything is called into question, she has to face the possibility that she may lose the man she loves forever. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; they belong to author Suzanne Collins.

6. Chapter 6: Look the Other Way

A/N: It's definitely been a challenge getting this chapter done. I've been working on this one for far too long. Plus, I've been out of town with a relative who recently had surgery (she's fine, thankfully). Anyhow, thank you for your patience and interest in this story. I'm grateful for reviews, and I hope this (super long) chapter is well worth the wait. Happy reading!

---

Like most Peacekeepers, Darius was from elsewhere. He grew up in an affluent family in District 1, a region whose wealth was only rivaled by the Capitol's.

Unlike most Peacekeepers, Darius enlisted in the Capitol's local militia program for reasons other than power and authority. He wanted to see more of Panem, and his desire to travel resulted in him being stationed in Districts 4 and 9 on previous stints. But he requested placement in impoverished District 12, an unpopular assignment among his peers. Hence his other reason for becoming a Peacekeeper: he wanted to help others.

Darius enjoyed living in District 12. It was an interesting challenge getting the people to accept him. But when they saw that he was willing to hand out candy to children at the annual harvest festival, or help a Merchant haul supplies from the afternoon train, or sit on a porch in the Seam and engage an old timer in a game of chess, District 12 residents began to claim him as one of their own.

As a result of his genial nature, Darius knew the details of many residents' lives. Peeta asked for information about Allister Canty as they drove out of Victor's Village.

Allister's mother died when he was 17 years old, and he and his stepfather moved to District 12. Three years later, his stepfather passed away. Allister remained in District 12, having secured a job in the mines. He was viewed as being agreeable and polite, but he was a loner. He didn't have a girlfriend or wife or any known family.

Peeta's jaw clenched in anger. Meeting your future in-laws, huh? Pathetic son of a bitch.

In the past six months, Darius said he'd interviewed two Seam women who'd been lured to the slag heap and raped. But both victims were too afraid to give the attacker's name or even a physical description. In each case, the women said the attacker admitted to studying them from afar before becoming an acquaintance and luring them to an isolated area.

"If this is the same guy who's been assaulting other women in the District, what Katniss went through tonight won't be in vain," Darius said, glancing at Peeta. "We can stop Allister before he hurts someone else."

Peeta sat in the passenger seat with his eyes shut and his head tilted against the headrest. The look of terror in Katniss's eyes as she sprinted into his arms replayed in his mind, and he could still feel the way her traumatized body quivered against his. Reliving those moments fueled his rage.

"Park a few houses away from his. I'll go the rest of the way on foot. And give me a five minute head start before you come in."

---

Maybe it was because Peeta was a Hunger Games victor, or maybe it was his confidence. Or perhaps Darius wished he could retaliate himself. But for whatever reason, Darius, an adult Peacekeeper, was following the instructions of a 17-year-old and accompanying him to break the law.

They drove a short distance past The Hob, which bustled with activity this time of night. Darius veered to the side of the road and shut off the engine.

"After this row of houses, it's the second free-standing house on the left," he said. A dim light burning inside Allister's house gave the windows a tangerine glow.

"Now Peeta, remember what I said about – "

"Got it," Peeta said offhandedly, as he climbed out the car. He passed Seam residents who slowed their steps and commented, curious about what could have drawn the baker's son to this part of town at this time of night.

"He looks really mad."

"He might be looking for his wife, the victor girl. Poor guy. She's probably drunk at The Hob."

That helps, Peeta thought, the chilling grin returning as he approached the home.

Then, with one violent kick to the front door, Peeta was inside the one-room shack. Allister was seated at a small round table midway the room, holding a bloodstained handkerchief to his nose. Two large cloth bags, stuffed with clothes and supplies, were on the tabletop along with a smattering of coins. He was planning to leave.

Allister startled at the invasion, knocking his chair over as he stumbled backward in his effort to stand. But Peeta was on him in an instant, unleashed rage flying with his fists, flaring in his eyes, and forming in his words.

"You fucking bastard! You attacked my wife? You drugged her? I'll kill you!"

Peeta sent Allister flying across the room, leveling a shelf that broke his fall. Disoriented and dazed, Allister had no defense as Peeta descended on him, punishing him with a severe beating to his face.

When Peeta finally climbed off, a deep gash across the bridge of Allister's nose produced garnet tributaries of blood that mingled with the garnet puddle in his mouth. His cheeks were purple from the beating and his left eyelid was indigo and nearly swollen shut. Allister leaned on his side and spewed blood and a tooth onto the bare, wood floor.

"I'm sor… sorry man," he winced. "I thought… she wanted it."

"You're a fucking liar! Get up asshole." Peeta gave Allister time to stagger to his feet. But before he was fully upright, Allister charged at Peeta, switchblade in hand.

"That whore deserved it," he snarled.

Peeta leapt backward, narrowly escaping as the switchblade ripped a long tear down the side of his jacket. With swiftness and skill, Peeta seized Allister's wrist and spun behind him, twisting Allister's palm to the ceiling and forcing him to drop the knife. Peeta sent the switchblade spinning across the floor, out of reach, and placed Allister in a tight chokehold. When he released him, Allister collapsed to the floor, gagging for air but Peeta didn't relent, kicking him in his stomach, his side, and his legs.

"Is that all you've got, you piece of shit?" Peeta growled. "You want to attack someone? Come on. Attack me."

But Allister stretched his palms in surrender. "Please," he groaned in pain, inching away from Peeta.

"Did my wife ask for mercy?" he shouted. "Did she beg you to stop?"

Enraged, Peeta kicked Allister in the stomach, the ribs, the legs, and the crotch. Allister writhed on the floor in agony, pleading apologies.

Just then, Darius came running into the home with Trolly and Lester, two additional Peacekeepers he must have radioed for backup. Trolly and Lester pulled Peeta away from Allister.

"That's enough Peeta," Darius said sternly as Peeta tried to fight his way back to Allister.

"Allister Canty, you are under arrest for assault and attempted rape, use of illegal drugs, brandishing a weapon, and holding an individual forcibly against her will," Darius said. Allister was still writhing on the floor when Trolly placed him in handcuffs.

"He needs medical attention," Lester said. "Maura Everdeen is the best in the district, but clearly we can't call her. Who else is there?"

Darius sighed. "There's Jinx Hampley, the old timer a few houses down," he said discreetly. "He's not nearly as good as Maura Everdeen, but he knows a thing or two. Get Allister in the cart. We'll hold him in a cell and bring Jinx to him."

Lester and Trolly carried Allister to their Peacekeeper vehicle. "Clear a path, please. Clear a path," Lester shouted.

Peeta's face was still hardened with anger when he glanced out the broken front door. A large crowd had formed outside Allister's house. For the first time, Peeta heard their voices.

"Allister Canty tried to rape his wife tonight. Katniss Everdeen Mellark, the victor girl."

"That's the other victor Peeta Mellark, the baker's son. He beat the shit out of that guy."

"I heard Allister call his wife a whore and say she deserved it. He must have done it. That's a shame; they've been through enough, surviving the Games and all."

"And Allister drugged her too? Was that last night? When we thought she was drunk?"

"But that's exactly what Mary Lewison said happened to her. She was drugged and raped. I heard the same thing happened to Nova Dennis. It must have been Allister Canty who did it."

Darius's voice drew Peeta's attention. "Are you injured, Peeta?" Peeta gave a quick shake to both hands, the pain of his bruised and bloody knuckles finally registering.

"I'm fine," he said, his chest still heaving.

"I gave you six minutes, for good measure," Darius whispered, a smile ghosting his lips. "You really gave it to that son of a bitch."

"Name your price," Peeta murmured, unflinching.

"We'll get straight on another day. Right now, let me get you back home to your wife."

---

Thom banged on the Hawthorne's front door. He knew Gale had had a rough 24 hours and was probably asleep. But he would want to know about the commotion in the Seam tonight. It involved Katniss.

Bleary eyed, Hazelle opened the door.

"Thom? What's – "

"I'm sorry to wake you Mrs. Hawthorne, but I thought Gale would want to know this."

"Want to know what?" Gale appeared at the door with heavy lidded, bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair.

"Allister Canty," Thom began. "The word is that he tried to rape Katniss tonight."

---

Gale outran Hazelle and Thom to the thick crowd gathered outside Allister's house. They arrived just as Trolly and Lester were carrying Allister to the Peacekeeper vehicle. By the looks of it, Allister had been beaten to within an inch of his life.

Gale felt as if his head were underwater. This made no sense. Allister was just at his house a few hours ago. Gale had just spoken – argued – with Katniss a few hours ago.

"What happened?" Gale was breathless as he turned to the Seam couple on his right.

"Allister Canty tried to rape the victor girl tonight. And he tried to drug her last night," the woman said, craning her neck to see the inside the house.

The familiar and revolting feeling of powerlessness that had shaped Gale's entire life churned his stomach.

He seemed like a decent guy. Katniss… I put her in harm's way. How could I have missed the signs?

"Well someone certainly got a hold of Allister," Thom said in response to the Seam couple. "Did one of the Peacekeepers beat him up?"

"No." The woman shook her head in amazement. "Her husband. The baker's son did that."

Gale's jaw went slack.

"Good for Peeta Mellark," the man said approvingly with a swift nod of his head. "Any man who loves his wife would do the same. I certainly would have done the same thing if someone attacked my wife."

"And now they're saying that Allister Canty has done this before." The woman shook her finger at his house. "I always knew there was something off about that young man."

Rage flared inside Gale like an open flame to kerosene. He began to push through the crowd toward the Peacekeeper vehicle that held Allister, and neither Hazelle nor Thom's protests mattered. But Gale stopped short, midway the crowd when Peeta emerged from Allister's house with Darius at his side. Peeta's jaw was clenched and his knuckles were badly bruised.

Otherwise, there wasn't a scratch on him.

---

It soon became obvious that no one but Peeta could comfort Katniss.

Maura tried. Prim tried. Even Haymitch tried. Despite their best efforts, Katniss was still distraught that Peeta was putting himself in harm's way. And she was the reason.

Maura drew a bath of aloe and lavender and helped Katniss lower into the tub. The hot water massaged the tension from her muscles, but she was silently tormented by thoughts of Peeta's demise.

"If something happens to him, I'll never forgive myself," Katniss said aloud as Maura changed her bandages after the bath.

"He will be back soon, honey. He won't let you down."

You're right. I'm usually the one who lets him down.

Katniss sank into herself, her shoulders slumping. "Mom? Why does he love me?"

A gentle smile turned the corners of Maura's lips. "He just does, Katniss. The heart wants what it wants. And his heart wants you."

Katniss stared at the ostentatious wedding ring on her left hand, the work of some cerulean-skinned Capitol designer whom neither she nor Peeta ever met. Everything about the ring was forced, unnatural, and burdensome; it had always been an apt symbol of her marriage.

But as she took a closer look, she realized that the ring was quite lovely and durable despite her rough treatment. And although it wouldn't have been her first choice, now that the ring was hers, she would miss it if it were gone.

She would definitely miss it if it were gone.

---

Gale watched as Lester and Trolly drove away with a severely injured Allister, and Darius drove off with Peeta.

Gale's mother had him by the wrist. She was pleading, trying to get Gale to meet her gaze. But he couldn't comprehend her words. The only thing that made sense was finding Katniss. She needed him. He had to get to her. He must have said this aloud because Hazelle's grip tightened on his wrist.

"Gale, you don't need to go to Victor's Village tonight. You need to rest. We're all worried about Katniss, but there's nothing any of us can do. She's with Maura and Prim, and it looks like Peeta has taken care of Allister."

Gale turned pleading eyes to Hazelle.

"You don't understand," he argued. "She needs me. She needs me, mom. Not Peeta."

Hazelle's eyes were sympathetic, but her tone was firm. "She needs her family, Gale. You care for Katniss a great deal, but she is Peeta's wife. She's his responsibility, not yours."

Gale bristled.

"Gale, your responsibility is to our family, to me and Rory and Posy and Vick. We need you. And you need to rest so you can make it to work tomorrow."

He shifted his eyes to Thom, who nodded in agreement. "She's right Gale. You need to rest. Katniss is strong, and she's not alone. Check on her tomorrow."

Gale ran a hand roughly down his face and stared at the sky. Then, with anger still flaring in his eyes, he briskly walked home.

---

Peeta asked Darius to make one stop before heading back to Victor's Village. They pulled up to Mellark Bakery a few minutes later.

"I'll only be a few minutes."

Peeta unlocked the back entrance and took the stairwell to the apartment above the bakery. He lived there all his life until he returned from the Games and moved to Victor's Village.

Inside the apartment, his middle brother, Rye, was lying on the living room couch watching television. His oldest brother, Thatch, moved out a year ago when he married Natalie Minson, a Merchant's daughter.

"Peet." Rye turned a surprised glance to the wall clock. Then, he noticed his brother's hands and sat upright. "Aww hell. What happened to you, man?"

"Are mom and dad asleep?"

"Uh, yeah. They went to bed about an hour ago. What did you do, kill somebody?"

"Almost," Peeta said flatly.

Rye followed him to their parents' bedroom. Peeta tapped lightly on the door.

"Dad, mom. Could I speak to you both in the living room, please?" He heard his parents rustling on the other side of the door.

Peeta stepped to the bathroom and used cool water to rinse the blood from his knuckles. He and his parents entered the living room at the same time.

"Peeta it's late and your father and I have to be up early in the morning," his mother griped.

"I know it's late, mother, and I apologize," he said quietly. "This will only take a few minutes." He heaved a sigh. "Katniss was assaulted and almost raped tonight by a guy from the Seam – Allister Canty."

They reacted with drawn breaths and wordlessly parted lips.

"Is she okay?" Rye asked, concern creasing his brows.

"She's shaken up pretty badly."

"How did this happen?" Daniel asked.

Peeta told them about the missing necklace, Allister's phone call, and finding the necklace on his shirt sleeve when he returned home earlier that night. He omitted the details of her assault, but told them that Allister admitted to drugging Katniss the night before.

"This guy was trying to get his hands on her yesterday," Rye said, clenching his jaw. "Katniss would never have known what happened to her."

Daniel exhaled, slowly shaking his head. Nance's expression was unreadable.

"She was able to get away from him before he raped her," Peeta said. "She has bruises and a knot on her forehead, but no lasting physical damage. Emotionally," his voice softened, "she's traumatized."

"That poor girl," Daniel whispered, running a hand roughly down his face.

Nance folded her arms across her chest. "All Seam are trash," she said tersely. "That's why I don't associate with them."

Peeta glared at Nance; Rye shook his head in disbelief. "Nance please," Daniel pleaded.

"I'm here for two reasons, Dad," Peeta said, choosing to ignore his mother's presence. "First, could I have tomorrow off? I need to be home with my wife."

"Oh no –" Nance began. But Daniel interrupted her.

"Of course you can," Daniel said resolutely. "Let me know tomorrow afternoon if you need another day or two."

"Thanks Dad," Peeta said warmly.

"The second thing is this: I went to Allister Canty's house tonight and beat him up for what he did to Katniss. He's in pretty bad shape, but he'll recover. I wanted you all to hear this from me first. Everyone will probably be talking about it tomorrow."

"That explains your knuckles," Rye said approvingly. Peeta nodded.

Daniel rubbed his eyes. "You know I don't condone you boys fighting, but if I were in your shoes, Peeta, I would have done the same thing."

"Don't you mean if you were married to Maura Everdeen you would have done the same thing?" Nance retorted.

"Don't start, Nance," Daniel warned.

"I'm sick and tired of Everdeen women! It seems that Mellark men are fools for them, but they are all Seam trash."

"Stop it," Daniel seethed, glaring at her. "Our son does not need this right now." She turned and stormed out of the living room, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

Peeta stood abruptly. "That's all I had to say. Darius is downstairs waiting to take me back to Victor's Village."

Daniel stood and faced Peeta. "Son, I'm concerned about you too. This is a lot to deal with. Let me know what you need. Even if you just need to talk. Let me know."

"Thanks Dad." Peeta embraced his father.

"And take these." Daniel walked to the shelf in the corner and opened a large book that was hollowed inside. The book contained several plastic sleeves of discs, illegal music from before the Dark Days. Daniel selected three sleeves that each contained two discs, about 60 songs in all.

As children, Peeta and his brothers listened to this music on Sunday afternoons during the carefree hours when Nance was out visiting friends. Daniel always made his sons promise to never speak of these songs outside their home.

"Music can help soothe, especially if she's frightened," Daniel said. "There are some really great songs on those discs."

Peeta smiled gratefully and promised to return the discs. He slipped them into his jacket pocket.

Rye's eyes twinkled mischievously. "And if you ever need me to help you kick butt, come and get me. I can be ready to go in a moment's notice – after I shower, get dressed and do a few pushups to get limber."

Peeta laughed at Rye's humor, and they playfully shoved each other. "Shut up, idiot," Peeta grinned.

The chilly wind numbed Peeta's cheeks as he trudged back to the Peacekeeper vehicle. "Thanks, Darius. I'm ready to go home now."

---

The clank of the mug against the coffee table sent Buttercup trotting from the living room into the kitchen with Prim and Haymitch. Prim had a science quiz the following morning, and Haymitch agreed to help her review her flash cards. It was better than watching Katniss braid and re-braid her hair or fidget with the tassels on the couch pillows.

Maura stood from the couch to offer support to Katniss who was maneuvering to her uninjured foot. The sitting and waiting was maddening, so she hopped to the straight chair across the room and stared at the flames twirling gracefully in the fireplace.

"What time is it?" The clock over the fireplace could have answered her question, but she was too anxious to look.

"Only two minutes have passed since you last checked, honey."

"Where are they?" Katniss ran a hand nervously through her currently unbraided hair. "I never should have let him go out there. I'm such an idiot."

"Hey sweetheart." Haymitch appeared at her side. "No one gets to call you an idiot except for me."

She burst into laughter but quickly dissolved into tears.

"Come here, kid." Haymitch embraced her. "Peeta is a smart guy. Don't tell him I said this, but he's twice as smart as I was at his age. He's not going to put himself in danger."

Katniss pulled away and looked at Haymitch, heartbreak in her eyes. "That's exactly what he would do when it comes to me. He would put himself in danger."

Haymitch sighed. She was right. During the Games, Haymitch was baffled by Peeta's incredibly risky strategy of aligning with the Careers. They had no loyalty to him and could have killed him at any moment. Plus he'd already professed his love for Katniss, so it was a wonder that they believed that Peeta wanted her dead. But he did it to keep her safe.

Come on, Peeta. Hurry up and get back here, Haymitch pleaded silently. She will be damaged beyond repair if anything happens to you.

---

Several minutes passed with Maura and Haymitch watching Katniss from the couch, and Prim, holding Buttercup on her lap while she flipped through flash cards and glanced worriedly at her sister. The knock at the front door drew everyone's eyes.

"I'll get it." Haymitch lifted his palm to Katniss. But she was already on her feet when Peeta stepped inside with Darius following behind.

"We're back," Peeta said easily. Katniss hopped to him and he hastened to her. They locked in an embrace.

"Hey you," he grinned, placing a light kiss to her temple. "What are you doing on your feet?"

"I was so worried, Peeta," she whispered against his neck. She pulled away to examine him. "Are you okay," she demanded. "What happened?"

She saw the long, jagged cut on the side of his jacket. Her eyes widened in horror.

"He tried to stab you?" she gasped, beginning to unravel.

Peeta cupped her face in his hands and steadied her with his gaze. "Allister Canty will never bother you again. He and I had a… a convincing talk."

Darius guffawed, ignoring decorum. "Allister Canty can't see out of one eye, is missing at least one tooth, and definitely has a broken nose, a broken jaw, and broken ribs. And he may never have children. And that's putting it lightly."

Maura, Haymitch, and Prim beamed proudly. Katniss just stared in disbelief.

"You did that to him… for me?"

Peeta tucked a raven lock of hair behind her ear. "Best reason in the world as far as I'm concerned."

Katniss rested her head on his shoulder and released a trembling breath.

"Are you sure you're okay, Peeta?"

"Yes." He rubbed her back. "I'm okay."

Maura stood in Peeta's line of sight, pointing to his bruised hands and shaking a bottle of ointment. Peeta nodded in understanding, and helped Katniss to the couch before placing his hands in Maura's. As soon as her mother finished treating Peeta, Katniss curled into his arms. They sat silently on the couch as Haymitch, Maura, Darius and Prim talked animatedly in the kitchen.

Katniss's ordeal produced a bond that Peeta never thought he would share with his wife. Still, he didn't want to make any assumptions about what would happen next. He turned to her.

"I'll do whatever you need, Katniss," he said, stroking the side of her face. "I can stay here with you tonight, or I can go back home. Whatever you're comfortable with."

But Katniss didn't want either option. "Home," she said looking squarely at him. "With you. I want to go home."

---

Peeta's exhaustion was evident in the buzzing tension he felt behind his eyes as he rode back to Victor's Village with Darius.

But when Katniss, who was curled in his arms on her mother's couch, said she wanted to go home with him, Peeta felt as if he could run all the way to the Capitol that night, non-stop, no sleep required.

This time when he lifted her in his arms, he wasn't angry because he thought she was drunk, nor was he desperately trying to soothe away her torment. This time, he was simply a man in love with his wife, a man who didn't want to go home without her.

Maura and Prim draped a blanket over Katniss. Haymitch walked beside to unlock Peeta and Katniss's front door. She fell asleep in Peeta's arms in the short distance from Maura's house, and he carried her to the master bedroom, hoping she didn't wake before he showered.

Twenty minutes later, he lay beside her and pulled her weary frame into his protective embrace. Now he felt it, equal parts hungry and exhausted. Yet, he lay awake for another hour, inhaling the lavender in her hair, counting the seconds between every rise and fall of her chest, studying the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the expanse of her legs.

She was Katniss Mellark. Regardless of the circumstances surrounding their marriage, she bore his name, and word would spread like wildfire about what he did to Allister Canty. The message was clear: no one would harm his wife and get away with it.

If any good came from tonight, it was in the effortless intimacy they shared when it mattered most. The way she looked at him, clung to him, only found safety in his arms. The way he instinctively knew what to do to soothe her, to avenge her, to restore her. That level of need and trust were direct precursors to love. And that was the infusion of hope Peeta desperately needed.

They slept peacefully through the night. He'd just pulled a pan of cinnamon buns from the oven the next morning when he heard a terrified scream and a loud thump. The pan hit the countertop with a metallic clang, and he took the stairs two at a time, the oven mitt still on his hand.

She'd fallen out of bed to a vision of Allister's menacing grin, the gleam of his switchblade, the burn of her breast beneath his palm. Peeta found her wedged between the wall and the nightstand, sobbing in anguish and frantically clawing at her arms, her neck, her shoulders, her chest.

She was trying to get him off of her.

Peeta lowered to his knees and kept a non-threatening distance.

"Katniss, sweetheart. It's Peeta. Open your eyes sweetheart. Open your eyes."

It took several tries. When his blonde curls and blue eyes came into focus, she bawled and rushed to him. He pulled her onto his lap, his own eyes filling with tears.

"No one will ever harm you again." He tenderly kissed her face. "I promise, Katniss."

Two hours later, Peeta carried her downstairs to the kitchen table. She'd agreed to eat something, and he knew his window of opportunity was small. The cinnamon buns went back into the oven to warm, and he quickly put on a pot of tea.

Katniss wouldn't let Peeta leave her side for the rest of the day. She even made him promise to stay in the living room with her while she napped on the couch. He pulled out his sketchbook and captured her in its pages.

Late afternoon, Maura, Prim, and Haymitch stopped by to check on Katniss. She was still asleep on the couch, so they talked in hushed tones. Maura got closest, rubbing her daughter's forehead and planting a kiss. Katniss stirred and made a funny chewing motion, causing everyone to snicker under their breaths. Peeta thought it was adorable.

Hours later, Maura and Prim returned with a meal of squirrel and steamed root vegetables. The four of them ate amid light conversation and easy laughter. Katniss smiled weakly from time to time, but she was mostly distant and quiet. After dinner, Peeta called his father and took another two days off from work.

The next morning, Katniss backed herself against the headboard and thrashed violently at an invisible threat. The bathroom mirrors were still frosted from Peeta's shower, and he'd just dried his hair and pulled on a pair of pants and a shirt when he heard her struggle.

He was at her side in an instant, urging her to open her eyes. When she did, she buried her head in shame and wept bitterly. His arms encircled her.

"You did nothing wrong, Katniss," he said earnestly. "None of this is your fault."

"I can't… get… him off me," she hiccupped through her sobs. "I need… to get... him... off me."

Peeta held her to his beating heart, stroking her back and whispering words she didn't have the energy to comprehend, until she grew silent and still.

After his interview with Caesar Flickerman before the Games, it was obvious to all of Panem that Peeta could endear people with his words and his winsome smile. But no one on earth could lay claim to what Katniss had experienced in recent days. Peeta also had the gift of touch. His hands and his arms could communicate with her deepest pain and coax it all away.

She had to ask; her relief was literally in his hands.

"Peeta?" She swallowed hard. "Will you touch me?"

He seemed to calculate her words, as if he were trying to solve a mathematical equation.

"Say that again?"

Katniss pulled out of his arms, nervously chewing on her bottom lip.

"All I can think about is the way it felt to have him on me, grabbing me, kissing me." She cringed. "I've soaked and scrubbed and medicated myself, and I can't get him off."

She took Peeta's hand in both of her shaky ones. "I need you Peeta, and I trust you more than anyone. Please?"

His brows furrowed in concern. She obviously had no idea how much he desired her, how vigilantly he fought thoughts of pulling her into his arms and making love to her for fear that he would confuse fantasy with reality and one day act on impulse. Now she wanted him to touch her intimately, to restore her. He wasn't sure he could handle so great a charge.

But the vulnerability in her eyes reminded him that he could deny her nothing.

"Lie down, sweetheart," he said softly.

Katniss pressed into the mattress, her eyes serenely trained on Peeta. He lay on his side and slid an arm underneath her neck to cradle her. He already knew the details of the assault. But she needed to be in control; she needed to guide him.

"Show me where."

Katniss drew shaky fingers to her lips. With steady fingers, Peeta traced the outline before softly pressing his lips to hers. Her chest deflated at his touch, and she slowly exhaled through her nose.

Next, her fingers touched behind her ear and trickled down the side of her neck. Peeta's fingers and lips followed, tenderly pinching bits of flesh between his lips as he slowly, methodically worked his way from behind her ear down the length of her neck. She turned her head to give him better access and pulled a long row of air through her nose; she didn't expect his lips to feel so good.

Katniss didn't know when she'd gathered her breast in her hand, cupping her fingers around the supple flesh. Peeta's hand ghosted her forearm, sliding up her wrist and covering her hand, which she let fall to the bed. He bit the inside of his cheek for composure as he delicately squeezed her breast, her nipple hardening underneath his palm.

Their eyes met in realization and yearning, Peeta's chest heaving and Katniss biting the corner of her bottom lip. It was as if they were suspended in a time and place where their carefully-crafted truisms about their relationship were false. Katniss didn't look away. She didn't want to. Something was finally starting to make sense.

And that's when she saw Peeta. His blonde eyelashes awash in the golden sunlight that streamed through the bedroom window. The muscular definition in his arms when he positioned his body above hers. The unyielding line of his jaw that complemented his solid chest, but contradicted the placid depths of his crystal blue eyes.

She was suddenly filled with desire for him, with awareness of him. She shied away from their gaze, but she needed his touch all the more.

So she lifted the bottom of her nightgown, where her only covering was the downy hairs between her legs. He took her in, watching her hand tremble as she touched there.

"It's okay," Peeta whispered. He kissed her forehead as his hand carefully replaced hers. She was virginal and sensual, devastated and pristine. He loved her contradictions. He loved her more than he ever thought he could.

His warm touch slowly healed the invisible scars left by Allister's cold fingertips. With eyes shut and silent tears, she covered his hand with hers, holding his palm in place. But her eyes fluttered open when she felt water drop to her face. Peeta smiled weakly through tears he couldn't dry, his mountainous love on full display. With a grateful smile, she ran her fingers and the back of her hand over both sides of his face.

"One more place," she said hoarsely, uncovering his hand between her legs. "He shoved his tongue… Will you kiss me? Deeply?"

"Yes," he whispered.

She was still cradled on his arm, and he pulled her slightly off the bed to meet him. Their lips interlocked in a simple kiss that surged deeper and deeper until their tongues rolled against each other's.

Peeta's kiss was his most powerful touch. Katniss swooned in his embrace. When their lips parted, she could feel the thumping of her own heart and a faint throbbing between her legs – what she could only describe as a hunger.

I want more. I need more. What's happening?

Peeta lowered her to the mattress. He wanted to press her body to his in a tight embrace, but he was completely hard and his erection would be obvious. So he remained on his side, carefully reaching over her to stroke her face and her arm.

"You are so brave, Katniss. I'm so proud of you."

She could only nod in response, still broadsided by her desire for him. And when she drifted asleep to his touch, he crawled out of bed and went to the bathroom to release his desire for her.

---

The clock had just ticked silently past 7 a.m., on Peeta's third day home from work following Katniss's assault. He sat at the kitchen table with a mug of tea, anticipating the day ahead.

Maura had stopped by the previous afternoon to check Katniss's injuries, which were healing quickly. The bandages were no longer needed on her hands and knees, and she could put weight on her foot. The knot on her forehead was diminishing.

Before they went to bed, Peeta told Katniss that he had a surprise planned for her the following morning and that she should come downstairs, dressed comfortably and ready to go, by 8 a.m.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise. I'm not telling you."

She scowled; she didn't like surprises.

"You're not taking me to the woods, are you? Because you're too loud to be a hunter."

"Nope. Not the woods. And I could be a great hunter if I wanted to."

"Yeah. And I could be a great baker. By the way, will cheese buns be a part of this surprise?" Mellark Bakery cheese buns were her favorite.

"You'll just have to wait and see, huntress." He planted a quick kiss to her temple and lay back in the bed, shutting his eyes to signal the end of their banter.

She scowled again, resting her head on his chest, their usual sleeping position. "Better be cheese buns," she grumbled. He grinned in response.

At 7:40 a.m., Katniss descended the stairs in a sleeveless, teal-colored linen top and denim shorts that stopped midway her thighs. Since she'd lost one foot of her favorite pair of boots during her escape from Allister, Katniss wore a pair of soft-soled, strappy sandals that was a part of her wardrobe from Effie. They were surprisingly comfortable and were a much cooler option for warm spring days.

Peeta was wearing a three-fourth length sleeve gray Henley shirt with navy blue sleeves and dark denim jeans, also from his Effie wardrobe. He was writing in a small notebook when she approached.

"Hey you," he said warmly. "Ready to go?"

"Yep," she said flatly. "Just let me get some tea."

"No need." He stood and walked to the countertop beside the stove. Just then, Katniss noticed the large picnic basket. "I've got everything in here."

She couldn't help but smile. No one knew this other than her mother and sister, but Katniss and her father and Prim would have candy picnics. He would purchase candy for his girls from The Hob, and when they left for their picnic, Katniss would run ahead to find an ideal spot. They would lay on the grass and she and Prim would eat their candy and talk about whatever they wanted to. Their father would always listen.

"We're going on a picnic?"

"Yes ma'am. And to make sure you don't beat me up in the meadow, I've packed cheese buns in our picnic basket and left a few here at the house."

She grinned slyly. "Well that depends on how good the cheese buns are as to whether I beat you up or not."

"You scare me," he deadpanned. "Seriously. I'm scared of you."

She laughed. He savored the sound.

Peeta insisted on carrying her to the meadow, piggy-back style. It would be fun, he told her. And if she didn't enjoy the ride, she could carry him back home.

She shrieked when he spun in circles with her on his back, causing them to collapse, dizzy, on soft blades of grass and wild daisies. In that moment, Katniss was content. She had no responsibilities, no obligations, no fears, no doubts, no sorrows. Life was good again, and she was a carefree girl in a lush meadow enjoying a beautiful spring day.

Peeta gave her that.

Soon, she was making a beeline for the picnic basket. Her eyes grew as big as saucers when she lifted the lid. There was a salad of tomatoes, cucumbers, black olives, goat cheese, chickpeas, and herbs; garlic crusted seared lamb chops; creamy mashed potatoes; iced tea flavored with sliced peaches; strawberry-rhubarb hand pies; and cheese buns. Two plates and two cups were strapped to the interior of the basket, and each cup held a set of utensils.

"Holy… You made all of this, Peeta?"

He shrugged bashfully. "Let's just say I made a mess in your mother's kitchen this morning. And Prim has a really good lunch today at school."

She stared at him, her mouth agape. Then, she flung her arms around Peeta's neck, knocking him to the ground.

"You're welcome," he laughed as she scampered back to the basket, removing the dinnerware and eagerly preparing plates of food for her and Peeta.

Amid the morning breeze that carried whiffs of mountain laurel, Katniss and Peeta ate and talked and laughed for hours. At one point they lay beside each other on the grass, giving ridiculous names to the clouds using Effie's Capitol accent. At another point, Peeta lay with his head in her lap, making a crown of daisies for Prim. She silently watched him work, fixated on his glowing eyelashes, his crooked grin, his firm chest. And in those moments when she stared at him, she heard nothing he said.

Peeta's favorite moment was when she napped with her head nuzzled against his neck, clutching his shirt while he rubbed her back. It was quality time. And it was therapeutic.

They returned home before noon, hand-in-hand with a nearly empty picnic basket.

"There's one other thing we have to do," Peeta said when they'd unpacked the picnic basket.

She watched quizzically as he slid the coffee table closer to the fireplace, creating space in the living room. He went to the closet near the front door where his slashed jacket still hid his father's music discs. He placed the first disc – "1a" – into the music player in the living room, and grabbed the remote.

Before she knew it, he had pulled her to his chest, his lips at her ear. "This is illegal music from before the Dark Days," he whispered. "It belongs to my dad. We can't tell anyone."

She nodded dutifully; his warm breath on her ear caused her to hold her breath. She bit the corner of her lip, wishing his lips would trail to her neck like they had the day before.

But he released her, and the sound of a guitar blared from the stereo, followed by the sound of an insistent, upbeat drum.

"May I have this dance, my lady?" Peeta bowed at the waist, extending a hand to Katniss. She froze.

"Oh no," she shook her head. "I'm not a dancer."

"Just try," Peeta coaxed, reaching for her hand and pulling her to the makeshift dance floor. She might as well have been a statue.

"Come on," Peeta urged, sexily biting his bottom lip as he snapped his fingers and danced toward her in an exaggerated fashion. Her lips parted surprise. Peeta was a pretty good dancer, even with his antics. This certainly hadn't come up in any of their learning process/get-to-know-me talks.

The song was catchy, but she was intimidated and wouldn't move.

"Dance," Peeta ordered playfully, "Or you'll have to clean up Haymitch the next time he pukes."

"I'll embarrass the hell out of myself."

Peeta shrugged. "Well it's a good thing no one here will judge you."

She looked unsure, so he placed his hands on her waist.

"Just look at me and do what I do," he said. He stepped from left to right, and she followed, reluctantly at first. But then, with his encouragement, she almost kept up with the beat.

You make a grown man cry
You make a grown man cry
You make a grown man cry

Peeta knew this song. He sang along, terribly. She burst into laughter.

"Do you love my singing?" he joked. "The more you dance, the less I'll sing."

"Okay," she grinned. "Okay, you win." He reached for her hand and twirled her, pulling her back to him just when she felt like she was spinning out of control.

The next song was just as fast.

I don't know what this is
Cause you got me good
Just like you knew you would

I don't know what you do
But you do it well
I'm under your spell

Maybe it was Peeta's bad singing, but she was really enjoying herself. The house no longer felt lonely. It felt like a safe haven.

After two more upbeat songs, the next song was lazy, set to a wailing trumpet, a woman's satiny lilt and a man's gravelly tenor. Peeta pulled her close – he'd finally stopped singing – and she draped her arms over his shoulders.

One of these mornings you're gonna rise up singing
And you'll spread your wings and you'll take to the sky
But till that morning, there ain't nothin' can harm you
With daddy and mommy standin' by

"These songs are beautiful, Peeta," Katniss whispered. "I've never heard anything like them before."

He kissed her temple in response.

But it was the next song, a mellow cadence and an ethereal voice, that made Katniss want to sing. She had Peeta repeat the song three more times.

You're the warmth in my summer breeze
You're the ivory to my ebony keys
You would share your last jelly bean
And you would somersault in the sand with me

By the third repeat, Katniss had learned the chorus. She rested her head on Peeta's chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. She didn't realize she was singing along.

You put my feet back on the ground
Oh, did you know you brought me home
You were sweet and you were sound
You save me

"You have a gorgeous voice," he whispered in her ear. She absorbed the tingle his breath sent up her spine.

When she responded, he knew it wasn't just to his compliment.

"Thank you, Peeta. Thank you."

---

Gale called Maura's house every day since Katniss's assault in hopes of speaking with her, but Katniss was never there. And he never had the phone number to Peeta's house.

"She's doing much better, Gale," Maura said during his third phone call. "What she went through was terrible, but you know as well as I do that Katniss is resilient."

"It's all my fault," Gale said. "I should have known that guy was up to no good."

Maura was adamant. "Gale, I do not want you to blame yourself. You would never knowingly put Katniss in danger. She knows that. We all know that."

Her words were of little comfort.

"Is she angry with me?"

"No, dear, no. She's not angry with you. She just needs time to recover. Peeta has taken some days off from work, and he's at home with her. She's getting better every day."

Gale clenched his jaw in resentment. He wished he could take days off from work like a Merchant's son and be with Katniss. Who knows what Peeta was saying about him, about his role in what happened to Katniss. She probably would hate him by the time Peeta was finished manipulating her.

"Well, when you talk to her, will you tell her that I called? And will you ask her to call me when she can?"

"I will, dear," Maura said.

Hazelle watched quietly as Gale replaced the receiver.

"She'll be back to normal in no time, Gale. You'll see."

He nodded solemnly, hoping that she hadn't created a new "normal" that didn't include him.

---

The next morning, Saturday, Katniss was wide awake when Peeta batted his eyes open, her fingers intertwined with his.

It was a record two days since she dreamt of terror, and they both felt rested and renewed. She smiled softly, asking him to stay in bed a little longer, to hold her before he got ready for work. He willingly obliged, and she curled into him, nuzzling against his neck for another 15 minutes until the clock forced him to peel back the covers and start his day.

The grin Peeta wore throughout the day wasn't missed by his family. He caught his mother's snarl and his father's amused smirk out the corner of his eye.

"Somebody looks happy," Daniel Mellark said later that morning as he helped Peeta finish a batch of garlic knots.

Peeta looked over both sides of his shoulder to see if they were alone.

"We've gotten so much closer dad," he said excitedly. "It just feels right. I know my wife and I can make it work, dad. We can make our relationship work."

Daniel trained his gaze on the garlic knot. He knew that feeling once, when he held Maura Kenner in his arms in the meadows of District 12. But Peeta was elated. And Daniel didn't want to spoil his son's happiness with a warning produced by his own heartbreak.

"That's great, son. Is she doing better?"

"So much better," Peeta gushed. "My wife is a fighter. I think I love her fighting spirit most."

This time, Daniel furrowed his brow in concern. Peeta kept using the words "my wife" whereas he would normally say "Katniss." Not even a week ago, Peeta had asked his father about the process to get an annulment.

"Yes," Daniel agreed calmly. "She is a fighter."

For the rest of the day, anytime Daniel and Peeta were alone, Peeta spoke only of his wife and the promise their relationship held. When it was time to leave, Peeta rushed through his part of the cleanup, anxious to return home.

As Daniel watched him nearly jog away from Mellark Bakery, he said a silent prayer that Peeta wouldn't get his heart broken. Again.

---

The aroma of a meaty stew greeted Peeta before he unlocked the front door. It was a welcome surprise. Returning home to the smell of dinner after a long day at work was more than he could ask for.

During one of their learning process talks, Katniss told Peeta that she knew how to cook and that after her father's death, she learned how to make almost anything appetizing. This was the first time she cooked in their home.

"Hey you," Peeta grinned as he rounded the corner into the kitchen. She stood at the stove, using a ladle to transfer the stew from a large stock pot to an oversized container. He had waited all day to see her smile, to smell the lavender that lingered in her hair from her shower, to feel her nose rub against his neck.

She didn't even look up as he approached.

"Hi," she grumbled, barely audible. She reached for the lid and angrily snapped it on the container.

Peeta tensed. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

"Is everything okay?" he asked cautiously.

"Does everything look okay?" she snapped.

He blinked slowly, completely taken aback. She was turning on him again, just like before. And just like the last time, he had no idea why.

She didn't wait for his response as she gathered utensils from the counter and noisily dropped them into the sink.

"Gale nearly lost his job today. For no apparent reason! He's being scaled back to part-time labor, 15 hours a week. Fifteen hours, Peeta!"

She rubbed her forehead and sighed heavily. "He can barely make ends meet for his mother and siblings on a full-time salary. There's no way they can manage on those wages."

Peeta stared at the floor. Honestly, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about Gale. But the change in his work hours in the mines was a crisis for the Hawthornes. And Katniss cared about them. Peeta knew he wouldn't be a good husband if he didn't make his wife's concern his own.

"I smell Snow all over this," she said, aggravated as she packed containers of stew and supplies from their kitchen into two large canvas bags on the kitchen table.

Peeta came closer. "We'll figure out a way to help them, Katniss," he said reassuringly.

"How? Gale would rather die than take a handout. These groceries will be hard enough for him to accept." She paused, gripping the back of the chair with locked arms. "This is all my fault, Peeta. If I hadn't hung out with him the other night…" She stopped short. "I just keep seeing Posy's little face in my mind that way I used to see Prim's when we were in need. This is so unfair."

Peeta placed his hand on her forearm.

"Hey," he said gently. "We'll figure something out." He dipped his head, insisting that her eyes meet his. "Don't put all of this on your shoulders. We'll figure this out together. Okay?"

Katniss nodded slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Vick and Rory are coming to pick these bags up from my mom's house in a few minutes. I'll ask my mom if we can invite them over for Sunday dinner. We can give them more supplies then."

"That's a great idea," Peeta said. "And I can prepare and refrigerate some dough for them to take home. They can bake fresh loaves throughout the week."

Katniss had maneuvered her arms through the straps of the totes and was about to lift them from the table. She stopped at his words and withdrew her arms, walking quickly to Peeta and flinging her arms around his neck. Given her angst moments before, he was caught off guard. His arms quickly doubled around her waist, pulling her close.

"Thank you, Peeta," she whispered against his neck. "You're amazing."

Suddenly, he had her back. The woman who trusted his touch in their bedroom, tumbled with him in the meadow, and danced with him in their living room. The woman she was becoming. His woman. His wife.

"I'll only be at my mom's for a few minutes. Then I'll be back home to eat dinner with you. And I want to hear about your day. Okay?"

He buried his lips in her hair. "Okay," he whispered lovingly.

Then she walked out the kitchen side door, the canvas bags hanging from her arms and his heart in her hands.

---

She sat in bed later that night answering his questions about the ingredients in the stew she prepared for dinner. There was a savory ingredient he just couldn't put his finger on.

"Rosemary." Katniss spoke loud enough for Peeta to hear her through the bathroom door that was slightly ajar after his shower. She breathed in the sandalwood and vanilla from his bath soap that wafted into the room.

"Ahh, rosemary," he said with realization. The door opened wider and he walked into the bedroom wearing nothing but his drawstring pajama pants. "It was really –"

His words caught in his throat when he laid eyes on her. She sat in bed with her knees drawn to her chest, wearing the gray t-shirt he normally wore to bed and a pair of shorts that reached just below her hips. She brushed her long, thick hair, which was finally dry after the shower she took earlier that evening. Peeta swallowed hard.

"…delicious."

Her face flushed and she dropped her gaze. She realized that he was no longer talking about the stew. And she also realized that the tingle running up her spine was because of his bare, muscular chest.

She bit the corner of her bottom lip. She could feel his eyes on her. When she looked up, his gaze was intense, ready.

"You're, umm… wearing my shirt."

Katniss glanced down. "Oh, your shirt. I hope you don't mind. I meant to do laundry today and with everything with Gale, I forgot—"

Peeta flashed his palms. "No, it's okay," he said, not wanting to bring any discussion about Gale to the bedroom. Their bedroom. His lips curled in a bashful smile. "Trust me, it looks a lot better on you."

Their laughter lightened the atmosphere. Peeta pulled another t-shirt from the drawer and slipped it over his head. He lowered to his side of the bed.

"May I?" He held an open palm to her hair brush. She placed it in his hand and turned her back to him. He began to brush the length of her hair, watching her raven locks glide through the bristles.

Peeta guided the conversation to anything except Gale – the outcome of Prim's science quiz the other day; where rosemary could be found in the meadow; an herb bread that would be even better with rosemary added.

She told him that she'd listened to more songs from the music discs. He remembered that he had a portable music player that she could also use the play songs during the day, if she didn't want to be confined to the living room. He told her where to find the music player.

When they were ready to go to bed, Peeta watched her plait her hair into two long braids, the way she wore her hair when they were five years old. She said she wanted to go hunting tomorrow morning, to find a wild turkey for Sunday dinner. Peeta told her that was a great idea for her to hunt again. She nestled beside him and easily fell asleep.

Four hours later, Katniss screamed and lurched forward. This time she saw Rue, falling into a pit of pointed arrows that impaled her small body. Peeta woke instantly, with soothing touch and comforting words. He brought her water from the bathroom sink, and when she returned her head to his chest, she clutched a tuft of his shirt in her trembling hand that soon became still underneath his steady palm.

When her body finally surrendered to sleep, Peeta whispered the words he wanted to say to her for so long, but only now felt he could.

"I love you Katniss Mellark. I'm so glad you're my wife."

---

His eyelids fluttered open when he felt her pull from his arms and climb out of bed. As Katniss padded to the bathroom, Peeta studied the way the seam of her shorts dipped between each perfect cheek of her ass and the way her nipples poked his t-shirt that was too large for her frame.

You are so damn beautiful. And I am so damn hard.

This time Peeta didn't resist the fantasies.

He saw himself pulling her back into bed on a lazy Sunday morning, peeling off her clothes, spreading her legs, and savoring her nectar until she hurled his name against their bedroom walls. He imagined placing a kiss on each eyelid before kissing every square inch of her neck, her shoulders, her chest, her torso, and her thighs, leading him back to where he started. When his tongue coaxed her to another climax, he saw himself burying inside her, thrusting until he left an intimate deposit between her folds.

Then he would repeat the entire process with his wife on her hands and knees.

He drew a shaky breath, wishing this was the morning they made love. But he knew better. They weren't there yet, but he had no doubt in his mind that they were on their way. She was becoming his.

At the rattle of the bathroom door knob, Peeta bunched part of the comforter over his penis to hide the tent he'd made of the bed sheet. He shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep. He would never force himself on her, but after that fantasy, he just might venture a kiss – a real one, not a peck to the temple.

Peeta cracked his eyelids to watch her move about the room. In front of the dresser, she stepped out of her shorts and pulled his t-shirt over her head, standing stark naked as she folded the clothes and placed them in a drawer.

Shit, fuck, dammit, fuck, shit… Please stay naked. Please, please, please stay naked.

She quietly pulled panties and a bra from another drawer and put them on before pulling a pair of pants and a top from the closet.

He shut his eyes, not wanting her to catch his voyeurism. He didn't expect her to lower to his side of the bed moments later.

"Peeta?" she said softly.

He pretended to stir. She smoothed a lock of hair away from his face.

"Peeta?"

His eyelids fluttered open. "Hey you," he smiled sleepily.

"Hey," she grinned. "I'm heading into the woods. I hate to wake you, but this is my first time out since… I just, I didn't want to leave without letting you know."

He pulled the back of her hand to his lips.

"Thank you," he smiled. "I'd hate to be a wild turkey this morning. Are you sure you don't want my loud ass to come with you?"

She burst into laughter. "Absolutely sure. But if it's any consolation, you are a dance master, a total twinkle toes in the living room.

Peeta grinned slyly.

That's nothing, Mrs. Mellark. Just wait until you see what I have planned for the bedroom.

---

Two hours had passed and Katniss hadn't returned from the woods. Peeta stood at the kitchen window, only half concentrating on the dough he was preparing for the Hawthornes.

He knew it was ridiculous to worry. Katniss had her bow and arrow, and if she could defend herself in the Hunger Games arena, she could defend herself in the District 12 woods she knew so well. Nonetheless, if she wasn't back home within the hour, Peeta vowed to look for her.

About 35 minutes later, Peeta had just finished preparing the dough when there were three kicks to the front door. Katniss beamed proudly on the other side, a large wild turkey in her arms and a heavy game bag hanging crossways her chest.

"Victory!" Peeta cheered.

He cleared the countertop beside the sink; she lowered the turkey from her arms and dropped her game bag, which was filled with three squirrels, two rabbits, and a pheasant.

"It felt so good to be out there, Peeta," she gushed. "The air was so fresh and everything was so peaceful. I felt alive. After our meadow picnic and the dancing, this was the missing piece I needed."

Peeta smiled in response, gazing lovingly, helplessly at her.

They were supposed to be at Maura's at 11:30 a.m. Peeta assisted her with cleaning the game and cooking the wild turkey, and they chatted as they worked. But her mind drifted to Gale, whom she hadn't spoken to since Monday night, before they stumbled from The Hob and collapsed.

Her mother told her yesterday that he'd called daily to check on her, that he wondered if she was angry with him for what happened. She wasn't angry, but her mother was right. Katniss needed time to recover, and she and Gale needed to let everything blow over, especially with the likelihood that the Capitol was watching. Plus, she had all she needed in Peeta's care.

In Peeta's arms.

The kiss she and Peeta shared on Thursday was like a powerful antidote with dangerous side effects. It made her forget Allister's touch, but now, all she could think about was how safe she felt pressed against Peeta's chest, how she had wanted to tangle her fingers in his hair as they kissed, how she didn't expect him to unlock a hunger inside her that wasn't yet satisfied.

And then there was Gale, whose eyes were just as captivating as Peeta's, whose perspectives and insights enlightened her, whose hand on the small of her back also sent a wild tingle up her spine. She and Gale shared the same defiant, survivalist spirit, and he understood her better than anyone.

She bit the inside of her cheek and stole a glance at Peeta. She would eventually need to decide – if only for her own knowledge – which man held her heart. Fortunately, she had time to figure things out, but not a lot of time. Each passing day brought them closer to the next reaping.

---

Peeta and Katniss made it to Maura's house with the bread, refrigerated dough, and a wonderful-smelling wild turkey by 11:15 a.m. Maura and Prim were already setting the table. Peeta was tasked with carving the turkey, and Katniss prepared a plate of food that they would take to Haymitch later that afternoon.

They were a family. And Peeta belonged. He could see himself having Sunday dinner with his wife and Maura and Prim and their growing families, for the rest of his life. This could work. He and Katniss could make this work.

The Hawthornes arrived on time. Prim introduced everyone to Peeta: Hazelle, a slender woman with a pleasant demeanor who resembled Gale; Rory and Vick, the younger brothers with good manners; and Posy, the adorable, free-spirited four-year-old with a charming personality.

Dread churned Peeta's stomach, and he silently prayed that he and Katniss and Haymitch would never have to mentor any of them in the Games.

Gale wasn't there. Hazelle answered the unasked question.

"Gale is on his way. He insisted on stopping by a merchant shop so he could contribute to the gathering." The Hob wouldn't open until later that afternoon.

Katniss rolled her eyes, but she understood Gale's sense of pride.

Posy ran up to Peeta. "Do you know any fun games?" she asked with shining eyes.

Peeta lowered to his good knee, coming eye level with Posy. "Actually, I do. Have you ever played tag?"

Posy bounced on her toes, an excited smile on her face. Rory spoke up.

"You've done it now. That's her favorite game."

Peeta laughed at her excitement. "Well, after dinner, maybe we can play a game of tag."

"Yes!" Posy stretched both arms in the air. "Rory and Prim can play with us. Peeta, you can be on my team because you're the best."

"What about me?" Vick said in mock protest.

"You and Gale can help mama clean up," Posy said resolutely. "They always beat me. We can't let them play," she whispered too loudly to Peeta. Everyone laughed at Posy's failed attempt. And again, Peeta felt like he belonged, even among the Hawthornes.

Everyone took a seat at the table, not wanting the food to get cold and unsure of how long it would take Gale to arrive. Maura sat at the head of the table with Katniss and Prim on either side. Rory sat next to Prim and Peeta was next to Katniss. Posy insisted on the seat next to Peeta and Vick sat next to Rory. Hazelle was opposite Maura at the other end of the table, and Prim had already wedged a chair between Hazelle and Posy for Gale when he arrived.

They hadn't long started the meal when Gale walked in bearing a small jar of blackberry preserves.

"Gale, you didn't have to do that," Maura said, receiving the gift.

"I figured there would be bread," Gale said. Peeta's eyes flashed to him.

And there he was. The only person in the room attempting to make Peeta feel like he didn't belong.

Katniss stared at her plate, her face masked behind an unreadable expression. Prim cleared her throat.

"Well it's about time you got here," she said lightly. "I had to make sure Rory and Vick didn't eat all of the bread before you arrived. Peeta made it."

Gale was now forced to acknowledge his presence. "Peeta," he grunted in greeting, not bothering to lift his eyes.

"Good to see you, Gale."

Still nothing from Katniss. Peeta stole a glance. Her lips were pursed, and she continued to concentrate on her nearly empty plate. Was she upset? Annoyed? Anxious? Peeta couldn't tell.

Posy turned to Gale. "Peeta and Prim and Rory and me –"

"And I," Hazelle corrected.

"And I," Posy said, "are going to play tag after dinner. You and Vick have to help with cleanup."

"Hey, no fair," Gale protested, tickling Posy's side. The girl giggled and Peeta finally saw a smile ghost Katniss's lips.

"Well what about Katniss?" Gale lifted his eyes in a penetrating stare to where Katniss sat past Posy and Peeta.

"Oh, Katniss," Posy said in dismay. "I forgot about Katniss."

"It's okay, Posy," Katniss said gently.

"Well, Katniss can stay here and help Vick and Gale clean up," Hazelle said. She was clearly advocating for Katniss spending time with Gale.

"Okay, Katniss?" Posy said. "You can help with cleanup, okay?"

"Yes ma'am," Katniss smiled at Posy.

And as they finished eating and assumed Posy's assigned places, Peeta couldn't help but think that this dinner would be so much better if Gale hadn't shown up.

---

It was another gorgeous spring day, complete with golden, warm sunshine tempered by a gentle, fragrant breeze.

Posy ran around the backyard placing different objects she'd collected with Prim's help. There was a small, empty flower pot, two books, a bowl, and a candle holder. Whenever someone would run to one of these "safety zones," they couldn't be tagged by a member of the opposing team.

Posy insisted on pulling Peeta aside before the game began.

She again whispered loudly. "We have to have strategy, Peeta. Strategy."

He smiled. I really like this kid.

"Right," he nodded in mock seriousness. "Strategy."

"You tag Rory. I'll tag Prim. Then we come back to our safety zone. We've got to always come back to the same safety zone so we can strategize all over again. Okay?"

Peeta couldn't help but laugh. "Okay."

The game started, and the sounds of their laughter drew everyone in the house to the screened back porch. During a pause in the game, Posy realized that someone needed to keep score. So she pulled Vick from cleanup duty and had him referee. Maura and Hazelle sat in matching rocking chairs on the screened back porch, and Katniss and Gale stood behind them.

Peeta saw Katniss grinning at him as he and Posy plotted against Rory and Prim. Gale watched Katniss more than he watched the Game.

Even with the rigors of the game, Peeta noticed when Katniss and Gale retreated into the house, probably to finish cleanup. He tried not to mind. She'd been assaulted earlier in the week by a friend of Gale's who'd been with them at The Hob. If the tables were turned, Peeta would want a chance to talk to her, to see if she was okay.

"Peeta!" Posy screamed in warning as Prim's hand slapped his arm.

"Tag!"

"Aww, you got me!" Peeta fell dramatically to the grass behind one of the safety zones. Maura and Hazelle laughed from the porch.

Posy stooped over Peeta with her hands on her knees. "Let's take a break and get some water," she whispered. "I've got a plan."

Posy reached for one of his hands, and Peeta mounted to his feet. He thought they were heading for the back porch, but Posy led him around the side of the house. Her plan, whatever it was, involved trickery.

"If we go this way, Prim and Rory won't know which way we'll come back out. Either the back door or the front door," she explained.

"Oooh," Peeta nodded with a grin. For a four-year-old, this was the pinnacle of strategy. He again hoped she would never need to strategize her way out of a Hunger Games arena. That would surely break him.

At the front door, Posy placed a finger to her lips and quietly entered. Even with Prim and Rory out of view, she was still in stealth mode. They tipped to the kitchen where Peeta quietly poured two cups of water. He tried to fill two additional cups of water for Prim and Rory, but Posy shook her head in protest.

"Strategy," she mouthed.

Peeta nodded in agreement. After several gulps of water, Posy took Peeta by the hand and led him carefully, quietly toward the back door.

They'd just passed the living room when Peeta saw them. Near the den. In the threshold of the hallway that led to the guest bedroom.

Gale's arms were wrapped tightly around Katniss's waist, pressing her to his chest. Her head was tilted, their lips eagerly interlocked. Her hand was resting lightly on his forearm. Their eyes were shut in concentration.

Peeta froze, blinking in confusion and disbelief. Then it was as if tiny cracks raced throughout his heart, shattering it into a thousand jagged pieces. When Posy glanced over her shoulder, tugging at her immobilized partner, she too saw Katniss and Gale.

Her finger instantly pointed in the air.

"They're kissing!" she squealed. "Look Peeta! They're kissing!" Posy ran giggling to the back porch to tell Hazelle.

They parted abruptly at Posy's announcement, Katniss's eyes widening in horror at the sight of Peeta. Gale held her tighter, meeting Peeta's brokenness with a defiant stare.

Suddenly, Peeta felt entirely foolish. She'd done it again. She'd broken his heart. Even after all they'd experienced in the past few days, all the love and affection he'd showered on her, she still belonged to Gale. She would always, always belong to Gale. Peeta finally understood.

Posy ran back to his side, Hazelle and Maura in tow. Maura deflated at the anguish and rejection on Peeta's face.

"I… I forgot I needed to do something for my dad this afternoon. I've got to go," Peeta said hastily. "Next time, okay, Posy." He rushed out the door, and Hazelle led the protesting girl to the back porch.

Maura shook her head sadly and returned to the back porch. Katniss felt like she would be ill.

"No," Katniss whimpered, her head in her hands.

He saw us. I devastated him. What the hell am I doing?

She felt disoriented. "I need to… Peeta… I need to talk to him." She pushed against Gale's arms, but he wouldn't budge.

"Stay here with me. He'll be fine."

"Let me go, Gale," she retorted, and he dropped his arms. But his hand reached for her wrist as she turned to leave.

"Please," Gale begged, his eyes pleading. "He gets you every single day. This is all I have, and I miss you so much. Please, Katniss. Please don't go."

She shut her eyes, her chest still heaving. What a colossal fucking mess I've made. What am I doing? Who do I want to be with?

She still didn't have an answer. But Gale was standing in front of her, and she couldn't deny his impassioned plea. She nodded sadly.

"Thank you, Catnip," he said, pulling her back into his arms. "Peeta will have to realize sooner or later that this is what we want," he whispered into her hair. "Some way, somehow, you and I are meant to be together."

---

Sunday afternoons were Daniel Mellark's favorite time of the week. Nance Mellark and several Merchant women met for brunch and afternoon tea – a thinly-veiled gossip session. Rory was often out with friends. Thatch was married and in his own home. And Peeta usually stayed in Victor's Village, fully utilizing his one day off from the bakery. Daniel had grown accustomed to the solitude.

When his sons were little children, he would play with them in the yard. As his sons got older, they spent more time indoors, listening to music, sometimes dancing around the house, most times doing whatever hobby each one loved. Rye read adventure stories. Peeta sketched. Thatch liked woodworking, as did Daniel, so they would often embark on projects together.

These days, Daniel usually read books and listened to music. He shook his head knowingly when he heard footsteps on the stairs and a knock at the apartment door.

"Rye, how many times do I—" Daniel stopped short. Rye hadn't forgotten his keys again. His youngest son was on the other side of the door, and from the look on his face, something was very wrong.

"Peet," he said tentatively, stepping aside to let him enter. "This is a nice surprise."

Peeta trudged in and flopped down on the couch, staring dejectedly. The door clicked shut, and Daniel sat beside him.

"Tell me what happened, son. What's wrong?"

Peeta shook his head, swallowing hard, unable to speak at first.

"She loves him, dad," he said hoarsely, brokenly. "She loves Gale. She never wanted me. She broke my heart again."

Daniel deflated. This was exactly what he feared would happen.

"I'm listening, son," he said quietly.

Peeta relayed the entire story. He slowly shook his head, his brows pinched in utter confusion.

"Dad, I really thought she and I were growing closer. It all felt so real this time, so right."

Peeta stood abruptly from the couch and angrily paced the room. "I just don't understand how she could do this to me. She must really hate me."

Daniel chose his words carefully. "Son… Did Katniss ever say that she wanted to be with you?"

Peeta's eyes snapped up to Daniel's. "Yes! Well… not exactly. But everything we shared, everything we've been through—"

"Peeta, Katniss doesn't hate you. She cares for you. But she may want a romantic relationship with Gale. She may need you to be her friend and nothing more."

"Well I don't want to be her friend," he spat. "In fact, I don't want to see her again. I'm moving back home."

To Peeta's surprise, Daniel laughed.

"I'm sorry son. I just thought of you choosing to live back here with your mother. I'd love to have you back home, but you'd probably move back to Victor's Village a day later."

Peeta knew he was right. Although they worked together at the bakery, Peeta's relationship with his mother was strained at best and non-existent at worst. He grunted ruefully. He guess he already had practice at living day after day with a woman who didn't love him.

He wandered back to the couch, his eyes filling with tears.

"What do I do, dad?" he asked wearily. "We have to be married. How am I supposed to hold her in my arms every night as she falls asleep knowing that she's thinking of Gale?" He slowly shook his head. "That's just too much."

Daniel gripped Peeta's shoulder reassuringly. "Well, son... I think you need to give up."

"What?"

"I understand this is especially difficult given the circumstances - and very unfair. But give up. Let her go."

Peeta stared quizzically at the floor.

"You look for any sign to feed your hopes that she will reciprocate the love you have for her. And each time, your heart gets broken. You have to guard your own heart. No one will do it for you."

Peeta swallowed thickly. "So… I just give up… On there ever being an 'us?'" The words tasted bitter in his mouth. "She's the only woman I've ever loved, dad. And I hoped that our marriage – although forced – would make her see how much I'm committed to her. How much I want to be her husband, in every sense of the word."

"I know you do," Daniel said quietly. "But Peeta, if you love her, you'll let her be happy. And you won't make her feel guilty because she didn't choose you. Love is sacrificial. That's the true test. Can you give her what she needs, even if it's not what you want?"

Peeta bowed his head in contemplation, and everything began to make sense.

I did this to myself. She was never becoming mine. She only needed me as a friend.

"So what do I do to love her sacrificially? Let Gale come over and spend time with her? I don't think I can do that."

"No son. Respect your marriage because it is legal and binding. But you need to set some boundaries for yourself, even in the midst of being married to Katniss. What amount of physical interaction are you comfortable with? What do you need to live in peace while respecting that fact that she's in love with another man?"

Peeta nodded slowly.

"And here's the thing Peeta," Daniel said. "You have to be firm. You're also making a decision that will help you heal and move on. Katniss may not realize how she affects you, so you can't allow your emotions to be pulled at every turn. If it's your decision to just be her friend, then just be her friend. Nothing more."

Peeta took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He nodded in understanding.

"Son, I don't know how, but you won't have to live like this forever. Every year, the Capitol makes a big deal over the latest victor. Maybe one day President Snow won't care as much as he does now, and he'll let you and Katniss annul your marriage. Hey may want to televise it, but it could be worth the fanfare if it means you both are free to move on. And I promise you son, there's a girl out there for you who will love you and need you and you'll feel more strongly about her than you do about Katniss. That girl is out there Peeta. And you two will find each other and you'll have everything that your heart desires."

"So I should keep hoping, just for someone else?"

"I think it's safer that way. Don't you?"

Peeta smiled weakly. His father was right. It was time to move on. Clearly, Katniss wasn't his soulmate. So someone else was.

---

It was early evening when Peeta started his walk back to Victor's Village. The comfortable warmth of the day was steadily losing its battle with the growing evening chill. Peeta wasn't wearing a jacket, but he walked slowly nonetheless. The chill felt good on his forearms, neck, and face.

The talk with his father did Peeta a lot of good; he had a new perspective on his relationship with Katniss. He'd been fighting a losing battle, making a futile attempt to win her heart. She belonged to Gale. It was time for Peeta to let go.

Still he struggled with pangs of bitterness as he replayed the morning in his mind.

She wanted me to see her kissing Gale. She didn't have the decency to just come out and tell me she'd chosen him.

She knew I was going to my dad's house. If she cared about me at all, she would have come after me. But it's been one-sided all this time. I've been giving enough love for the both of us.

Daniel's voice soon replaced Peeta's thoughts, keeping Peeta from traveling down a path that hardened hearts and created resentment. He would only be hurting himself if he let this experience prevent him from loving someone else, his father had said. Somewhere there was someone else.

He entered through the kitchen side door and dropped his keys on the table. The entire house was dim, lit only by the waning natural light. She wasn't home.

Don't be disappointed. She's not yours. She's not supposed to be here waiting on you. She's Gale's. She loves Gale.

Peeta jogged upstairs to the master bathroom. He sat on the bench in his shower for nearly 30 minutes, letting the pelting hot water relax him. Then, he changed into a new white, v-neck t-shirt and a pair of light gray cotton lounge pants that Portia had insisted he have in his wardrobe. He examined himself in the mirror. The pants were a perfect fit for his physique and extremely comfortable.

"One more point for Portia," he mused. "I'll have to call her and tell her she was right again."

Peeta went to his back porch with renewed interest in finishing the painting he'd been working on for months. He began mixing paint colors to try and achieve that elusive shade of sunset orange. This time, he added a touch of brown to the red, yellow, and white pigments. It was finally the right hue.

"Perfect."

He started to take the painting in a new direction. He added Victor's Village underneath the setting sun. At some point, he realized that he was smiling as he worked.

I can do this. I can let her go. I can just be her friend.

And a weight that he didn't know existed suddenly lifted from Peeta's shoulders. There was an overwhelming sense of peace, and he knew beyond any doubt that he would be okay.

About an hour later, he heard the front door shut and the sound of keys resting on the kitchen table.

"Peeta?" Her voice sounded uncharacteristically small. Lights were on, but the house was so still that she didn't know if he was home. Or if he'd speak to her.

"I'm on the back porch."

She took a deep breath before she moved. Moments later, she stood behind him, nervously chewing on her lip. He took a step back from his canvas, eyeing it critically.

"I think I finally mixed the right colors to get the shade of orange I need," he said proudly. He turned to face her. She looked solemn, pensive. "What do you think?"

She had to clear her throat before she could speak. "It's beautiful," she whispered, barely audible.

"Peeta, about earlier –"

"You don't have to explain, Katniss," he shrugged.

"No, I should."

"No." He lifted his hand to stop her. "No. Don't."

She looked as if she were holding her breath. She'd been bracing herself for his anger, been preparing to have to explain herself, her actions. This wasn't going like she thought it would.

Peeta put down his paint brush and wiped his hand on a rag. "Katniss, I'm the one who needs to explain."

Her eyes narrowed in confusion.

"I was hurt earlier today. But then I realized that you hadn't hurt me. I hurt me. You didn't lie to me. You never said it was me you wanted."

She stared at him with parted lips.

"Katniss, I've been so hopeful that it could be us, that we could truly be together. I've been ignoring what you want, who you want. But now I understand." He briefly turned his gaze to the ground. "You were content in Gale's arms today. I could see that."

"Peeta—" she began hoarsely. But he stepped closer and took both of her hands in his.

"Katniss, you don't need me as your lover. You need me as your friend. And I will always, always be your friend. We'll find a way to make this work, and I promise you, I'll find a way to get you to Gale. He's your family, and I want you to be happy. That's what a true friend does."

She was speechless and in complete shock over his words. She nodded dumbly.

We're just friends. Nothing more. Just friends.

Peeta released her hands and returned to his canvas, dabbing more marigold on his chromatic sky.

She quietly retreated into the house.

This is for the best. Gale and I are meant to be. This is for the best.

And she'd almost convinced herself, until the first tear hit her cheek. Then another. Then another.

---

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, despite the ending. I'm having fun writing this story, and there's much more to come. By the way, if you're wondering about the songs mentioned in this chapter, they are as follows: Start Me Up by the Rolling Stones; Mercy by Duffy; Summertime by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong; and, Somersault by Zero 7.