A/N: Thank you everyone for the really warm welcome back and your enthusiasm! I was so happy reading the comments to the last chapters. And yes I am fine, thanks guys! :)

Like always, I hope you enjoy.

Thursday 16th March 2016 – State 4

Bristel's is a coffee shop exactly 100 feet from my apartment complex. It's a trendy little café, a little on the small side, sporting signature brews and organic – yet surprisingly tasty – health food. I admit, it might not be my first place of choice but 1) it is closest to my apartment and 2) Well…I may have started bringing my business there after an encounter with a certain blonde at a Dali exhibit. Finnick and I would eat lunch there every Thursday without fail. So it's not surprising that it's Bristel's coffee shop that takes its shape in my sketchbook this Thursday afternoon.

I miss it. I miss my simple life in the Capitol; getting coffee every morning, drawing, teaching the kid's art class at the gallery. But I'd be back in 3 days. 72 hours, that's all we had left here. I don't know how I feel about that. While I'm ready to return to normalcy, part of that normalcy belongs with Finnick.

I draw neither of our figures in the coffee shop, choosing to depict random patrons of the Capitol instead. Even if I tried I'm sure his distorted figure from my dreams would come forth from my pencil. I'm idly working on a woman standing in the back when my hands freeze hovering over her long curls. It's not Katniss exactly…but it's still a little too close for comfort. She's even wearing a dress in a similar style to the one at the funeral. I drop my pencil in a huff.

Then of course, there's the mystery of Katniss. I tell myself that it doesn't matter, that in 3 days I'll go back to the Capitol and she'll once again disappear to wherever she came from. I'll get back into my life just like before and she'll be a past memory. But it's not the same as before. She hangs in the back of my mind continuously with a million other questions. And for the first time in a very long time I feel the need for answers. Johanna is right. Maybe I do need closure.

For someone who was always prided on their skilfulness with words I feel at a loss. How do I even voice my questions? Will she even answer them?

I just want to know why. Why come back after disappearing? Even though she didn't come back the first year like I expected I was nearly positive she'd attend the wedding. After all she was better friends with Finnick and Annie than she ever was with me.

Surprisingly, Finnick and Annie didn't get married in State 4. For reasons they never told me, they chose a beautiful vineyard in the Capitol. I suppose it made more sense since we lived in the Capitol. They could meet directly with all the wedding planners, flower arrangers, caterers and whatever else they needed for the wedding.

The ceremony was non-traditional. It was outside among the grapevines and rolling hills, officiated by a celebrant. It was about as light hearted you could get with Finnick cracking jokes and gently teasing Annie. I decided I liked this type of wedding instead of the stuffy church formalities.

For the party, in full swing right now, there are even sets of children's croquet and mini golf outside which the drunk adult men have taken to like bees to honey. A photo booth sits off the side of the dance floor with an array of goofy hats and masks for the guests to mess around with. All in all, the wedding is a perfect depiction of Annie and Finnick as a couple.

We've eaten a fancy, yet hearty meal, and now myself along with the other patrons of the bridal party line the dance floor ready to join right after Annie and Finnick's first official dance. One of the few traditions they'd kept. My partner is Annie's maid of honour, some girl from State 4 that I've seldom met. As I wait, I vaguely wonder if Katniss hadn't up and left whether she might've been a bridesmaid of Annie's, dancing with one of the groomsmen. Even if she wasn't a member of the bridal party I still thought she'd at least turn up to the party. Finnick and Annie were both long-time friends of hers. Did they really mean so little to her that she missed their wedding?

I shake off the thought as we get our cue and I lead the maid of honour onto the dance floor. I catch Jo's eye from the crowd and see her smirking slightly. I give her a wink, knowing when this formality is over, the alcohol will be flowing freely and I won't have thoughts of Katniss pervading my brain.

I never asked Finnick and Annie whether she'd at least sent communication to turn down the invitation. I'd moved on by then anyway and the last thing I wanted to do was dwell on Katniss. Now I wonder whether maybe she had contacted them.

I sigh. I need to stop obsessing over it. I doubt I'll ever get the answers anyway.

I tell myself it'll be okay because in 3 days I'll be back in the Capitol and can forget any of this ever happened. Just like last time.

000

What's surprising, and saddening, is I can't really remember the last time I cooked a full dinner like I am doing tonight. I honed my skills young growing up in the bakery yet it feels like years since I've utilized them. I remember cooking a lot in college. Heck, I remember teaching half the house to cook. But somewhere in recent years the skill has become more of a pastime.

Now, it's therapy in a way, sort of like drawing. I enjoy the rhythm of slicing, the sound of the frypan, the smells of onion and garlic. I also enjoy the mindlessness of it, the comfort that comes with skill. I pump music through the kitchen and soon I'm sucked into my own little culinary world. And honestly, it's a nice escape from reality.

It must be hours later, nearing the finish line, that she walks in. Over the music I don't hear her at first. I startle slightly when her voice rings through the kitchen.

"Need any help?"

I turn around to Katniss. She looks a little worse for wear today. Her eyes are shining slightly less brightly with shadows hanging underneath. I wonder vaguely what the change is about but the thought doesn't linger long. I go to say no to her offer, more of a reflex I've developed of late, before I realize that I'm just being plain petty and rude. I don't like the person I've been since the funeral. 3 more days. I can at least be civil.

"Sure." I hesitate slightly, going through a mental checklist on what needs to be finished. I see her eye the cooked potatoes, cream and butter.

"Maybe I can do the mash?"

"You know how?" I ask cautiously and it comes out a little more condescending than I intended. She doesn't seem to care. She rolls her eyes in such a familiar gesture it takes me off guard.

"You taught me, remember?" She goes to the drawer and pulls out a potato masher. I do remember. I remember many countless nights, mornings and afternoons spent in the kitchen of Haymitch's rental teaching her how to make food edible. They were some of my favourite memories of our short relationship. "And besides, when you've been living on your own for over a year, you tend to learn these things."

The question is right on my lips. Where do you live, Katniss? But the atmosphere is so light and jokey – so close to old times – that I don't mar it with questions that are bound to turn into accusations. Instead I say, "And here I thought you'd be eating two minute noodles all your life."

She laughs and looks at me with a playful, familiar glare while cracking pepper onto the potatoes. "I cook all my meals now, thank you very much."

I realize that she probably cooks more now than I do. I always seem to be eating out whether it be getting coffee and breakfast from Bristel's, grabbing some sushi for lunch or dining in fancy Capitol restaurants for dinner. Huh. I'd never really thought about it until now.

"You're probably better than me now," I say lightly. She raises an eyebrow sarcastically. "I don't cook much anymore." I explain.

I see her frown slightly as she refocuses on her task. "Well you should," she says quietly, "you taught me most of my skills."

I chuckle. "Well it was kind of necessary for your own survival. Remember your attempt at that Shepard's pie?"

"And how we had to scoop out the insides and pretend it was a stew?" She cracks what is probably the largest smile I've seen all week and before I know it I'm doing the same. "Or that time the chicken was burnt on the outside and frozen on the inside?" She laughs. "I suppose I should thank you from saving me from my two minute noodle fate. I don't know how you had so much patience with me."

I've become too comfortable, relishing in the past. It slips out before I can stop it. The dumbest comment I can possibly make. "Well I loved you."

Her face falls and she looks down at the counter with a pained expression. I continue cooking like I hadn't just brought back the tension tenfold. I don't understand her expression though, or why that hurts her so much. She always knew I loved her.

I detect hesitation in her eyes when she says, "Peeta, I need to –"

Johanna barges into the kitchen then, loudly interrupting us. "What's cooking?"

I never hear the end of her sentence. Katniss takes her eyes from me and informs Johanna with a small smile.

There's no more talk of the past.

000

The dream comes back tonight, only this time I know I'm dreaming. I wake in a cold sweat with Finnick's blank and eerie gaze still imprinted in my mind. There was no dead body tonight but its blood still stained the floors. He didn't say much either, only uttering one word as I was moving from dreaming to consciousness. "Listen." He said.

First 'trust me' and now 'listen'? I shake it from my head. It's not real anyway, it's just my messed up subconscious.

I roll out of bed and peek through the blinds. It's not light yet exactly but it's not dark anymore either. Dawn. I'm too keyed up to try and sleep again so instead I pull on a hoodie and exit my bedroom. The other bedroom doors are shut although I expect Katniss to be downstairs. I wonder if that girl ever sleeps. Surely that can't be healthy. Or maybe she's just used to it. When I enter the living room she's not there. Strange. She's been here every morning for the past two weeks.

I'm heading straight for the kitchen, intent on cooking something, when I catch a glimpse of the coffee table, stopping me in my tracks. Finnick is staring at me. My dream flashes in my mind again. I move closer and find that photographs are strewn across the coffee table surrounding Katniss' laptop. Curious, I pick a couple up. They're of Finnick and Katniss. One is with Prim who to this day I still haven't met. Annie's in another. He's smiling in all of them, no hint of the cold dead eyes that had been in my dream. Sighing, I stack them back together willing myself to forget the dreams and remember this version of Finnick.

I'm placing them back on the table neatly when something suddenly clicks in my mind. I look at them again. I'd assumed they were all from college. But I swear that's the shirt I bought Finnick in the Capitol for his birthday…and the apartment they are in I don't recognise…the view from the window is definitely not of State 4…suddenly I'm flipping the pictures over in frenzy and finding a series of dates on the back, spanning between 2014 and 2015 all in State 11.

State 11. What's in State 11?

This doesn't make sense. Are they misdated? She left State 4 in 2013. I went to Haymitch's house in State 12 looking for her only to come up with a dead end. I go back to my first meeting with Haymtich.

Astonishing. That's the word I'd give this house. It's white and huge and I'm surprised I even managed to get through the front gate. I thought my old home was ostentatious but this is on another level.

My feet lead me toward the oak doors not listening to the anxiety riddled in my mind. 10 months. It was a long time not to see somebody. But in a few minutes it wouldn't be 10 months anymore. The anxiety increases as I grow nearer and Finn's warnings flash through my mind. He was trying to fix me in a way I didn't want to be fixed. This is how to fix myself. I knew it.

Three steps, two steps, one more. The door is in front of me. Before I have a full blown anxiety attack I clench my fist and pound on it three times. Finnick thought this was a bad idea but there was no other way to get an answer. I still had hope even if everyone else did not.

It swings in and I lay my eyes on not a beautiful brunette but the scragginess of Haymitch Abernathy. To his credit he doesn't look surprised. And I hope this wasn't too predictable.

"She's not here."

I expected a lot of things to happen when I came here. I thought about them on the plane. I expected to be greeted by Haymitch, to have to give a truly honorable and moving speech to gain entry to the house, to be patient and wait for her to talk to me. But I hadn't expected these words at all.

"What?"

Haymitch rolls his eyes and huffs. "She's not here, boy. She's moved away."

"Where?"

He snorts. "I wouldn't tell you that, would I? That would be good for neither of you."

"Haymitch please -"

"Listen up, kid. I'm only going to say this once. She's not here and you'd be an idiot trying to go find her. She's not stable and seeing you would push her over the edge. And I hate to say it but you seem like a good kid and you deserve to live like a normal 20 something year old and not chasing a goose that doesn't want to be caught."

My face must be a tragedy because he actually looks like he feels sorry for me. Or maybe it's just pity.

"Go home boy." He says softly before closing the door.

Standing on Haymitch Abernathy's door step, facing a locked door, I've never felt so alone in my life.

That day I thought we all lost her. But apparently only I had lost her. Haymtich wouldn't tell me where she moved to but looking at the photos it's clearly State 11.

Finnick had warned me not go. Actually everyone had warned me not to go. Did they already know she wouldn't be there? Did they warn her?

Suddenly my life over the last three years doesn't seem as clear cut as I thought it was. Had Finnick been lying to me all this time? Had everyone else been in on some secret while I was left oblivious? It seems likely. Hell, it's more than likely. It's right in front of my face.

"Peeta."

I whip around and there Katniss is in the flesh, hair tousled, skin slick with sweat from a run. She looks apprehensive, eyeing the damning evidence in my hands and I know she knows what's going on. I don't imagine it's hard to tell from my expression.

"Why'd he lie?" I ask quietly and I feel like once again I have no idea who she is. "Why did everyone lie?" I demand.

"To protect us."

"Us?" I ask disbelievingly. "There is no us! Clearly everyone else has been in on something while they were lying to me! Including you!"

She winces. "I can explain it to you, Peeta. But it's a long story."

"This is bullshit! What the fuck have you been doing!" I exclaim, waving the photographs in the air. She opens her mouth to answer but I cut her off. "Forget it. I don't want to hear it. It probably wouldn't be true anyway."

I stalk towards the front door, pull my shoes on roughly and fling it open.

"Peeta it's raining!" Katniss exclaims which is ironic considering she'd just been running out there. But apparently a lot of things are ironic, I think, as I remember Finnick's words in my dream. Listen and trust you? Fuck you Finnick.

I don't listen. I slam the door shut without another word and trudge out into the rain. I don't know where I'm going and I don't particularly care either. I just need to be away from that house. Away from the lies and secrets.

What else had been a lie, I wonder, as I weave my through the streets. How did Finnick find Katniss? Or did he never really lose her? Was she ever gone at all? All the times he told me he didn't know where she was…

I praised Finnick for helping me move on, for putting my wellbeing before his. But apparently I was the centrepiece in an intricate web of lies he was weaving.

As I stalk further out into the rain with little intention of going back, questions and accusations swirl rapidly through my mind. The painful part is I'll never get to know the answers. He's dead after all.

A/N: The next chapter is the one you've all been waiting for! Are you excited? I am.

Thanks for reading