Monday 30th May 2016 – The Capitol

My brush glides along the canvas blending green and yellow hues together as I continue to build the sea green colour profile. Classical music hums gently in the background as I stare at the canvas, paintbrush between my teeth, tilting my head back and forth to figure out what I'm missing. I've been working on the colours for hours, trying to find the exact blend of colours and textures I need to finish the painting successfully. I'm almost there but the final touch seems to be alluding me.

With less than a week to go until the Benefit, things are becoming slightly hectic. I've promised to supply a piece of artwork to sell among others, donated by much more accomplished artists than myself, however I am beginning to doubt whether I'll ever have it finished to an appropriate standard by this Saturday. Madge tells me it doesn't really matter, that it's only a donation, but I refuse to put up a subpar painting with my name on it.

While I have been locked in my studio for days finishing this painting, Madge has been overseeing the final preparations for the Benefit, leaving the apartment a little quiet and lonely. Despite the fact that United has extensive teams to organise events like these, Madge has still found herself in the centre of the preparations.

Today, however, the apartment isn't particularly quiet. The hum of the vacuum cleaner and thumps and bumps of moving furniture tell me that the cleaner is here. The cleaner has been another addition Madge brought with her when she moved in. It is one of the few things I argued with her about. I didn't really see the need for a cleaner. Or this massive apartment honestly. Though I'd lost the disagreement pretty quickly. We made a compromise that the cleaner wouldn't enter my studio. Studios were meant to be messy in my opinion.

Turning my attention back to the painting, I scrutinize my work. It's more abstract than what I typically paint although it's still within my general theme of landscapes. Streaks of blues, greens, yellows and nearly every other colour cover the entire canvas giving the illusion of the ocean. However, the perspective is not from above but as if the viewer is underwater looking towards the surface. Faint streaks of light break through the dark waters as the sun attempts to shine through the depths of the water.

It's not bad, I'll admit that much. I'm more than happy with the illusion of rippling water and refracting light I have created, however I feel the colour scheme is slightly off, not quite the right green I had imagined. Sighing, I put my paint brush down and wipe my hands on a cloth. Maybe it'll come to me later. I ease down into a chair, leaning back and looking out the large windows, appraising the cityscape in front of me. Maybe it's this jungle of skyscrapers that is ruining my inspiration. For the first time since I've returned home, I almost wish I am in State 4 again, just to stare out at that ocean along the quiet section of the Strip. Although, even that ocean isn't green exactly, but a sharp, crystalline blue. I frown and glance back over at the painting.

I lower the volume of the radio and still hear movement around the apartment. Not wishing to go out while the cleaner is doing her thing, I move toward my desk and open the bottom drawer and rummage for the ring. Like my painting, my reasoning is if I stare at the ring long enough I'll get inspiration for what to do with it. So far, this method isn't going too well. It's not like there has been a particularly good opportunity either with the funeral and now the Benefit. And it's not like I haven't had any good ideas either. Though, again, like the painting, nothing is quite right.

Raising my gaze from the ring, my eyes land on a framed photo propped up on my desk. It's fairly old, taken in my senior year of college. Finnick and I both stand on the Strip in State 4, in front of the blue waters. Our arms are around each other's shoulders, our surfboards propped in the sand either side of us.

As I feel the velvet of the ring box underneath my fingers, a crushing guilt consumes me. I wish I could ask him his opinion. He is much better at this than I am.

I'm flipping the ring box in my hands when the door suddenly opens. I flinch and drop the box into the draw, closing it with my foot. I expect the cleaner to be there, maybe to tell me that she's finished for the day, however I meet the gaze of my girlfriend.

"Jesus, Madge!"

A look of shock crosses her face which then transforms to a smirk. "Sorry. What are you doing?"

"Just tidying up. And trying to finish the painting." I thrust my thumb in the direction of the easel. She peeks around the door then takes a few steps into the room. She has a long white garment bag over her shoulder, her hand holding onto the top of the hanger. She stares at it for several long moments before she asks in confusion, "It's not finished?"

Frustration passes through me even though her words are complimentary. "It's not right."

"It doesn't have to be perfect. You're just donating it."

I know she's right and I should just leave it like it is but something inside me says I can't. I'm not really sure why I'm so adamant about it but I just need to get it right.

"What's wrong with it?" She asks.

I sigh and stare at my hands. "The colour isn't right." I mutter in frustration. I hear, more than see her move toward me.

"Are you okay?"

I look up and into her eyes. She's asked me that question a lot since I came home. "Yeah, of course." I smile.

She takes a few steps closer to me. "Peeta."

I meet her gaze and try to ignore the guilt that is creeping up in me. I feel bad for having to lie to her. "I just want to ask Finnick something and I can't." I finally admit.

Sympathy fills her gaze and she comes closer to perch on the edge of my desk in front of me. She gently takes me hand. "Have you considered talking to someone about Finnick?"

I recoil involuntarily. "I'm not seeing a psychiatrist."

"Psychologist." She corrects. "Counsellor, even."

"Whatever, I don't need to see one."

"There's nothing wrong with seeing someone." She says gently, her mouth twisting slightly with tension. "I know you're still blaming yourself about it, Peeta. I'm worried about you. And since you won't talk to me about it…"

I look at her in surprise and see the hurt in her eyes. For the first time I realize maybe I'm more transparent than I've thought. I thought I've done a pretty decent job at keeping my own problems from plaguing her but apparently she's seen through me.

"I'm sorry." I pull her into my lap and she comes willingly. She rests her head against my shoulder as my arms encircle her. "It's not you. I just…I don't really want to talk about it."

She raises her head and looks at me solemnly. "I know." She pecks my lips. "Just think about it okay?"

"Okay." I tell her, giving her a squeeze. A knock at the door startles both of us. We look up to find the cleaner standing in the doorway. She tells us she's finished for the day and asks if there is anything else we need. Madge gets up to thank her and bid her goodbye.

I move to pack up my paints, figuring I'd leave the painting alone for rest of today. Maybe tomorrow I will find the right colours. When I finish, I walk into the living room and find Madge in the kitchen, preparing food. I feel slightly emasculated when I can clearly recognize Say Yes to the Dress.

"Why do you watch this shit?" I groan, plonking down on the couch.

She laughs at my tone. "I like it. Hey!" She protests when I change the channel. I put it on a rerun of Friends, which is something we both like. "What's so interesting about watching other people try on wedding dresses anyway?"

"It's fun. Girls like that stuff you know." She says in a teasing voice as she walks over to me with the two bowls in her hands. I notice that the garment bag she came in with is hanging from a doorway nearby.

"So I can see." I nod towards the bag. "What's that anyway?" I already know Madge's closest can rival most women so I don't really see why she would need to buy another dress.

"I needed a dress for the Benefit." She hands me a bowl and I see it's soup. Tasting it I recognize that it's lamb shank from Bristel's.

"You have a lot of dresses."

"I've worn them before."

I don't argue. I won't even pretend to understand female logic when it comes to clothes. "What's it like?"

"That," she points toward me with her spoon, "will be a surprise."

I chuckle. "I didn't realize clothing was so secretive."

"Top secret, Peeta." She jokes. "Besides, I want you to be impressed."

I look at her, wondering how on earth she thinks I won't be impressed. She's always beautiful, regardless if she's made up like today or emerging from bed in her pajamas. "You know, I'll be impressed even if you wear a flour sack."

She grins. "Well this is a little nicer than a flour sack."

"How are the preparations coming along?" I ask her.

She pauses for a second, taking a spoonful of soup to her mouth. I notice randomly she's had her nail color changed. "Good. I fixed up an issue we had with the decorator today and now it seems to be running smoothly."

"You'll be home tonight then?" I ask hopefully.

She takes my bowl from my hands and places it, along with hers on the coffee table. She turns toward me, straddling my lap, her face morphing into a radiant smile.

"I'm all yours."

000

I finish the painting on Wednesday. After hours of mixing paints on multiple pallets, I find the right blend of colours to finish it. The hours of tedious work have paid off and the multitude of different shades and brushstrokes denote the depths of a sea green ocean in an almost lifelike form.

With paint covering the majority of my hands and speckling my old shirt, I stand back and admire it. Calm settles over me as I stare at my handiwork, finally content. With a satisfied smile, I move towards my brushes and place them into a cup of water, leaving them to soak. A knock on the door startles me and I splash a bit of the muddy coloured water onto myself. Sighing, I grab a towel and quickly make my way to the door. With only a handful of people owning key cards to the building, there are only a couple of choices for who's at the door. I open it a little apprehensively, assuming it's my brother.

Turns out, it's Annie. "I texted you earlier to see if you were home but you didn't answer so I thought I'd just come by. I hope that's alright." She explains, as I gesture for her to come inside.

I frown, wondering where on earth I've put my phone. "Yeah, that's fine. Sorry." I apologise. "I don't know where I've left my phone. I was distracted with a painting."

Her lips twitch. "I can tell."

I look down at the mess on my hands and shirt, suddenly a little sheepish. "Grab a seat, I'll just go and clean up quickly."

I scrub my hands quickly with turpentine I keep in the laundry. A reprimand from Madge vaguely echoes in my mind. She was horrified the first time she saw me use the harsh chemicals on my skin. With the manicures she gets every couple of weeks, her hands are a stark contrast to my own.

With clean hands and a new shirt I head back towards Annie, only to find the couch empty. I search a few rooms until I finally pop my head into my studio to see her staring at the easel.

It's the first time I really see her today. With a small bit of surprise, I note she looks well. Her hair hangs neat and shiny down her shoulders and she's wearing a pretty, flowing dress that mostly disguises her baby bump. She has to be…5 months pregnant by now? Maybe this is the glow that everyone is always talking about with pregnant women. Her skin is no longer pale but a healthy pallor and her eyes now have a spark in them. Eyes that are so transfixed on my painting that she hasn't noticed I've come in.

"Annie?"

She jumps slightly, turning around to face me. She looks slightly embarrassed for having been caught in here. "The colour's beautiful." She says, settling her eyes back on the painting.

"You wouldn't believe how long that took me to get right." I walk to stand beside her.

She laughs lightly. "You're a bit of a perfectionist sometimes, Peeta." I give her a sidelong glance but I know she's right. "You look tired." She comments.

Do I look bad? I hadn't paid attention to my appearance much in the last few days. Regardless, I hum in agreement and look out the window. "I've been busy with things."

"Your mother?"

I'd told Annie the news a little while after Rye had visited proposing we ask Katniss. After a little research she came back to me with the answer I expected; there is nothing to be done.

"I haven't heard anything about that yet. Things have just been busy with work and the Benefit and…"

"And?" She prompts.

"It's stupid." I admit, not wanting to voice my dilemma out loud. She gives me a stern look and I feel like the mothering instinct is already settling into her. "I have no idea how to propose to her, Annie." I say in a rush, followed by embarrassment. "Nothing I come up with is right. Does…" I pause, picking at my nails, "Does it seem silly that I keep wanting to get Finnick's approval?"

I see understanding dawn in her expression. "No," she shakes her head. "I know you two always planned these things together." It's true. As best man at Finnick's wedding I helped him out with a lot of things. But the proposal had been all him.

Her next words surprise me. "I'm not sure he would've been all that helpful with this. You don't need Finnick for this Peeta, you can do this on your own."

"I don't know, Annie."

"When you're ready, it'll come to you. Everything is still so new. Madge won't mind you waiting for the right time, given everything that has happened."

Her words make sense but I can't shake the feeling that I'm screwing something up.

"What if she doesn't?" I ask.

Annie actually rolls her eyes. "What has brought this on, Peeta? You have to be crazy to not see how much she loves you. What are you scared of?"

I go to say I'm not scared of anything but the lie dies in my mouth. I might lie to everyone else when it comes to Finnick's death but I can't do it to Annie. She's one of the only ones that understands. My throat constricts as I contemplate my real problem.

"I feel guilty, Annie." I finally admit in a quiet tone. No matter what anyone says, Finnick wouldn't have been out there that day if it hadn't been for me.

Suddenly, I'm engulfed in a hug, her arms squeezing me tightly. After a long moment she pulls back and looks at me with a fierce expression. "It wasn't your fault. You cannot stop living your life just because his ended. And there is no need to feel guilty about moving yours forward. He wanted you to be happy. If this makes you happy then you know it's the right decision."

Biting my lip, I nod in agreement. Logically, I know she's right. But no matter how many times they say it wasn't my fault, the guilt always creeps back.

"Don't rush it." She tells me. "You'll know when it's right."

"Thanks An."

She smiles warmly, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "That's what I'm here for."

"Come on, let's go sit in the lounge." I guide us out of the studio and into the lounge room. I head to the kitchen briefly to boil the water for some tea. Settling into the leather sofa with mugs of tea she fills me in on her own week. She tells me that the baby is healthy and she decided to find out the gender yesterday; a little boy. I smile softly, imagining a mini Finnick running about. A small boy with bronze hair and sea green eyes. It occurs to me that this is the best thing he could've left behind for her, if not for all of us; a piece of him.

"Are you going to have a baby shower?" I ask. Then a new thought occurs to me. "Am I even allowed to attend a baby shower?" Weren't these events always just for women?

She laughs at me. "It doesn't matter. I don't think I'm going to have one."

"Why not? Madge would love to organise that kind of thing. You wouldn't even have to do anything. We could have it here."

I can tell she's going to thank me and politely decline so I fix her with a serious look. She huffs. "I'll think about it."

Good enough for now.

"Speaking of Madge, are you two travelling again?"

"Huh?"

She points to a few sheets of paper on the coffee table, near the coaster her tea cup rests on. Paper that I've clearly ignored for who knows how long. I make out the Lonely Planet logo from the couch. Upon closer inspection there appears to be a map of what I'm pretty sure is Mongolia, and information on villages and Mongol tribes. On the borders of the page are notes in Madge's neat handwriting, denoting what seem to be flights and in-country travel options. Frowning, I set them back down.

"Madge researches this kind of stuff a lot. She's probably looking into photography options."

"I feel like once you two are married I'll be following your life through a travel blog."

I consider it. "Maybe for a bit. We could spend a bit of time abroad, I suppose. Madge would probably want to. But we'd want to settle down sooner than later, I think."

"Makes sense. You've always wanted kids, right?"

I nod, smiling slightly. "Yeah I'd like that." I imagine briefly little blonde and blue eyed children, running about a nice house in the suburbs, away from the cacophony of the city. "Madge is really good with them as well."

"Well, one step at a time, Peeta."

I laugh slightly, noting how I've gotten a bit ahead of myself. One step at a time. First, I have to actually propose.

Annie leaves later that afternoon. With her gone, silence settles back into the apartment and stays that way for most of the night as Madge has gone from work to dinner with Leevy.

I'm slightly unsure of what to do with myself, considering my main obsession, the painting, is now complete. I feel a little ridiculous as I wander the apartment aimlessly, noting I haven't actually been alone without something to do for a very long time. My wandering takes me to the kitchen and I stare at the pristine benches we so rarely use but the cleaner still cleans meticulously. Suddenly, I know what I want to do.

Grabbing my keys I hurry out of the apartment, without so much as a jacket, and make my way to the grocery store across the street. I try and think of what our meagre pantry has in it. Flour? Surely we have that. Sugar? Yeast?

I buy extra of everything just in case.

Back in the apartment, I lay the ingredients neatly out onto the counter and rummage around in the cupboards for a few minutes until I find the measuring cups and scales. I begin doling out the ingredients, pausing now and then to recall the recipe for cheese buns. I hadn't made them in the so long. Actually, I hadn't baked in so long. I'm unsure if Madge has ever even tasted my infamous cheese buns. I used to bake all the time. Breakfast muffins, bagels, cookies. Back in college, the house feasted on them all ravenously.

As I knead the dough, I wonder when my passion left me. Now, I always seem to be too busy with something else to do something as simple as bake fresh bread or a dessert for the weekend. Or maybe it is just too easy to acquire such things when you live in the centre of the Capitol. Either way, I'd forgotten how much I enjoy it.

Several hours later the golden cheese filled buns emerge from the oven. Pulling one apart, steam escapes in wisps as the cheese stretches between the two halves. I pop a couple on a plate and move towards the bedroom. I pass the lounge and notice the papers Annie pointed out earlier in the afternoon. I sweep them up too and leave them on our bedside table.

With a plate of cheese buns and a sketchbook, I snuggle into bed, the most content I've been all week, planning to sketch whatever first jumps into my mind, while eating myself into a cheese bun coma.

A few hours later, I'm roused from sleep by a slight dip of the bed. Rolling over, I find Madge trying to crawl in gently with a comical grimace on her face.

"Hey."

"Sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I didn't mean to fall asleep." My arm hits something hard and I look down to find my sketchbook lying on the bed. I throw it on the floor and I lift up my arm as Madge snuggles into my side. "How was your night?"

"It was good." She smiles. "What did you do?"

"Annie came over."

"How is she?"

"Really good actually. She's having a boy."

She smiles softly. "That's great. I'll have to go shopping for some cute baby clothes."

"She'd like that." I consider what I told Annie. "She said she didn't want a baby shower but I think it'd be nice. I thought we could organise it here."

Like I expect, her face lights up. She sits up slightly and rests her chin on my chest, folding her hands beneath. "That's a great idea! Oh, we could have all those cute little games. And a cake! You could make a baby cake and I could do the decorations!"

"Slow down a bit there." I kiss her lightly on the tip of her nose. "She hasn't agreed to it yet."

She sighs a little but remains smiling. Her eyes flit past me. "What's that?" I follow her gaze to the plate on the nightstand, where one lone cheese bun sits.

"Oh, I made cheese buns. Do you want some?"

"No, thanks."

As I stare at the plate I notice the papers underneath.

"Can I ask you something?"

Her eyes meet mine with more seriousness. "Of course."

"What are these for?" I reach to the bedside table and show her the papers Annie found earlier in the day.

"Ah," she sighs, "I was meaning to talk to you about that."

"Are you travelling again?"

"Well…I thought we could do it together. Next year."

"Together?" I'd been overseas with her twice for short trips since we'd been dating but this one seemed lengthier and I'd assumed she'd do it alone.

"Yeah. I don't really want to do long distance with you and I'm sure you don't either. And I was thinking, you don't actually need to be here to do your work, right? I thought it'd be great for you to get different inspiration and study some of the traditional art in Asia. And if we were together, well, we wouldn't have to have a time frame."

"What is this exactly?"

"Well, I wanted to go to the Mongol tribes and villages, capture their culture. Then move through Tibet and Kazakhstan, work our way up to Siberia. There's so much to explore, Peeta. So many different cultures."

I smile at her, loving her sense of adventure and her excitement to explore the unknown. She's right in saying that I'd love to explore the traditional art of those cultures, as well as paint the landscapes. We could explore them slowly, together, each gaining our own artistic inspiration. It'd be just the two of us and the rest of the world. No more death, no more court cases, no more reminders of the past.

"What do you think?" She asks nervously.

"I think it's a great idea." She kisses my lips then settles down into my side. We fall asleep, leaving further conversation about it for another day.

000

The night of the Benefit approaches quickly and before I know it I'm waiting in the lounge, dressed in an Armani suit Madge chose for me while I wait for her to finish getting ready. I figured since she went to a salon for her hair and makeup that she wouldn't take that long to get ready. I was wrong.

I look at my watch, becoming a little bit antsy, thinking that we won't be arriving as early as her father wanted us there. I'm about to go into our bedroom and tell her as much when she slips through the doorway.

I can feel my mouth hanging open slightly as I stare at her. Her blonde hair has been pulled into a sleek bun at the nape of the neck, allowing her long jewelled earrings to highlight the length of her neck. Her dress is simple, but beautiful, and definitely nicer than a flour sack. It's coloured somewhere between a light blue and a grey and hugs her slim figure from the high neck to the skirt grazing the floor. Like usual, she's the picture of grace and elegance.

"You look beautiful." I tell her, kissing her cheek gently so as to not ruin her makeup.

"Thank you." She grins, then plays with the collar of my shirt. "I love you in a suit."

Hand in hand, we make our way down to the foyer of the building and spot the sleek Mercedes on the street. While a taxi would have sufficed, Mr. Undersee spared no expense and booked us a driver to transport us to the Capitol's town hall, where the Benefit would be held. It's a grand building, one of the oldest in the Capitol, made of stone and sweeping arches. The Benefit is held in the large ballroom and when we enter, I see the result of Madge's efforts this week. The ballroom has been transformed into a beautiful and intimate space. Strings of lights drape across the roof giving the room a warm and subtle glow. The room is fairly empty, as we have arrived early, however we quickly spot Madge's father in a pristine suit, discussing something with a waiter.

"Dad!" Madge calls out and quickly strides over to him, dragging me along with her.

"Oh good, you're here!" He exclaims, giving Madge a kiss and a hug before shaking my hand firmly. "The guests should start arriving soon." He tells us. "How are you two?"

"We're good, dad. Is everything ready?" Madge goes straight to business, examining the room around her with a meticulous eye.

"Everything's fine. Why don't you go have a look at the auction set up? See if it's to your liking."

She moves across the room quickly, heeding her father's instructions.

"She's such a perfectionist." He smirks at me with a dry expression.

"She is." I laugh, my eyes trailing her across the room. "It's what makes her good at what she does, though."

"No doubt about that." He smiles. "I suppose she's told you about her latest travel plans."

"Mongolia?" I'm slightly surprised she's already discussed it with him. "Yeah we talked about it a little."

"Sometimes I think she's going to go overseas one day and just never come back. She's talked about working for United overseas, you know. If she does I don't' think I'll ever get her back."

That's news to me. "I'll bring her back." I laugh. "She'll have to settle down some time anyway."

He looks at me with interest. "You think? Peeta, if you can keep her in one place, I'll owe you."

"I'll work on it." I chuckle as Madge starts to walk back towards us.

"It looks good." Madge tells her dad. "Sweetie, your painting's over there." She grabs my arm as she speaks, pointing toward a wall where I find the sea green swirls of my painting I titled Reflection.

"Yes, thank you for doing that for us, Peeta." He says sincerely. "It's really great, very creative. Honestly, it's much better than half of these so called acclaimed painters."

"It was no trouble." I lie and I notice how Madge shoots me a sidelong glance.

"What was your inspiration?"

I open my mouth but falter. My first instinct is to say State 4 but like I noted earlier in the week, the water is not like State 4's beaches. I hadn't started the painting with a clear cut plan. Or any thought. It had just kind of erupted from my paint brush. "Nothing, really. I was just experimenting," I end up saying which is clearly not the answer he is expecting.

We don't get much more time to chat as the guests start filtering in and suddenly the Undersee's are swept up in a show of handshakes and small talk. I follow obediently, being introduced to new business partners and greeting those I already know. Perhaps forty minutes passes and I'm beginning to enter an endless haze of smiles and new faces when a hand suddenly clamps down on my shoulder.

Stunned, I spin around. Blue eyes the same colour as mine are regarding me with amusement.

"Hello, brother." Rye greets me with a smirk. "Fancy seeing you here."

I roll my eyes and glance at the glass in his hand. "I see you're already enjoying the refreshments."

"You know I won't miss a party with free alcohol."

"Sometimes I wonder how you're the older brother."

He laughs and takes a sip of what looks like whiskey and dry. "Hey, be nice to me. I just saved you from more small talk."

I glance around and notice Madge has moved to another group of people, dressed in equally fancy clothes and holding champagne glasses. This has always been her life, having grown up in the Capitol and the limelight. And she's excellent at it. I watch her as she easily charms the guests in front of her, moulding them, which will no doubt come in handy later on in the night when United starts promoting their causes. Funny thing is, I have no interest in these business operations. It's why I didn't join the family business once I graduated, after all.

"Well thank you." I tell Rye. "Did you come with dad?"

Rye motions behind me and I glance back to see my father chatting with others. He looks the picture of ease despite the stress our family's been under with my mother's parole. I hadn't spoken to either of them about it since Rye came over to tell me.

"I figured I could get a few drinks in while he was making nice. You know, help the kids."

"How about you contribute to one of the projects?"

"Hey, we already give the homeless project a lot of bread!"

That, at least is true. Mellark Bakeries were already affiliated with United before I even met Madge. "Fine." I relent. "What are you planning to do all night anyway?"

"Find a pretty girl to charm."

"Oh, Jesus."

"Speaking of which." He nods his head over my shoulder. Madge suddenly appears on my right and kisses Rye on the cheek.

"Hello Rye, how are you?"

"Can't complain." He claims, holding up his drink. I roll my eyes again. "Nice job with this whole thing, by the way."

She beams. "Thank you. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to steal Peeta for a moment." She turns to me. "Honey, there's an artist you should really meet."

Rye sweeps his arm in a grand – and ridiculous – gesture. "He is all yours, Madge." As I get pulled away, I watch him survey the room, no doubt trying to find a pretty face to flirt with. I pity the poor girl that ends up in my brother's grasp.

We pick up a similar rhythm to before, although I do manage a lengthy conversation with the artist Madge was talking about, which is the first conversation I'm genuinely interested in. I take a leaf out of Rye's book and order a drink at the bar and gradually feel myself begin to relax more. It's when we are in front of two executives that I see Rye's blonde head crop up again in the crowd. My attention is diverted from the dull conversation as I watch him eagerly cross the room and I'm confused as to who he'd be so enthusiastic to see.

I'm slightly astonished at the trio of people he greets. I recognize Leevy immediately, wearing a sleek red gown, but it takes me a moment to recognize the other two. Slowly my mind conjures up the name for the man; Gale Hawthorne. I'd only met him once when he'd visited Katniss in college. Which brings me to the third person; a woman, whose hand is fitting neatly around the bend in Gale's arm. Katniss.

She looks startlingly different and I think it's maybe because I've seldom seen her dressed up. I also had not expected her whatsoever to be here.

She has abided by the dress code. She wears a sleeveless dress that is a gun metal grey colour on the top which morphs into a black skirt. It shimmers slightly underneath the lights. Her hair hangs in long thick waves and her lips are bright red. She looks very striking.

I wonder whether she and Gale are now together, considering their past. Though, their intimate stance could also be the mark of a long held friendship. I don't know which assumption is right. I shake myself from my thoughts as my brother holds a conversation with the three of them. Why does it matter anyway?

As I turn back to my own conversation at hand, I wonder vaguely whether we'll run into each other tonight. Judging by the fact that she's already with Leevy and Rye, I'm sure of it.

At some point during the evening I split off from Madge and am suddenly accompanied by my father. I haven't seen him for quite a long time, and for that, I feel bad. He doesn't mention it though, nor does he try and talk much business with me either. For that I am grateful. He mainly introduces me to people and then – a little embarrassingly – boasts about my artwork. While on the outside I am humble, on the inside I am silently rejoicing. It's one of the first times either of my parents have really validated what I do for a living. My father hadn't been too happy when I graduated with a business degree and failed to use it. But three years on I think he finally gets it.

Eventually, however, the conversations begin to grow tedious and I feel as if I am being forced into Rye's role here. I extricate myself delicately from the next group of people and head to the edges of the room where, like I expect, I find a door to a balcony. I take a deep breath as I step outside into the fresh air, the noise of the party dimming to a hum in the background. I stand in the corner of the balcony, next to a potted shrub, and lean my arms against the railing, spinning my glass in my hands.

I don't think I was ever cut out for business. I'm sure I would have never even considered a business degree if I hadn't been born into the family I was. We grew up working the bakeries, learning the roots to running a business. It was never a question of whether we would join the family business, but when. After college, none of them had expected me to reject the part of the business I was entitled to. Not even Rye saw it coming. There might have been less discord if I'd chosen an avenue like science or accounting. But art? No.

If I think from my father's point of view, I can see how he might have felt I was rejecting a part of him. After all, he'd worked hard his whole life; both within the business and attempting to keep are family from splintering apart. To him I threw away fortune and opportunities for an unstable career he regarded as a hobby.

Though being caught up in the conundrum that is the Benefit for a mere few hours, I've never been gladder to have said no. I think my father sensed something similar; realizing that this wouldn't have been the right path for me.

The click of the balcony door interrupts my musings and I sigh as my tranquillity is interrupted. The door closes quietly and someone walks to the other side. I watch silently as none other than Katniss peers out at the city scape in front of us. It's obvious she hasn't seen me. Not that I'm all that surprised, considering it's dark and I've parked myself right in the corner. She unclasps her clutch and pulls out her phone.

"What are you doing out here?"

She jumps like she's been electrocuted and nearly drops her phone. I hold back a tiny smile. "Oh my god, I didn't see you there."

"Clearly."

She rolls her eyes, an old familiar gesture. "Gale bailed on me, the bastard. Started talking about business stuff so I figured it was as good as time as any to take a breather."

It seems as though we are on the same wavelength. I'd forgotten that these kinds of things were never Katniss' forte either. I'd also forgotten about Hawthorne Industries and suddenly Gale's presence at the Benefit makes much more sense.

"Why are you out here?" She asks.

"Same as you, taking a breather."

"Oh," she breathes, "well I'm going to go back inside. Leave you alone and – "

I cut her off. "You don't have to go." I'm not sure what makes me say it. Especially since I'd been content being alone. But I don't want her to feel like she can't be here just because I am. My anger towards her had dissipated since our ordeal in State 4. I'm not going to continue punishing her for something that happened so long ago. It's not fair; she never tried to punish me.

She makes a sound of surprise and then stands awkwardly on the patio, undecided between staying or leaving. Finally, she goes back to the railing and adopts a similar stance to me, not quite as far away as before. A slightly awkward silence fills the air.

"I'm sorry about your mother." She eventually says.

I look at her in shock. "How did you –" then it occurs to me, "Rye."

She nods. "I ran into him in a bar a few weeks back and it just kind of came up. He didn't seek me out or anything."

I'm not 100% sure I completely believe that, knowing my brother. Especially since he wanted to ask Katniss in the first place.

Although I already asked Annie, and already know the answer to my question, I ask it anyway. Just in case. "So there's nothing we can do?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"I figured as much."

"I didn't expect this to happen, either." She admits. "It's a little strange honestly."

"Well, I got 3 years of peace at least." I say wryly.

She cracks a tiny smile. "I guess so."

"I don't really know what to do." My confession catches us both by surprise. But after having no one to talk to about this for so long, the words start tumbling out of my mouth. "I'm worried she's going to try and find me. Interfere with things. I mean, not that it'd be hard to find me. It'd be pretty easy actually."

She nods solemnly, looking out toward the bright city lights. "She can't do all that much anymore, though, can she? I mean, if you wanted to be drastic you could always get a restraining order."

"No." I say immediately.

"I thought so. What does Madge think about this?"

I tense. Her question is innocent but hits a nerve within me. "I haven't told her yet." I say so quietly I'm surprised she hears me at all.

She turns to face me full on, a look of disbelief on her face. Her grey eyes are even more striking than usual, coupled with the eye makeup on her face. "Peeta." It's only one word - my name - but it holds a lot of weight. It's both reprimand and a question. It's astonishment that I haven't confided something so important to my significant other.

I hang my head, staring into the remaining amber contents of my drink. "I know that's bad. It's just…god this is the lamest excuse ever. But things have been busy and…well, we've never really discussed my mother all that much."

I know she's even more surprised by this admission. Her eyes search my face for something, I'm not quite sure what, but I shy a little underneath the intensity of her gaze. "You should talk to her," she says finally, "you'll feel better talking about it. She deserves to know."

I wonder if that's a line from her own therapy. It doesn't matter; she's right. "I'm just not sure she'll understand. I don't want to burden her with it, either."

"Honestly, I don't think most people would understand."

"You do."

A heavy silence hangs between. I wonder if our year at college together is playing through her mind like it is mine. She is one of the few people who truly understand my fucked up family life. She's also one of the few people who don't judge me for it. I've always been able to tell her anything.

She swallows thickly. "You say you don't want to burden her. But when I left you, it was for that very reason. I didn't want to poison you with my own problems. You, yourself, said I was wrong in doing that."

I don't say anything. Because, really, what can I say? She's exactly right. Back then, I didn't care how difficult it would get with Katniss because I loved her. I was willing to work through those problems with her. Only she never let me.

Never once did I realize I was doing the same thing with someone else.

"Just talk to her, it will be okay. She loves you."

Her voice is gentle but confident. Regarding her now, without the influence of anything else around us, I realize she's changed more than I'd thought since college. From the glimpses I saw of her inside she appeared a lot happier and more social than I remember, and out here, in the sanctity of the balcony, she seems poised and assured in her advice. I'd gotten a taste of this back in State 4 but had regarded it as more an illusion than anything else; instead, projecting my own assumptions onto her.

"You're right."

"I know." She says quietly.

I laugh unexpectedly. "I suppose I should probably go back in soon."

"You don't like these things any more than I do, do you?"

"Honestly? No. But I do them for her."

She nods in understanding. "I think there's some presentation soon. You should probably go."

I straighten up from the railing. "Yeah." I look over at her but her gaze is in front of us and not on me. She looks pensive in her thoughts. "Katniss? Thank you."

Her lips pull into a sombre smile. She nods her head but doesn't say anything. I turn around, about to head back inside, when her quiet voice stops me in my tracks.

"I know we're not where we were, but if you want to talk about it, or you want to know something about the court case, you can ask me."

I'm taken aback by her offering. I'm not sure what she thinks of me anymore but I can't imagine it's particularly easy for her to be around me. But now that the anger and betrayal between us has lessened, it seems a mutual understanding has been formed between us. Similar to the night of the storm, we have each others backs.

I'd said to her once before, when I'd spilled her coffee in front of Annie's house, that we always protected each other. And while lately, we've seemed almost two worlds apart, that at least, hasn't changed.

I open my mouth to respond, words on the tip of my tongue, when the tell-tale click of the door sounds in the night. I see her tense and I turn around slowly to see who has stumbled upon us alone on the balcony.

000

A/N: Thank you to everyone for the lovely (and very enthusiastic) reviews to the last chapter. You all make my day when I read those comments. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

On a side note, for the fashionistas out there, Madge's dress was the one Jennifer Lawrence wore to the Beijing Mockingjay premiere, and Katniss' was Emma Watson's at the 2014 Oscars.