CHAPTER 15. Homecoming.

District 12 was covered in snow.

Bundled in his warm winter coat, Peeta stepped onto the platform which had been set up on the Town Square right behind the Justice Building.

The large crowd gathered there cheered and clapped. Their applause was soft and dull, muffled by the gloves they wore, but their eyes sparkled with anticipation.

Smiling against the chilly air, Peeta thanked his audience and repeated Effie's speech once more.

Right as he was about to finish, he turned his eyes to the back of the crowd and the hundreds of miners who were assembled there. Exhaustion lined their haggard faces, but the mix of curiosity and suspicion which lit their eyes inspired him.

Squaring back his shoulders, Peeta talked about the power of coal. "As modest as they look, these black rocks we extract from the earth warm our homes and fuel our factories." Opening his arms, he pointed to the streetlights around the square. "They help create the electricity that lights our towns."

Someone in the crowd hooted, a few others followed applauding to show their support.

Peeta slipped his hands back into his pockets. His modulated voice reached everyone in the square. "Sadly, as necessary as it is, coal is often-overlooked. Today, I want to say 'thank you' to all of you, our brave miners of District 12. Thank you, for going into those deep, dark tunnels every day. Our lives are better because of you."

As the square erupted in a round of enthusiastic cheers, Peeta's heart began to race. For better or worse, the Victory Tour was officially over.

There was still a dinner scheduled for that night at the mayor's house, but he wasn't worried about it. He had been there plenty of times, and he already knew every guest on the list -he certainly didn't need Effie's lessons on district etiquette for this event. For the next few hours, he was free to do as he pleased.

As the square began to clear, Peeta made his way down the stairs.

His feet had barely touched the ground when his father pulled him into a tight hug and heartily patted his back. "Welcome home, son!"

"Thanks, Pop!"

As he pulled away from his father's embrace, Peeta noticed the other people who were waiting for him. Along with a handful of merchant friends he hadn't seen in ages, he saw his brothers, his mother, and Madge.

Madge was the first to act, she quickly reached for his arm and gave it a squeeze. "Welcome home, Peeta!" Before he could even respond, she signaled toward her house. "I gotta go, -I promised my mom I'd help her get ready for tonight- but I'll see you later, OK?"

Still a bit disoriented, Peeta nodded. "See you later."

Madge dashed off. Her purple scarf flapped in the wind behind her.

Rye and Bran were up next. After hugging him, they ruffled his hair -effectively ruining Adriana's meticulous work- and joked about their little brother turning into a seasoned traveler.

"Did you bring me any presents?" Rye asked.

With an annoyed huff, Mrs. Mellark interrupted the conversation. Stepping between her sons, she briefly hugged the youngest.

Just as she was letting go, she patted Peeta's shoulder. "Nice coat," she mumbled before turning away.

Like three ducklings, Mr. Mellark, and his sons said a quick goodbye and quietly followed Mrs. Mellark back to the bakery.

With his family gone, Peeta took a better look at the remainder of his welcoming party.

It wasn't a big group. Toben and Terrence –the postmaster's twins who had once been in Peeta's wrestling team— stood between Clara, –the carpenter's daughter—and Peeta's old neighbor, Delly Cartwright. Each boy held a girl's hand as they stood huddled together -presumably to keep each other warm.

Not surprisingly, Delly was the first one to speak. The warm smile he remembered from their childhood days still curved her lips. "Welcome back!"

Peeta smiled back. Growing up, Delly had been one of his closest friends. She had always been cheery and kind, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to her.

With a heavy heart, he realized that he didn't have much to say to her now. "Thank you, Delly."

The rest of the group welcomed him with polite smiles and awkward hugs, exchanging a few tense pleasantries while Peeta wondered why they had felt the need to stay behind and talk to him on this particular occasion.

After a short, stilted, conversation, Delly announced that she had to go back to the shoe shop. The rest of the group followed, quickly excusing themselves and retreating back into their homes, all too eager to hide behind their apprenticeships and schoolwork.

After two weeks of fanfare and stress, Peeta suddenly found himself standing in the middle of a deserted street conversing with the wind.

As a train whistled in the station signaling a new departure, he realized he wasn't ready to face the empty mansion he insisted on calling home. Restless, he decided to take a walk around town.

He didn't have a specific destination in mind, but he wasn't surprised when his feet lead him to one of the paths which crossed the Seam. He'd only been there a couple of times in his life, but the place captivated him.

The run-down shacks, unpaved lanes, and unmarked streets were all hauntingly beautiful in his eyes.

No, he wasn't blind to the fact that all that chaotic beauty was the product of extreme poverty and need. He knew how hard life was for people in the Seam. But he also knew how loyal they were and how they protected each other through thick and thin.

In the face of adversity, Seam eyes shone with determination, their voices sang with pride. Peeta had always admired their resourcefulness and strength.

He had almost reached the end of the main road when he saw her.

Katniss was about to knock on a door a couple houses down.

Without even thinking, he called out, "Katniss!"

Katniss swung around, her silver eyes widened in surprise, and she smiled. "Peeta! Welcome back!"

Peeta smiled, pleased by the happy lilt in her voice.

Forgetting about the door, Katniss closed the distance between them. "What brings you round?"

Peeta shrugged. "Don't know, I just felt like going for a walk." He looked up, taking in the snow-covered rooftops of the shantytown. "Somehow, I ended up here." A new thought crossed his mind. "Are you busy?"

Katniss shook her head. "Not particularly. What did you have in mind?"

"Not much," he admitted with a soft chuckle, "I brought a few things back from the tour. Maybe I could show them to you if you have time?"

"Sure!" Turning sideways, she pointed back to the house. "Just let me tell Prim –she's over at Penny's. My mother is out visiting a patient, and I don't want her to worry if she goes back home and doesn't find us."

Peeta nodded. "She can come along if she wants. I don't mind."

Katniss crossed her arms and, looking down, began inspecting the thin layer of freshly-fallen snow like it was the most interesting thing in the district. "I… I think she has schoolwork."

"Oh, right."

Katniss looked back up, her gray eyes held a fondness Peeta had never seen before. It was so comforting he almost forgot the biting chill in the air. "Thanks for the offer, though."

Dazed, Peeta nodded.

Katniss backed away. "I'll be back in a second, OK?"

"Sure, I'll wait here."

Katniss went back to the shack and knocked. A moment later, the door opened, and Peeta saw a blond head pop out.

Katniss moved closer to the door, blocking Prim from view.

Peeta waited, rocking slightly in place to keep his limbs from freezing while Katniss talked to her sister. Everything seemed to be going well until he heard her yell. "Prim!"

With cat-like reflexes, Prim snuck around Katniss. As soon as her eyes landed on Peeta, she began to wave. "Welcome back!" she called out.

Peeta smiled, touched by Prim's greeting. "Thanks, Prim!"

"You're welcome!" The twelve-year-old turned around to face her sister. Katniss was scowling, but she didn't seem mad.

"Alright, you've had your fun." Katniss reached for one of Prim's braids and gave it a little tug. "Time to go back inside. I don't want you to catch a cold."

Prim kissed her sister's cheek. Turning to Peeta, she waved once more. "Bye!"

Peeta waved back and watched as Prim disappeared behind the closed door.

With an annoyed huff, Katniss stuffed her hands in her pockets, trained her eyes on the ground and began walking. She reached Peeta's side and didn't stop.

Without a word, he fell into step with her and, together, they made their way along the cold, deserted street.

They were almost out of the Seam when she looked up. Her scowl had been replaced by an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that."

Peeta shook his head. "Nothing to be sorry about. She's a sweet kid. You're lucky to have her."

Katniss's face lit up. "I know. She's kind, and responsible, and smart -so smart! But… it used to be easier."

"Well, she's growing up. That's a good thing, right?"

Katniss nodded. "It is. It's just… Sometimes I wish we could go back, you know? To when she was younger, and things were simpler -back when I didn't have to worry about-,"

Peeta sucked in a breath and waited for Katniss to finish her thought. But her smile was replaced by a frown, and the words never came.

Biting his lip, Peeta looked down at his feet and hoped the sound of snow crunching as they walked would distract him from the melancholy spreading through his chest. It didn't.

He wasn't surprised by her silence, not really. He knew what Katniss had been getting at, and he understood why the words stuck to her tongue; why she was afraid of saying them out loud -especially in front of him.

In all their weeks working together in the greenhouse, in all of their trades, they had never spoken of the one thing that made their arrangement possible -the twisted turn of fate that had put him in a position where he could buy her wares and provide her with a steady income.

Playing dumb had worked for them so far. Like the shrubs they tended to, their budding relationship had needed light and warmth to blossom. But the cold reality was knocking on his door, and he couldn't pretend any longer. Not there, not with her.

Peeta's life was tainted with treason and deceit, -and it wasn't going to get any better- but his relationship with Katniss was still pure, and he wanted to keep it just as it was.

No, he bitterly corrected himself, that's not enough, not anymore.

After spending years watching Katniss from afar -wondering who she was and what she was really like- he had finally found an opportunity to approach her and, now that they were talking, he had discovered that he wanted her far more than he'd initially thought.

Katniss was quiet and shy, but she was also smart, funny and sweet. She was devoted to her sister, loyal to her friends, and stubborn –annoyingly so.

She could make him laugh -even when he was having a bad day- and, sometimes, she made him bristle.

Her exasperating habit of keeping track of all of their transactions was something he respected and hated in equal measure.

He still couldn't believe she had felt the need to repay him for the bread he'd given her all those years ago, but he was glad to know she had valued his gesture enough to remember it. Peeta didn't know how he had managed to hold his tongue and accept her terms the first time she visited the greenhouse, but he was glad he had.

As fragile as it still was, their friendship was one of the few things that felt right in his life. Their connection was real, based on trust and respect -something innocent and precious, something the Capitol's blood-stained hands hadn't touched. It was the one good thing to come out of his time in the arena.

He knew he was probably being reckless –selfish at the very least- but he couldn't help himself. The past weeks of loneliness and fear had taught him that the moments he shared with Katniss were the only ones when he was at peace -the only ones that truly mattered.

In spite of everything that was happening around him, Peeta refused to let go. He wanted Katniss to be a part of his life, and he was determined to become a part of hers too.

That's never going to happen if you shy away from the truth and leave things unsaid. A bitter little voice inside of him piped in.

Peeta set his jaw, he hated to admit it, but he knew the hateful little voice was right. The closeness he craved would never come from walking on eggshells and keeping secrets.

As much as it scared him, he knew he had to be bolder when it came to Katniss.

As the gates of Victors' Village came into view, a new resolution settled deep within him. From now on, he was going to follow the stubborn part of him that refused to give up; the part that hoped that the girl walking next to him could want him just as much as he wanted her.

Without any warning, Peeta reached for Katniss's elbow and stopped short. The movement made her whirl around.

Startled, Katniss gasped. Her warm breath turned into a puffy cloud that floated away in the chilly air.

Gently, Peeta prompted, "A time when you didn't have to worry about…"

A deep sadness clouded her eyes, but she didn't look away. When she spoke, her shy words were surprisingly clear. "The Reaping. The Games."

Peeta moved his hand up her arm. He reached her shoulder, gave it a little squeeze and let go. Looking straight into her silvery eyes, he said, "I'm a victor, Katniss."

Three little words. Just a simple statement of fact. He was shocked by how foreign they sounded in his voice.

Setting his own discomfort aside for a moment, he raised his eyebrows and gave her a crooked smile. "Not exactly news, is it?"

Katniss shook her head. Slowly, her lips turned to mirror his smile. "I think Prim might have mentioned something in passing the other day."

Relieved to discover his sudden outburst hadn't scared her away, Peeta laughed.

Sobering up, he stepped closer to her, leaned down, and whispered, "I wish I could change that, you know? That I could make it so that no one else had to go through a Reaping or a Game, but I can't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't make it better. For Prim. For you."

Overwhelmed by his proximity, Katniss looked down to the white, unblemished snow covering the street. There were no footprints, no signals of life or movement around them.

Feeling suddenly exposed on the deserted street, she whispered, "We better get moving before we get too cold."

Peeta nodded. Slipping his hands back into his pockets, he began walking again. This time, it was Katniss who followed.

XXXXX

The frosty winter air kissed her cheeks, but Katniss hardly noticed. She could still feel Peeta's warm breath on her neck, the soft caress of his voice lighting her skin on fire.

His whispered words danced in her head making her lightheaded with fear, and hope, and wonder.

She had spent the last two weeks struggling to stay afloat; walking around like a sleepwalker; carrying a dark gaping hole inside her chest while she merely went through the motions.

Her days had been long and drab, but her nights had been even longer.

Without anything to do, she'd laid awake in the dark, quietly listening to Prim's light snores as she tried to fight the listlessness which slowly seeped into her bones, dulling her senses and turning every day into a struggle.

One night, -as the howling winds of an early blizzard brought back memories of sadness, pain, and loss— Katniss's mind finally caught up with the source of her discomfort.

Peeta.

In the harrowing dark, he was all she could see. The shy smile on his lips lit the room, the warm glow of his deep blue eyes beckoned.

Tired, and desperate for comfort, Katniss closed her eyes and focused on him.

She fell asleep shortly afterward, lulled by the memory of his laughter, soothed by the sound of his voice.

In her dreams, she went to his greenhouse and found him diligently digging his nimble fingers into the cold, damp soil of the flowerbeds. Enraptured, she watched him work, enveloped in a sweet haze of yearning and peace.

When Peeta looked up, she ran over to him, finally giving in to her heart's desire and satisfying her urge to hear him, touch him, hold him.

She woke up with a start, breathless and flustered; drenched in a cold sweat.

As the light of early dawn bled into the room, realization sunk in. She wasn't in control anymore -she had never been.

In spite of all her vows and determination, the boy with the bread had rooted himself inside her heart. He had become a piece of her -a part of her mind, a sliver of her soul- and, even if she didn't want to, she ached for his proximity. She longed for his touch.

Rattled by her new discovery, Katniss became sullen. As days grew colder, she silently berated herself for her carelessness, her innocence, her lack of control.

The one thought that comforted her was the notion that her infatuation was probably one-sided.

Maybe it was because she was growing desperate but, the more she thought about it, the more certain she was. Peeta had always treated her kindly, but he had never given any indication of wanting anything more from her. He was her customer, her trading partner, -maybe they were even becoming friends- but that was it.

She was a Seam girl. He was a victor. They lived in different worlds. Peeta wasn't interested in anything more than the fresh game and gardening skills she provided.

Maybe I'll just grow out of it, she told herself as she walked through the woods one morning. The thought was supposed to console her, it made her sick instead.

As a new kind of hopelessness invaded her, Katniss's melancholy gave way to anger. Weakness was a luxury she just couldn't afford –not when Prim and her mother still needed her to put food on their table.

With her priorities back in place, Katniss had pushed through -keeping to her routines as much as she could, and stubbornly ignoring the way the cold winter days dragged on while Peeta was away on tour.

But at night, when the world was at peace, he still slipped into her thoughts.

Every night, she pictured him, lying in bed in his compartment as he waited for sleep to claim him. It was a simple enough notion, nothing too elaborate or personal, but the thought that he might be doing the same thing she was, soothed her. It made her feel closer to him somehow.

Now, as they silently made their way to Victors' Village, Katniss thought that all the imagining in the world hadn't compared to seeing him walk onto the stage that morning.

As soon as she had heard his voice, clear and deep in the crisp morning air, everything had changed. It was almost as if a dark cloud had suddenly dissipated leaving the world bright and right. For the first time in days, she had felt alive.

While Peeta talked to the miners –thanking them for their contribution to Panem- Katniss wondered what it was about him that soothed her so, that strange pull that reached deep within her making her fearless and bold.

Maybe it was the way he filled her darkness with light -or how he eased her worry with certainty- but, by his side, she felt protected and safe. Whenever she was with him, she was strong, whole, free.

Katniss had spent years fighting to keep her family afloat. She had taken every risk and made every sacrifice. She had considered every angle and taken every precaution, except for one.

She hadn't accounted for Peeta.

She hadn't considered his kindness, his generosity, his warmth. Not once, in all the years since he'd given her the bread, had she even stopped to think that the bond that tied them ran deeper than the shame of an unpaid debt.

But her eyes were open now, and she couldn't hide from the truth anymore. The effect Peeta had on her was stronger than anything she'd ever felt before.

In a dream-like loop, his words rang in her mind. I wish I could change that… For Prim. For you.

Maybe it was the fact that he had apologized for the things he couldn't change instead of merely complaining about them, but the raw honesty of his confession had moved her in a way none of Gale's rants ever had.

As the young victor climbed up the steps to his front porch, Katniss reached a decision.

As reckless as it was, she wasn't going to give him up. Whatever he did, wherever he went, if Peeta Mellark ever decided to change the way things were, she would follow.

XXXXX

"Peeta, darling, what happened to your hair?" Adriana shrieked.

Alarmed by the high-pitched sound of the hairdresser's voice, Peeta looked for his reflection on a nearby mirror. His hair was fine. The golden waves were a bit windswept and disheveled after his brothers' rowdy welcome, but he actually liked the way they looked.

He was about to say so when Adriana grabbed his arm and pulled him into a make-up chair.

Digging her long fingers into his waves, Adriana began massaging his scalp. "Don't worry, sweetie, we'll fix in it in no time."

Resigned, Peeta stretched out on the chair. Closing his eyes, he let his mind wander back to the afternoon he had spent by Katniss's side.

A content smile was making its way to his lips when Portia's voice brought him back to reality. "Did you have a good day?"

Peeta nodded. Curious, he turned to look at his stylist. "What am I wearing tonight?"

"Something very classic, understated, even." With a gentle touch, Portia reached for Adriana's hand and stilled her movements. "I think that's enough, Ade. We're going for a more rustic look tonight. I don't want him to look overdone."

Adriana pursed her lips, apparently unimpressed with the stylist's directive. "Are you sure?"

Portia threw her shoulders back. She wasn't very tall, but she could be commanding when she needed to. "I am." Sweetening her tone, she added, "You can leave us now. Please tell Didius to leave Peeta's outfit in the next room. He'll be there in a few minutes."

"Of course." Adriana lowered her head. However strange Portia's tastes were, she was still her boss. "I'll tell him right away." She reached for Peeta's shoulder and gave him a light squeeze. "See you later, sweetie."

Peeta patted the hairdresser's hand. "Bye, Ade. Thank you."

As soon as Adriana walked out of the room, Portia pulled a chair and sat next to Peeta. "So, looks like you made it," she teased.

"I did!" He reached for her arm. "Thank you, by the way. I don't think I would have pulled through without you… or Cinna. You've both been great."

Portia waved his words away. "You did all the hard work, Peeta. We're just decoration." She looked down at her lap, there were two small parcels in her hands. "I have a little present for you."

Surprised, Peeta took a small round box from her. "Thank you!"

Carefully, he unwrapped the package to find a flat disc inside. The curious gadget was made out of smooth plastic, it had a few perforations in the center and was small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. "What is it?"

"A telephone scrambler."

Peeta turned the scrambler over in his hand. The back was exactly the same as the front. "How does it work?"

"You place it over the microphone, and it distorts your conversations. It makes it impossible for unwanted ears to listen in."

He looked up at her, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "You've used it?"

"Yeah. I have one back home -I got it through someone in District 3. I use it all the time." Lowering her voice, she added, "I don't know what it's like around here, but I know that people in the Capitol are constantly being monitored. I guess… I just thought that… Well, even if you don't have anything to hide, you should have a little privacy. Right?"

Too shocked to speak, Peeta nodded. He knew Portia and her partner weren't like other Capitolites. Their accents and clothes were never as wild as everyone else's, and they had always seemed genuinely interested in learning about life in the other districts, but they still worked for the Games. He had never imagined they would be willing to defy the Capitol in any way.

They're probably not the only ones. He quickly realized.

A thousand questions tumbled into his mind but, before Peeta could ask any of them, Portia placed the second parcel in his hands.

With anxious fingers, Peeta unwrapped the second package. His eyes widened as soon as he saw the leather-bound book. "A book?"

"Well… It's not exactly a book." Reaching over, Portia opened the cover. A photograph of Peeta standing in front of the crowds of District 11 appeared on the first page. "It's a scrapbook," she explained.

Intrigued, Peeta flipped through the pages. Dozens of pictures from his Victory Tour flashed before his eyes.

Some of the images were crisp and sharp, -they showed him smiling to the crowds or talking to reporters or government officials- but there were others which were softer, warmer, from his moments on the train. They captured the look of bliss on his face as he dipped little bits of bread into his hot chocolate or the worry creasing his brow as he tried to memorize Effie's cards.

He also found his entire entourage -Effie, Haymitch, Adriana, Didius, Cinna, and Portia—looking back at him. He saw their smiles, their annoyance, their exhaustion, their pride, all the things they had gone through as they discovered the country together.

Tears welled in his eyes. "You did this?"

Portia shook her head. "No. Some of the pictures are mine, but most are Cinna's. Since he was traveling as my assistant, he had more time to do his own thing sometimes." Gently, she closed the book and reached for Peeta's hand. "I know the past few weeks were difficult, Peeta, but there were a few moments there that weren't that bad. He just wanted you to try to remember them."

With a nod, Peeta thanked his stylist once more. He didn't say it out loud, but they both knew he would be using his telephone scrambler to call Cinna as soon as he got home that night.

XXXXX

Peeta looked at his reflection in the mirror and smiled. Portia hadn't lied, his outfit for the night was simpler than anything he had worn on his tour.

The powder-blue shirt and charcoal slacks looked like something he might have actually chosen on his own. After pinning the golden mockingjay to his shirt, he looked at the time. It was still early.

Luckily, this was his Madge's house, and he didn't have to wait for Effie to escort him anywhere.

After making sure that Portia's presents were safely tucked away inside his messenger bag, he headed for the door.

He had almost reached Madge's room when he noticed that Mayor Undersee's study was open. Thinking about saying a quick hello to his uncle, Peeta stuck his head in.

The room was empty.

Up against a wall, a television droned on showing footage from Peeta's Victory Tour while a Capitol announcer reminded audiences to tune in for the final recap later in the night.

With a shake of his head, Peeta turned around. He was about to close the door behind him when a loud beep caught his attention.

Intrigued, he looked back in. The television screen went black, and the words "UPDATE ON DISTRICT 8" started flashing.

Peeta's heart began to race. He knew this wasn't meant for him -he was probably intruding in the mayor's private affairs- but he couldn't help himself. The screen called out to him and, instead of leaving the room, he stepped closer to it.

A commentator he had never seen before appeared on the screen.

"Conditions in District 8 are worsening," a woman with graying hair and a hoarse, authoritative voice said. "A level 3 alert has been called. Additional forces are being sent to District 8 and all textile production has ceased."

Before Peeta's eyes, the woman on screen was replaced by images of the main square of District 8.

He gasped, recognizing the tall columns and stained-glass windows he had seen just a few days back.

The large banners with his face still waved from the rooftops. Below them, there was a mob scene. The square where he had talked about the beauty and resilience of silk and velvet was packed with screaming people, their faces covered with rags and homemade masks as they threw bricks at one another.

Long plumes of smoke reached the sky as buildings burned.

In the middle of all the chaos, peacekeepers shot into the crowd, killing at random.

As the gory scenes played out on the screen, a new thought took hold of Peeta's mind. It's begun. The Capitol is coming down.

AN: I want to thank the lovely AlwaysEverlark for the beautiful banner she made for this story.

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The Hunger Games Trilogy is the property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.