THREE YEARS LATER…

It's snowing as I make my way to Twelve Steps to Home...or what was once known as the Home for Wayward Souls. New corporate backing brought a name change and much needed repairs, along with a measure of security from certain entities. We're even opening branches in Districts Twelve, Six, and Five next year, with plans for Districts Eleven, Nine, and Seven later on. Gale finally put his money and his company's prestige to good use.

I pause on the steps to hold my hand out and smile as a few flakes melt in my palm, others land freezing on my cheeks. For each flake, I name an act of pure kindness that I have seen someone perform. It's a game I sometimes play, to remind me that even when the world is at it's worst around us, there is always hope.

Which is why I'm here this morning.

I walk inside, returning the greetings of several of the younger girls as they hurry out the door for school. Cecilia looks up from her desk, where she's knitting a hat for one of the girls. There's a racket of construction on the new wing. We'll be welcoming boys too, starting next month.

"Good morning!" she calls out and waves to me. "They're already here. Activity room five."

"Thanks, Cecilia," I say as I walk up to her desk to sign myself in.

"Are you coming back for the play tonight?" she asks.

"Can't," I tell her regretfully. "I already talked to Sarah about it. I'm working double duty today and then Peeta's supposed to be home this evening."

"Oh, that's right," she says with a smile. "At least it was a short absence this time. Tell him we're all glad he's back safe and sound."

"Yeah, I will," I say. "And I'll stop by to catch up before I leave."

"I'll be here," she says with a quirk of her lips.

I walk down the hall and slowly enter activity room five, so as to not startle the occupants. They all watch me warily. A girl maybe around eighteen. Two women in their twenties. Another in her mid-forties, a hard set to her mouth. Doubt.

I can relate.

"Good morning," I say softly.

After Peeta smashed my phone and I left what had been my life for over half a decade behind, Darius and Thom pulled off a brilliant performance. Peeta returned a week later for the money from the sale of my things, and while it wasn't nearly as much as I'd left behind in my account, it was enough to keep me from sinking back into abject poverty or feeling like a complete burden on Peeta. Still, I spent months cowering in our apartment, leaving only for my new job as a nanny to Amelia Seeder's six nieces and nephews. Everywhere I went during that time, I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting retribution to follow me. I refused to even go out with Peeta, petrified that one glimpse of us together would bring hellfire raining down on his head, too.

Eventually, on the first true day of spring, when the air was crisp and fresh, and new life breathed a sigh of awakening all over the earth, Peeta dragged me into a cab and out to Four, to a beautiful two story clapboard home along one of the rocky beaches. Visiting with Finnick and Annie and their son turned out to be exactly what I needed. After that, I suggested that Peeta and I try lunch at one of the food trucks around town. Little by little, I came back to life. The longer I was out of Plutarch's grasp, the easier it got.

When I worked up the courage to return to the Home for Wayward Souls, they were in the process of working out a contract with Gale's company. Cressida, a lively and creative young woman he'd recently hired to handle the company's public image and charitable works introduced herself to me, and the only reason I didn't run is because it became clear within the first ten minutes of talking to her that Gale would not be personally overseeing any of the work.

Shortly after, I started working with Cecilia to organize and launch the adult help program we once talked about. My first customer stunned even me, although I probably shouldn't have been so surprised. Sarah Repasky, previously known as Glimmer, who was thrilled to find out that I hadn't died of a drug overdose and had my body robbed and dumped in an abandoned mine shaft - which was the story Darius concocted to explain my used train ticket and the withdrawal from my accounts here in Two.

Within a few short months, we managed to get her set up with an acting job. A real one, on stage in District One's Beauregard Theater. Turns out, Cole the nurse is related to District One's Attorney General. Both of them were open about Glimmer's past from the start, although names were never mentioned, which tied Plutarch's hands in the matter. If he went after her, she could expose him.

Between learning her story and Finnick's, I discovered that I held a kind of power over my life I'd never considered before. Like Johanna said, the business doesn't work if we think we can all find a way out, because once we are, it becomes painfully obvious that the people who held power over us fear one thing more than anything else. A big mouth with names, dates, and proof of illegal activity.

In Plutarch's case, his entertainment contracts extend into the country's broadcasting systems. Owning a company of prostitutes, no matter how expensive or classy, would cause a huge scandal for him and jeopardize those contracts. He's operated this long with the thin veneer of politesse protecting him. We all knew it but never talked about it. One decent, well sourced exposé would bring his world crumbling down and, like Peeta suggested, take down half the government with him in the resulting scandal. In short, if he burned one of us, he'd burn right alongside us.

That's not to say it's been smooth sailing since I realized this. There are still nights I wake screaming from nightmares. Or days when I stumble across a familiar face. A man, or sometimes a woman, who squints at me, that expression of vague familiarity causing my stomach to bottom out and my shoulders to shrink. Most of the time, they're not able to recognize me before I've managed to leave their presence. The few times they have, I usually read embarrassment on their faces. Because no one wants to admit they had to pay for it, whether it be sex or companionship. I am their dirty little secret.

But through it all, Peeta's arms, and his lips, are always there to comfort me from nightmare and memory alike.

I set my satchel and coat on the desk up front and slide into one of the desks set in a circle. I can't get all of them out. Sometimes it feels like I'm shoveling snow in a blizzard. But I do everything I can to help the ones who come to me. Sometimes they work for Plutarch, sometimes for Crane, more often they work for two bit pimps around the city. All of them are scared and tired. So I fold my hands on the scrubbed pine surface and start the best way I know how.

"My name is Katniss. I'm twenty-six years old. My home is District Twelve. I was a prostitute and then a paid escort for close to seven years of my life, starting when I was sixteen. I did it to survive, but I found a way out. It wasn't easy or pretty. Now, I'm doing so much more than just surviving. And together, we're going to find a way out for you."

"We ran over; I've got to go get the kids at school," I apologize to Cecilia as I return to her desk. "One of them had some great ideas on dealing with the finance issues. Remind me to tell you about it later."

After I left, Sarah had an even more difficult time getting her money out of her accounts at first. She ended up lying to Plutarch and sobbing on his shoulder about a shopping addiction. He bought the story and never bothered to check her credit lines, relinquishing more of her money to keep imaginary debt collectors at bay. Sarah maintains that he panicked at the sight of a crying woman, especially one as scarred as she. I think she was smarter about it than me and never let on that she was considering leaving, so he had no reason to doubt her. Either way, it meant that every girl I've helped since her has faced greater obstacles where money was concerned. And let's face it, financial security is a large part of what keeps so many of us in the job.

Sarah still drops by often to help the girls here at the home organize plays and musicals. We've kept in touch. But her path was far easier than it will likely be for the women I met with today.

"Before you go, someone dropped this off for you. Girl with fuschia hair and earrings shaped like mice," Cecilia says as she hands me a fat envelope. I look at it warily as I try to place the description.

"Mole on her left cheek? Curvy and kind of giggly?" I ask.

"That's her," Cecilia confirms, and I open the envelope with trepidation. Octavia delivered this.

I pull out two sheets of paper and leave the bulging smaller envelope that gives the outer one it's hefty weight. The top piece of paper is a magazine clipping, from the society pages of Panem Today, a monthly publication. It's a picture of couples dancing. Many of them in navy uniforms. My eyes widen as I spot the date at the top. I scan the faces and find Peeta and I in the crowd, Cinna's raincloud dress flowing behind me, my head tilted back. We're smiling at each other, lost in our own parents used to gaze at one another like that. And I now know what Finnick meant that night. Anyone looking could've seen it.

My heart pounds and my hands shake as I flip to the second piece of paper, a handwritten note, wondering if my past has finally caught up to me.

Cinderella,

I've been holding onto this for three years, you dramatic bitch. I actually thought you were dead until I made it to your place and fucking Handcuffs told me you'd died in District Twelve two days before I'd last talked to you. By the way, I am never forgiving you for what you put me through. Big Boss, however, bought the fake death for weeks. He kept moaning about what a loss it was. You were so young, so beautiful. And I had to pretend I was upset rather than wanting to do the fucking mambo around his office in celebration. Fuck, I hate you.

Then this picture wandered across his desk. Although by then, it was really too late to launch a decent search for you, plus, he'd already found your replacement and had pretty much moved on to the next big thing. She's a fucking moron, I swear. All tits and no brains. Makes you look like a damned genius. I don't know where he finds these bimbos, but she brings in a shit-ton of money, so he's happy with her.

Have you heard the news? We're trying to go legal. Big Boss made some crafty deals with the broadcasting companies that paid off big time and now he's working the strings to erase all those fucking solicitation laws off the books. If it works, we'll have licenses, unions, legal representation, health care, the works. Any fucker hits us, we can finally toss him in jail. In the meantime, you keep doing what you're doing. There's always gonna be a need for that too.

I laugh and swipe at tears of relief and joy. I've missed Johanna. Sometimes I wish I could see her again, although I know she'll never be walking through these doors looking for help. She's one of the rare ones who enjoys her job beyond the money it provides. Should this legalization idea work, she'll be the first in line to become a licensed escort. And she has no one else. The girls are her family. I push down a twinge of guilt over abandoning her and keep reading.

Anyway, he did make a few feeble attempts to get to your Sailor and find you that way. He got a name and a ship assignment, but not much progress beyond that. Whoever Sailor's friends with in the navy, they're determined to protect him. Eventually, Boss gave up on that, and while sometimes he gets pissed at how you outsmarted him, I think now he's more impressed than anything else. You put on a hell of a show. So fuck you and your luck.

What Johanna can't know is that it's an entire team of people helping me keep Peeta safe, from Peeta himself, to Finnick and Annie, Chaff, Lieutenant Commander Jackson, several admirals and captains, Darius, and even Patricia Mitchell, the judge and wife of a sailor whom we met the night this picture was taken.

You did leave me a hell of a mess, though, and I really shouldn't be giving this to you, bitch. Your doorman and Handcuffs are hellacious actors, by the way. Fucking brilliant. Oh, and thank you for naming me your beneficiary. I've enjoyed spending your cash.

Just kidding, Kitty!

I took the liberty of investing the money from your account and what ho! It made some interest. I know it's a little late, but I figured it was better to lay low with the cash until Big Boss was over his bruised ego. You're welcome.

I pause to smile at her brash joke. Then peek in the fat smaller envelope and nearly drop the whole thing. My heart aches for the people who looked out for me, including those I may never be aware of. I add Johanna covering my tracks to my list for the next time I catch snowflakes.

Tell Finn he's an asshole and I will tear his junk off and feed it to the sharks if he doesn't take good care of you. You know what, tell that to Sailor, too, although I doubt he needs that threat, you lucky fucking bitch. Give him a hell of a cruise tonight, yeah? I'm assuming you've taken the maiden voyage by now. If not, you disgust me.

All that mushy stuff we never do,

Jo

"Nope, I don't think so, T-Rex," I say, snagging Taran's hood as he tries to run past me. "You can run all you want once we get to the park. But not in the streets."

"I'm going to go down the slide fifty times!" Olive announces as she zips up her coat. Rue helps her with her hat and mittens.

"I'll count," she offers. She's grown so much. Just a scared eleven year old, judiciously hiding her curiosity and loyalty to make herself as small of a target as possible when I started to care for her and her siblings, Rue has blossomed into a young woman of fourteen over the past three years.

"All assembled?" I ask as the six Reed children fall into line. Tarran fidgets but stays put when I give him the stink eye. I smile at them and announce with a flourish of my hands, "To the park!"

We march two blocks down the street from their school, each of them humming the sounds of a different musical instrument. Our daily parade earns a few smiles from passersby. When we pass through the gates, the children drop their book bags next to a bench and scatter while I wander the perimeter to keep an eye on them all. They'll get thirty minutes and then I'll take them home for hot chocolate. Usually, we'd also work on homework, but today was a short school day, the last before their winter break, so they have no immediate homework.

The snow is still falling, although it hasn't started to accumulate just yet. Tarran races around the jungle gym, loudly making dinosaur noises. I watch him a moment before returning my attention to the other kids. Olive is already on slide number twenty, according to Rue's count. Fern and Sorrel sing Christmas carols while they swing, and Yarrow sits huddled in one of the clubhouses, devouring a book, her glasses slowly slipping to the edge of her nose until she pushes them back up.

"Katy? Katy Green?" A soft voice asks. I haven't used that name in such a long time, it takes a tap on my shoulder to get me to turn. Publicly, I go by Katniss Brookes, my mother's maiden name. I hated erasing my father's name, my family's name, from mine, but I had to, for protection and to sell the fake death story. I nearly choke when I see who it is speaking to me.

"Miss Undersee," I say in surprise.

"Yes!" she says and answers one of her son's questions quickly before turning back to me. "It's been awhile. I'm happy to see you found a job."

"Oh, yes. I, um, owe you an apology."

"Nonsense," she waves it off. "Emergencies happen, right? And please call me Madge."

"I guess so," I say, but I'm not thinking of how I bailed on her last minute with the nanny job.

"It turned out better anyways. We had an emergency of our own crop up and rather than going back to work right away, I had to find a place for the boys and me to live."

I blink in the snow and stare dumbly at her, trying to phrase my next words so as to not reveal just how much I already know about her personal life.

"That sounds...awful."

"It was pretty bad. My husband, Gale, and I had a lot more to work through than I thought at first. But we're getting there. He recently sold his place and I've allowed him to move back in with us," she explains.

"I'm glad to hear that," I say, hoping it doesn't sound as robotic to her as it does to my ears.

"Were you able to rejoin the symphony eventually?" I ask, cutting my eyes back to my kids for a moment to make sure they're still alright.

"I did!" she says with a beautiful smile. "Actually, they give us several tickets per show for family and friends."

She digs through her purse and pulls out two tickets. I'm already shaking my head when she tries to hand them to me.

"Here. They're for the night after tomorrow. No, please, I insist. Honestly, the seats will probably be empty if you don't take them. Bring a friend of yours or a boyfriend," she says the last word with an upwards inflection, as though she's angling to see if I have one, and I hesitate. I would love to go to the symphony with Peeta, and I know he'd enjoy it, too. But the spectre of Gale and the other woman I once was floats over the tickets.

"Thank you," I say anyways, accepting the gift. I can always give them to Finnick and Annie. Peeta and I can babysit Nicky, even. It won't be so bad. Just as long as the seats are filled. Madge deserves to play to a full house.

"Oh my! Orion, get down from there!" she shouts and tosses a farewell over her shoulder to me as she races towards her son, who's climbed too far up a tree.

I tuck the tickets in my bag and check my watch. Give the kids their five minute warning. Today seems to be the day for revisiting the past, so I prepare myself for worse things.

By the time Amelia makes it home and I make it to my second job at the Panem Metropolitan Art Museum, I am ready for a nap. But really, my day is barely half over. I keep checking the clock as I work. When my shift finally ends, I race from the museum, checking the train schedules on my phone and huffing when I see that they're running early today. I run to the street and barely make it onto the bus before it leaves.

My compact timeline provides little room for breathing, but when I enter the ground floor of our apartment building, I do breathe easier. So far, no more unexpected surprises, and it looks like at least all of the family I'm expecting is here.

"Hey, Katniss! Our train was early, so we've already checked into our hotels," Ryen announces and yanks me into a hug. I return it and then scoop up little Riley, who extends her arms to me, to give her a hug.

"Is Uncle Peeta home yet?" she asks.

"Not yet, but soon," I tell her.

We are an awkward group as I lead Ryen, Wheaton, and Bannock with their entire families up the stairs. They've all had time to catch up with one another by now, so the focus is on how I've been doing. I try to field their questions as best I can.

Peeta and I did make that summer trip back to Twelve. We stayed once more at Kalila's bed and breakfast. Spent our days there swimming in the lake, hiking in the woods. Time with his family, and we planted flowers around the graves of mine. Since then, he and his brothers have been better about staying in touch and visiting one another. It's a work in progress, and even though Graham and Leavi couldn't make it, the efforts of the other three to be here for Peeta's homecoming is one more leap towards strengthening their bonds.

As soon as I let them into our apartment, everyone gets right to work. The older kids help Violet, Bannock's wife, decorate a blank banner with the words Welcome Home, Peeta in deep blue letters. Then they draw over almost all of the available space in their youthful styles. Ships, dolphins leaping from the waves, a sunset, flowers.

In the kitchen, Ryen and Wheaton are hard at work preparing a meal. Bannock hangs streamers and entertains the smaller kids with terrible jokes. A few of them comment on the painting job Peeta and I did on one of the living room walls. I smile at the memory of painting that wall together and float between groups, helping where I can. The scents of the food fills the apartment just as the knocking on the front door begins.

"We heard there was a party," Arturo says as Lavinia hugs me and he wraps his arms around us both before leaning back to lift our feet from the floor.

"Did you bring anything to help?" I ask when he sets us back down, and Arturo flips out his empty pockets.

"We brought this," Lavinia says with a laugh, pulling a bottle of bourbon from a grocery sack. I bite the inside of my cheek and direct her to the kitchen as I turn to answer the door again.

Darius smiles and winks at me as I greet his wife, Purnia, the same girl he was engaged to the night I first met him. After the bachelor party, he told her what had happened, which of course, caused a fight, and was the reason Darius ducked out of Peeta's life for several weeks while he tried to fix things with Purnia. Eventually, they decided they still wanted to get married, they just wanted to do it their way. So they canceled their massive society wedding and eloped. Their parents were not happy. But Darius and Purnia are.

The next hour is a flurry of introductions and the tiny apartment is crammed. Some of these people have never met before tonight, but they're all here for Peeta. I make sure everyone has what they need and grab my coat before racing back out into the cold.

When I reach the docks, Finnick is already there. We sit in the port building, close enough to the wide windows so that we'll see the ship pulling into the harbor, but are protected from the elements.

"Should be here any minute," he tells me and I close my eyes to take a few deep breaths. "You ready for this?"

"It's not my first time, you know," I say, opening one eye to scowl at him.

"That's not what I meant," Finnick says, and I nod.

This cruise is the second one Peeta's had to leave on since we found each other again. It's the first one his family and friends have all gathered to greet him after. But Finnick warned me that depending on how things went out at sea, it could get progressively more difficult for Peeta to adjust back to being home. I pick at my nails while I think about the dress hanging up in our closet. Waiting. And my hopes that it won't have to wait much longer. This cruise was unexpected and interrupted my plans, but it was necessary. A six month stint to provide humanitarian aid to a country devastated by a tsunami.

"Our apartment is packed right now," I tell Finnick. "He's got quite the welcome waiting for him."

We fall silent and watch Nicky play with his toy boats on the floor. More of the other spouses, significant others, and family members gather in the space, glancing first out the windows at the empty dock, at the gangways ready to greet the returning ship, before they begin to socialize or find distractions while they wait.

"What about you?" I ask Finnick.

"I'm selfish," he says with a grin. "I like to keep Annie all to myself and Nicky for the first few days. We'll go see her sisters on Sunday."

He laughs when he sees the scowl on my face. "Jealous?"

"A little," I grumble, thinking longingly of the last cruise. While being separated from Peeta is never easy, at least I didn't also have to entertain over a dozen people the day he came home from that one.

His brothers hadn't ventured into the city for that return, their relationships still on tentative terms and each of them with much going on in their lives at the time. Ryen had broken a leg in a snowboarding accident. Graham had just had another kid. Wheaton had taken a job in District Ten for the summer and couldn't get time off. Leavi and his family were battling a case of the measles and couldn't travel or leave their sick children. Lavinia and Arturo were getting ready to go back out to sea themselves, and Darius was on an assignment out in District Three.

That night, though, Peeta and I barely made it through the door before we started removing clothes and we hardly left our bed for days. Talking quietly, sleeping, holding one another, relearning all the ways to make each other come. We did paint the living room wall during those weeks, though.

With a sigh, I remind myself that this is good, too. Peeta deserves to know how many people miss him when he's gone.

I finger the letter in my satchel, the last one I got from Peeta, just two days ago. I've been carrying it with me since, and not just for the constant reminder that our long separation was almost at its end. Touching the letter reminds me of something, though.

"Hey, I've got something to show you," I tell Finnick and dig the note from Johanna out of my bag.

"That's a good picture. Cinderella?" he asks as he begins reading and I elbow him.

"Shut up," I mutter and he laughs, but keeps reading, nodding and chuckling at certain passages.

"Well, she'll have to get through Annie to get to my junk," he says proudly and crosses his feet, leaning back against the wall leisurely. I snatch the letter from his hands and snort as I stuff it back in my bag.

There's a shout across the room and then the loud bellow of a ship's horn outside. The people around us cheer and gather tightly at the windows. Nicky joins them to watch the ship come in, but Finnick and I remain seated. As the Captain and the ExO, Annie and Peeta will be two of the last people off the ship. When Annie was given her first command a year and a half ago, she insisted on having Peeta with her. They make too good of a team to separate, so the navy didn't even blink before granting her request.

I pull my book out of my bag and manage to read a few pages as Nicky settles on his father's lap and begins to weave a story from his imagination. Finnick listens attentively. Soon, the noise of the crowd increases as the ship finishes docking and sailors begin to disembark in small groups. Nicky eventually returns to his toys and the crowd of people gradually thins until we are the last people waiting. A man in coveralls enters the large space and starts sweeping it clean.

I finally allow myself to stand and look out of the windows. Artemis barely moves against her moorings, her gray towers drab against the already gray sky. As I watch the deck, four sailors stationed at the top of the nearest gangplank snap to attention and a shrill, four note whistle pierces the air, audible even through the glass.

"Finnick," I say, but he heard it too, already standing and urging Nicky to clean up his toys. They scoop them into Finnick's bag and we make our way closer to the door. From there, we watch through the window as two officers pause to return the enlisted sailors' salutes and then make their way down the ramp.

Peeta.

My heart thuds wildly in my chest as I watch him following behind Annie. In a minute I'll be able to touch him again, hear his voice and his laughter, see his blue eyes and his smile. My mouth dries out as I try to think of something adequate to say to him, but this happened last time too. I couldn't think of a single thing to say. Not that it matters too much. He'll probably end up kissing me the way he did last time.

As they duck inside the building, Nicky shouts for his mom and races straight for her. She catches him and lifts him into her embrace, clinging to him and kissing his copper hair. Finnick wraps his arms around them both and they sway as a family. Indivisible.

Then Peeta steps around the touching reunion and spots me. Screw nautical etiquette and being a lady. He smiles at me, the same open and loving smile he always gives just to me. As I run towards him, full tilt, his eyes widen in surprise the second before I jump. Peeta catches me with a laugh and I wrap my arms and legs around him. He staggers back but doesn't lose his grip on me as I kiss him. Probably indecently, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. Not even when my hands knock his hat off his head in their haste to feel his hair against my fingers once more.

Beside us, Finnick chuckles and I finally separate my lips from Peeta's. He doesn't put me down, though, and we watch as the small Cresta family leaves, Annie still carrying their son and Finnick's arm draped around her shoulders.

I turn my attention back to Peeta and run a finger over the new gold stripe on his shoulder.

"Ready to go home, Lieutenant Mellark?" I ask.

"Absolutely," he answers, stealing one more kiss before setting me on my feet. He retrieves his hat and then we collect his bags and walk outside, my arms wrapped around his middle. I want as much of him as I can get before I have to share him.

Once we're in the cab, we can't stop touching. Cheeks, ears, his chest, hands, thighs, lips. We try to control ourselves so as to not make the driver uncomfortable, but we barely keep it together until we reach our building. Peeta's hands, occupied with his luggage, finally give me a chance to collect my thoughts as we hurry upstairs.

"God, I've missed you," he murmurs in my ear as I try to unlock our door. I blush furiously as he whispers some of what he wants to do with me once we get inside, and I have to bite my lip to keep from groaning in frustration, because now I really wish his family hadn't come to visit. And that's just me being selfish.

I fling open the door, grateful that our guests shout their greeting before Peeta has a chance to do anything obviously sensual to me.

He blinks and jumps in shock. But when Darius and one of his brothers divests him of his luggage to deposit it in the bedroom, Peeta smiles and turns loving eyes on me for just a moment before he's swallowed by the welcoming committee. I bite my lip and head into the kitchen to see what needs to be done to get dinner moving.

As the night winds down, I fight back impatience. We've been stealing glances and brief touches whenever we can, but there are just too many people for me to give him my own welcome home. I have to content myself with what I can get until our guests depart for the night.

His family leaves first, needing to get the kids in bed. His friends linger a bit too long for my tastes, but I am not about to deprive Peeta of this. Arturo and Lavinia help with the cleanup, and I can tell from the grins Arturo keeps sending my way that he senses my frustration. As soon as the kitchen is picked up, they beat a hasty retreat, and Darius finally catches on, too. With smiles and promises to get in touch in a few days, Peeta shuts the door on our guests and locks it. The sound sends a shiver down my spine. Or maybe it's the look he gives me as he stalks back across the living room towards me.

"While it was great to see everyone tonight," he says, blue eyes gleaming with mischief, "we need to set a time limit on these things."

"What's wrong, Peeta?" I tease, backing slowly towards our bedroom and keeping the distance between us. "Did all the attention go straight to your head?"

"No," he grins as my back hits the hallway wall. "They were keeping me from what I really wanted to do."

His hands flatten on the wall on either side of me, and I place my palms on his chest, watching his mouth, anticipating his kiss as he lowers his head to mine. In all the commotion, he didn't even get a chance to take off his uniform. I finger the black wool and whine when he diverts his lips to nibble on my ear instead of my lips.

"What did you really want to do?" I ask breathlessly.

"Make you come so hard your toes go numb," he admits before sucking the lobe between his teeth. A surge of arousal dampens my panties as my fingers fly over his coat buttons.

"Nothing to stop you now," I say as I remove his tie and unbutton his shirt too while the coat still hangs open on his frame. I need to feel his skin beneath mine. To know he's really here and not a dream. Peeta continues to wreak havoc on my senses with nothing but his mouth as a weapon. Lips, tongue, words. His hands remain solidly planted on the wall behind me.

He only moves his arms to shrug out of the coat and shirt. Laughs when I shove his white undershirt up and knock his ear in my haste. Before he can return to tormenting me, I tangle my fingers in the chain his dog tags hang on and pull him to my lips. He drags our hips together as we kiss, mouths sloppy and desperate.

Confident that his deep moans mean he won't be ending this kiss anytime soon, I let the dog tags free to fall back against his chest. Remove my slacks and panties, consigning them to the floor. Peeta lifts me and we fall against the wall as my legs embrace him. His hands gripping tightly to hold me steady as my fingers fumble, clumsy with need, to unfasten his pants. We each use one hand to shove them down his hips, leaving them suspended on his thighs.

"Peeta, now. I need you now," I pant against his scalp as he looks down to see what he's doing. I laugh in relief as I feel his heated tip drag through my folds and then we both moan as he slides himself inside me.

"Katniss, wait," he tries to warn me as I writhe between him and the wall, to speed up the slow rocking of his hips. His fingers dig into my thighs as he tries to throttle us back. But I need him to move faster. I am not in the mood for slow and loving.

"Just fuck me already, Peeta!" I yell in exasperation. He blinks and then grins slyly, bending his knees before slamming back into me, sliding us both down and then back up the wall. I groan and demand he do that again as fire streaks through me and I dig my nails into his flame covered shoulder.

"Yes, ma'am," he growls and complies. We try to kiss as he thrusts, but the movements are too frantic to keep our lips together. He sucks on my neck instead and I wail as the pressure builds inside me, powerful and beautiful. I caress his hair and neck and brace my thighs on his, feeling the surge of muscle beneath me.

"You're so hot and tight on my cock like this, like a velvet glove" he groans. "Katniss, come for me?"

I nod frantically, focusing on the feel of him deep inside me, the slide of his sweat dappled skin beneath my palms. He loses his balance for a second, bending his knees lower than before to catch it, but when he thrusts up into me, I scream as he touches something vital and cascades of pleasure flare out to the tips of my being.

"Fuck, yes," he whispers and does it again. I grab hold of his hair and yank his head back so I can see his eyes. Over and over, he drives into me, never looking away once, until I quake and claw and scream myself raw, taking Peeta with me, his shout primal and demanding as he rolls his hips beneath me to draw it out for us both, filling me with his release.

His knees give out and he leans heavily into me, the wall holding us upright as he gasps against my neck. I remain still, languidly holding onto him as small shocks tremor through me each time his cock pulses inside me.

"Are my shoes still on?" he asks and I smile at his stunned tone. "Fuck, they are."

"Guess I need to try harder to knock your socks off," I tease and he groans.

"I may not be able to handle it," he says and tries to stand, but we crash back into the wall as his pants slip down around his knees. I squeal and wrap my arms and legs tightly around him.

"Okay," he mutters. "We can figure this out."

He braces me against the wall, suggesting I hold onto him while he releases his grip on me just long enough to tug his pants back up.

"Don't let go," he murmurs and I can't help the laugh that bursts from me as he shuffles us into the bathroom, me clinging to Peeta, and him supporting me one handed, his other keeping his pants from falling down around his ankles and sending us crashing to the floor.

He let's them go to set me down in the shower and starts the water as I struggle to remove my shirt and bra. I yell in outrage as cold water sprays me, but Peeta grins and yanks the curtain shut on my curses. I finally get the rest of my clothes off and toss them on the bathroom floor. He gets to clean up that mess since he made it. A few seconds later, he joins me, completely naked now as the water warms up. He swallows my outrage with kisses and I once more find myself clinging to him to keep the room from spinning. When we part, he rests his forehead on mine and sighs.

"It keeps getting harder to leave you," he murmurs.

"Is the welcome home not welcoming enough?" I tease lightly, hoping it'll keep him talking. I don't know what this pained look in his eyes means. But my words make him grin and palm my ass.

"No, I think we've got that part down pretty well."

I shove his shoulder and grab the soap, pausing in washing him to trace my finger over the latest addition to his tattoo. An arrow clutched in the bird's beak, the fletching speckled with miniscule snowflakes, the letter K masterfully disguised in the arrowhead. Once I restarted living my life, I returned to one of the hobbies of my youth, archery, and I even teach it to several of the girls at Twelve Steps. Peeta may as well have had Lavinia tattoo my name on him in fluorescent ink. It makes me smile as I flatten my hand on his chest and look up at him, confused by the sadness I see in his eyes.

"I'm thinking about leaving it behind. Staying home. With you. Maybe working in or opening a bakery somewhere."

I don't know what to say to this, nor to the way he searches my eyes for an answer to a question I don't understand.

"You've worked so hard for this," I murmur, sketching an imaginary anchor on his arm with my nail.

"I know, but every time I've been gone, all I can think about is getting back home to you."

"I don't want you giving up your life for me and regretting it later," I whisper. Peeta nods and picks up the shampoo, delicately lathering up my hair as I relax under his touch.

"We don't have to decide today. Technically, I owe another year and a half on my commitment. Payment for a world-class education," he says the last with rampant sarcasm and I giggle, lean my head back into the stream of water to rinse out the suds.

We'll figure it out, but right now, we put aside decisions in favor of focusing on each other.

I wake to blinding sunshine streaming in through the open curtains and petal soft kisses trailing down my side. My lips twitch into a smile as Peeta's hands follow his lips down my body. I know where he's headed and have no intention of stopping him.

We spent the entire day yesterday showing his family around the city, entertaining the kids, chasing them through the art museum and then ice skating. By the end of the day, we were too exhausted to do anything other than fall into bed. We tried, even managed to get as far as complete nudity before sleep overtook us both. Today, he's all mine while his family separates into small groups time to enjoy the city to themselves and give us some time alone, too. I intend to make the most of the day. Starting with letting Peeta do exactly as he pleases. I squirm a little when his teeth graze over the curve of my ass and he chuckles.

"Good morning," he murmurs, his hands sliding beneath my thigh, lifting it to give him access to what he wants.

"Having breakfast?" I tease him and he nips the skin behind my knee in response.

"My favorite," he says.

I clutch my pillow and gasp when his tongue first touches me. Electric pulses slowly waking my body as he tastes me. Drinks my desire and elicits soft cries from my throat as I drift upwards on the sensations. I hazard a glance down and watch him, laying behind me on his side, upside down on the bed with his head between my legs. The sight of him feasting on me keeps me hovering on the brink until he sucks my clit into his mouth and rolls it gently between his teeth. Then I moan in a short burst as I fall over the edge.

Slowly, I sink back into the mattress as Peeta kisses his way back up my body, stretching out next to me, aligning our bodies. I wriggle my hips back against his erection and he growls at me, fingers clenching on my thigh before he lifts it again, just enough to join our bodies together. Reaching behind me, I curl my arm around his head, fingering his hair as he rolls his hips, rubbing that one spot with his cock that always drives me wild. My hold on him brings his lips to my neck, my ear, where he kisses and sucks, moans and murmurs soft words that used to frighten me with the strength of his undying love. But not anymore. Now they only feed my need for him. For the caress of his hand over my hair, the warmth of his embrace as his right hand skims over my entire form, the undulation of our bodies and the touch of him deep inside me.

We remain like that for sometime, savoring and lingering. But eventually, Peeta groans and shudders with a deep thrust, rolls us just a little to move in me at a new angle. I plead with him for faster and he gives it. My eyes roll back in my head as I groan with relief, the mad fluttering of my walls signaling the spread of my orgasm through my body, and the contentment that follows.

Peeta whispers my name, shifting his body so that while I remain on my side, he's straddling my leg, the other lifted and draped over his thigh and his body on top of mine. He cups my face in one hand as he keeps moving, short deep thrusts that reach further inside me than I thought possible. Hands on faces and tangled in hair, smacking of lips, and frantic, high pitched moans until he finds his own peak with a guttural groan and a clenching of his fingers behind my neck.

We lay there, joined and tangled in our sheets. I trail my fingers over his back, enjoying the peace after the storm. He murmurs his love and I return it. Eventually, he moves us to lay comfortably beneath the covers and lifts his head to look at the bedside clock. His brow wrinkles as he reaches out, plucking a few pieces of paper from the table.

"What's this?" he asks and then grins as he opens the letter he sent me. "You've kept this by the bed?"

Heat flares in my cheeks at his arrogant grin and I snatch the letter back, sending two strips of paper fluttering to the bed. Usually, Peeta's letters home are full of humorous stories about the onboard antics of the sailors, beautiful passages about the sights he's seen during their travels, or breathtaking words that detail his love for me and how much he misses me. This last letter, however, contained something new.

"This letter is mine now, and I will do with it as I please," I say haughtily. Unfortunately, Peeta seems to know what purpose the letter, especially the final page, served over the past few days. The final page, which was devoted to some of the most erotic writing I've ever read.

"Did you touch yourself when you read it?" he asks eagerly and my blush gives me away. "Fuck, you did. Please tell me it made you come. Please tell me you gushed all over your hand and screamed my name."

I glare at him and his grin widens.

"If I read it to you, will you touch yourself for me?"

"You want to watch that?" I ask in surprise and Peeta groans, burying his face in my shoulder.

"God, yes," he whines. Then his head flies up, face scrunched in confusion, and his hand lifts between us with the two discarded strips of paper that were stuck in the folds of the letter. "What are-"

"Um, those are something we need to talk about," I tell him. I'd completely forgotten about them, and now it may be too late.

"Symphony tickets?" he asks as he reads the writing on them.

"For tonight." I tell him briefly about running into Madge at the park. He cuddles me into his arms, examines the tickets with open curiosity.

"Did you want to go?" he asks when I'm done explaining.

"Kind of," I admit. "But…"

"Gale," Peeta finishes and I nod. Then I trace over his lips, turned down in an expression that's not a frown so much as it is holding back his true reaction. I move my finger so I can kiss him, short and sweet.

"But if you're there with me, we can face this together." It won't be the first time, nor even the second, that Peeta's come face to face with one of my past clients. Once, we even saw Plutarch across a restaurant, although he never saw us. But this is different. Most of my previous clients don't recognize me, having only paid for my services once, maybe twice. There's little hope that Gale won't, should we run into him.

"Or we could give the tickets to Finnick and Annie," I suggest. Peeta sets them back on the bedside table with the letter and smiles at me.

"It's not until this evening," he says. "I don't see why we shouldn't go, but in the meantime, how do you want to spend our day?"

I can think of a hundred things I'd love to do with him, but really, there's only one that surpasses all of my other wants. I take his hand in mine and kiss one of his knuckles, hoping that I'm right about Peeta's desires for us matching my own.

I'm running late and the snow's not helping. I lift my skirt and jump over a pile pushed aside by a plow, thankful that I chose to wear my boots and carry my heels in my satchel for later. My visit with Cinna in his boutique took longer than expected, mainly because he's now a well known designer and had to squeeze me, an unscheduled visit, into his busy day, but he's the only one I trust with my hair for an occasion like this. I want everything perfect, even if this was thrown together last minute, but now I'm keeping Peeta waiting. I snare a taxi and try not to wrinkle my dress with my fretting as we drive through the city.

When we reach the Town Hall, I shove money into the driver's hand and fling myself from the car. My feet fly up the steps and I halt just inside the door. Annie, beautiful in an emerald green dress, smiles at me and laughs before tugging my short white fur cape from my shoulders and hanging it on a rack already full with coats.

"You look radiant," she murmurs, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. It's a small audience, just her and Finnick and their son. But I don't care. Peeta and I were never ones for pomp and ceremony. And I would've been happy with just the two of us, except we needed a pair of witnesses. And what would you expect when we chose to do this now, with no notice, rather than wait a day longer?

Besides, as Annie hands me a small bouquet of orange flowers, I know that there is no one else I'd rather have here for this. For Finnick and Annie, a day like today was once an impossibility, just as it once was for Peeta and I. They may be the only two people in Panem who understand the magnitude of what is about to happen.

I take just a moment to breathe the fragrance of my bouquet of sunset flowers and then nod. When I open my eyes, Annie holds the door open and my heart bursts with joy when my eyes find Peeta on the other side.

"You wore your hiking boots," Peeta whispers for the hundredth time tonight and I elbow him to get him to stop talking as the curtain falls to the stage, hiding the players from our view. Applause continues to thunder around us.

"I had my heels with me," I insist, but he's smiling and leans over to kiss me, heedless of those sitting around us to witness our display. He's still smiling when he pulls away and I can't help the matching expression on my face.

"And where are they now?" he asks pointedly. I pull a face at him, because he knows where they are. And it's not on my feet. He laughs, then lifts my left hand, clasped in his right during the entire performance, to his lips, blue eyes ardent as he kisses each of my knuckles, lingering on the third one.

The crowd has thinned and so he stands, pulling me up beside him. We make our way down the stairs and out to the atrium, hands still joined. I can't help but sing a few bars of the music we just heard and swish the creamy lace of my skirt, the dress that's been hanging in my closet for eight months now, ever since the day Peeta brought up the future and possibilities seven months ago.

He'd been so shy and nervous bringing it up. At first, the fears had kicked in and I wanted to avoid talking about it altogether, but once I'd had a chance to calm down and think about it...well I went to Cinna. He'd opened his fashion line a couple years ago to great acclaim, and had exactly what I needed. Layers of demure cream lace that covered all of my skin except for my back. I fell in love with it the instant I put it on. Then Peeta received orders back out to sea, and the dress waited with me, preserving hope in its cream and lace folds until today.

We get caught in the crowds waiting to retrieve their coats and I grip Peeta's hand, freezing in place as my worst fears manifest.

"Peeta," I say in a dull tone. One look at my face and he knows, eyes quickly scanning the crowd in the direction I'm looking until he finds Gale, towering over most of the people around him, hand resting on the small of Madge's back. Just fifteen feet away from us. I barely have time to hope for the crowd to keep us hidden when they part and Madge spots me.

Peeta turns to me and tilts my chin up so all I can see is him. Our eyes meet and it's all I need. To know that I am not alone. He will not abandon me to this. He never has. My lips curve in a smile and I nod, letting him know that I'll be okay, so long as he's here with me. He presses a soft kiss to my lips and steps back as Madge approaches.

"Katy, I'm so glad you could make it," she says, her eyes cutting to Peeta for just a moment. They sweep appreciatively over his form, handsome as ever in his black winter uniform, before returning to me. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Yes, we did," I manage to say, and then my throat closes up with panic as Gale steps up beside Madge. I can see him calculating the risks and how to handle the situation. His wife and his former paid mistress chatting like old friends in the symphony hall lobby.

"Your performance was inspired, Miss Undersee," Peeta says, looping my arm through his so I can grip his arm for support and he can bow over Madge's hand. And my fear dissipates, pride swelling to life in its place. I should never have doubted that Peeta would handle this magnificently.

"Thank you," she says warmly. "I'm so sorry, I don't believe we've met."

"No, we haven't," he says, releasing her hand and laying his on top of mine, creating a bed of warmth and support around my hand on his arm. Empowered, I find my voice.

"Madge, this is my husband. Lieutenant Peeta Mellark," I say, with blatant pride and happiness.

"Your husband?" she asks delightedly. "I didn't know you were married!"

"Only as of this afternoon," Peeta tells her with a joyful smile. Madge embraces us both in turn, effusing congratulations. He transitions easily into a question about performing with the symphony and as Madge talks about her work, her attentions focused on Peeta, I manage a quick look at Gale. His face is stony and tells me little of what he thinks.

"You got married just this afternoon?" he asks quietly, so as to not disturb our spouses as they talk, and I nod slowly. His eyebrows furrow slightly. "Congratulations, Mrs. Mellark, although it seems a bit hasty or contrived if you're spending your wedding night here."

For a moment, I wish I could forget all that I know about Gale, because in all our time together, I learned to read his voice, expressions, and moods. To know without actually talking to him about it, what he was thinking. And what he's thinking now is not pleasant.

"Thank you," I whisper. "And actually, it was a long time in the making. We just didn't want the attention of a large party."

"Ah, so you've been together for some time then?"

"About three years, but we've known each other much longer than that," I tell him honestly and his eyes narrow. I can see the questions forming, because Gale and I had been together almost three years when I finally ended things with him. He's wondering if I left him for Peeta. If Peeta knows all about my life as an escort or if we were even seeing one another at the same time I was seeing Gale. The anger and the jealousy those possibilities invoke, even if Gale has no right to those feelings.

What ifs will kill you if you let them, and as I shift my gaze to look at Peeta, still deep in conversation with Madge about some obscure composer whose work Peeta's apparently always wanted to hear performed live, I smile until my cheeks nearly ache with the joy. I'm still smiling when I turn back to Gale.

"It took over three years, but this would've happened anyways," I tell Gale, and his face twitches in a few places, but he nods brusquely and doesn't say another word. Maybe because he doesn't want to cause a scene in front of his wife or raise her suspicion when she's only just allowed him to move back into the same house as her and their children. Or maybe he understands now that he's not what I need. Whatever the reason, all I can feel is...relief.

Someone else requests Madge's attention and she says a quick farewell to Peeta and I before she sweeps away, solemn spouse in tow. Peeta and I retrieve our coats and bundle up before heading out into the winter night.

Taking his hand in mine, I laugh and race down the endless steps leading from the grand symphony hall down to the street, snowflakes fluttering in the cold winter air around us. When I pause to catch my breath, we're on the edges of the park, under a bower of snow-laden trees.

Peeta steps up in front of me, a smile on his face that says it all. His hands rest on my waist, pulling me close to his body and his warmth. I tilt my head back, letting snowflakes fall on my cheeks for a second before his head shelters me from them, his lips caressing over mine. I drop my skirt in the snow so I can hold onto his arms for support. The brim of his hat shields my eyes from the glare of the streetlights.

Even in the midst of a bustling city, the snow hushes the cacophony until it's a distant echo. Right now, millions of snowflakes cover the world. Alone, they don't have much of an impact. One snowflake on the pavement or even the warm earth will melt and vanish. But as they accumulate, they create a sum total effect so much greater than the individual. They may be cold and stark in their crystalline beauty, a symbol of a dormant world, but when the snow melts, flowers will grow in it's place. And with Peeta's arms around me, I don't feel the cold.

A/N: Thank you all for going on this journey with me and this version of Everlark. I know it was rough at times, but hope that the resolution was worth it. Please feel free to leave me thoughts, be they positive or not, I am always looking for constructive criticism to grow as a writer. Do you feel the ending tied up loose ends and concerns you had? Did I make it too neat or do you still get the feeling that life is good but not necessarily perfect for them? Any questions left unanswered?

My never-ending gratitude to peetabreadgirl for agreeing to beta this story mainly on trust that I'd find a way to get them here to a mostly HEA. I wish I could say that I'm sorry for all the anxiety I gave you, but let's be honest. I'm really not. ;-) Love you, PBJ!