HELLO. I am here and this is on the road again. Just a few quick notes to start off with. Firstly, this story is not entirely factual to mutism. Peeta's selective mutism is one that I'm playing around with and not everything will be true to the proper diagnosis. I'm merely using it as a trigger for my plot. Also if this is any way triggering for you please do not read on! Secondly, I am SO SORRY that this hasn't been updated for over a year (how ridiculous). I've been so busy with uni and saving for my next big holiday that I lost my passion for writing but I'm back and I have a drive for this fic again! There's much more to come and although this chapter isn't as big as I'd like, the next to come will be bigger (ALSO IF ANYONE IS A BETA AND WANTS TO HELP PLS DO I feel like I'm writing complete drivel half the time). Thirdly, for those who've stuck with me, I'm sending you lots of kisses because you're incredible and make this all possible! If you haven't already - head over to check out my new story Teacher's Pet. Soon to be very smutty and a lot of Everlark TENSIONNNN my fav. xxx

The thought that Peeta had left and run off was one that baffled me. Why would Peeta run off randomly and his father worry after only an hour? It seemed like such a short period of time to be hastily calling a search party. But then again, I suppose that Theodore was a father.

The effect that Peeta had thrown upon me was one that I couldn't grasp. I'd fallen into the habit of routinely tapping my pen against my lips as I thought of the crystal blue eyes or the dauntingly brilliant smile he gave me every once in a while. Although I would never admit it aloud, yet I somehow make sure I don't constantly repeat it in my head that when the crinkles of his eyes begin to form, my heart flutters.

Following Mr. Mellark from my office, shoving my arms into my coat without any of my normal coordination, I begin to feel a little anxious of why Peeta being gone is such an issue. As I begin to put myself in Theodore's shoes he stops suddenly in front of me, scratching his head in thought.

"I never should've brought that box out." He mumbles to himself as his eyes search between the four roads at the intersection. Cars drive past, some stopping when Theodore looks as though he's going to cross, then shake their heads when he makes no move to do so. He looks troubled, his coat thrown on inside out and no socks in sight with his orange loafers. He looks dishevelled.

I step forward, my voice sounding what I hope is soft, "where does he usually go?" Might as well take a stab in the dark that this might've happened in the past. Before I can question myself, he turns his eyes to me, the gentle look that I'm used to is replaced with one of dismay.

"He usually heads to the park near Swan Lane," he gestures behind us absently, "but I've already checked and he's no where to be seen. He always leaves a note and if he doesn't then he's there. Always there." He shakes his head, the guilt creeping across his face.

"Have you tried the bar?" I ask, my eyes flitting to The Hob across the road to where a few recognisable patrons are shuffling in, hands pulling at their coats and hats. "That's where I met Peeta."

Theodore shrugs, his hand slipping inside his pocket to check his phone, probably for messages or any sign of Peeta. "there's no harm in trying."

As we enter the bar, my eyes scan the room immediately, falling on old drunks and barley legal freshers who've finished work. The familiar smell of stale beer reminds me of the times I saw Peeta here. HIs hand poised over a sketch book and a glass of spirits next to him - sometimes Sam Adams - and his left hand in his hair, eyebrows drawn as he moved the pencil across the paper.

The booths are mostly empty for the lunch hour, which is relatively normal, as well as the bar being manned by only one bar tender. Theodore approaches the bar, placing both hands against the counter top and leaning forward to grasp the bartenders attention.

"Hello, has a young blonde version of me been in the bar today?" He asks, the comparison being one that rings truth.

The bartender frowns for a moment, his arms folding across his chest holding the polishing cloth and wine glass he was tending to moments ago. He pauses and turns to look at the booths, clearly trying to start up his memory but his gaze is fallen, "I haven't seen anyone that looks like you today sir, sorry."

Theodore sighs, his shoulders heaving as he runs a hand through his gold locks, "thank you for your help."

I stand there completely useless, my mouth opening and closing as I try and give some sort of helping advice, but I'm left with nothing. I nod at the bartender, Harry, if I remember his name correctly from one of Johanna's many one night stands, and turn to leave with Theodore.

As we leave the bar, the cold air hits from outside and I pull my coat closer to my body, my eyes scanning the street with all the hope I have. The sun is on it's decent when we finally reach the bakery, a sign half-hanging on the front of the door which was noticeably rushed read "closed until further notice". The bakery didn't seem nearly as cheery as it's usual self and I felt a tad cold from the shop front.

Theodore and I had checked all over town, searching the local library, the town hall, various coffee shops and even the animal shelter at the edge of town, but there was no sign of Peeta. I hope no suspicion was raised with the constant asking around for Peeta, we kept discreet and careful with the wording of our phrases but there was no luck.

The bakery door swung open as Theodore clicked the lock, gesturing for me to enter first and then followed suit, his eyes tired and lacking their usual light once again. "Well, I suppose I better call the sherif, see if he's seen him. I'll try his mobile again and see if that brings any luck, he sometimes answers if he's been gone a while."

I nod my head, but I couldn't help the curiosity and the questions bubbling in my throat, "Theodore, I was just wondering why Peeta ran off? Was there a particular reason or does this happen often or-"

"Not for a while," Theodore cuts off the questions quickly, "you must understand, Katniss, that Peeta is suffering from a strong case of PTSD, to which has brought the mute "characteristic" - that's what the doctor calls it - forward. His mother was never one to be affectionate and she never had a liking for Peeta We've only just managed to get the prescription for the anxiolytics, which may help him speak."

My eyes follow his lips with every word, my stomach tangling at the thoughts brewing in my head of what might've happened. Precious, sweet Peeta, who had been through something so traumatic it had rendered him from speaking, perhaps, ever again. Well, now I was being a tad dramatic but I couldn't help the constant thoughts flowing through my mind.

"They didn't get along?" I ask, my fingers fumbling over one another. I needed to find something to do with my hands.

Theodore frowned then taking a deep breath he began to talk, "Kendra, for some reason, never allowed Peeta to be the loving son he wanted to be so desperately. Late night chores, extra hours at the bakery and insults. I never realised this was happening, I was too busy in the bakery." He gestures around him then brings his arms back to fold across his chest, "Rye, Peeta's older brother, mentioned that Kendra was beginning to become physical with Peeta, hitting him whenever he did something wrong, dropped a bun or slightly burnt a loaf."

I felt my stomach do a somersault at the words spilling from Theodore's mouth, my eyes widening, "She hit him?" I don't even recognise the voice emitting from me. It's breathless and somewhat heartbroken.

He nods, his eyes downcast with guilt and shame, "I tried to talk to her, get her to stop. I thought I had! She promised me that it was only once and she apologised and regretted it. But then I started to notice bruises on Peeta's back after he'd taken a shower. He'd always rush past, hiding his back with a towel or pulling on a t-shirt quickly so I wouldn't notice. Then one night I finished up early and came upstairs to find Peeta walking to the bathroom with bruises all over his back, his eyes red and bags under his eyes."

"It's not your fault, Theodore." I say, the sorrow clear in my voice, "she deserves nothing but the worst."

"I went to tell her again to stop, that I would call the police and make sure that she would pay for what she had done, but she wasn't home. So I waited, and she never came home. So when I fell asleep and woke the next morning, I found Peeta on the ground in the bakery." His face stiffens at the memory, a shudder running down his frame, yet he continues, "He wasn't conscious but he was breathing. Just. I called the ambulance and the police, told Rye to fetch an overnight bag and then when the ambulance came, I went with him."

"I'm so sorry." I didn't know I was crying until my hands touched my face, long ribbons of salty tears streaming down my cheeks. Where was this bitch now? I could kick her, punch her, fuck, even kill her! How dare someone abuse their son, especially one as kind as Peeta.

"Don't apologise, it wasn't your fault." He touches my arm briefly, "We never saw her again."

"She needs to pay for what she's done." I find myself saying before I can stop it. "I know it may not be my place to say anything but she needs to be found and realise how badly she has hurt your son."

Suddenly, I feel a vibration in my pocket, the jazzy ringtone Finnick had picked for himself playing loudly through the dim bakery front and I shove my hand into my pocket just as the call ends.

12 missed calls, 8 text messages and 4 voice mail.

Fuck! I had completely forgotten about my phone throughout the day whilst looking for Peeta.

"I'm sorry, do go on, I'll turn this off." I begin to say but Theodore holds out his hand to silence me.

"I need to call the Sherif anyway and I think I've kept you long enough. Thank you so much for your help today Katniss, I can't begin to explain how grateful I am to have someone help me look for him now his brothers are gone."

I nod, "Any time you need I'm happy to help." The worry in my chest begins to swell as Theodore exits the front of the bakery to make a call from the back and I begin to think of Peeta out, alone by himself in this weather.

My fingers move across the screen, scanning over the many missed calls that I've managed to not notice.

(4) Missed Calls from Johanna

(8) Text Messages from Finnick

(5) Missed Calls from Finnick

(2) Text Messages from Prim

My hands began to shake as I slid my finger across the screen to return Finnick's call, placing the phone to my ear. My teeth found their way to my nails, biting on them as I waited anxiously for an answer.

"Katniss! What the fuck have you been doing all afternoon? I've been trying to call you?" Finnick's voice became more agitated as he spoke, "Annie told me you'd left and then this guy shows up here and won't say a word-"

"Peeta?" I mumble, relief flooding through my body as I let go of the breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding, "How did he even find…"

"I don't know Katniss, but can you please come back to the office, he's been crying for hours and there's only so many biscuits Annie can offer without her joining the party." Finnick sounds tired and I feel a pang of guilt hit my stomach.

"I'll be right there."

—

After telling Theodore that Peeta was safe, he immediately hung up the phone and followed me out the bakery door, locking it quickly behind him and making his way to the car. The drive there was silent, and half the time I spent fidgeting with my hands, trying to find some way to cease my nerves. The drive back to the office was short but the anticipation of how Peeta would look didn't help time go any faster.

Theodore's knuckles were white against the gear stick, the only parts of him moving were his arms on the steering wheel and his lips, which were barely moving as he mumbled something so quiet not even my strained ears could hear.

What if Peeta had hurt himself? What if he was worse then he's ever been? I couldn't imagine what he was going through, recounting the story in my head that I was told this afternoon. The disgraceful excuse of a person who called herself his mother. To beat her own son, her flesh and blood, and not give a care in the world was disgusting. I couldn't even imagine what I would do if I saw her. Probably punch her. I hope I never get the pleasure.

When we pull up to the office, I'm quick to leap out of the car and rush to the front door, Theodore hot on my trail as we make our way to my office floor. The elevator couldn't be slower today as my fingers jammed against the close button.

"Katniss! Took you long enough!" Johanna called as the elevator doors opened, her eyebrows raised, "He's been rocking back and forth for the last 20 minutes."

My eyes follow Johanna's pointed finger to the break room and I rush over, finding Theodore already by Peeta's side.

Peeta was distraught to say the least. His eyes were bloodshot and the bags under his eyes were unmissable. The tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, and I had to stop myself from reaching out to catch them with my finger, instead opting for a tissue and handing it to his father.

"Peet, we were worried sick." Theodore spoke with such guilt, his eyes flitting between Peeta's two, "We searched everywhere for you, even in the usual spots…"

I look up to see Annie sitting across the long break table, her teeth bitting nervously into her lip, frantically looking between Peeta's father and me.

"When did he get here?" I ask, moving over to Annie and rubbing her back with my hand soothingly.

"About an hour ago? No, wait," She pauses to think, "probably an hour and a half."

My stomach drops, "I wish I'd checked my phone or even turned it off silent. I didn't even think-"

"It's alright Katniss, it's not your fault." Theodore says, his eyes soft, "he's safe and that's all that matters."

I let out a big sigh, running my hand through my hair, "What can I do?"

"Well, luckily none of this reached anyone of importance, so your job is still here." Johanna says, and I honestly wonder if she has any tact at all.

Finnick enters the room, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at Peeta, "he needs a drink."

Why are these people my friends? "Can you both shut up? Now is not the time and I wasn't asking either of you!"

Finnick sends a guilty half smile my way and I scowl at him, taking a few steps towards Peeta. I kneel down in front of him, ignoring the pointed look Johanna gives me and taking his hand in mine, trying not to take to take it to heart when he flinches away. He doesn't meet my gaze, and I sigh again.

Theodore stands up and pinches the bridge of his nose, "I'm going to go and call the sherif, are you alright to stay here with him?"

I nod and he smiles at me thankfully, pulling his phone from his pocket as he leaves the room. I look to the audience we still have in the room and raise my eyebrows at them, jutting my head towards where Theodore just left, "I'm sure you have work to do."

"Yeah, so do y-" Johanna's bark is halted by Finnick shoving her out of the room, Annie following with a bounce of her long hair, and she smiles at me as she shuts the door behind her, leaving Peeta and I alone.

"I can go if you want Peeta, I don't want to upset you like I did the other day." I murmur, worried that I might startle him again, "I just want to make sure you're okay."

I watch as he sniffs, another tear escaping his eye which I don't hesitate to catch with my finger this time. He stiffens before relaxing into my touch as I brush a finger across his cheek. I don't know why I'm acting like this. Guys never have this kind of effect on me but with Peeta I can't help but comfort and care for him, maybe even like him.

"I'm sorry that I upset you the other day, that wasn't my intention and I hate myself for it." My voice is rushed and I scowl at the memory of the tears in Peeta's eyes, which were reminiscent of the boy before me now, "I just need to learn to keep my mouth shut."

Peeta's hand reaches up to cup mine holding onto his cheek, my thumb still moving rhythmically across it. With one look, I know he's forgiven me. For the first time, I really feel the connection between us as he converses with me through just a single look. He shakes his head and a small smile tugs at his lips, his hand squeezing mine before bringing it down to his lap. He pats the seat next to him and I join him, using my free hand to rub my knees.

"We did look everywhere for you though. Your father was so worried, he looked way beyond his years with the amount of frowning he did." I explain and Peeta smiles, "but you're here and you're safe and I couldn't be more relieved."

The look in Peeta's eyes this time is one I can't seem to decipher. He looks at me with longing and what I think is adoration but I must be fooling myself. He'd never look at me like that, don't be so stupid, Katniss.

"Your dad told me what happened." I admit, looking away from him. I feel his grip tighten and I squeeze my eyes shut, continuing, "I'm so sorry Peeta. I wish I could take away all the pain and make you better."

I hear a deep intake of breath beside me and attempt to stop speaking but it's useless, "I really hope this medication works Peeta and you get better. You deserve the best and more. If she ever comes back or even close to here…" I trail off, not even entertaining the thought.

Peeta's finger comes under my chin, and suddenly I'm very thankful that break room door is frosted glass so no one can see the bright red pigment on my cheeks begin to form at Peeta's touch. Butterflies erupt in my stomach as our eyes meet and I find myself relaxing as the blue crystals I'm gazing into distill hope into the fears of today. The tears have dried from his eyes and the redness is beginning to fade as he looks at me.

A grin slowly forms on my lips as a thought occurs. "Don't scare me like that again or I'll never let you sneak me a cheese bun again."

The chain of wheezy laughs that follow make my heart take off and I feel at home, right next to Peeta.