Disclaimer: Hunger Games does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Suzanne Collins, etc. The lyrics don't belong to me either.

Memories consume
Like opening the wound
I'm picking me apart again

I'll paint it on the walls
'Cause I'm the one at fault
I'll never fight again
And this is how it ends

- Breaking the Habit, by Linkin Park

Breaking the Habit

Peeta lies awake sometimes, staring at the stark white walls of his cell. It's not a cell, but rather a comfortable room in the mental ward of the Capitol's foremost hospital – but he feels as if it is a cell. The only person who ever visits him, aside from Dr. Aurelius, is Haymitch. Peeta seldom goes out.

He thinks he's getting better, sometimes, but it always seems to end with him lying in the comfortable bed, gazing at the featureless walls. He can go days for a time without remembering, and of late he has been turning Finnick's offer over in his mind. It helps him forget, or at least skip over, the events of the past few months.

It doesn't matter as much that his family is dead. The passing of his blunt, harsh mother; his kind, passive father; and his two older brothers, killed in a vicious firebombing from the Capitol, are easier to deal with when he thinks, Finnick and Annie and Haymitch can be my family now.

But he has no replacement for Katniss, and her death is so much fresher in his mind. He can recall the traumatic event down to minute details: the sickly wet laugh of President Snow; a surprised inhalation from a nearby soldier; the distress in Finnick's sea-green eyes – and the serene, relieved even, look in Katniss' eyes as she swallowed the nightlock pill.

Did I cause that? he can't help but wonder, his eyes skirting restlessly over the blank walls of his room. If I hadn't been hijacked – If I hadn't been so cruel to her, if, if...

It's ironic that after Katniss committed suicide, it is so, so much easier for Peeta to distinguish between the hijacked memories and his true recollections. Apparently without the object of his fakehatereallove constantly near him (or even alive, for that matter), the effects of his hijacking are greatly reduced.

Still, lying awake staring at nothing as he relives painful memories is better than dreaming. Because the dreams are heart-wrenching in that, when Peeta wakes up, he realizes he will never have the chance to experience that sort of future, or present, with Katniss.

He has several recurring dreams, but the dream of his children with Katniss is by far the worst. He can picture the faces of his children – a girl with Katniss-dark hair and Peeta-blue eyes; a boy with merchant-blond hair and Seam-gray eyes – as vividly as he remembers watching Katniss die. The home that they share, Katniss' house in the Victor's Village in District Twelve, the primrose bushes that bloom on their lawn, Haymitch (even he is in this dream) an alcoholic, slightly eccentric uncle to their perfect little family... Every detail is branded into Peeta's memory.

In other dreams, Katniss is with Gale, or they are back in the jungle arena, or running from those horrible mutts in the sewer...

The point is, these dreams don't leave him frozen in his bed, yearning and loss and grief churning through him.

Peeta squeezes his eyes shut, grinding the heel of his palm against his eyes. Stop. Stop it, he tells himself. It's not real. Katniss is dead. Gale is dead.

He thinks that he'll never go back to District Twelve. He can't bear to know whether his house is still standing, doesn't want to know what the rubble will look like.

Peeta opens his eyes, his gaze going to the digital clock on the bedside table. 4:57 blinks back at him in bright red. His alarm will go off at 5:00.

He rolls over onto his back, gazing up at the ceiling. He feels exhausted. Dr. Aurelius offered to prescribe him sleeping pills, but he declined. Memories of being plied with pills and injected with unknown substances by his torturers are too fresh for that.

He dozes off just as his alarm goes off, startling him back into wakefulness.

The thing is, Peeta isn't a fighter. He has never had to hunt and kill game to support his family, like Gale had to. Peeta bakes bread and frosts cakes. He has never killed someone in cold blood, like Finnick did. He killed the girl from Eight, but that was an act of mercy. He killed Brutus from District Two, but it was in his own defence. Peeta can't use a bow with the deadly skill and grace that Katniss had. He can wield a gun, it's true, but his shots were always off, his aim sloppy. He is not a man of action. Peeta paints, and uses words rather than actions to get his point across.

Peeta doesn't know how to deal with his problems, doesn't know how to fight back against the memories and dreams and yearnings crowding his mind.

He doesn't even paint anymore, not since Katniss died.

...

Later that day, during his daily appointment with Aurelius, the doctor suggests, "Have you painted lately, Peeta?"

Peeta stares across the desk at the man reclining in his chair. He knows that Aurelius knows that he hasn't painted in a long time. Months. He probably shouldn't be keeping count, but he has been, and he knows that it has been two and a half months exactly since Katniss shot President Coin. It's been about two months since Finnick and Annie left for District Four. They call him, sometimes.

"No," he says, looking out the window at the Capitol skyline.

Aurelius doesn't sigh, but Peeta feels like he does anyway.

"I just don't- I don't want to," he tries to explain.

The doctor nods. "It doesn't have to be anything big, you know. But if you don't want to, don't force yourself, Peeta."

Peeta shrugs. "Am I better yet?" he asks, childishly, his gaze returning to the doctor to see his reaction.

Aurelius barely bats an eyelash. "Do you feel better?" he responds, without answering at all.

No. "I want to go to District Four," Peeta says. "Annie and Finnick said I could." He hates how childish that sounds, but it's already been said. And he realizes for the first time that he does mean it – he does want to go to District Four, and see the ocean again, and spend time with Annie and Finnick.

"I can treat you long-distance," Aurelius agrees mildly.

Peeta just gives him a look, like, you're kidding me, right? "Are you sure you're qualified to treat me?" he asks instead.

Aurelius' lips curl up into a smirk. "I was the best doctor in District Thirteen."

"Oh. In that case. I feel so much better. Thanks."

More seriously, Aurelius says, "Of course I'm qualified."

Peeta just nods. "So... I can go to District Four?"

"I'll make the arrangements." The buzzer sitting on Aurelius' desk goes off, signalling the end of their interview – er, appointment.

"Thanks. See you tomorrow," Peeta says, rising to leave.

"Don't forget what I said about painting, Peeta."

He doesn't answer as he walks out the door.

...

Haymitch finds him in the 'activity room'. He's staring at the television, watching a news broadcast about the upcoming elections. A brief clip of Peeta and Finnick from their televised announcement is shown, and then Paylor appears onscreen.

Peeta loses all interest at that point, so it's probably a good thing Haymitch shows up.

"Aurelius said you're thinking of moving to District Four," the older man remarks, sitting down in an armchair opposite Peeta's couch.

"Yeah. Annie and Finnick said I could."

Haymitch raises an eyebrow, and Peeta adds, "They said you could come too, Haymitch."

His former mentor nods, seeming satisfied with that answer. "Good. Aurelius said if I agree to go along to watch you, it'll be easier to sell to the higher ups."

Peeta nods. He doesn't say, I'm glad you're coming. He does say, "Thanks."

Haymitch sighs. "You don't need to thank me, Peeta." He looks at the television, but Paylor is still giving a speech of some sort, and he looks away again. Haymitch bounced back with surprising speed after Katniss' suicide, but Peeta supposes twenty-five years of watching children die with you helpless to intervene does that to a person.

"Do you know how long it's going to take, Haymitch?" Peeta asks.

The older man looks at him. "That's up to you, Peeta," he answers, which isn't helpful at all. Peeta tells him as much, and Haymitch just laughs.

"See you later, kid."

...

The next day, during his session with Aurelius, the doctor is frustratingly evasive when Peeta questions him about how long it will be until he can go to District Four.

It doesn't help that he finally fell asleep last night, dreamt of his imaginary children and his imaginary home with his dead wife.

"Can I go, or can't I?" he finally snaps.

"You can go. Eventually," Aurelius tells him.

"When's 'eventually'?" Peeta demands.

"When I think you're ready," comes the infuriating reply.

"You said you could treat me long-distance!"

"I'm not sure you're quite ready for that," Aurelius explains, though this is pretty much what he just said, so Peeta is understandably even angrier.

When the buzzer rings, the only assurance Peeta has is that, when Aurelius deems him 'ready', he and Haymitch will be allowed to go to District Four.

...

Peeta paces his room, looking periodically at the pots of paint and the various brushes sitting innocently on his desk.

"A gift," Haymitch had said, in that mockingly sarcastic way of his.

Peeta had wanted so badly to punch him in the face after that, but he didn't of course. He's not a fighter, and it wasn't really worth it anyway.

His usual retreat of lying awake in bed was destroyed because his gaze kept creeping back to the paint and the brushes.

Finally, Peeta walks out, slamming the door behind him. It wakes up several other residents on his floor, but he doesn't really care at this point. He finds the kitchens in this place, and bullies the early staff into letting him bake some bread.

...

He's in the activity room again, when a nurse comes to get him.

"There's a phone call for you, Mr. Mellark," she tells him with a polite, vacant smile. "I'll connect it to your private line, if you like."

"Thanks," Peeta replies, thinking about how unsettling it is to be called 'Mr. Mellark' as he walks back to his room. Mr. Mellark is his father. Peeta is just... Peeta.

"Hello?" he asks, flopping back onto his unmade bed.

"Peeta!" Annie greets him cheerfully. Peeta smiles to hear her enthusiasm.

"Annie, it's been a while. How are you?" he asks sincerely.

"Good, good. I went swimming with Finnick yesterday," she answers. "How are you, Peeta?"

"Now that I'm talking to you, it's a good day," he tells her, and she laughs.

"So when are you coming to visit us? Or better yet, when are you coming to stay?" Annie asks.

Peeta frowns and looks to the side. His gaze falls on the paints Haymitch gave him. His frown deepens. "I asked Dr. Aurelius and he said I could go when he feels like I'm 'ready'."

"Ah... Well, it'll be soon, I know it," Annie assures him. Peeta wishes he had her confidence. "I can't wait to see you, there's so much I have to tell you and show you."

"Me too," Peeta sighs. "So how's Finnick?"

"He's teaching some of the new residents how to fish," Annie says. "They're pretty bad."

Peeta chuckles. "Sounds fun."

"He complains about it every day," Annie agrees. "Oh, but there was something I wanted to tell you, Peeta. But you have to promise not to tell Finnick."

Peeta raises an eyebrow, feeling a flutter of apprehension. "Ok. I promise."

"I'm pregnant," Annie whispers into the telephone. It feels like she's whispering into his ear.

Peeta is momentarily floored. It's like a punch to the stomach.

"Peeta? Are you there?" Annie asks uncertainly. He can just imagine her worrying at her lip, anxious to hear what he has to say.

"...Yes, I'm still here. I'm just- wow, that's so great, Annie!" Peeta manages to say, faking enthusiasm. He really feels resentment and jealously, which causes him to feel guilty. "I'm so happy for you!"

He can just imagine Annie glowing. "I know... I'm going to name him Magniss."

"Magnus? That's a nice name," Peeta says, not thinking to question the fact that Annie knows she's going to have a son.

"Not Magnus. Magniss," Annie corrects him, except Peeta can't discern any difference between the two names. "For Mags and Katniss."

Peeta winces, his guilty doubling. Here he is, being jealous of Finnick and Annie, and she tells him that she's going to name her son after Katniss. "That's... Annie... When are you going to tell Finnick?"

"I don't know. When he's ready," Annie says teasingly. "I wanted to practice on you first."

"That's what I'm here for." It's hard to stay mad at Annie though.

Annie giggles. "Oh! Finnick's home, did you want to talk to him?"

"Who wants to talk to me?" Peeta hears Finnick ask in the background.

"Peeta," Annie says.

"It's fine, Annie. I should probably go now, anyway. Say hi to Finnick for me."

"Ok. Bye Peeta!" He hears Finnick echo Annie.

"Bye Annie, Finnick." Peeta hangs up.

He tosses the phone onto the bed beside him and stares at the paints for a long time before dozing off.

...

Peeta dreams of his children that night, except Finnick is in this dream. It's strange, because the copper-haired man is never in any of his dreams.

They're sitting around the dinner table laughing, nothing unusual, except Peeta is standing in the doorway and Finnick is in his place at the head of the table. Finnick acts like the blue-eyed girl and the blond-haired boy are his children, and for a while Peeta is frozen, watching the not-quite-familiar scene play out with increasing unease. For some reason, he's wearing the uniform from the jungle arena.

It's when Katniss leans over and pecks Finnick on the mouth that Peeta finally finds the ability to move. He storms into the room, and pulls Finnick to his feet.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demands, furious. His children and Katniss just stare at him. "This is my family, Finnick!"

Finnick stares at him, his trademark playboy smirk on his lips. He moves with the same speed and grace that won him the sixty-forth Hunger Games, knocking Peeta's feet out from under him. He leans over Peeta, his hands pressed down on the younger man's chest. His normal clothes have changed into the blue uniform from the Quell, to match Peeta's own attire.

"Oh, Peeta. Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart," Finnick says mockingly, and Peeta suddenly feels a sharp pain in his chest.

Peeta wakes up with a start, clutching his chest with one clawed hand.

He sits in the darkness, his harsh breathing the only sound in the white-walled room.

He slumps back, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. His head falls to the side, and his gaze immediately latches onto the paints.

He thinks that maybe he should stop fighting this. He was never very good at fighting, anyway.

Peeta gets out of bed and paints his children.

...

Aurelius and Haymitch both show up around lunchtime. Peeta's appointments are always before lunch, so he skipped today's. He was too busy painting, and his sessions always made him angry lately anyway.

The desk has been shoved to the middle of the room, to give him a larger canvas to work with. His children stare out from before his and Katniss' house, the blooming primrose bushes behind them. He's in the midst of recreating the rest of the landscape, slowly but steadily eradicating the white of the walls, when Haymitch and Aurelius enter the room without knocking.

"Wow," Haymitch says.

Peeta barely spares him a glance, intent upon recapturing the way the sun fell upon the trees.

"I'm going to need more blue," is all Peeta responds.

"I'll have some sent to District Four," Aurelius answers this time.

This causes Peeta to halt. He straightens up, turning to look at the older men.

"I can go?" he asks.

Aurelius' gaze flicks to what is fast becoming a mural.

"That's it? All I had to do was... was paint something?" Peeta asks, feeling like he should be outraged. He's just relieved, though.

Aurelius shrugs. "You can go to District Four, Peeta. You can leave as early as tomorrow, if you'd like."

Peeta smiles. "I should be finished this by then."

"I'll make the arrangements, then," the doctor says, and leaves the room.

Haymitch is silent as he studies the image before him.

"Who're the kids?" he asks at length, though it sounds like he thinks he already knows the answer.

"No one real," Peeta replies, honestly.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapters. Your feedback really helps motivate me to write this story!

So yeah, no 74th Hunger Games chapter. I figured, everyone knows how it goes, no point in rehashing that any more. I might still end up doing it, but eh.

And yeah, updates will be random as ever. This fic is a lot harder to write than, say, Dead on Arrival. Not that I'm shamelessly advertising that story here, or anything. ;)

As always any thoughts/suggestions/criticisms will be gratefully accepted. Song suggestions too, though I can't guarantee whether or not I'll use it. Depends on what inspires me, and all. But thanks in advance!