A/N: Whew, it´s been a long time since I wrote anything here, yes? Sorry about that, college life is well... pretty wild. Anyway this, THIS is my first Hunger Games fanfiction. It´s something I had wanted to try for a while now, and while I know my writing is a bit rusty -over a year without having written any fanfiction, mind you- I hope I get it right. Part of me feared the challenge because I find Suzanne Collins´style especially hard to get around with. It´s just they way she phrases, it´s not malleable like Cressida Cowell or Bryke, the writers of A:TLA. Hopefully, I got it at least to look decent. So about this fic, Caught in Fire, is narrated from yes, you guessed, our very own Peeta Mellark. The reason why my first shot at THG is Peeta is because I find Katniss has a way of depressing me down and because I´m going to be honest here, most of the Peeta P.O.V.s I´ve read aren´t my type. I know I´m not the master of IC fanfiction, but trust me when I say I tried my best here. Although, I think I made Peeta´s mother a bit of a lunatic... Anyway, I´m sure I´m not at all IC, but I´ll let you decide that. I really REALLY REALLY, from the deepest bottom of my heart ask your honest opinion. I want to improve! :D And I don´t think I made a good job, so please some feedback? Okay, I´m finishing my rant here. Just one last thing. Takes place between the end of THG and the beginning of CF. Why? Because in my opinion there was so much potential for Peeta angst in that unwritten plot section, that it´s just too good to let it pass. To end this mini-rant, I want to throw this out for your consideration as you read. I chose to write Peeta the way I did because I frankly believe no one can be that perfect. And in my personal experience with people like him, they are usually the ones that hurt the most and we never get to see that. We get only the nice part of Peeta, while I´m sure he´s left to his own devices when he has to fight his demons. I think that´s why I love this character so much. In my mind he´s very strong, stronger than Katniss, yet so very flawed like everybody else in the book. I played with that idea as I wrote this. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own, although I´d like very much to, The Hunger Games trilogy or any of its characters. They all belong to Suzanne Collins.

"Caught in Fire"

The last thing I wanted to do is come back home and have to give explanations. Having Katniss telling me she didn't really know how she feels about me while I thought my life from this point onward was going to be peaceful and by her side, left me in simple words, torn apart. And now that I'm back home, I'll have no other option than to put on the masks I know so well and be Panem's charming baker boy from District 12 once more. They will be expecting some kisses. Heartbreaking reunions with our families too, no doubt. I wonder if they'll bring in Gale Hawthorne to receive Katniss as part of her family. I remember what she told me back in the cave, that I didn't have any competition. What a joke. Suddenly, I find myself calculating how much time it'll take her before I become a complete stranger.

The train stops and I feel my heart race, but I choose to ignore it. Pull it together, Mellark, I think. That phrase was my wrestling instructor's choice words for me. But it's also a phrase that helped me survive in the Games when my last resort of defense became, yes, icing. He used to yell that at me when I started slacking off at training. And during the Games, while someone chased me, when I was very scared or hungry, I pretended he was right behind me yelling "Pull it together, Mellark! It's already bad enough you like to bake cakes, man up!" But right now, my imagination is far from able to conceive him yelling at me to man up, that it's already bad I'm in love with a girl that hunts on a daily basis while I just bake cookies.

Before the doors slide open I extend my hand to Katniss, wipe my voice from any feeling and say "One more time? For the audience?"

She takes my hand and squeezes it tightly. I unsuccessfully try to convince myself she's just nervous, not longing for me.

The doors swoosh open and a thunder of flashes and questions pours on us. Thankfully, the Capitol assistants make a sort of shield in front of us so we can walk toward the podium that has been set for our welcome-back interviews. But as the reporters start asking us how we feel about coming back, if we're eager to start our new life together, and if we could please kiss in front of the camera, I start wishing this could all end fast. Not only because the ritual feels downright literal when I say it's pouring lemon on my wounds, but because I find that every answer, joke, touch and staged kiss burns through me with the acidic truth: none of it is real.

As if I wasn't uncomfortable enough yet, the reporters arrive to the topic that I've made a point of to evade throughout the whole Hunger Games; my family.

"Peeta, how are you feeling about seeing your family again?" A reporter asks me. Terrible, I feel like answering, considering the only member of my family who thought I could win told me to stick with Katniss so I could last longer.

As I'm about to answer, the make-shift projectors show an image of my family, standing somewhere in the middle of the crowd. I try and not to look at the panel for too long, so I just answer "I feel enormously blessed. I really missed my family and I'm glad I have the opportunity to see them again."

"What is the first thing you two are going to do now you're back home?" Some other reporter asks.

"You mean besides sleep?" I ask with a smirk on my face that causes everyone to chuckle, even Katniss, who laughs right on cue. "No, really, we just want to rest. Settle down, go back to normal. Everything else can wait." I answer, snaking my arm around Katniss' waist, in the hope that she gets my message. That I'm not going to rush her, she can take as long as she wants. I'm willing to wait.

"Katniss, who are you more eager to see?"

"My sister Prim," Katniss immediately answers with a smile. "I missed her a lot."

"And you Peeta?"

The cameras train on me but I take a while to answer. The truth is I didn't exactly miss my life as a baker. All I was looking forward to after winning the Games was finally spending time with Katniss, teaching her how to sketch, maybe I could convince her of taking me to the woods, coax a song out of her and see if the birds really fell silent, helping each other to forget the awful memories of all of those could've-been friends in the arena. Just entering her life; staying with her always.

"My father," I say, deciding to answer this as close as the truth as possible knowing this would save me later guilt. "He's my role model. I really missed him." That´s not entirely false, so it´s good enough for me.

Cameras keep flashing at us for the next ten minutes or so, but I feel every second passing is an eternity. I feel weary, keeping masks up is no easy task. Although I wasn't pretending on my love for Katniss, probably everything else I did in the Games was just as ephemeral as Katniss' love for me. Finally, the moment that I've been dreading all day arrives; meeting up with my family again. Just the thought of seeing my mother, who coldheartedly bid me farewell before I was taken away for the Hunger Games, makes my hands start sweating. I think Katniss notices because she glances in my direction with a puzzled look. I only smile shyly because I´m really not in the mood to amuse her with an explanation.

Little by little the camera crews start emptying the train station, clearing my path towards my family. The four of them stand still as ice, unable to believe their eyes as I approach them. The first to come down crumbling is my brother Rye, who could've volunteered for me in the reaping just like Katniss did for Prim. He is also my best friend. Before he starts what I think must have been a much rehearsed apology I hugged him with abruptness.

"I'm sorry, Peeta." It's all he says.

"It's okay. I'm back." I answer him.

Next, my eldest brother, Hesper, joins the both of us followed by my father and lastly but incredibly, my mother. I feel my father's tears moistening my cheek and Hesper's tight grip around me. The scene must be real touching, I bet, because cameras start flashing again. We break apart since I´m about to shoo them off, but to my surprise, someone already is backing me up; drunken Haymitch and Katniss telling the cameras we only want to be left alone. Haymitch just has vomited upon a Capitol cameraman's shoes, when I catch a glimpse of Katniss' eyes locking with mine. Just like that time with the bread. It only lasts seconds though, but that was all I need to gain some peace of mind. I nod her way in thankfulness and she twisted her lips into a would-be smile before hopping onto a Capitol van with her family.

"It's time to go." I say with an edge of finiteness, hoping my family didn't notice the altercation with Katniss. But just as I was born with that way with words, my family is ridiculously talented to pick up on subtle things, an art I've learned over time too.

"What was that about?" Rye asks a little confused. "Are you two okay?"

It's only when I see Gale Hawthorne hopping onto Katniss' van that all hopes of me getting her back vanish, leaving a very painful feeling in my stomach. But I answer "We're just tired. Come on, I want to go home." But little did I know, I'd never set foot in my old merchant house again.

To my bad fortune, I arrive in sync with Katniss' van to Victor's Village, which only makes the thing altogether more awkward. Picture this: You've been nationally broadcasted making out with the girl of your dreams for a little more than three weeks. Then you learn she didn't actually love you, although everyone else thinks she does. And now you're expected to bear that on top of the fact you'll be her mother's neighbor. Plus there's also Katniss' little "cousin", Gale.

They´re unloading a truck with the Everdeen's belongings, which only included some boxes, when I catch a disapproving look from Mrs. Everdeen. I feel my cheeks burn with shame and the need to dig up a hole and camouflage myself into a sidewalk, but the only thing I manage to do is wave friendlily at her. She doesn't even flinch. I guess I know where Katniss got that steely stare she gives me when she's mad at me. Gale follows her into the house, and his glance is a whole different thing. He´s not watching me; he´s willing daggers into my face. I hold my eyes up to him in a menacing way as well. All I can think "If looks could kill…" The only one who greets me back was Katniss' lovely little sister, Prim. She carries her cat, I think Katniss mentioned its name was Buttercup, and the goat along with her. She smiles at me and waves, "Hi, Peeta!"

I wave her back. "Hey, Prim."

"You want me to call Katniss out?"

My heart skips a beat at the mention of her name. "No, no. That's fine, Prim. Let her rest."

She nods and enters the house following her mother´s example.

My new house in Victor's Village gives me no sense of home, although it already smells of it: freshly baked bread and I think I'm lucky enough to detect beef stew. Back in the old days, the only time I'd get stew was when my dad bought squirrels from Katniss. I wonder what's she going to do with all this free time, I mean, surely she won't have to worry about feeding her family like she did before. At least there's a bright side to all of this, I think. I come into the living room where I find my two siblings gushing over how "cool" the TV is. Great, I think, now I'll really get to enjoy the Hunger Games for sure. I wonder who'll be mentor next year; Haymitch or me. I pray it's not me. Keeping Katniss alive is one thing, I don't think I'd have what it takes to coach a boy into his own death; I can't be heartless like Haymitch. I wouldn't bear to sit and watch helplessly as yet another tribute from District 12 dies before my eyes. I might as well become the next drunken mentor of D12. I suddenly catch my thoughts drifting off to Katniss again when I realize she won't have another choice. She will be the girl mentor like it or not. And although we won this year, frankly most of it was due to Katniss in one way or the other. She's got spark, unfortunately I can't say that of most girls in District 12. Like I said, she's the only one that has made a lasting impression on me, and I'm sure she has done the same with everyone in the Hob and at school. She's hard to forget. But I couldn't picture Madge Undersee or Delly Cartwright –especially Delly Cartwright, turning into the next "girl on fire".

"Peeta!" Rye exclaims, shattering my train of thought into oblivion. "Check this out!"

I sit next to Rye and Hesper, who are already fumbling with a large box that has the Capitol emblem on top of it. There's a little note attached to it and I recognize the handwriting.

Peeta,

I knew you'd make it all along. I'm very proud of you. This is for that talk we had before, make it count.
See you in November.

Your friend and stylist,

Portia

I open the lid of the box and find a full set of painting tools: paints, canvas, mixing tablets… everything. I smile to myself and move my head from side to side in disbelief. Portia, I think. I don't know how well Katniss got along with Cinna, but for me Portia was some kind of aunt who likes spoiling me. I remember that during my first meeting with her, when she had me stroll around a room naked, she asked me what was my favorite hobby and I remember telling her I didn't have one but I always had wanted to be a painter.

"What's this?" My father asks with obvious amusement at the sight of my shocked expression.

"Peeta's stylist sent him paints… I don't know why." Rye fills my dad in.

"Because…" I say, "I told her I've always wanted to be a painter."

"She should've sent you baking materials." My mom says as she walks in to inspect the box herself. "These are no use."

I breathe deep and try to count to ten… One, come on Peeta, you've just arrived from the Games. Give her a break… Two, but she didn't even care I could've died… Three, but she loves you, she's your mom after all… Four, yeah right… Five… don't burst… Six, she deserves it… Seven, Katniss also deserves it but you don't burst with her, do you? …Seven, yes but Katniss is Katniss… Eight, plus my mom only cares about the bakery. I just arrived from the Hunger Games, for crying out loud… Nine; just let it go…Ten, it's just a harmless comment…

"What good is it for you to paint, anyway?" She adds. I feel like someone's pulling my stomach as if it was a string. I violently snatch the box from her sight and say, "It's nothing you would understand."

She stares blankly at me and then I detect anger beginning to boil in her eyes. That's my cue to flee.

"Peeta…" my dad calls, but I just go straight upstairs.

"She didn't mean it to harm you." My dad says when he opens the door to the bedroom I closed myself in.

"She never does, does she?" I say in a very sarcastic way but my dad only stares sternly at me. "I'm sorry. It's just that… that I wish for once she could be a little more tactful."

My dad nods in agreement and keeps silent. I look around the room and I find it quite luxurious. A king size bed with navy blue covers, mahogany furniture, a walk-in closet and a door that I'm pretty sure leads to a bathroom. But then I notice the most appealing feature yet. There's a window from where you can see the Everdeen's.

"I call dibs on this one." I say all of nowhere.

"What?"

"The room. I want this room. It's got good lighting." I say.

"You can have any room you want." My dad says. "After all, this is your house, Peeta."

I'm about to protest but my dad closes the door behind himself, leaving me with the loneliness that had been menacing to spring ever since I realized Katniss wasn't really in love with me. The room is cold despite its luxuriousness and it only helps me become aware of the truth. The Games are over and so is my relationship with Katniss. There's Victory Tour in a couple months and then that's it. Goodbye to the baker's son. It takes me a couple days to realize what my dad meant about this being my house. It is. And according to my dad, it´s not theirs. By the time my first week ends, my dad announces they have to go back to tending the bakery, that they can´t stay here because they must guard it. Someone might steal it in the night; that was my mother´s excuse. Although I felt really down and well, abandoned, I couldn´t really tell them how bad I felt. All I said was "Okay, I´ll drop in to check on you." I say. My dad smiles and tells me, "I´ll be waiting." He gingerly closes the door and just like that, I´m left to myself. Suddenly I understand the reason of Haymitch´s dependence to alcohol. The way the halls are quiet, the colors are harmonic, the way everything is so perfectly arranged makes it great for your mind to play tricks on you. It makes it easier for the ghosts, the loneliness to hunt you down at night.

a/n: Possibly to be continued. I don´t know... depends on how much I´m up to it. Review, please! Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated! Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

EDIT: Like some of you guys suggested, I split this into two chapters. You were right, it WAS way too long!