*Warning of Sexual Content later on in this chapter! Be warned!*

Katniss's P.O.V.

I wake up to the feeling of another hand clasped in mine, and I lift my gaze to find Peeta asleep next to me. His head rests against my arm, so I don't move, afraid it might disrupt his sleep. However, after a few minutes of lying in silence with only ceaseless pain to accompany me, I feel him stir awake.

His tired eyes find mine, and he smiles faintly. "Good morning," he whispers, letting go of my hand, which leaves me craving his touch. I scan the room once again for Prim or my mother. When I don't see either of them, I ask Peeta where they are. He responds saying they are sleeping and if I want him to call them. I refuse but he frets over it, constantly asking me if I am in too much pain or need more medicine.

"Peeta, calm down." I say, "I'm not dying." He gives me a sideways glance when I say that and dips his head to lay it against my arm again.

"I know you aren't. I'm just worried about you." He mutters. I take my other hand, slipping it in his, and he grips it tightly.

"Peeta," I say after a while, "Do you remember?"

"Bits and pieces only." He brings his head up, "I want to remember,"

I nod, "You will, I know you will." I see his Adam's apple bob up and down, and tears pool in his eyes, but he blinks them away. "What's wrong, Peeta?" I know its a stupid question, but that doesn't keep me from asking it.

He shakes his head, "Nothing, I'm fine, just. . .overwhelmed."

"You should go out for a while, get some fresh air." He consents to it but suggests that I let him call Prim down to stay with me while he's gone. I wait for a long time for him to return, with Prim right next to me. She doesn't say much, but instead, stays in the seat that was previously occupied by Peeta, staring at the wall behind me.

Not that I care, but to break the tense silence, and to distract myself from the pain I am in, I ask Prim, "Where's Mom?"

She turns her gaze towards me, and shrugs, "In her room, I think. Do you need something? For the pain?"

"No, I'm alright." I lie, not knowing why. And things go quite again.

Peeta's P.O.V

When I exit Katniss's house, I feel the cool air hit my skin and I tighten my jacket around myself. The district isn't bustling with people like it usually does, it is eerily quiet. I spot a few people here and there on my way. Their footsteps seem rushed. However, there isn't a shortage of peacekeepers milling around.

Whenever I come across someone, they either shoot me looks of disgust, or pitiful looks. I don't know what to make of them, so I try my best to ignore them. With every step I take towards home, the knot in my stomach tightens. My hands dig deeper into the holes of my pocket, tugging my jacket downwards.

Once I'm standing at the door, I hesitate before turning the handle, afraid that my Mother would be standing there. But then I push the thoughts away, opening the door as quietly as I can, and step in. Fortunately, no one seems to be anywhere near the immediate entrance, so I tip-toe towards the stairs that lead to Ava's room.

I find her on the bed with Willow asleep in her arms. "She's always asleep." I say into the silence, and she jumps at the sudden noise.

Giving me a small smile, she says, "No, she was awake for a long time today. I think it tired her out and now she's out.'' I extend my arms to take Willow from her, and Ava gently lays her in them.

"Thank you, Ava."

"Anytime, brother.'' After yet another smile and a nod, I'm out of her room and down the stairs. However, this time I see my father leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on me. I expect him to be disappointed, mad even, but all I can see in his eyes is sadness. He folds his hands and rights his stance.

Gesturing to the child in my arms, he lets out, "Yours, isn't she?" I only nod, my voice having died in my throat. My family would find out about this secret eventually anyway, but I wasn't expecting it to be this abrupt. "Don't worry, your mother is inside. I won't tell her.''

He approaches me, and rests his hand on my shoulder, taking a look at his granddaughter. "Are you angry?" I ask.

He shakes his head in response, "No, son. You are at fault, but it's alright. Things happen for a reason. You can't control who you fall in love with." A soft smile plays on his lips, and he adds. "Believe me, I know."

I take a deep breath, "What do you think I should do?"

"Whatever your heart says, Peeta. But just be careful. Don't hurt yourself more, or even her." And I know by her he doesn't mean Willow.

Once Willow is back in her mother's presence, she wakes up, lightening the grim mood in Katniss's house. At one point Katniss even lets Mrs. Everdeen carry Willow, but then later, she wanders back to her room. Prim seems to be in a better mood, but the situation outside is ot like it is in here. Tension is spread all across the district. The only sounds are the peacekeeper's occasional shouting, and a few knocks — or rather harsh raps — at the door that we choose to dismiss. Since I've come back in, no one has stepped out of the house, afraid the people might turn on us and harm the family members. And considering the riots that we have caused, I don't blame them.

The week passes by quicker than expected. Katniss is healed, and ready to move around. Prim has brightened up. Their mother is the same, lost in her world, distant, and almost always expressionless. Except she makes an effort or two once in a while.

But for me, things aren't looking up. Turns out that Mother found about our little secret that I've tried to hide. I'm not exactly surprised, I saw this coming way back, just that I didn't know when I'd have to face it.

She hasn't been calm about this, going around and telling on her own son. Maybe mothers aren't as angelic as we were taught. At least some of them. Mine certainly wasn't, abusing her children and turning against them during times like these, when the thing they need most is love and support. Katniss and I had good fathers, but not very good mothers.

This time, Willow got lucky in places we didn't. I'm sure Katniss will be a great mom. I just have to try and be a good dad. Perhaps, we can give our child what our parents failed to give. Or what fate stole from us. Maybe, just maybe, we have a chance. Once all of this settles down, once things get better, maybe we can try. Hope isn't lost, we can still have a chance. We can.

I jinxed myself.

"Peeta," Prim pants, coming down the stairs. "Things out the window aren't too good. There is a lot of commotion going on," I remain silent, not knowing how to react. "It's your mother, too. It was already a mess, but. . .it's like she is adding fuel to the fire." When I still haven't given a response, she adds, "People will come after you, Peeta. The both of you. I think you should go."

Just then, I hear a creak on the stairs and find Katniss standing there. "Prim's right. I think we should leave."

"But Katniss, the last time we sneaked out — you know how well that ended. They found us. They will punish us again if we are found, we can't take another risk." I object. I want to go, too, but I'm afraid that we'll get caught. Even if we manage to get out of here, we will eventually have to come back. And I can't let Katniss get hurt again.

She keeps her intense gaze fixed on me and tilts her head, "Do you not want to go? Peeta, we can't afford to sit back and wait until they make things worse." And so that we can have some time to ourselves. To help you remember. Her unspoken words hang in the air, and deep down, I know that leaving is probably the best thing we can do right now.

My silence gives the answer she wants to hear. "When do we leave?" She asks.

I shrug, "Once the coast seems clearer. And Willow. . .we can leave her here. With Prim and your mother." Her eyes hold an emotion I can't quite place, and she tips her head in the slightest nod, hands crossed over her chest.

Katniss's P.O.V

I'm tying my scarf around my neck when I hear a quiet knock at the door, and pull it open to find Peeta standing on the doorstep. Mom gets up from her place on the couch and makes her way to where I stand, "You're leaving again?"

"Yeah, it isn't safe for us. Or for you and Prim. People will come after the both of you because of us, Mom."

"It's alright, Katniss, I understand. Just. . .be safe out there. You're not taking Willow, are you?" She replies.

"No. You'll take care of her, right?" Her answer can be nothing but yes. And it is. Surprisingly, she takes me in her arms, embracing me. It catches me off guard, but I manage to respond, wrapping my arms around her frail body. When I pull away, I take a real look at her. Her graying hair and sad eyes, thin arms and pale skin. Her eyes glaze over but she tears them away from mine and finds the door behind me a spot to stare fixedly on.

Buttercup crawls around Prim's feet, mewling. "Take care of yourself, little duck." I say, and she offers me a smile. I turn to a very silent Peeta who seems to have disappeared in the shadows. "Let's go," I whisper to him, and together, we step out in the chilly darkness.

However, we have another—rather unpleasant—surprise waiting for us not very far away from our current standpoint. Peeta's mother. We exchange a sideways glance right before she notices us. "What now?" I murmur. Anticipation seeps through me, and I take a deep breath to steady myself. I can't let her faze our plan. I can't let her inform the peacekeepers about us. Not again, not when we are finally on the verge of escaping. She won't ruin things anymore. I won't let her.

She strides across the road and towards us, the sneer on her face barely perceptible. "Where are you two off to? In the dead of the night," she spits out. "And I don't see that illegal child of yours, the one you tried to hide."

I feel Peeta take a step forward beside me, his boots scuffling in the darkness. "It's none of your concern, mother." I admire the way he brings out the word 'mother', with a distaste that sounds almost respectful. She flinches ever so slightly, but her shoulders square. Peeta tenses up, not backing down, and I know that this time, he won't.

"You have a wife, Peeta. Do you have no shame, running away with another woman?" Her voice remains low and angry, eyes glinting in the silver light.

"A wife that I could never love, a wife that could never love me. I was in a relationship that had no hope in it. I love Katniss, not Madge," Peeta's words snap back at her immediately, leaving no time for me to give a response.

"How could you love her? What did she ever give you? She is the reason you are in this mess now. If it wasn't for her and her actions, you would be where you belong, peaceful." What she says isn't wrong. It's not like I gave Peeta anything in return for his love. I got him tortured, and his memory fiddled with.

But he doesn't accept this, he refuses to. "She gave me love, Mother, and no one could give that to me but her." They converse about me as if I'm not here, but again, this fight isn't mine. It's between a neglected son and his mother.

"I'm telling you now, she is no good for you." She raises her voice this time, "The both of you are no good for each other. You are liars, turning your back against your true family."

Peeta doesn't fall at a shot for words, brushing hers away. But what she says about me is true, and as much as I want to deny it, I can't. I did abandon my family, I did lie to them. Gale wasn't wrong for reacting the way he did when he found out that I was pregnant with a child that wasn't his. I left him behind with no explanation. And then there is Peeta, fending for me even after having his remembrances about me wiped out. I wonder if he still loves me like he used to, but if he didn't, he wouldn't be doing this right?

No, a voice in my head says, he would. He's Peeta, and Peeta is kind, he would help anyone. You're not special. But I try my best to push the thoughts away, marking them as irrelevant. He does love me, he said so. And Peeta won't lie.

My attention returns to the problem at hand when Peeta's mother is shouting. The fact that this ruckus can alert the peacekeepers slips from my mind, and I try to defend Peeta when his mother throws absurd insults at her own son, but he doesn't let me. Even his voice is no longer quiet, no longer calm. "Don't say another word about Katniss or my daughter, Mother." And that's when I know that she crossed the line.

Peeta's hand clenches at his side. He won't let his mother control him anymore, he won't let her rule over him, he won't give in. "Her family is as ruthless as she is. Don't let her seduce you." She doesn't take into consideration what Peeta said, and goes on.

But Peeta has had enough, so he turns his head towards me, anger blazing in his eyes. "Let's go, Katniss." I oblige without a word, about to head in the direction of the woods when I feel a hand grab mine. It's cold and rough, definitely not Peeta's.

Mrs. Mellark has her hand around my wrist, stopping me from moving forward. I try to shake it away, but her grip is firm. Peeta steps in when he notices, and says before I can, "Mother, let go of her. Now, please.'' When she doesn't budge, he adds, "I don't understand why you're doing this. Just let us go and you won't have to deal with us again. We'll stay away from you, and so will you.'' His voice has now taken an annoyed tone, the anger etching away to frustration.

I once again try to break free of her hold, but she only tightens her fingers around my wrist, infuriated eyes never leaving Peeta's. Then before Peeta can do anything, I jerk backwards, causing her to stumble forward and trip on the stones that lie on the ground.

Though she catches herself at the last moment, she gasps and looks up at us. "So you're trying to hurt me now?" She hides a smirk and calls for a peacekeeper, accusing us of an assault on her. Peeta and I spin on our heels right at that moment, knowing that we have to get out of here before they catch us. Again.

How someone's mother can be so mean, so cruel, is a question that's beyond my understanding, so I focus on escaping instead.

I run as fast as I can with Peeta behind me, and my mind takes me back to the day we did this for the first time, when his family found out that I was pregnant, and that was when they stole my Peeta from me. When they altered his brain into forgetting the only person he truly loved. And no matter what, that will not repeat. The peacekeepers can catch me, but I want Peeta untouched, unharmed.

When I have put what I think is a safe distance between us and Peeta's mother, I hear the distinct voice of a peacekeeper—no, multiple peacekeepers—talking to her. When I try to keep up my pace, and sprint in the darkness with the chilled air stinging me eyes, I run into someone.

"Gale," I whisper in surprise, and my sudden halt sends Peeta slamming into my back, almost knocking the two of us over. Frantic, I recover from the shock and move away, Peeta expressionless behind me.

In the dim light, I can't see much of Gale, but I don't have the time to. Thinking about why he is here at this hour can be done later, or perhaps not at all. What he does is not my business.

He must know that we are running away again, by the hurried looks on our faces, the shouting, and the sound of nearing footsteps. His confused expression is replaced with something like understanding, and he nods mostly to himself. "It's the peacekeepers again, isn't it?'' His voice is gruff and low, barely a whisper. Peeta answers with a nod, looking back for a moment.

I don't know what I expect him to do, but it certainly isn't what he does next. "Run, I'll try to hold them off.'' He takes off to where the danger lies, the one we're running from. Puzzled, I remain in my place, and my feet seem to forget where to go. I'm broken out of my trance when I feel something on my shoulder. A hand.

"Katniss, come on, let's go.'' Peeta says. "He'll keep them away, we need to run.''

And then I'm not thinking anymore, just following Peeta. The commotion behind me seems to get louder, but I don't stop. We have made it to the fence when the gunshot rings out, and it causes me to skid to another halt.

No, I think, not Gale, please, not him. A surge of fear spreads over me, making my heart beat even faster until it's the only thing I can hear. I don't need to ask Peeta to run towards Gale and see what caused the bullet to shoot.

What I see when I get there makes my breath catch and my stomach churn. Gale's unconscious body being dragged away by the officers, Peeta's mother nowhere in sight. Shivers run down my spine, but not because of the cold. My eyes sting but not because of the breeze. Peeta's hand finds mine, but not because of fear. We are hidden in the shadows where they can't spot us, though we can see them clearly.

The scene before me offers a perfect explanation for the gunshot I heard earlier, but that is when I notice the lack of blood. If they shot Gale, there would be signs of a wound bleeding, and I see none. The peacekeepers disappear around the corner, and my body reacts before my mind does so I lunge forward, hoping to reach them and get Gale back. But Peeta stops me, grabbing me by the arm. I turn to him, agitated and desperate, and he only shakes his head.

"Katniss, I know you want to go, but you can't.''

"What if he's dead, Peeta? What will you say then?" I try to keep my voice as low as possible, avoiding gaining any unwanted attention. But the adrenaline coursing through me, the rush of my blood in my ears, the image of Gale's unconscious self flashing before my eyes makes it hard to keep calm.

"H-he won't be dead," The uncertainty in his tone is obvious, making me even madder.

"Those peacekeepers are merciless! They don't spare anyone, much less someone who tried to stand up against them." I snap back, I know that going to him isn't a smart choice, and it's better for us to go back to the woods, but I can't bring myself to leave this behind and let it slide. If he is dead, it'll be my fault, and I can't let that happen. I can't let him die for me, for the girl who betrayed him. He can't die saving me.

Peeta's expression makes it hard to argue with him, his gaze meaningful, and saying things words can't. I finally give in, dragging my feet along the floor and following his lead. Even though my movements are sluggish, my mind buzzes with activity. The possibility of Gale being dead, the things Peeta's mother said, the situation we are in, and the recent events weighing me down.

Peeta's POV

The air gets cooler as we go deeper into the night, and by the time we have reached the fence, neither one of us has spoken a word. The silence between is uncomfortable and there is tension in the air. I want to say something, anything, to fill the quiet, but I can't.

Katniss keeps an eye out for animals on our way, but something about her demeanour bothers me. The walk back to the cabin is awkward and long, the only source of noise being our footsteps. Maybe it's just the trick of the light, but I think I see something like tears glistening in her eyes.

Once we are at the cabin, she enters first and disappears into the bathroom, not sparing me a glance. I take off my boots and walk over to the couch, plopping down on it. When Katniss exits the bathroom, I ask, "Do you want me to get some wood so that we can start a fire?"

She shakes her in denial, "I'll go," and with that she's off, leaving me taken aback. I try to ignore the tightness in my chest and decide to prepare some food since I'm starving and am sure that she is too.

I'm only getting started with the late dinner when Katniss is back with a bundle of firewood in her arms. She lights them up within a minute or so, well practiced in the act. After she does that, she comes over to where I stand, "You should go rest, I'll make the food."

Disturbed and slightly frustrated with the way she's been acting, I back away without a word and let her carry on. I silently watch her as she works, her movements lithe and quick.

Soon, she brings over a stew, and we eat it in silence. I think of starting a conversation, but she seems uninterested, so I hold back. Katniss sits further away from me, not even within reach. So when all of it starts to become overwhelming, I don't keep it in. "What's wrong?" I question. It sounds stupid, considering nothing is exactly right, but she shrugs indifferently. "Katniss? Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not doing anything." She snaps, avoiding eye contact.

"Yes, you are. Stop blocking me out and tell me what's up so I know what to do." Her expression is a mixture of emotions I can't decipher, and I don't try to.

"Your mother was right back there. Why are you even here? What did I ever give you, Peeta?"

Offended, and trying not to show it, I reply, "You think what I told her — you think I was lying? I meant everything I said, Katniss."

"You have no reason to stay with me anymore, so why do you?" She stands up, moving away from the couch and standing beside the fire.

I don't remain seated either, "Because. . . because I love you."

"But do you? You don't even remember me! You don't remember anything that happened between us. The first time we met. . .our first kiss. You don't remember the time we spent together at all. You remember nothing."

She says that as if it's my fault, and it angers me. "I didn't choose to forget! You think I don't want to remember? I do, and I have been trying to." I take a step closer to her, not thinking about where this might lead.

"Well, I don't know what to believe, Peeta!" Her voice rises until she's shouting, "You've been defending me, protecting me, and have always been there. Always. I couldn't do anything for you! I couldn't do anything for anyone." Tears spring up in her eyes, and she doesn't refrain from letting them fall. "And now Gale's dead because of me. You were tortured because of me."

I don't try to keep my voice down, "You don't think what I've been doing for you is genuine? You think I've been doing this because I pity you? Not because I want to?" It's true that my emotions for her are complicated, it's true that I don't remember, but deep down, I know that for her, I hold a sentiment that I never have had for anyone. Deep down, my love for her is there. It's just hidden beneath the layers of fazed memory and confused feelings.

Guilt crosses her face, but it's quickly replaced by the earlier unreadable look. I see her knee bouncing nervously as she tries to work up the courage to say what she wants to. Finally, she just shrugs. "Yeah. . .I don't know what to make of any of this."

"Of what, Katniss? Look, I've been trying to help you despite not being able to help myself."

"Exactly, and I don't know why."

I take a deep breath and close my eyes in an attempt to stabilise myself. "What do you want me to do?"

She sniffles, wiping away stray tears with the back of her hand. "I don't know. Don't be so good to me, it makes me feel worse."

The absurdity of her statement doesn't even surprise me, and I cross to the other side of the room, backing up against the wall, sliding along it, and landing on the floor. I drop my head in my hands, exhausted by the day's events. "Fine," I murmur, holding back my own tears and hoping she hears my quiet response. And by what she does next, I'm sure she does.

Katniss's POV

I can't stand another moment in here, the Cabin seems to close in on me, suffocating me. I go over to the door, step outside, and slam it shut, leaving behind Peeta. My feet take me to the only place I can think of. The lake. It's a place that calms me down, and at the moment, calming down is what I need the most.

When I'm standing at the edge of the lake, the low breeze pushing my hair back, I'm once again overcome by a wave of emotions that make my knees weaken. I slowly drop to the ground, too worn out to find a tree to lean against.

My throat aches from the effort it takes to not break into sobs, and I struggle to hold myself together. I am angry at myself and angry at Peeta, angry at the world and the unfairness of it.

His words and his mother's play together in my head, not agreeing with one another. The weight of everything they said rains down on me like rocks, burying me under the heavy load. For how long I linger around in the same position, staring at the still water despite the breeze, drowning in the sea of my own disturbing thoughts, I don't know.

Much later, when I'm half asleep, I hear loud footsteps disrupt the serenity of the woods, and instantly recognize them as Peeta's. Confused as to why he has come here, and how he knows that I would be at the lake of all places, I turn to look at him.

In the silver moonlight, his eyes seem to glow, but there are bags under his eyes due to the lack of sleep. Even though we left home around midnight, and so much has happened since then, dawn has not yet arrived. It's almost as if time has deliberately slowed down, prolonging this horrible night that refuses to cease.

Peeta hesitantly makes his way to where I am, and sits next to me, but still far enough to be out of touch. His gaze holds mine, but I look away. The guilt and hurt in his eyes is hard to look into.

A minute passes before he says faintly, "I'm sorry, Katniss."

It takes me by surprise, but I know he means it. All this time I only thought about his words but never heeded mine. I didn't consider how what I said would've affected him, how he would've felt. Seeing him now, the shadows across his face, his tired eyes, I feel bad. "Peeta. . .I'm sorry, too.''

His expression softens at my response, and I shift closer to him. He doesn't move away, spreading his legs out in front of him.

"I do love you, Katniss. And I'm not saying that just because I feel obliged to, but because I know. I've been having flashbacks of memories, just some moments."

Not paying attention to my actions, I take his warm hand in mine. "I-I know you do. I'm sorry, I didn't mean everything I said back then. It was just, I kept talking it all in, and then I took it all out on you."

"It's okay, I understand. But the memories that I still have, and the memories I've been getting back, they're confusing. I have questions." I nod, gesturing him to continue, "We've been here before. Real or not real?"

Despite the circumstances, this simple question, an indication that I haven't truly and completely lost Peeta, brings me a small smile. "Real." My answer seems to require more elaboration, so I go on. "This is where we had our first time together, Peeta. It was one of the best moments of my life, and even after all of that's happened, I'm glad I met you."

His lips curl into a sad smile. "You like cheese buns. Real or not real?"

I nod, unable to keep a giggle from escaping me at the memory. "Real. Only yours."

Peeta stands, hauling me up along with him. His hand moves from mine to my waist and around it. He pulls me into his embrace, the one I missed so bitterly, and I bask in his warmth. My arms go around his neck as we hold each other close.

I pull away, guiding him to the cold water. I kick off my shoes before entering the lake, and he does the same. We go in until it covers our ankles, the chill of it almost numbing my feet. But my attention is not on the water or on my feet, but rather on Peeta and the sky. We stand in admiration of our surroundings. The moonlight makes the surface of the water shimmer silver, and the stars are now brighter than ever.

I find myself savoring each moment I spend with him, the days of loneliness in the woods with nothing to keep me company have been replaced with having him by my side, and even though he isn't how I'd like him to be, I'm grateful that he's here.

Soon, we're not only standing in the water, but splashing around, slightly wetting each other. My stroke towards him takes him by surprise, but he recovers quickly, returning the gesture. We play around for a while, enjoying the night.

Once our childlike fun is brought to an end, I laugh, "Let's go back."

"To the Cabin?" He asks, earning a nod from me. "Okay, lets go." He takes my hand, and we go home, our earlier fight not exactly forgotten, but forgiven. Our careless and hurtful words are now sweet and loving.

We walk slow at first. I look at all the surroundings at a new light. More love. More peace. More care. I notice Peeta speeding up ever so slightly. He thinks I don't notice. I keep my pace. I can't help but smile a little bit. I know what he's getting at. The love and childlike fun we've had still wants to be out.

"Race you," I say.

"You're on." he says and grins.

I take off running and leave him in the dust. I have always been a quick runner and the woods are my element. I am in nature. The one that makes me feel relief and free. The wind brushes in my ears and my hair flies like crazy. I avoid the twigs and bushes. I hear the animals reatreat at the sound of my nearing. I see the cozy lights and the warm smoke coming from the chimney. I step on the porch and knock my fist on the door. I won. I can't help but grin as I see Peeta coming up from the trail a couple feet ahead.

"I one." I say proudly.

"I.. can tell." He heaves.

"In the element, I'm a natural." I say and go to him.

He smiles and takes some deep breathes to catch his breath. He takes my hand in his.

"Let's see you bake sometime." He says and kisses my temple.

"That, I forfeit right now and give you the win." I say.

He laughs and gives my hand a squeeze. We go inside and take a seat on the sofa. The fire still blazing from when we left. Peeta starts to stand up. I pull on his arm, giving him a look of confusion.

"Don't worry, I'll be back." He says and kisses the back of my hand.

"Where are you going?"

"Just to shower. I think I need it." He says with a soft smile.

I laugh a little. "Yeah, since I did kick your butt at racing you home."

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes with a smile. "I'll see you in bed, if that's alright."

"I'll be waiting." I say.

I let him go and he heads to the stairs. I wait a moment or two and then follow. I go to our room and get my resting clothes out from the bag I had saved from the last time I was here.

Looking down at my pajama shirt, I become irritated with myself. Why hadn't I thought of bringing something more interesting from my house when I packed my duffle bag? I went back to my clothes and found a tank top and a pair of more fitted sleep shorts that were more flattering than the baggy ones I was wearing. My heart pounds in my chest. I hear the shower go on and imagine Peeta under the head, the water running through his hair, so hard to tame, over his face, droplets clinging to the cleft of his chin and dripping onto the light smattering of curls on his chest.

I'm working myself up and trying to calm down, running my hands through my hair. The bedroom light is so obnoxiously bright that I shut off. I unfold the covers and lay down on the bed. I pull the bed sheet up, then push it down, then pull it up again. I tried lying in what I thought was a provocative pose, arms over my head, legs to the side, then brought my arms down and straightened my legs. I bang my head against the pillow in frustration – I'm just not good at sexy. I remember the girls in grade school nattering on about boys, seemingly in control of the whole seduction process – twirling strands of hair around their fingers, sashaying when the boys were present. I never paid any attention to these conversations and now I'm kicking myself for my superior indifference.

I hear the water shut off and feel myself go rigid, my stomach turning to stone.

A small clattering in the bathroom followed by the click of the turning doorknob let me know that my time for being provocative was over and I would reduce to being my cranky, surly, unsure self. Peeta stepped into the bedroom, he set his folded clothes on a chair and pads over to the bed. He shuffles under the blanket. I was so nervous, I was sure I'm going to throw up on him and ruin everything.

Turning towards me, he gently pulls me in, my slight frame so easy for his strong arms to maneuver. He kisses my face and snuggles into my hair, taking a deep breath.

"Wow, you smell nice." He says.

"So how do I smell every other time?" I ask, trying to lighten my mood.

"Like summer." He says simply.

We lapse into silence. I try to relax into his arms, but his touch makes every inch of my skin contract into tiny goose bumps. I hear the rushing of blood in my ears and I bet my pounding heart can be heard across the room. After a moment, Peeta lifts his head up and looks at me.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, fine." I barely croak out.

He takes my face and turns it towards him, his eyes searching my face. "Katniss, if you are worried about what happened, don't be. Everything will be fine. Gale will be and you don't have to worry about anything anymore.."

"That was the farthest on my mind." I muttered.

"Then?" probed Peeta further. "What's on your mind?"

I took a long moment before mustering the courage to answer him. "You."

He seems taken aback for a moment. "Me? What about me?"

I look at him, his face so close to me I could feel his breath on me. I shook my head and reach my hand up to the back of his head, pulling him down to place a kiss on his lips.

Peeta froze. "Katniss, what's going on?"

"I need you." I say, breaking the silence.

He looks up and before he can respond I press my lips softly against his. I'm afraid that he doesn't want this at all, and maybe I'm even bringing on something bad about me, so I pull away, but his lips chase mine. They are hungry and gentle, but sill rough and they carry the weight of forever. We kiss by the fire until our lips are swollen.

The world around me melts away and I need to kiss him, to feel that he's really here with me, and the sudden craving for his full, soft lips hits me like an arrow through the heart.

I kiss him hungrily. It feels like the first time all over again in the cabin that long night ago, but somehow it's exponentially more than that. It's a new sensation and I don't find it mingled with the dread that has clouded my entire life, and I'm excited by it. His lips feel different now, I was positive I knew them by heart, but I have never felt them trying to devour me, and it is intoxicating. The heat from the beach begins to grow in my center again. As it builds I find that my hands are no longer satisfied with their perch on the smooth sheets. I need to touch him. I reach my hand under his night shirt and it finds purchase on his abdomen. The tiny hairs leading from his belly button to the inside of his pajamas send electricity down my spine and I know I won't be able to hide my excitement. He shutters under my touch and his kisses begin grazing down my jaw to my collar bone. I begin to melt at this new sensation and I move closer to him. I can't seem to get close enough and my hips begin undulating towards him like they have a mind all their own. At this he pulls away from me and looks at me, as if asking for permission, or validation. I remove my night shirt to give him all the permission he needs. He stares at me in the moonlight with the same concentration he gives to his careful motions with Willow, finally, he touches me. His warm fingers create a feeling that I am sure will spill me over the edge of ecstasy.

He explores every inch of me, first with his hands, trailing down my abdomen teasing the elastic of my underwear. I nod to him, signaling its okay to remove the thin cotton between us. His fingers are feather light, and they send electric chills up and down my spine. Then he explores me with his mouth. He takes his time lingering over each breast, making the fire inside me threaten to erupt. He trails kisses down my abdomen and down each thigh, all the way down to my toes. My mouth craves him again, so I sit up and crash my mouth onto his, savoring the taste of his bottom lip and letting my tongue dance along his. I pull his shirt up, only separating our tongues long enough to slip it over his head, and I begin to kiss my way down his torso. I caress his burn scars with my tongue, enjoying their tight texture. He touches my cheek, a request to bring my mouth to his, I weave my fingers through his thick blond waves and he meets my gaze. It is then that I know that I love him, because his hair is wild and his cheeks are flushed, but he is stunning. I love him because he looks at me with such devotion that despite my scars, internal and external, I feel perfect and safe here in his arms. I love him because he protects me and I protect him, and I know that he loves me just as much.

With this realization I kiss him deeply, my hands still engulfed in the hair at the nape of his neck. Then I make my way down to his pajamas and slowly remove them. I move to strip him of his underwear and he lifts his hips allowing me to do so. I am intrigued and excited by his member. I begin to stroke it, and watch Peeta's face contort in ecstasy.

My own desire becomes too much and I shimmy up Peeta's legs, straddling him. The proximity of our moist centers brings on a feeling of anticipation that I did not know I was capable of. I can feel the build of something special and I lower my hips to claim it. I reach for him, gently aligning him with my entrance and sink onto him without preamble. He groans deliciously and I begin to roll my hips slowly, pushing past the burn as he fills me up. It's is a good burn, and it ebbs quickly. Peeta gives a smooth upward thrust, burying himself into me and a moan escapes my lips. I lean forward onto him, and his fingers thread in my hair. I roll my hips again and again until I feel threads of pleasure slide down my legs, lifting me, carrying me, towards a breaking point. I cry out his name like candy on my lips.

With that he flips us over in one quick motion. He lays over me and at this moment, we are closer than any two people could be. With my naked skin etching itself into every inch of his. Moans of pleasure emanate from my mouth at the change of angle as he thrusts slowly in and out. His grunts rent the thick air of my bedroom, despite the open window. Nothing exists outside of this place; the only thing that matters is that I am inescapably in love with this boy.

I feel a flash of heat, then another, and another. As he thrusts into me I cannot stop the noise rising in my throat from escaping as stars exploded behind my eyes and I dissolve into him. His explosion follows mine. His thrusts come harder and faster until I feel his muscles tense and his pleasured gasp fills the air.

He doesn't withdrawal immediately. He holds me, careful not to put all he weight on me. A satisfied sigh escapes my lips. He made love the way he kissed; slow and deep, sometimes crushing and rough, but always impassioned, always connected, and never half-hearted.

As we lay here, the boy with the bread and I, I know, and I have probably known for a while that this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.

So after, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?"

I tell him, "Real."