The first thing Katniss is aware of when she awakes is pain. It's not in all the usual places; the tender skin of her thigh where she was first burned, the aches in her neck that serve as a reminder – no this pain is not burning, it is not aching, and it is not crushing. It's pinching, tight, and sudden. Immediately her hand flies to cradle her hip, the pain sending her spiraling towards consciousness. Her body tightens inward on its own, ready to spring up and fend off the source of this, but it relaxes as soon as it comes in contact with a familiar roughness.

It's Peeta. His hand is there and his nails cutting into her flesh. Katniss remembers that this is not the first time she has felt the consequences of Peeta's strength. Peeta's hands are not always loving. But she refuses to think like that. She cannot think like that – she must believe in him, and she knows this so she looks up – she ignores the pain and she looks up. Peeta is there, and he is not yet awake. His face in screwed and contorted. His breath is labored and it is with a startled jolt that she realized that he is in sobbing. The streetlight outside their window illuminates the delicate planes of his still handsome face, and the wetness of it. Katniss grabs his hand, the one on her hip, the one that gives her pain - and she pries it away. She presses his fingers, clutched around her own, against her lips and whispers. Just once. Just his name.

His eyes fly open and they see her. Wide eyed. Frightened. Beautiful, she lays beside him, tan and dark against the thick white Capitol pillows. His Katniss. He sobs still, but holds her against him. She presses lips against his damp cheeks, and eventually the tears stop coming. Katniss… He whispers.

Over and over again.

Katniss, Katniss, Katniss…

Sometimes he needs to know that she is still next to him. That she is safe, and that he is safe.

Sometimes Katniss is not the only one with nightmares.