Disclaimer; I do not own The Hunger Games or any of it's characters. I simply have a wild imagination, and writing it out is fun. This story will contain of several one-shots from Katniss POV, taking place between the last chapter of Mockingjay, and the epilouge. But feel free to send me some requests, from any characters POV.

I hope you will enjoy this story, and that you will tell me what you think :)

As soon as I realized that the sound came from me, I covered my mouth with my hand. It didn't help. The sound was muffled, but it was there. I was sure to have woken up at lease someone. If not human, than at least Buttercup.

I had been home for two months, but the nightmares still plagued me. The nightmares of the Games, the Quarter Quell, the War. Bogg's death. Finnick's death. Prim's death. I had no one now. Not Prim, not Gale, not my Mother. Not even the boy with the bread was here for me anymore. At least not completely. Not the way he used to be.

Sure, Haymitch checked on me every other day, and Greasy Sae stopped by every day. Said she thought I was still suicidal. Yes, sometimes I wanted to die. Sometimes I wanted to join my little sister and my Father wherever they were. Every one I loved was either dead, or they didn't want to see me. Or they didn't remember that they loved me back.

But if I had survived this long, then I could survive for at least another day.

At least that's what I told myself every time I woke up. Every time I felt like there was no point in living.

When I had stopped screaming, I noticed the faint orange color in my bedroom. The sun was rising, and I knew that this was the perfect time to go out hunting. But I hadn't been hunting since I came back. Except that one time, but that didn't exactly classify as hunting. Holding a bow and arrow just felt wrong. I was also scared that the forest would remind me too much of Gale and Prim. But I knew that I had to get back on my feet at some point, so I got out of bed and found some clothes that would fit for the weather. When my shoes were laced properly, I slowly walked over to the closet.

It took almost five minutes of trying to convince myself and taking deep breaths before I opened it and threw on my father's leather jacket. It smelled just like it always had and it brought tears to my eyes. Quickly wiping them away, hating myself for crying, I grabbed my game bag, filled with food, and headed out the door with my bow and arrow in my hands. I refused to turn around and look at Peeta's house. Or even Haymitch's. Or the empty Victory houses that would never be filled. I thought about how I was just as alone as Haymitch now. How he had always been in that house alone. But there was a time when I hadn't been. Peeta neither. There was a time where our houses were filled with smiles and laughter. They weren't anymore. Just painful memories.

Not even caring to listen to the quiet buzz, I crept under the electric fence. It would forever be turned off. There was no need to keep it on. The animals never came close enough to the fence, and we were allowed to go out here nowadays. It wasn't forbidden area. I wasn't even sure why someone had bothered to keep it up.

District 12 was slowly being rebuilt, more and more people coming home. I guess that some people never would come home – they had moved forever – but District 12 was crowded compared to what it was when I came back.

I didn't let myself think as I walked over what used to be the Meadow. What was now a grave yard. I couldn't think. Not yet. Not now. I had to be quiet, and if I thought I would surely cry. And if I cried, I wouldn't be able to hunt anything down. And I didn't want to go home without nothing. I had to have something with me.

But as I reached the place where Gale and I always met up, my legs gave in and I caved to the ground. Not caring anymore, knowing no one would find me out here, I started to cry. I hadn't cried like this in weeks, and even then it was right before I fell asleep. But now I cried, and there was no point in holding it back.

Even long after the tears ended, I could feel the salt on my lips and I knew I had to get moving. I was thirsty. And hungry. But my legs wouldn't move, and I ended up sitting on the ground for an extra hour before I finally found my feet again and started to walk. I put up a couple of snares that Finnick had thought me once on the way, and then climbed up into a tree to wait. It wasn't for long. Barely an hour later I saw a deer, and I ignored the light shake my hands gave when I pulled the bow out and let the arrow fly through the air. It was a perfect hit, but wasn't it always? I tossed my small bag, which was now empty, to the ground and reached the deer fairly quickly. That's when I realized I shouldn't have taken it down. It was too big for me to carry for a longer distance, and I was at least an hour and a half of walking away from the fence. But I figured that if I could just take it to Rooba, then she could fix the rest. I would give her the whole thing actually, except for a part that I would give to Haymitch. I owed him at least that much.

I reached District 12 some time after lunch, and my arms and back was aching from the weight of the deer. There had been some rabbits in the snares, but I figured I'd go get them later. The deer was more than I could carry at the moment. I didn't want to loose the rabbits – they would always help someone – but if they were gone by the time I got back, well, then they were.

"I figured you'd be hunting when I didn't find you in the house," Rooba said as she saw me, and I dropped the deer on the floor, trying to catch my breath. I ignored her words, and told her why I was there.

"You can take the hole thing, just give me a piece."

I watched her as she lifted the deer up and walked into a back room, only to come back about ten minutes later.

"This enough for you?"

It was actually more than enough, but I figured I could just give some to Peeta as well. I didn't need anything. I had enough food to last a life time, with what Greasy Sae brought me every day. I should probably give her some of the deer as well.

I nodded, said thank you and grabbed the meat from her. I immediately headed toward the Victors Village and found myself knocking on Haymitch's door moments later. I figured that I'd have to knock a few more times, and then walk inside, finding him sleeping somewhere. It was long after lunch, and he was most likely drunk already.

So when the door opened I was surprised to see Peeta. I hadn't seen him for real for about a week, and since we both came back to District 12, we hadn't spoken. Casually yes, but nothing about emotions. I needed time to be alone, and I wanted to give him time as well. He lost his entire family in the War. After that, and everything he'd been through, he deserved some space.

But I wanted more than anything to just talk to him. To hold him. To know what he felt about me.

"Katniss," he said as he saw me, and I shook away the warm feeling that rushed through me at the sound of his voice. When I saw that small, genuine smile on his lips. It was hard not knowing what he felt. I knew he remembered his feelings – that his memory was back completely – but that didn't mean that he still loved me. That was also why I had left him alone. I wanted him to figure things out. If he felt something real – or if it was because of memories.

"This is for you," I gave him a small smile when I reached half of the meat to him, and when he reached for it our hands gently brushed against each other. For half a second, I actually felt safe again.

"Thank you," he said, opening the door completely. "He's in the kitchen."

"Drunk?" I asked and he nodded as he closed the door behind me.

"Not more than usual at this hour," he told me and I nodded. I had figured so much. I walked before him into the kitchen, finding Haymitch half asleep against the counter.

"You're welcome," I said sourly as I tossed the meat right in front of his face, and he looked up at me. Glancing between my face and the meat, he spoke after a short moment.

"Good to see you back on your feet, sweetheart."

"I was never not on my feet," I argued, still annoyed by that stupid nickname he had given me. But I knew he was right. And that deep down, he really did mean well.

"I've seen you stare at that fence more times than I can count, and today is the first day you actually walked behind it. That's getting back on your feet."

"Apparently you can't count very long," I muttered under my breath, and I heard Peeta laugh. I didn't mean for anyone to hear it, but I liked the sound of his laughter. I hadn't heard it in such a long time.

"What was that?" Haymitch asked and I shook my head.

"Nothing you need to worry about."

I stayed for about an hour, told them both about the idea I had for the book. Sure, it might just be for the three of us, but I wanted to do something in their honor. Everyone who fought with us. Every victim of the Games. I never wanted them to be forgotten.

Peeta didn't even hesitate when he said he would help me – he could paint if there was no pictures – but Haymitch wasn't sure. Muttered something that he'd need a lot of alcohol in him to do that. And for the first time, I understood for real why he always had the bottle with him. It was his way of forgetting everyone who had died at his hands. But no matter how much I wanted to forget who had died at my hands, I never wanted to forget about Finnick, or Boggs, or Prim. It was conflicting, feeling like that.

After Haymitch passed out, Peeta promised he'd take care of it as he walked me to the door.

"And he's right Katniss. About you getting back on your feet."

"How would you know?" I asked, my voice more bitter than I wanted it to be. But how did he know? I was sure that he didn't notice me the way he did before everything started. Before, when he was just a baker's son who had a crush on a girl from the Seam. Before, when we both had a family to come home to. Before, when everything was so simple.

Nothing could ever be like before.

"I do notice things about you," he answered me, and something about his answered ticked me off. Like I was a walking bomb or something. And maybe I was.

"You've noticed? Have you noticed how much I miss my mother, and my sister? How much I miss everything and everyone? How many times a day I tell myself that if I can only make it to tomorrow, things are gonna get better? Have you noticed how guilty I feel, and how I haven't slept in months? Have you noticed that I miss you; having your arms around me, having you fight off my bad dreams, have you to make me feel safe? Having you to hold on to? Have you noticed that I love you?"

I shut myself up then, not wanting to say anything more. I had already said too much. I refused to look at him, this boy that I loved. Because I had realized that now. He gave me something no one else could. He made me feel safe. But most of all he was like that dandelion in the spring I found so many years ago. He was the boy with the bread. He was hope to me. Hope that some day things would get better. He was a promise that life would go on.

I understood now, what Gale meant when he told Peeta that I would choose who I couldn't survive without. Because you can't survive without hope. When hope leaves your body, you're as good as dead. But Peeta represented hope to me. And I can't survive without him.

I turned around quickly, not wanting to see Peeta's reaction to my words. Not wanting him to open his mouth, and break my heart by telling me that he didn't love me back. By telling me that he didn't need me the way I needed him. I couldn't stand hearing that. I don't know what I'd do if I actually did.

So I ran into the woods again, staying there until the moon and the stars replaced the bright, yellow sun. Walking home slowly with the help of the moon, I held the rabbits in my hands and tried to make myself invisible. Tried to go back a few hours, not telling Peeta how I felt about him. Things would just be easier if he didn't know. Things would be easier if they went back to how they were before.

While waiting for the moon and the stars, I had cleaned the meat, so when I came home I put them some place where they would still be fresh in the morning. I'd probably take them to Greasy Sae. As a thank you.

I hadn't eaten since lunch, but I found that I wasn't hungry. Just tired. So after carefully placing my father's leather jacket back in the closet, I crawled down in my bed without bothering to take off the rest of my clothes.

That night I dreamt, like I always did. But not about the games, or the war, or even about Prim's scream. No, this dream was about all the people who had died. Every single one that I had known. They weren't chasing me, or hating me. They were... forgiving. They were just there, around me. I could hear Rue's four note whistle, Prim's laugh. I saw Finnick's spontaneous grin, my father's face. I could hear Cinna, telling me that he was right to have been betting on me.

I woke up crying that morning, but there was no screaming. Just simple tears. Not tears because I was scared, or guilty. I cried because it felt like maybe, just maybe, I could finally let go. Maybe, they didn't hate me for being a part of their deaths. Maybe they really could forgive me.

"Bad dream?" I heard Peeta's voice then, and I turned my head around. I hadn't noticed him where he was sitting at the end of my mattress, until he actually spoke. Sitting up slowly, I shook my head.

"No, not this time."

I avoided his eyes, and none of us said anything for a moment.

"What are you doing here?" For a second I wondered how he even got in, but then I realized that I wasn't sure if I had locked the doors or not. My head had been a confused place last night.

"I was thinking about what you said yesterday."

I heard myself take a deep breath, planning on it to be my last if he told me that he never wanted to see me again. If he told me he didn't feel the same way.

"I don't... remember everything, Katniss. I still get these flashes, and sometimes it takes me a while to figure out if they're shiny or not. But it's getting easier to guess. Especially around you. Because I know you. Or at least I'd like to think that I do. And what you said about not sleeping, not feeling safe... I feel that too. When you touched me yesterday, for a second I felt like I used to. Safe. And not just because I knew that I used to feel that way around you, but because maybe you do make me feel like that. Still. But I can't be sure, not until my head is all cleared out. And I don't know how long that will take. It might take weeks, months, a year. Who knows?" his voice was becoming more and more desperate, and I wanted to scoop closer and hold him. But I didn't.

When he didn't continue, I ignored the slight pain in my chest, and opened up for the first time. Because Peeta used to be someone who understood me. We had shared something, something that no one could ever understand. Haymitch, yes. But I didn't feel like opening up to him. I felt like talking to Peeta. And telling him about my feelings yesterday felt like a door had opened. A door to where I could be safe. Where my words would be safe. Where someone would listen to what I had to say.

So I talked. I let go of everything. Every thought that had crossed my mind since the first games; since Prim was chosen and I volunteered. I talked about my father, how it felt after loosing him. How it felt like to have to support a family when you're eleven. I spoke about how much those loaves of bread really did help me, and Prim, and my mother. So much. As I talked, it felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, and the words flowed from my mouth without me ever being able to stop them. I talked so fast at times I wasn't sure if Peeta could even catch up. But he listened. And he moved closer from time to time. Eventually he was sitting right beside me, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body right next to mine. That's when I started to talk about him. About my feelings for him. About our relationship, about how I started the games not trusting him. How I felt about him confessing his love for me in public like that. About how Gale had always been in the back of my mind, influencing me. I told him about the Quarter Quell. How I never had any intentions of walking out of there alive, but that I had every intention of keeping him alive. He had to get back to his family. I couldn't live in a world where Peeta didn't exist. I just couldn't.

When I told him that, he moved even closer to me and slowly his arm came around my shoulders. I had no idea what it meant for him, but for me it meant feeling safe. And feeling safe meant warmth. It meant that I could finally let go of the sob that was stuck in my throat.

I cried for a long time, and Peeta just held me. He held me close to him, and I kept talking. I talked about losing Cinna, about losing Prim, Finnick, Boogs. Eventually I came back to him, telling him how I felt when I saw him on that TV. Ceasar and him. How that's when I found out he was alive. How it ruined me when I found out that me being the Mockingjay only resulted in his torture. I told him how guilty I felt about that. How he would never have been hijacked if it wasn't for me. If it wasn't for how much I cared about him. I told him that he represented hope to me. I told him the moment I realized I loved him. I was quiet then, almost waiting for him to say something. I must have been talking for hours, but Peeta had said nothing. Not now either. He just sat there, still holding me. And that gave me the courage to tell him the one secret thought that I had kept from myself for so long.

"But really, I think I've loved you since the bread."

Peeta stayed with me all day. For a long time we just sat there, him holding me, me crying against his shoulder. But eventually we moved. We found Greasy Sae in the kitchen, making me something to eat. When she saw Peeta, she quickly made him something as well.

I had told Peeta why Greasy Sae was there, so he didn't look surprised. He must have seen her every day, coming in and out four times a day. Feeding me. Making sure I was okay.

He didn't question it.

After we had eaten, Peeta and I went back to our positions. I was so tired after letting everything go, and when we found ourselves back on the bed, we weren't sitting up. We were under the covers, but he still held me just as tightly. And in his arms around me, with the sound of his beating heart comforting me, I was able to sleep a whole night without dreaming.

This continued for months. At night, Peeta and I held each other, fighting off each others dream. Comforting each other from them. And during the days, Peeta and I worked on the book. We started with Prim. He draw her picture, and I wrote everything I could remember about her. We moved on to Cinna, Finnick, Boggs, Rue, Thresh, Peeta's family. Everyone we could think of. Eventually Haymitch joined us. He told us about the tributes before us, the tributes of his games. He told us more than we had ever expected to hear from him. And Peeta kept on painting. Haymitch kept on talking. So did I. Peeta too.

Eventually the additions in the book became smaller and smaller, but they still meant just as much. When we received the picture of Finnick and Annie's newborn son, we didn't hesitate to put it in there.

When not working on the book, I would hunt. Peeta would bake. With some help, he was working on rebuilding the bakery. Said he was a baker's son, and all of that. We kept on playing the real or not real game. It was mostly just small things when working on the books. Questions like, "Is this the right color of Finnick's eyes?" I would tell him, "Right." Sometimes he would look puzzled over something, and with the help of me and Haymitch, he would know if it was right or not right. The questions became fewer and fewer, and eventually he stopped asking them completely. It felt like the old Peeta was coming back more and more to me, but I knew that he never would. We had all changed. Nothing would be the way they had been before. And sometimes, I felt like that was a good thing. Sometimes.

During our months working on the book, District 12 became more and more crowded. Hundreds of people moved back, along with new people from other districts. The mines were closed, but people were busy with rebuilding our home. With planting food, breaking ground for where the new factory's would take place. The new factory's where we would make medicine. District 12 was not what it used to be, and with people being so busy, none of us barely noticed when the Meadow turned green again. Not until it was what it used to be. From the outside looking in. Because not even the Meadow could ever be what it used to be. Now it's a graveyard. But maybe that's a good thing, too. The flowers growing above the bodies, the birds singing. Peeta would always be hope to me, but the Meadow growing into something beautiful was hope to others.

One night telling Peeta about my theory about the Meadow being hope to people, about him always being hope to me, something changed. He didn't just listen. That's what we always did. If I talked, he listened. If he talked, I listened. But not that night.

Just when the words about dandelions left my lips, I felt Peeta's hand gently brush the hair from my face, turning it to face him. Even in the dark, I could make out his bright blue eyes, and in them I could see something I hadn't seen in a long time. So even before he closed the distance between our lips, I knew what would come. I'm was still scared to hope though. But when his warm lips touched mine, I wanted more. I felt a hunger I hadn't feel since that night on the beach. That's when I realized how much I really do love him. How I will always love him.

When his lips left mine, it wasn't with much. I could still feel them brushing against mine as he talked.

"You love me. Real or not real?"

He knew the answer from months ago, but I'm more than willing to give it to him again. Tell him that I still love him. Always will.

"Real."

But I have to know too. I have to know if he loves me back. A part of me tells me he does. He wouldn't have kissed me otherwise. But I need to hear the words leave his lips.

"You love me back. Real or not real?"

And right before his lips touched mine again, he whispered "Real" and it felt like I was home.