Hey, Everybody! This will be my second fanfiction story. It will be a one-shot. No if, ands, or buts (haha buts) about it. I really came up with this very late at night, listening to Narnia music; for some weird reason, I always have a crazy imagination when listening to that movie score.

But, if you hate it: Hurray! And if you love it: Yippee! I am writing this to get the idea out of my head and onto some paper, or in this case, on the computer.

~apollogirl7~

At the beginning of it all, it seemed like a very strange and frightening dream. Children thrown into an arena to kill each other, families torn apart because of a rebellion. A rebellion I was leading. Me: the small but strong-willed girl from a place called the scene. Peeta: the boy with the bread. Gale: my best friend. All of us thrown into this madness.

It wasn't until I did wake up, that I realized all it really was, was a nightmare. A figment of my imagination. A dream.

I sit up in bed, my braid had digging into back. Not that I realized it was till now. My braid? Wait, I where braids, ok that's normal.

I look around my small room. My sister isn't in her bed. Fear creeps over me. Prim!

I rush out of the room only to run into my sister. Only, the name that came to mind wasn't Prim, it was Rosy.

I hugged her, though. It surprised her and she dropped the doll she was carrying.

"Katy?" Her blue eyes look to me in surprise.

"You were dead," I mumble into her hair. I say it more for myself than for her.

"I was?" She seems puzzled.

I hadn't realized I had tears streaming down my face until now and I started to laugh. She gives me a questioning and surprised look. I tell her, "I'll explain later."

I run down the hall and peek into my parent's room. The bed is made and there are pictures on the dresser next to it. I walk in and peer at the pictures. My father, smiling and kissing my mother at a place I recognize. Our summer home.

But, wait. Wasn't I poor and just barely getting money for food, let alone having a house like this and having pictures of our summer home.

I take the frame off the picture and look at the date it was taken. Just a year before.

"What are you looking at, Kate?"

I turn around, dropping the picture. In the doorway stands my father. He smiles.

"Daddy!" I say and throw myself into his arms.

"What's up with you?" he asks.

I hug him tighter. "I just had a really bad dream, I guess."

He brushes my hair back from my face. "Well, you're okay now."

He takes me under his arm to the kitchen. My mother, looking young and happy in love, smiles at us. "There you are." She holds out a plate of pancakes. "Hungry?"

"Yes!" I exclaim.

She laughs and gives me a plate.

I sit down at the table in the dining room. As I poor the maple syrup on my pancakes, I begin to feel this recognition. It's not the same as bread, but it makes me think of Peeta.

Peeta? There was not a Peeta.

As I begin to think about it, I realized, But there is a Peter!

I push my chair back and jump out of my chair. I rush to the front door.

"Where are you going?" my mother's voice asks as I flee down the front steps and down the street.

The Mellark's house is a mere six houses away. I don't stop running until I get to the front door.

I knock, not caring if the "witch" opens it or not.

With luck, Peter opens the door.

"Katy?" He looks surprised I'm here.

I fling myself at him, hugging him as close as I possibly can.

At first, he doesn't do anything. But then, his arms go around me, too. His lips brush my hair and instead of feeling strange, I recognize the feeling.

"Peter, I-" I don't know what to say.

He holds me at arm's length. I look at his face and all I see is understanding. "The dream?" He asks me.

I start for a second. But then I understand what he means.

"You had it, too," I say.

"About those games and the war," he says.

"And us," I finish for him.

He watches my face carefully.

"I don't know why I had that dream," I say. "Maybe, to tell me something my heart knew but my brain didn't."

"My brain knew it," he says.

With that, I smile. "You like me, don't you?" I ask.

"I have for a while," he says.

"A while?"

"Since the first day of school," he says.

"When I sang Old McDonald." I laugh.

"It was the best version of that song I'd ever heard." He smiles. "You should really thank your dad for that voice of yours."

"Yeah, I should."

We're quiet for a while. But the peace doesn't need talking. It's natural, not uncomfortable.

"Your dad pointed me out?" I ask.

"Yeah, though I'm not sure how you would know that part of the story," he says.

"Me either."

It's silent again.

"That dream," I start. "It was all so…real."

"I know." He scratches the back of his head. "All my feelings were there, though." Peter blushes.

"You really loved me."

"You and I work, I guess," he points out.

"You saved my life," I say. He saved me here, in this time, too.

"The bread?"

"Yeah."

He waits before he whispers, "I think you loved me, too."

I am taken aback. In my dream, I did love the boy with the bread. I even married him. And had children with him. Could I love this boy, too?

I answer my unspoken question by kissing Peter.

When I pull away, he pulls me to his chest. My arms ease their way around his waist. In his arms, I feel safe again. Just like in the dream, when he would hold me in my sleep.

He breathes slowly over my hair and I whisper for only him to hear, "Stay with me."

"Always."

Hope you liked that little mix up in the story. I know, "there's no background stories for the characters!" Well, I didn't intend for there to be any. Just go with the flow. However, I am tempted now to right a little prequel to this. It would be a fanfiction fanfic. Thanks for reading!