Life takes you by surprise sometimes.

That why when Peeta first said we should build a house together I didn't really think he was serious.

We'd been sitting together one morning, testing several loaves of Peeta's freshly made bread for breakfast when he first brought it up, and at first I thought I'd heard him wrong.

I laughed then, the image of the two of us hitting our thumbs with hammers and getting wood splinters in our fingernails didn't really seem like something the two of us – or anyone without experience – should be doing.

I remember watching Peeta's face as I laughed, sitting there, perched on a barstool in the kitchen of our Victor's house; watching as his face remained earnest and his eyes stayed genuine. I stopped laughing then, pushing aside my half eaten cheese bun and staring at Peeta almost as if he had two heads.

He couldn't be serious; he couldn't actually think that the two of us could build an entire house together.

But he was.

"How long have you been thinking about this?" I asked him, still wondering if he was really intending to really building a house.

"I've wanted a house with you since the first time I saw you."

His simple, to the point statement caught me off guard, and I wasn't sure how to respond.

"Peeta," I began, still trying to slyly talk him out of it. "We have a house together – this house – we've been here for almost six months now. You can't be serious!"

Peeta shook his head then, and I was even more confused than before.

"You don't get it," Peeta began. "Yeah, we live together, but this is the Victor's Village – every minute we spend in this place, it just reminds me of what we had to go through to get here."

Peeta paused then, running a hand through his short cropped blond hair.

"To me this will never really be our house – this is Snow's house, the one he built so he could keep tabs on us. I don't want to remember him every day I walk through the door. I want a house where I feel free from what used to be – a place that's all our own…"

He trailed off then, and I sat there, completely speechless for a moment, before realizing that I wanted a house too.

"How long have you felt this way?" I asked him.

Peeta shrugged, grabbing a slice of fresh cinnamon bread before covering it with a thin layer of cream cheese, handing it to me as he grabbed another piece and repeated his previous motion. Tossing the bread back on the table I couldn't help but raise my voice, my hands on my hips as I stated my question again.

"How long Peeta?"

Peeta looked up at me then, placing the cheese knife across the plate in front of him. His eyes were wide and blue, and the depth of them always unnerved me – that day was no exception.

"Since the day I moved in." Peeta said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I remember feeling hurt for the briefest second, wondering why Peeta had never told me before. The question in my mind quickly came out of my mouth as I sat across from him.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" I asked, my voice lower and softer than it had been moments ago.

Peeta smiled sadly.

"At first I didn't think it was too important, I thought maybe it was just a passing idea – after all, there was still so much that needed to be done – District 12 was still mostly just a pile of rubble."

He paused a moment, picking up his bread before cross the table to sit beside me.

"But the more I thought about it, the better the idea sounded and the more I wanted it – I know we're not builders or anything, but I want to try."

I didn't say anything at first; I just sat there, thinking over everything he'd said in my mind before I spoke – I wanted to make sure I said the right thing. I picked up the piece of bread I'd tossed aside, taking a bite as I continued to think through what I should say.

Peeta's eyes never left me; they followed my every move, waiting for me to say something – waiting for me to call him crazy.

"Well," I began, choosing my words slowly. "If this is something you really want to do, than we'd better see about getting someone to help us build the thing."

I watched Peeta then, my heart happy as a slow, wide grin stretched his face. His eyes were sparkling, and he laughed then, reaching between us and pulling me to him, spinning me around in his arms as he whooped.

"We're going to have a house Katniss! A house!"

I laughed with him; his excitement was contagious and I was secretly thrilled that soon the two of us might really have a place that was completely ours.

When Peeta finally stopped spinning and put me back down on my feet, pulling me closer one last time.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" He whispered softly into my ear, placing a quick kiss on my temple before pulling away.

I looked up at him, grabbing his forearms and nodding, my wide smile no doubt matched his.

"I am, but I just have one more question for you."

Peeta raised his eyebrows, curious, wondering what I might ask.

"What?"

Grinning over at him, I began to gather our dirty dishes from the table, making my way over to the sink as I spoke.

"Where are we going to build this house of ours Peeta Mellark?"

We both laughed then, finishing the morning chores together before heading our separate ways for the day – him to the newly re-built bakery and me to the freedom of the no longer restricted woods.

The days that followed that morning were bright and busy, filled with baking, hunting and plans. Peeta and I wasted no time, contacting someone to help us with the house plans, and picking a spot to begin construction.

We settled on a spot just on the edge of the Meadow, a rare, flat area were wildflowers grew in a directions and three large boulders sat close together among the grasses. From there, what had once been the Seam was close by – far enough away for seclusion, but close enough that getting to Town wouldn't be a problem.

Months before, when construction on what was left of the district began, the people who'd returned had quickly decided that there would be no more Town and Seam separation, no fences and no class separation, but that what was left would be rebuilt as a whole.

It was an idea that everyone loved.

Though there was still much to do, and much to be rebuilt, I did what I could to contribute, and there was nothing more rewarding than watching my home grow again, watching people return to the barren streets.

In our attempts to reconstruct our district, Peeta and I had met a gray haired man – once from the Town – who'd returned for the purpose of rebuilding.

He was an old friend of Haymitch's; his name was Cass Carter, and he was a carpenter by trade.

In the middle of all the plans, Haymitch did something very un-Haymitch like. He volunteered to help Peeta and I build our house. I joked with him, telling him that he needed something productive to do if he ever wanted to get sober, as he was claimed he did – with the help of Peeta. Haymitch just laughed it off, saying that someone needed to babysit us.

When he'd heard about our plans to build a house for ourselves, he was more than happy to help and in just a few weeks the ground was broken on our home site.

Peeta wanted me to be the groundbreaker, but I wouldn't. It was Peeta who'd brought us there, and without him, I didn't know where I might be.

It was only right that he was the one to do it. Nothing else made sense in my mind.

In the weeks that followed the groundbreaking Peeta, Haymitch, Cass and I worked harder than we had in ages. Construction was no easy task, but at the end of the day our exhaustion brought both Peeta and the dreamless sleep we'd been longing for.

Nightmares still came, but they came less often, spread out over long periods of time. With Peeta beside me in bed at night, and a day's work behind me, sleep came easy and stayed long.

The frame was up on our house, and one evening as we began to wrap up that day's work I thought that maybe, just maybe, Peeta and I would finally have the happy ending that the storybooks always promised.

Life however, is not a story, and happy endings are only in fairytales.

The next morning I woke to an empty bed.

At first I wasn't worried, Peeta did get up early sometimes to make breakfast for the two of us, something he said he enjoyed. I didn't think anything of it until I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen where it appeared that Peeta had indeed been making breakfast.

"Morning." I called out to him, walking towards him to wrap my arms around his middle like I did every day.

I reached out to him, to kiss him on the cheek, when he spun around so violently that I staggered back, confused, worry starting to creep up on me.

"Peeta?" I said, backing away slowly.

It's been almost a month since his last episode, and even then, it had been so brief, so swift that I'd thought they might be behind us for good.

I was wrong.

The wild, dark eyed look was back in Peeta's face.

He took a large, lurching step forward and I stepped quickly out of the way, knowing there was nothing I could do.

I watched helplessly as he clutched at the kitchen table, his entire body shaking and his eyes darting furiously back and forth. A harsh, pained cry ripped through the air as Peeta sunk to his knees, his head in his hand. His fingers clawed through his hair as whatever he saw intensified.

Tears pricked the corner of my eyes; my hands were shaking with my uselessness. I wanted to go to him, to hold him in my arms and let him know everything was going to be alright.

But I couldn't, I could only stand there and watch.

The strangled cries continued, and I sunk down to the floor, my hands over my ears. I didn't know what to do; should I run for Haymitch, stay where I was?

Looking back at Peeta I found him stretched out on the floor, hands gripping his head, limbs thrashing.

I was terrified, I didn't know what to do.

Then, just as suddenly as it'd begun, the thrashing stopped and Peeta grew silent, stilled.

From my place on the floor I inched over to him, pulling his head into my lap, and smoothed back his sweaty blond hair as I muttered soothingly to him. Normally, Peeta would moan following a bad episode, calling out different names and stirring underneath my touch.

This time he did nothing, and remained prone where he lay, still as death, face as white as snow.

Panic and fear took over as my fingers fumbled for a pulse, sliding away a little in relief when I found one, but Peeta remained motionless. Pulling back one of his eyelids I noticed that his eyes had rolled back into his head.

"Peeta?" I said, my voice shaking, fingers still trembling as I waited for a response.

Peeta never moved.

I knew then that something was wrong, and as much as I hated to do it, I left Peeta alone on the kitchen floor as I scrambled to find help, my heart hammering in my throat.

Something was wrong, I knew it deep down, and something this was something rest and quiet wouldn't help.

The Boy with the Bread was fading; I couldn't let that happen.

And that was where the real fight began.

Hey you! Yes YOU, you're reading this fic - I wouldn't stop reading here if I were you, or you'll miss out on what's to come. You haven't seen anything yet. ;)

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