A/N: Extended summary - slightly AU. Set between the ending of Mockingjay and the Epilogue. It was months ago that President Snow was overthrown, but his loyal Capitolist followers remain bent on destroying the Mockingjay. When she evades capture, the Capitolists will attempt to break her as best they can: Those closest to her will suffer most of all. Peeta/Katniss pairing undertones.

The Darkness

Prologue

"Well, let's see it," Johanna pressed impatiently, practically reaching through Peeta's arms to take over the task. Her nails dug into his forearms as she attempted to wrestle the parcel from his grip.

"I'm getting there," Peeta said, unable to stifle an amused smile. He glanced over his shoulder surreptitiously, as if to ensure they weren't being watched. "You're sure she's not here?"

"Positive," Johanna muttered, crossing her arms in irritation. Her hair had grown back considerably, and was now a striking shade of purple. Peeta was unsure of how she attained such a color – or why – but was fascinated by it nonetheless. "I already checked upstairs, just like you told me to."

"She must be hunting," Peeta surmised.

"That's great, hope she catches a great big squirrel," Johanna quipped, sarcasm dripping heavily from her tongue. "I don't have all day, Mellark, are you showing it to me or not?"

Peeta began opening the package with a quickened pace to soothe Johanna's hostility. As he tore away the cardboard wrappings, a small velvet parcel tumbled out.

"Well…the moment of truth. Now we see if all that bread I've been sending to the Capitol was worth it."

"There are snails all over the world moving faster than you right now," Johanna insisted, grabbing the jewelry box from the dining room table. "If you're so anxious for her not to see it, you shouldn't be wasting any time."

"You're right, you're right," Peeta agreed, snagging the box back. He opened it hastily to be met with the ring he had been slaving to buy for months. The day after they had had the conversation in which Katniss expressed that loving him was real, he had gotten to work on planning for the future.

And there it was – a simple silver band, inset with the pearl he had given to her during the Quell. Sneaking it past her hadn't been easy, either – she had approached him a couple of weeks ago demanding to know where it was. He feigned innocence pretty smoothly, if he said so himself. He had convinced her that Buttercup must have gotten hold of it. With a sigh of disdain, Katniss had bought it.

"Gotta hand it to you, Mellark," Johanna began, "that's the nicest engagement ring I've ever seen."

Peeta grinned, snapping the case shut and slipping it into his pocket. "Well, here's to hoping she says yes."

Johanna rolled her eyes. "Mockingjay loves you, even if she gives you a hard time about it. If she doesn't say yes right away, she'll get around to it."

It was probably the nicest thing Johanna had ever said to him. He smiled in response. "Thanks."

"Or, you know, she'll reject you," Johanna added as an afterthought, tapping her chin pensively with her index finger. "Go to District 4…find Gale…you know, worst case scenario."

Peeta rolled his eyes. "Your moments never last long, do they?"

"What moments?" Johanna countered stubbornly, crossing her arms and peering out the window. She could see Katniss approaching the house from behind the primrose garden, a wild dog heaved over one shoulder.

"She's home," she announced.

"Oh, shit," Peeta muttered in a panic, pushing Johanna towards the back door. "You have to go."

"What? Why? You're not even going to let me say hi?"

"I don't have an excuse for why you're here yet," Peeta argued. "Go see Haymitch until I figure it out."

"Your drunk-ass mentor?" Johanna spat indignantly. "Why would I visit him?"

Peeta shrugged. "Free liquor? I don't know. I just need you to leave."

"Fine! Fine!" Johanna conceded as he pushed her out the door, slamming it in her face. He quickly ran back into the kitchen, pulling out a cutting board and butcher knife in preparation to clean Katniss's kill. With a resounding rush of shame, he realized he didn't know the first thing about hunting or what came after – he could bake, and that was about the extent of his role in the kitchen. So here he stood, his stance looking entirely staged.

No sooner than he had gotten into position, she was coming through the door. She appeared winded, but there was no look of surprise or suspicion on her face. Good. So Johanna had gotten away undetected.

"Hey," she greeted shortly with a smile, setting the dog on the countertop. She wiped her brow tiredly, collapsing on the couch to begin unlacing her boots. She studied him carefully, her eyes teasing. "You going to do that yourself, then?"

"What?" Peeta realized he was standing perfectly still, knife poised in hand. "Oh…" He sheepishly set it down.

"What were you doing?"

"Just getting everything ready for you," he replied in what he hoped was his best innocent tone. He approached the couch to take a seat beside her. "How was hunting?"

"Fine," Katniss muttered, impatiently puffing a lock of hair out of her face as she continued pulling her shoes off. "It'd be better if Gale's stupid brothers weren't scaring all the game away with their constant bickering."

Peeta chuckled. She had taken the boys under her wing when Gale left. It had been uncomfortable for him at first, but he was well aware now that they represented one of the few ties to her old life. And if it was important for her to maintain some semblance of her past – if that made her happy – well, then he was all right with that.

"Anything you need me to do to help with dinner?" Peeta inquired, slipping his hand into one of hers. Her lips tugged upward in a faint smile as she squeezed his fingers tenderly.

"Unless you're planning to make some of that cheese bread, I think we're all set."

The unwelcome tension was returning to his head as he tried to mitigate what she had said. The vision of her before his eyes began to blur slightly when she laughed, a distant echoing resonating through his brain. Like the distortion presented by talking through a tin can. She paused to study him, familiar with the look on his face that accompanied hijack images.

"Peeta?" she asked quietly, scooting closer to hold his wrists supportively.

After a few moments of deep breathing, Peeta squeezed his eyes shut tight. It seemed to calm some of the dizziness.

"Cheese bread is your favorite. Real or not real?"

"Real," Katniss whispered, reaching out to gently touch his face. He still did not open his eyes, desperate for the moment to pass. Studying the blackness behind his eyelids minimized the distractions that impeded his concentration in times like this. He leaned his cheek into her touch, bringing his hand to hers.

"I'm okay…I'm okay," he chanted, more for himself than for her. He slowly opened his eyes, grateful to see that the image of her concerned face before him was back to its normal crystal clear quality.

She smiled sadly at him, but did not question the moment. She was growing accustomed to the techniques he used to deter the darkness, as he called it. They were fewer and farther between, which meant that it was working to some degree.

"I'm going to shower before I get dinner started," she said quietly. She was backing away from him slowly, as if to ease the transition. "Can you squeeze the lemons to make fresh juice?"

He nodded resolutely, but did not say anything. She bent down to lightly kiss him on the top of his head, trying to reassure him – or herself, perhaps – that he'd be okay for a few minutes.

"You love me," Peeta murmured. "Real or not real?"

"More real each day," she stated seriously. He did not allow himself to look at her, afraid the moment would come crashing down with immediacy. He heard her departing footsteps ascending the staircase, leaving him in solitude.

He sat alone for a moment, trying to recompose his thoughts. He hated worrying her more than anything. If there was just some way to cope with the images in private – without her noticing…

The sound of running water echoed down the stairs as she turned the showerhead on. Peeta concentrated on the thrumming of the beads of water hitting the floor, letting it lull him into relaxation.

A sudden thump! from the back door was the only thing that disturbed him from his reverie. He sat up straight, alert, as his blood froze in his veins. Participating in the Games resulted in persistent hypervigilance for both of them, and it had shown no signs of slowing.

He stood up carefully, trying to quell the sound of his footsteps as he crept towards the door. His eyes roved the dark entryway, trying to find any sign of abnormality or upset.

Then, without warning, a strong arm secured itself around his neck, the other stuffing a foul-smelling cloth into his face. His hands flew to the stranger's hold, digging his nails into flesh. He thrust his body backwards to ward off the attacker, but the grip was too tight to alleviate and grew only tighter the more he struggled.

The room around him was returning to the blurry state that often occurred when he was experiencing a hijack image, only this time the dark corners converged in the middle until his consciousness evaded him.

"Find the Mockingjay," was the last thing he remembered hearing before everything went black.

CONTINUED