Author's Note: I notice that I write more when it's 12 midnight.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Suzanne Collins owns The Hunger Games.
I never stopped hunting. The rebellion had long since passed and I wake up to Peeta's face everyday. He never allows me to leave.
As the first rays of the sun emerge from the dark, I slip from Peeta's arms and take my father's jacket and my old hunting boots. I sneak a glance at the bed and drink in the sight of him, as if I'm afraid that he may not be there when I return. I had just put on my boots when I feel him move.
"Don't," he says so quietly that I almost miss it. "Please, Katniss. Please."
His eyes are closed and I wonder if he's still asleep, dreaming about our time Arena where his subconscious is submerged in the feelings of pain and abandonment, or really telling me not to leave.
"I'll be back," I say feebly. "I'll be back before you know it."
He opens his eyes and stares at me. I see it there, the confusion, the fear. I know that we will never get past everything that had happened. His hijacking, Prim dying, and us losing more than we ever realized we had. "I don't know exactly where and who I am if you're not with me."
If it were anybody else, I know that it was just a line, words stringed together to make me laugh, but it was Peeta, it was different with him - it will always be different with him - because I feel the same way. We will forever be haunted by ghosts that aren't there.
"Stay with me," he begs.
I sigh, take off the jacket and the boots and wrap myself in his strong, warm arms.
"Always."