A feeling of floating happiness and bliss filles my mind as I dream. I don't have the cognitive recognition of what I'm even dreaming about. I just feel happy. Everything is perfect in the world as far as I'm concerned. But the dream is fading out, and my physical senses start to wake up. I can feel the warmth of Peeta's arm wrapped around my back. I can smell the gentle aroma of baked goods that always lingers around him. I turned my head up to look at his face, but instead of seeing his usual peaceful expression with that slight smile he gets when he's asleep, I find that his brow is furrowed, jaw clenched, and his eyelids fluttering about.
I push myself up onto my elbow and brush his blonde hair plastered on his forehead in sweat out of his face with my fingers, "Peeta," I whisper gently. "Hon-" His eyes shoot open and I pull my hand back in surprise.
He lashes out to grab at my throat, but I catch his arm with both my hands and force it down. It's been months. He hasn't had a relapse in months. I knew it was too good to be true. That the damage done by the Capitol when they hijacked his mind would eventually remake an appearance.
I try to catch his gaze and talk to him, "Peeta…" He doesn't look at me, instead he stares straight forward and he's clenching fistfuls of the sheets, his eyes locked on some horrific memory. His face is caught somewhere between fear and anger. Concern plays across my own features and I reach out to put my hand on his shoulder. My touch causes him to flinch and he slaps my hand away. I back away from him and crawl out of the bed, walking quickly toward the bathroom to get a glass of water, thinking that maybe a cold splash of water can snap him out of it.
As I'm reaching for the knob, I'm suddenly turned around with his hands clenching my shoulders tightly and pressing my back firmly against the door. His eyes are filled with anger and what looks like hatred. Even though I know it isn't how he truly feels, my heart aches and I can feel my chin start to quiver and my eyes begin to sting. Beads of sweat pearl up on his forehead plastering more blonde hair down in clumps. He's fighting back, I can see it. He squeezes his eyes shut and there is a flicker of confusion in them.
Around a lump in my throat I manage to choke out, "This is not real, Peeta. These feeling aren't yours. You can let them go. It's not real." I chose these words on purpose, thinking back to the game we made up after he was hijacked to help him get his memories back in order, and I hope that they will help him to come back to reality.
My gaze flits back and forth from one sky blue eye to the other until I see the anger and hatred begin to fade, replaced with confusion, and then shame. He shuts his eyes tight and shakes his head a little. When he opens them they've gone back to the beautiful blue eyes that I've grown to love so much.
He pulls his hands off of my shoulders, now a little red from his tight grip and I find myself wishing that I'd decided to sleep in a tee shirt instead of a tank top. He looks at each of my exposed shoulders, then rubs his face and goes to sit on the edge of the bed.
I shiver and rub my bare arms with my hands, then cross my arms. I go to sit down next to him. "It's not your fault."
"It doesn't matter if it's not my fault. I shouldn't-"
"Shhh." I tell him and rest my head on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," He whispers and takes my hand, caressing it with his thumb, "Did I hurt you?"
I shake my head. I can feel my pulse where he'd gripped my shoulders, but they only ache a little and I don't think they will bruise.
He let out a frustrated sigh, "I just get so mad at myself. I know that I can't really choose when it happens, but I couldn't forgive myself if I ever hurt you. And now, I have to worry that I might hurt her…" He shifted his seating position and glanced down at the growing bulge that is my stomach.
I can't hold them back any longer, and I mentally kick myself as I feel the wetness trickle from my eyes down my cheeks. Instantly I'm surrounded by the warmth of his embrace. I don't make it a habit of crying where people can see me. I've always felt that it makes other people think I'm weak. But here in Peeta's arms I have no reservations. I cry for a few moments, letting it all out. Sobs racking my body, but I drink in the warmth and the comfort he gives me. His hand strokes my hair that's hanging loosely around my shoulders and he gives me a reassuring squeeze. When I finished sobbing he lets his arms drop down and wipes a tear from my face gently with his thumb, leaving his palm against my moist cheek and his fingers combed through my hair.
The love in his eyes fills me with the warmth of the sun and I feel like I am on fire again; burning from the inside out with a glowing love for him. He leans in to kiss me and gladly I move forward until our lips meet. It is a loving kiss, gentle and warm, and leaves me feeling like I'm walking through a dandelion filled meadow on a warm summer day and filled to the brim with sunshine.
We pull apart and look at each other for a moment, a smile playing on both our lips. "Are you alright now?" I ask him.
"I'm fine. Are you okay?" I nod in reply.
"Do you want to go back to sleep now? It's…" I look to the alarm clock sitting on the night stand, "almost 4:30."
"I'm going to need to wake up in about two hours anyway to go to work and start preparing the dough for today's orders, but you need to get some more sleep still, and if I can get in a few more winks it wouldn't hurt either," he smiles.
We crawl back under the covers and scoot to lie down close together, my arm draped across his chest, the fabric of his tee shirt clenched lightly in my fingertips; and his arm draped around me protectively.
In a few minutes I've completely relaxed, and the only thing I can hear is the sound of his soft breathing and the beating of his heart. The gentle sounds are more peaceful than any lullaby, and I can feel my eyelids getting heavy, but I don't want to stop looking at him. Finally though, the weight becomes too much to bear and they flutter shut. Just before I drift completely off, I feel a gentle pressure on my forehead where he's kissing me, and I can hear his faint whisper, "I love you."