Disclaimer: Katniss and Peeta are not mine.

A/N: This fan fiction is inspired by the following conversation between Peeta and Katniss from the film Catching Fire:

Peeta: You see Katniss, the way the whole "friends" thing works is, you have to tell each other...the deep stuff.

Katniss: The "deep stuff"? Uh-oh, like what?

Peeta: Like...what is your favorite color?

Katniss: Green. What's yours?

Peeta: Orange.

Katniss: Like Effie's hair?

Peeta: No, not that kind of orange. But more of a...sunset orange.

…...

The Forest and the Sunset

Green and orange.

Those are two colors you would never think to blend so beautifully. When you mix the two, you get a muddy brown. But as I sit here with you now, Peeta, on a grassy lawn in the forest where I used to hunt, I see now that that anything and anyone can come together as one, no matter how unlikely the pairing.

As we sit together in the forest, your arm drapes around my shoulders, while the other rests protectively on my swollen belly, and I lean into you, knowing there's no where else I'd rather be. I once thought we would never have these moments together, after the Capitol hijacked you and twisted your memories beyond recall. But as we gaze at the sky and watch the sunset, I can't help but think how grateful I am to have you with me.

I remember a day during our Victory Tour, I told you my favorite color was green, and you said yours was orange. I've always loved green, Peeta. It takes me back to when my father taught me how to hunt in the forest, and the times when I tried to teach Prim and failed. It reminds me of the many days I spent hunting and snaring with Gale, and above all, it was the first color I regarded as a soothing sight for sore eyes. District 12 was a world of concrete, wood, slick snow, and ugly, black coal. When my father started taking me into the woods, beyond the fence that barred us from the natural world, it felt like freedom.

To tell you the truth, I've always thought of myself as a forest: strong, independent, and untouched and unbroken by the society we lived in. I could function and survive on my own without intervention. I lived, and I got by, for myself, Prim, and for my mother. I won't lie I was scared to death when I realized that the responsibilities of taking care of my family fell on me when Mom tuned out after my father's death. It took a while before I pulled myself together, but eventually I did. I was a forest; I was strong, and I could provide.

But on that fateful day when we were reaped for the Games, I felt as if my world had come crashing down. Going to the Capitol in my sister's place was the only way I could protect her, but that meant I had to entrust her with Mom. And then when Effie called your name, I flashed back to the day you threw me a few loaves of partially burnt bread. I knew you as the baker, the boy I occasionally saw at school, but didn't know too well. If I was a forest, Peeta, then I guess as the time, you were the sun, shining high in the sky. You were a familiar presence in my life, but one not necessarily close to me.

Do you remember the day we were first interviewed by Caesar Flickerman? You confessed to all of Panem that you loved me. I was so angry and confused that I pushed you into the urn, and for that, I'm sorry. I thought you were playing the Capitol's game, making me look weak to steal away potential sponsors and increase my chances of dying in the arena. But little did I know that your words were sincere, and that you would become my sunset.

That's why I brought you here, today: to show you the sunset as it is seen in the woods I love so much, as you once did for me in the Capitol. That was the day before our second Games, and after an afternoon picnic and a nap, you woke me so that I could see the sun set behind the candy-colored buildings of the city. And here, as I rest against you, safe in your arms, the sun starts to sink, drawing closer until green meets orange. It's not long before the sight takes our breath away, as heavenly red-orange rays penetrate through the leaves in the trees, which are swaying in a gentle breeze, and cast a fiery glow on the ground where shadows do not reach. From some angles, I guess it would look as if the forest were catching fire.

And that's what happened to me, Peeta. After the first Games, I tried to forget, about everything. All I wanted was to go home back to my sister, reclaim my bow and arrows, and return to my old life. I never anticipated we would return to the arena, because we were supposed to be forever exempt upon winning. Until then, when the cameras weren't looking, I ignored you, for the most part. It was clear that I didn't feel for you what you felt for me, and I never thought those feelings would someday be mutual. When the Capitol came to bury its nose into our business through interviews and high-tech cameras, I won't deny it was awkward pretending to love you again, but I think somewhere along the way I stopped pretending. I just didn't fully realize it until later. I was so focused on seeing the effect I had over Panem and its people, my strengthening yet reluctant role as a leader of rebellion against our society. I didn't want people looking up to me that way, but I couldn't help it. I was catching fire and so was my heart.

I guess what they say is true: You never really know what you have until you lose it. Do you remember when you hit the force field and died in the second arena? Probably not, but I do. In that instant, when I realized you might never breathe again, my world went dark. Sunset had turned into night, and I was not sure I would ever see light again. I was extremely lucky, though, because Finnick breathed life back into you and returned to me my sunset. I almost killed him, Peeta. As I panicked, thinking the Gamemakers were going to fire your cannon and come to collect you, I thought Finnick shoved me aside to finish you off, but he saved you instead, and because of that I am forever indebted to him.

It is starting to get dark now, and I feel the beginnings of fatigue creep through my body and weigh on my eyelids, but there is no danger here, so we stay a little longer. There isn't a lot to see, now, with the sun sinking further behind the trees and hills, and the shadows emerging from their hiding places, casting us into the night. As stars begin to dot the sky and the breeze begins to still, all there is to hear is the song of the mockingjays ringing through the trees. I smile and whistle four familiar notes, to which they sing, and even in the dark I can see this makes you smile. You pull me in closer and stroke my hair as we listen. Meanwhile, I rub my belly, believing deep down that although our child has yet to be born, he, or she, can hear the mockingjay song, too.

And all the while, I wonder if you can hear my own song, Peeta. Back in the dark days, I became a beacon of hope for the people in the districts, and in their eyes, I became the mockingjay, singing the song of rebellion and a demand for change. Then in the midst of everything, I crooned my lament when my world became dark again, after the Capitol snatched you away from me, after Prim died, after Gale and my Mom drifted from my life, leaving District 12 behind.

I will never forget or get over all that we have lost in the war against the Capitol, but now that the storm has passed, the mockingjay within sings of my love for you, and our child-to-be. It rejoices in the changes our society has made, so that our child may grow up in a better world than the one we once knew.

Most would refer to the love of their life as their sunshine, but as I have said, you are my sunset, and you complete me. That's something you can always be sure of, Peeta. My feelings for you are forever genuine, and my own game against the Capitol, where love was once nothing more than a tool for my benefit, has long since been ceased.

THE END