My eyes meet his across the crowded room. He grins, spreading his arms wide as I run into them. It had been far too long since I had seen him. But the group from District Thirteen had somehow managed to track him down and save his life. There were dark circles around his eyes, and plenty of other injuries that would surely cause scars.

"Katniss," I listen as he takes in a deep breath of my hair.

I sob into his shoulder. I was so afraid that I had lost him forever; that I would never see him again. "You're alive," I hadn't wanted to believe it. When Haymitch told me, I needed to see it with my own eyes. Then, and only then, would I accept that he had not been tortured to death.

He comforts me in a way I could never do for him. Whispering soft words into my ear as he runs his fingers through my hair. It calms me, and then I am stepping back to get a better look at him. A little worse for wear, the bruises on his eyes obviously the result of a fight. Nothing too major, at least not what I could see.

That's when he tugs me closer, and his warmth envelops me once more. "I missed you," he pulls back to place a kiss on the top of my forehead. He deserves more, a kiss on the lips. That is just something I am not ready for. So I frown up at him instead.

"It should have been me."

His eyes grow dark the second it's out and I regret the words. "No, Katniss," he shakes his head and looks at me as if I am insane. Maybe I am. But not for the reason he thinks, not at all. "You're the hope. Don't think like that at all. No one would be anywhere at all without you," he sighs and smiles. "But I'm here now with you, so the point is moot."

I only nod, too numb and relived to let his statement make me feel uncomfortable. Then he cups my cheeks with both his hands, my arms going to his chest. But then he winces and I drop them. They hang loose at my sides as he leans down and kisses me. It is a slow, smoldering kiss. The third time he kissed me that left me wanting more. Since I did not know all the places that he was injured, and since his chest seemed one of them, I kfept my hands to myself.

"Oh, and I brought you something," he says as he pulls away. I stare at him, confused, as he pulls out the scrapbook. The one that he helped me make when my leg was broken. It seemed like such a long time ago, when it was a little more than a month. The same book that was inside my house when the Capitol dropped the bombs and started the fires. The one that was destroyed.

That is when I know it is a dream, and I force myself to fight to the surface, watching as Peeta disappears and the black of my eyelids is all I see. Yet he somehow seems imprinted there, his face smiling as he moves closer to me. While I know he is alright, that he has survived with nothing more than a few scars.

I do not realize that I am screaming until hands are touching my arm, shaking me. When I open my eyes, they meet Gale's. His look is full of concern as he asks me if I am alright. I want to scream at him, tell him he should have forced Haymitch to rescue Peeta instead. But I hold it in. It's not Gale's fault nothing happened like it was supposed to.

"I'm fine," I say, and force a smile. It was the word I have chosen to use anytime someone asks that. Usually it is enough to get people off my back and carry on with their business, but tonight Gale will not let it slide. This is not the first time I woke up screaming.

Those dreams are the worst kind of nightmares. They always seem so real, like Peeta is actually there, alive and well. I get my hopes up, even in my dreams. At the end I always realize that they are not real. Peeta is not safe; he is in the vicious and cruel arms of the Capitol. No one knows if he is even alive. The nightmares make everything even worse than it already is.

"I'll stay with you," Gale's voice is soft but firm. There is no arguing with him. In District Thirteen, his family and mine decided to share a house. If an underground tunnel could be considered a house.

He crawls into bed with me, under the covers. I turn around onto my other side, letting him pull my back to him. His protective arm around me feels familiar. It will not help my situation any, but I decide to do it anyway. Before falling asleep, I picture that it is Peeta's arm around me. His warm body pressed against mine. His artistic fingertips making a small circle on my waist, knowing it's effective in getting me to fall asleep.

Peeta's smile still lingering behind my eyelids as I drift off again.

---

First Hunger Games story! I really like writing Katniss... [:

Dedicated to Amy, who also was my Beta for this and does not remember her screen name.

Her love for Peeta/Katniss and dislike of Gale inspired me to write this with her in mind. *licks*

Please review, they make me oh-so happy. ;D