Hello everyone. I haven't uploaded a new story in, gosh, a year? This is my first Hunger Games fanfiction. It will be a chapter fic, so this is far from all of it. Thank you so much for clicking on this story and I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Hunger Games or any of the characters- I'm not that fortunate.

Chapter One.

I open my eyes to see sunlight streaming through my open window. Judging by the position, it's almost noon. I groan and roll over, pulling the blankets around me and willing the sun to go away. My body is stiff and I feel the bruises forming on my wrists and sides. The reality of yesterday hits me at once and I bury myself further into the sheets.

Yesterday I had an episode. They hit me suddenly, with little warning. I haven't had one this bad in a while. It had been almost a year since the war ended and I returned to District 12. People had returned and started to rebuild the town; tearing away the remains of the old district and building new, sturdy wooden houses and shops in their place. Most of the debris and human remains have been cleared away, and the town was coming along nicely. At least, that's what Sae has told me. I can't bear to leave the victor's village. I can barely leave my own house.

Haymitch raises Geese. I practice with my bow in the shallow woods surrounding the village. I can't kill anything yet. Once, I tried to take aim at a rabbit behind my house and was struck by a flashback of my arrow plunging into Marvel and the look on his mothers face during the victory tour. Peeta bakes. Peeta bakes for me.

A few months after he planted the primrose bushes, Peeta made some cheese buns for me as a peace offering. I could tell that he was nervous. I was nervous too. How in the world where we supposed to move on? Was he expecting to walk in to my life again and have everything be normal? I could feel him looking at me with his blue eyes and asking the questions in his mind.

It was Peeta that pulled me out of my episode last night. He was over for dinner, which has become a common occurrence. He would come over in the afternoon and we would watch some news coverage of the rebuilding of Panem. Sometimes it was too difficult, so we would just talk about things. Haymitch and his geese, Greasy Sae and her granddaughter, phone calls from Johanna and Annie. We even had a small laugh when Haymitch was staggering around his house, trying to get away from his following of geese.

If Peeta has a flashback, he usually feels it coming on. I can tell when he excuses himself in the middle of dinner or a TV program. He gets tense and his eyes loose all color and turn to grey. He goes back to his house and I don't hear from him until late the next day. I usually run over to Haymitch's house to make sure he checks on Peeta. I don't trust either one of us for me to go over just yet.

But he's Peeta. He's the boy with the bread, the kind and gentle baker who always double knots his shoelaces and loves the orange of the sunset. In between crying over Prim and the war casualties that visit me in my sleep, I miss him.

Last night was like that. We were eating some cheese buns and a stew that Sae had brought over earlier in the day. Peeta was telling me about the rebuilding of the town, and how he was thinking of opening a new bakery. I nodded and reached for my plate to put in the sink.

On my way over, I felt it.

It was Prim, burning and crying out to me. I turned away and my gaze rested on the fireplace where I saw her burning right in front of my eyes. She was shouting.

"Katniss! Help! Help me! Why can't you save me?"

I felt myself scream. I didn't hear it, though. I all heard was Prim. I ran into the hallway and ducked into a coat closet that I always seem to gravitate towards when I do this. I fling myself onto the coats and boots and sobbed until I couldn't breathe. I tried to bury myself into the depths of the closet so I would never have to come out. I never wanted to see fire again. I didn't want to see anything again.

Peeta was calling for me outside the door, and he heard my sobs. I felt cool air rush into my hiding place and Peeta was on his knees next to me.

I don't remember much else. I was crying and shaking and I remember Peeta's strong arms around me and his lips on my hair. He was pulling my hands away from my sides that I didn't know I was gripping for dear life. I figured that's where my bruises came from.

The door opened to my room and I was pulled from my reflections. I closed my eyes tight and sighed.

"Katniss?"

I opened one eye to see Peeta standing by my bed with a steaming mug of hot chocolate in his hand. I was about to sink back into the covers when I caught a whiff of the warm, chocolaty beverage. I sat up slowly. I met Peeta's gaze with my grey eyes and muttered "thank you".

He managed a small smile as he handed me the mug and sat down on the edge of my bed. I didn't know what else to say. I noticed the concern in his eyes.

"I'm fine, Peeta."

"I know, Katniss. I just wanted to make sure. I was just going to tell you that I'm heading into town to work on the bakery. Haymitch is home if you need anything."

I lifted one eyebrow at his last remark as I sipped some more cocoa.

"Peeta, if anything it's Haymitch who will need me today. I can smell him from here."

We quietly laughed and I sipped more of my drink. I felt Peeta slip his hand over mine and squeeze. I looked up at him, his blue eyes worried and his smile forced. The way he looked at me brought me back to the train before the Quarter Quell, and what it felt like to fall asleep with his arms around me so I could pretend I was safe for a few minutes. It was thinking about this that I realized he was wearing the same clothes as the day before; his grey shirt and his flour stained kakis were wrinkled like he had slept in a tight space. I asked him, my voice still rough from screaming the day before,

"Did you stay here last night?"

He squeezed my hand again and nodded. Then he stood up and walked towards the door. I stood up after him, stepping on the pillow and blanket that was next to my bed. It hit me.

"Peeta?"

He turned around. I walked towards him, and basically fell into his open arms. I gripped the folds in his shirt and breathed in the scent of cinnamon and spices. This was the boy with the bread. I didn't know if I was afraid or glad that he cared enough to sleep on my floor all night. But I knew that this is what the old Peeta would have done, and if the boy with the bread could come back to me then that would be the one thing I didn't lose.