AN: This is my first Hunger Games fanfiction, so I'm just kind of hoping I got it right. I know it's pretty short, but I liked it. Just a little one shot about a night that Peeta and Katnis spend together on the train on their way back to the Hunger Games in Catching Fire.
Disclaimer: I am not Susanne Collins. I do not own The Hunger Games, Peeta and Katnis, anything. Yay.
"Peeta!" I yell, tearing through the thick brush. Where is he? He's got to be here somewhere. I run, branches snagging on my body, cutting my clothes and ripping my skin.
I must find him. We're in terrible danger, this I know for sure. I saw the monsters chasing me. They were made by the Capital- no doubt about that. The upper-bodies of those who had mattered to me – Rue, Thresh, and my father – neatly gilded to the body of a lion, this is what follows me.
I've seen them myself. With long fangs that drip with blood and sharp claws that could rip out your heart in one swift swipe, they are pure killing machines. And it is Peeta and me that they want.
The cuts covering my body leave a clear trail to my pursuers, a trail reeking of my blood. But I still run. I run for all I am worth, to Peeta. Peeta, too, is in danger and I must find him. Together we will win; we always do.
"Peeta!" I scream again. The monsters are gaining on me. I can hear them behind me now. If I don't find him soon we'll both die. In desperation, I break into a sprint. My legs pump up and down with my heartbeat, my arms swinging by my sides. My breath is ragged and my heart pounds heavily in my chest as my vision becomes tinged with red.
The forest falls from around me and suddenly I am in a clearing. The running gets easier, for both my predators and me. But after a few seconds, I screech to a stop. A picture of horror is before me.
Three of the monsters are feeding on human flesh. The bodies of Prim, my mother, and Madge form the lion devouring their meal. Their feast is worse still, I recognize the long, dark hair and the olive skin of the Seem. These three I cared for in life glower at me in their death as the finish the scraps of what was Gale.
The three behind me have now caught up and watch as I fall to my knees. "No!" I sob. "No!"
I cry for them – for the seven I have lost, as the remains of the six begin to devour me. I feel the tugging, but no pain as they rip flesh from bone. But I do not cry for myself.
A monster with Gale's body join their meal, followed quickly by another. But this eighth monster does not eat. He shakes the flowing blond hair from his face and reaches out with his paw.
The monster in Peeta's form shakes my shoulder and speaks, his voice a thousand miles away.
"Katniss," he calls. "Katniss, stop. Come on, it's okay. Come on, Katniss. Wake up…"
And so I do. The scene in front of me whirls and fades. In its place comes Peeta's face. "Wake up, Katniss."
I nod to show I am awake, but the terror I feel hasn't faded with the dream. Tears run down my cheeks as I curl myself into a ball. I felt Peeta's arms encircle me.
"It's okay," he says, and though I know he is right, the horror doesn't leave. I can feel myself shaking, but I can't seem to stop.
I look around the room, searching for a distraction. But the train compartment we are in holds no solace for me. It is plain by the Capital's standards. The walls are a gentle coffee color, the floor a polished wood that I recognize as oak. The furniture is basic. A double bed made of a solid maple wood, draped with a taupe-colored comforter and patchwork quilt. There is a dresser in the corner made from the same wood as the bed, and a small table with a lamp, but otherwise the room is empty. My eyes cast around again, refusing to look at Peeta, and finally land on the quilt.
It is made of a series of square representing the Districts. Each row has twelve squares, one for each. The first row shows their products. Electrics for District 3, fishing for 4, coal for 12, and so one. The second shows the Justice Building of each District, and I notice that although the Justice Building is the nicest building in District 12, it is still decidedly shabby compared to other Justice Buildings. The rows continue, but it is the last one that fascinates me. In each square is a group of people. I can't figure out who they are until I reach District 12's square and see my own face staring up at me. They are the victors from each District. These are the people who Peeta has been watching on tapes for months, the people who I, who we, will soon be thrown back into the arena with.
Thoughts of the arena bring me back to my dream, and I begin to cry again. Peeta pulls me tighter into him, my back against his chest.
"Katniss," he says. "It's okay. It was only a dream." I roll over in my sleep to face him. His hair is tousled and messy, his eyes sleepy and his face tired. I shouldn't keep him awake. He needs his sleep, and it's not as though he ever wakes me up.
"I know," I say. "I'm fine."
Peeta looks into my eyes and shakes his head. "No, you aren't." Somehow he knows, he always knows when it's really okay, and when I'm still terrified inside. He tightens his grips, this time pulling me into his body facing him. I relax into him.
"You're right," I say.
"Of course I am," Peeta says, laughing a little. "I'm always right."
Sometimes I wonder if I don't actually feel about him how he feels about me. He is so sweet, he cares so much. Haymitch is right; I could live a thousand lives, die a million painful deaths at the hands of the lion-hybrids and still not deserve Peeta.
I wrap my arms around him, wanting to thank him for waking up in the middle of the night for me, for being there for me when there was no one else.
We lay there until I calm down, until I think about something else. I don't know what Peeta thinks about, but I think about him. He is always there for me, even when I am so undeserving. I can't even love him back for what he does, but I know I'll never stop being thankful. I'll never for a minute forget all the help and courage that Peeta gives me. And I will never, ever forget about the love he provides when I need it most. About how he believes in me unconditionally when there is no one else there. For that, he will always be in my highest esteem, I will always be more indebted to him than I can ever pay back, and he will always be my friend.
I am lost in thought when Peeta pulls back, ready to sleep again, but I pull him back towards me. Instinctively, I touch my lips to his.
"Thank you," I say, "Thank you for everything." Then I roll onto my front, my body half on and half off of his, one arm thrown across his shoulder. Peeta wraps his arms around my waist, and the two of us fall asleep. When we wake, we will have to face the world, but as always, we will face it together.
AN: Awww. Okay, well, I thought it was sweet. I know it's too late to hope for Peeta but he's just so... amazing... It's kind of painful how amazing Peeta is. It hurts.
Even though she'll probably never read this, I just wanted to thank DeviantArt's burdge-bug for the description at the end. She drew a picture that looked like that and I just couldn't resist putting it in this story. If you don't know of her (.com/gallery/) she does amazing drawings for pretty much anything mainstream that you've read. I would highly suggest checking her out.
Thanks for reading!