Peeta grounds himself in routines.
The episodes, or psychotic fits as Dr. Aurelis refers to them, are kept at bay by the structure of a daily routine. It redirects his brain, forces his focus to zero in on one target, whether it's a morning sprint as the sun rises, or losing himself in the feel of his muscles at work as he hefts heavy bags of flour to carry into the back room of the bakery, or growing his own vegetables.
So, it's no surprise when the arrival of winter finds him up to his elbows in frosty top soil planting hearty root vegetables; potatoes, squash, carrots, and the tougher leafy greens that can be boiled with cubes of venison and onion and eaten with her favorite cheese buns. It's a hearty and healthy meal without the extravagant gluttony of some of the Capitol foods, they experienced.
But, Katniss can't help but wonder about it all, even as she lets herself smile while watching him harvest carrots; watching his eyes admire the contrast of green leaves and bright orange vegetables, probably thinking about how much he'd like to test the colors on a piece of stretched fabric, pull oranges and greens from his collection of paints and mix and brush them on fabric with the same tenderness, he uses to chase her nightmares away.
Does he need her, anymore?
Does she even fit into this perfectly structured lifestyle of his?
She's too busy pondering where she might even begin to fit in his life, she doesn't realize it's growing dark, too dark to gather, and Peeta's gathered his harvest for the night, carrying it into the house to be washed.
"Hey." his voice is soft, and it's almost instinctive to lean over and kiss her cheek, but she jerks away before his lips even get close to her skin. He drops the carrots in the sink and turns to her, face contorted in confusion. "Katniss?"
"What?" Katniss hisses through clenched teeth.
"Hey," Peeta doesn't think twice about reaching for her, eyes widening in concern. "What's wrong?"
"Do you even need me, anymore, Peeta?" she snaps before she can control exactly what flies out of her mouth - not that she's any good at that, but she tries for Peeta's sake. She has to be careful. Certain words trigger him and she's unknowingly stumbled on them a time or two.
"What?!" Peeta is honest to God looking at her like she's the craziest person to ever walk planet earth. "Are you insane?"
"You have your routines, Peeta." Katniss insists, pointing to the carrots - those damn orange vegetables - in the sink. "You haven't had an episode, and the last time you had one, you calmed yourself down. What am I even here for, Peeta? Do I even fit in your life, anymore?"
"Damn it, Katniss! You're so blind, sometimes!" Peeta growls, icy blue eyes focused intently on her. "Katniss, you don't even see it!"
"See what?!"
"My routine only works because you're in it!" Peeta laughs angrily and it sounds so harsh and gritty, she wonders how someone, whose laugh is usually like sunshine, can make such a noise. "I run the same trail every morning, the edge of the woods you hunt in. When I'm at work, I bake cheese buns just before noon because you come in after hunting. When I lift the bags of flour, I remember you telling Haymitch how strong I am. I feel better for knowing you think that of me!" oh, how he loves this silly, silly woman and every insecure little part of her. She doesn't even know how amazing she is. "Everything about my routine involves you, Katniss. Everything."
"It just doesn't seem like it, sometimes." Katniss sighs softly.
"I know." Peeta nods, edging closer to her. "I know you must get sick of my routine. But it keeps us both safe. I don't have episodes and I don't worry about hurting you."
"Peeta, I didn't - "
"Sweetheart," he pinches her t-shirt between two fingers and tugs her forward, slinging his arm around her neck. His other arm wraps around her midsection, large hand splayed in the middle of her back. He buries his face in her hair and kisses her head. "If there is ever a day when I don't need you, then there is something wrong and you should have me locked up. You're my fire, Katniss."
"I don't want to lose you, Peeta."
It's rare.
Very, very rare and Peeta is the only one she'd ever let witness these moments, but sometimes, Katniss feels far more vulnerable than she thinks is acceptable. He's not sure why, but right now, she's very vulnerable about where she fits into his life and he wonders if maybe a change in his routine, actively involving her might prove that he will never not need her.
"You won't, sweetheart." Peeta shifts, prosthetic dragging on the wood floor. "I'm always going to be here. I'm always going to need your fire."
"Why would you need fire, Peeta?" Katniss wonders, allowing her head to fall to his shoulder.
"Because the Capitol was cold." he explains, lips brushing the outer shell of her ear. "Icy, even. There were times I thought I'd never feel warmth again, in any form, but especially yours. You chase away the ice and the pain and it's warm, when you're around. You're so different to them." They're all dead, now, she's pretty sure but he still has vivid memories of the pain they were capable of inflicting. "I can breathe air that isn't sterile, or hazy with drugs. I can think without having my thoughts hijacked and twisted. I can say what I want in words I choose. Nothing is scripted. I'm not scared, Katniss."
"I am."
"Of what?" Peeta inquires, hand rubbing soothing circles.
"That you're going to realize that someone else out there is better than me." Katniss can smell the earthy scent of top soil, all organic minerals and fresh water and frost, clinging to his shirt and it comforts her far more than some of the extravagant, oily colognes he had been forced to wear at the Capitol. "That, I'm too much fire and I'll only burn you."
"I don't know if you've noticed but I have a history of burning things." Peeta teases lightly, calling up a far away memory of a rainy Sunday afternoon, when a loaf of burnt bread saved her life. "Sure, you're all fire and stubbornness, but there's more to you. Things that you show me that you'd never show other people."
"Like what?" she can't help but be a little skeptical.
"You're still exhausted. It's been a year since the war ended but you still feel the effects." he murmurs against her head. "You have nightmares that you can't chase away and there are some gray areas - things you don't remember clearly. Those memories were dulled by morphling. You don't tell anyone but the dullest memory you have is of your mother. And the clearest memory." he pauses because he honestly can't believe this. "Your clearest memory is of me."
"I missed you."
"I know." Peeta kisses her head. "I love you, Katniss Everdeen. That is real. Very, very real."
He'll never say he missed her, too.
He didn't. It's not him being a cold bastard a'la Haymitch, but rather, him stating a simple truth of being hijacked by the Capitol. He wasn't capable of missing her when the Capitol twisted her into something she wasn't.
A mutt.
A gnarled, twisted mess of a memory that threatened his very being.
It took him nearly a year to reattach himself to the idea that she wasn't a mutt. It took them a year of playing the 'real or not real?' game to work out for themselves, who they were with each other, and why they needed each other so damn badly.
"Gale said I'd picked the person I couldn't be without." it's common knowledge, and a bit of a joke between them that she heard him and Gale discussing her. She doesn't care, and neither does he. "I need you to be here with me. I need you to need me, Peeta."
"Always."