This story is going to be a one-shot for now. At the moment I'm in the middle of writing two other stories (Azula Always Lies, Sozin's Comet: Zutara) so if people wish me to continue on this story it will be after I finish at least one of my other stories. I would love some feedback and maybe some ideas on what I should write next, I will take all ideas into consideration. Thanks guys! Now here is Fortress of Solitude.

Peeta's POV

My head aches from the nightmares. It seems every time I lay my head down a nightmare comes to me. Most of my nightmares are about Katniss. I fist the sheets on the bed feeling one of my attacks coming on.

Since I started living with Katniss my attacks have slowly dissipated, but sometimes being around her with nightmares of her killing me I still have attacks. I sit up in bed reaching over to grab my prosthetic leg. Gosh, I hate this thing so much. Even if it takes only 30 seconds to put on it still reminds me of the games.

When I began living with Katniss I decided I should take the necessary precautions for when I have a really bad attack. I walk down the stairs past the kitchen to the door leading into the basement; my fortress of solitude. I had put a lock inside and outside the basement door to lock myself in just for this purpose. I know Katniss and she could very well open the basement door finding a crazed Peeta inside. Just for her sake I keep the lock inside for me to open only when I think I'm ready to leave.

I've only had to use my fortress of solitude twice. The first time I had an attack was I was in the kitchen with Katniss, I was teaching, and failing, Katniss on how to make bread. She always gets frustrated when she can't get the dough to rise. I was explaining how important bread rising when I felt an attack coming. If you ask me to explain what my attacks feels like I get very light-headed. My body has little spasms especially in my arms and hands. It becomes hard for me to process my thoughts and to speak. If for a moment I can talk it comes out slurred or some sort of yell. During my attacks I have overflowing emotions of pure rage and fear mostly toward Katniss.

"Katniss, the bread rises so that when you bake it t-th...ah-"

"Peeta?"

"K-Katniss, ah, go away."

"Peeta whatever you see it's not real. Not real Peeta, not real." Katniss touched my shoulder to try to bring me back but it was making it worse. All my brain wanted to do was break her neck. I reach for the countertop to gain my balance knocking a glass of water of the counter. I feel myself slipping to the point of no control. My impulse wanting to strangle Katniss, I reach up to attack.

"No!" I turn away from Katniss slamming down my fist on the rising bread Katniss had made. (Well there goes our second try.) I search for a place I can run somewhere where I cannot harm Katniss or others. The basement was the first thing I saw. I pushed Katniss against the fridge my body pressed against hers. I placed my arms beside her, one on each side of her body.

"Stay. Here." My voice was husky; I ran down the basement stairs.

The day the outer lock I placed was when Katniss was out hunting. It was one of those days where the pain of games made me not want to get up or do anything.

It was about an hour since Katniss was gone that I decided to paint. Painting is one of the ways I cope with my pain so I painted and painted and painted. I don't remember going into one of my episodes but Katniss told me she had come home to find paint everywhere, canvass ripped and broken glass. She said she went to Haymitch's house and it took two other men to place me into the basement.

I opened the door to the pitch, black basement. I flip on the light switch and enter the basement.Clink goes the lock. I walked down the basement looking at what lays before me. I have an art easel with some of my art supplies to calm myself. There are two walls full of my paintings. These paintings are the ones that don't make it upstairs on the wall. These are paintings of what's left of my family lying in the burnt ruins of the bakery. Paintings of Cato's mutilated body. A picture of Katniss as a mutt killing children. Most of these painting come to me when I'm having an episode.

I push my body against the wooden stairs, my hand against a nail that stuck out of the wood. My thoughts grow fuzzy. What I knew as true or false mix making me flustered. I ran my hand down hard against the nail drawing blood. I use pain trying to bring me back to reality.

Walking over to my easel I pick up a new piece of canvas and slam my bloody hand down. Mixing different shades of red paint with my blood I start to paint.

I didn't sleep much that night for the fear of slipping into paranoia was too much. It was about nine in the morning when I heard someone upstairs. Katniss is awake and must know I'm down in the basement. I sit at the bottom of the stairs looking up at the door. Katniss's shadow appears underneath the door so I know she's listening for me.

"Peeta?" She stays quiet for some time listening to my silence. I wonder if she's tempted to open the door, but eventually she leaves the door making her shadow disappear. I hear more noise upstairs. Sounds of pots and pans cling together; Katniss probably making herself breakfast since I'm the one usually cooking her breakfast.

As time passes I start to smell bread cooking. I smile thinking about the fact Katniss is trying to bake bread by herself. All the other times she's tried by herself ended up with flour everywhere, fire alarms going off and a very angry Katniss. This is one thing I love about Katniss; she always keeps trying even if something seems hopeless. I'm a prime example.

Katniss kept trying to keep me alive even when I thought it was hopeless. Even now when I'm down her fighting my demons she still refuses to leave me. For once I understand Katniss's fear of having children of our own. If I act like this now then I don't know how I'll survive while keeping my children safe, I can barely restrain from hurting Katniss. Even Katniss has her days where she will lock me out refusing to eat or sleep. Katniss my lover, my healer, my hunter, my reason to live still doesn't know the effect she can have.

I stand up looking at my dried bloody hand then at my red painting. Red swirls around the once white canvas. Pain, pain and despair is how I should describe it. The faint light above me makes the semi wet picture in front of me glisten. I clench my jaw realizing this could be one of the most disturbing paintings I have. This is another painting I won't add upstairs. It will forever stay downstairs never to see sunlight.

Slowly I climb up the stairs unlocking the door. Even when I open the door Katniss doesn't notice my presence. She is sitting down on the floor looking inside the oven while the bread bakes singing a lullaby I recognize as deep in the meadow. As I suspected flour is everywhere, some batch of flat failed bread placed on the edge of the counter. Katniss is wearing my apron, hair all messy with patches of flour in her brown hair. I smile again looking at the woman I love. Maybe this life isn't so bad after all. I walk over to Katniss as she sings the last verse of the lullaby just listening.

Here it's safe, here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from every harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you.

I tap her on the shoulder. "Need some help?"

What are your thoughts about me keeping Peeta's painting a secret? I guessed you guys have imagination so you can decide. :)