AN: Based on a prompt from kolms, the girl on fire ficathon on livejournal

Prompt: peeta/katniss, i'm okay once i realize you're here. from miss_mady

I wake up to screaming. It surrounds me. It's all I hear, it's all I feel, it's all I can think of; my addled brain won't allow for anything else. For a moment I'm sure I'm back in the Games, and the screams I hear are someone's dying breaths. Better move, Katniss, or you'll be next, I tell myself.

I force my eyes to open. Think of Prim. You have to get back to Prim, she needs you.

I open my eyes and see blood red walls instead of trees. I feel the softness of the mattress under my body instead of the hard, cold arena ground.

And it all comes rushing back. Prim, flames. Peeta, broken. Gale, gone.

The screams have not ceased. They force unwanted thoughts from my mind, as I now have an objective; make it better. Because I now have the presence of mind to realize that the screams are coming from Peeta's house.

I all but fly across the yard to his house, throwing his door aside. I find him crouched over in the chair at his table, his hands in his hair. His face is distorted in agony.

I quickly cross the room. "Peeta! Peeta, it's alright. It's just a nightmare."

He looks up at me without recognition. Those looks terrify me the most out of anything; to think that the most fundamental person to my existence could forget who I am.

"It's me, it's Katniss."

"Katniss," he hisses. I almost recoil at the venom in his voice, but I remind myself that it's not his fault.

"Yes, Peeta, it's me. I won't hurt you, I'll never hurt you."

He laughs bitterly. "You mean you won't hurt me again? No, I would never be stupid enough to let you get that close to me again."

I suck in a breath and will myself to stay strong. "Peeta, I never betrayed you. Please! Not real, not real, not real!" I chant.

These words must have an effect on him, because he lets me take his hand. He stares at our clasped hands, as if perplexed. I hope he doesn't try to fight me, as he will on occasion when his episodes get really bad. After, once he has come back to himself, it always hurts him far more than it has physically hurt me. I always try to reassure him; that I bruise easily, that it's not his fault, anyways. But I know he tortures himself about it for days afterwards.

"Ask me if something is real or not real." I prompt him. Sometimes this brings him back, sometimes he thinks I'm trying to trick him.

He looks wary, but he plays along.

"You tried to kill me. Real or not real?"

It's all I can do not to run in the opposite direction. But he needs me right now, and I always need him.

"Not real," I say with the utmost conviction. "Never real,"

His eyes narrow. "Well, you wouldn't admit to it, anyways."

I have to remind myself to breathe. In, out. In, out. Stay strong, for Peeta.

"Peeta, I swear to you, that is not real." I say the words fiercely, willing him to believe me.

He looks only half convinced as he continues on with our little game.

"You shot Coin. Real or not real?"

This question is easier.

"Real,"

He seems to be mulling over this. Something seems to occur to him, and his face twists into an ugly mask. For a moment I have a glimpse of him being tortured by the Capitol. I can see I'm losing him again.

"Ask another question." I prod him, before we lose all the progress we've made.

"Prim is dead. Real or not real?"

This is not a question I was expecting. The dull, emotionless tone in which he says her name is too much for me, and a tear escapes my eyes.

"Real,"

My tears seem to shift something in him and he's my Peeta again. The boy with the bread. With the hand that is still holding mine he pulls me close to him.

"Oh, Katniss, I'm so sorry." I can tell he's blaming himself again.

I wipe away the solitary tear and shake my head. "Don't be. Are you okay?"

I realize that I'm now sitting in his lap, with my head resting on his shoulder. I can feel him nodding against me.

"I'm okay once I realize you're here."

"Then I'll always be here." I promise.

I don't have to be looking at him to know he's smiling. "You always be here. Real or not real?"

I smile into his neck. Usually this game is riddled with loaded questions. This one we both know the answer to.

"Real."