A/N: I hope you'll enjoy this story. I'm still quite new to the Hunger Games, so I'd really appreciate any thoughts you might have. Please leave a review!
Peeta gasped and shuddered as he awoke violently with his hands shaking and shivers wracking his body. It was times like these; when he was stressed and tired, that those old memories that had been twisted by President Snow and the hijacking, confused him again. The faint silver outline he had gotten used to seeing would disappear and he was liable to attempt to strangle Katniss as she lay asleep next to him. Especially if he'd had a bad dream.
He looked down beside him, desperate to see if Katniss was there. Consciously he knew he didn't want to kill her; he loved her. But a result of his torture at the Capitol had been certain subconscious desires driving his actions. Luckily for him, Katniss wasn't lying in their bed that night. Instead, the thin sheets had been thrown back and a small indent in the pillow was the only sign that she'd even been there at all.
Throwing the covers from his sweaty body, Peeta swung his legs out of the bed, wincing as he moved too quickly and got a head-rush.
"Katniss?" he called.
There was no answer.
Worried, but suspicious at the same time, he crept to the half-open door and squeezed past, his fake leg only a slight nuisance as it caught on the edge of the door. Still he was able to leave the bedroom of Katniss' Victor's house without making a sound.
Down the hall, each door was either closed or pulled-to, so Peeta continued on down the stairs, noticing the dim glow of light spilling out under the kitchen door.
Inside Katniss leant back against the counter, the window open behind her and blowing a gentle breeze onto the back of her neck. In her hand she held a tumbler filled with water, which she sipped every now and again, trying to get rid of the sick feeling in the bottom of the stomach that usually came every time she woke in the middle of the night.
Peeta pushed the door open, saw her and paused, unsure what to do. Did he walk over and kiss her, relieved nothing had happened to her? Or did he pick up one of the sharp kitchen knives on the side and throw it at her? His conscious and subconscious desires were at loggerheads, leaving him standing in the doorway.
"Bad dream? Yeah me too," Katniss said, seemingly unfazed by his internal battle.
Peeta shuffled to the nearest chair and fell into it, his heavy head falling into his hands. He didn't hear Katniss approaching and was only aware of her proximity when she ran her fingers lightly through his hair and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.
He stiffened and then relaxed as her hands moved to his shoulders, massaging and kneading his tight muscles.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Katniss asked slowly, sure that Peeta would brush away her questions about his dreams. Even now, seven years after the war, he wouldn't tell her the full extent of his time with President Snow. He didn't want to worry her, to burden her. It was bad enough that she had considered it her fault to begin with.
This time, however, Peeta surprised his wife, sitting up straight and holding onto her hand where it lay on his shoulder.
"We were out in the fields," he answered, his sentences brief as he tried to collect his thoughts. "It was sunny and we were happy. Out of nowhere a girl ran past us, laughing and smiling. She was beautiful. Perfect even. I was elated to see her. It was like a man seeing the sun for the first time. Then the clouds moved, covering the sun, and when I looked back…she was gone…"
Peeta shifted, uncomfortable and distressed after relaying his dream. The experience was almost worse than reliving the memories of the games. As least when he woke up after one of those, he knew that Katniss was still alive.
Sighing, Katniss, squeezed Peeta's shoulder and moved around his chair to face him.
"We have a child. Real?" he asked, almost shaking in fear of Katniss' answer.
'What if we did and I did something to Katniss whilst she was pregnant? Or worse, she had the child and I killed it in a hijacking rage?' Peeta thought desperately. He hated that he couldn't trust himself around the woman that he loved. He detested his inability to tell what was real and what wasn't.
Before the games, he liked fantasy, fairytales and make-believe. Those were the days when he could pretend he had proposed to Katniss out in the woods she always hunted, and she'd said yes. He often fantasised about Katniss and being with her.
Now he was much more grateful to reality. It was what had brought Katniss to love him, even if they had had to suffer so much to get to that point. Reality was by far better than the twisted, fake imaginations Snow had made.
Katniss stared at Peeta's worried expression before taking one of his hands and pulling him to his feet.
Peeta frowned in confusion. Why hadn't Katniss answered him? Did it mean he really had done something terrible. "Katniss?"
She didn't answer, merely turned on her heel and led him towards the door and up the stairs.
"Katniss, please answer me," Peeta begged.
At the top of the stairs, she slowed and paused outside one of the closed doors.
Wordlessly, she pushed it open then stared at Peeta, encouraging him to enter.
More nervous than he had been when he entered the game, Peeta edged nearer the doorway and peered in, his breath stopping when he caught sight of the little girl sleeping peacefully with the duvet drawn up close to her face. Relief and happiness flooded over him and his breath came out in one long sigh.
He smiled, tightened his hold on Katniss' hand and walked into the room, ready to watch over his sleeping daughter and ensure no harm came to her.
A/N: So, what did you think? REVIEW!