Sleep in Heavenly Peace

by peetasbunmyoven

Written for PIP 2013 Holiday Modern AU Peeta has just moved into a new home to start over when he is visited by the ghost of a young girl. Who is she? Seperate they are broken. But together they begin to heal. When Peeta finds out the truth will they finally have a chance at hope? Or will everything fall apart? All Character Rights to Suzanne Collins

Silent night, Holy night

All is calm, all is bright

'Round yon virgin , mother and child

Holy infant so, tender and mild

Sleep in heavenly peace,

Sleep in heavenly peace

Peeta POV

Trees rushing beyond my vision blur together. Not at a dizzying pace, but in a soft gentle way. My forehead is pressed to the glass and I register the intense cold from outside. It is in immediate competition with the steamy interior of my Dad's SUV. He has the heat cranked up high making it both hard to breathe and stay awake. I think I can make out the lyrics to silver bells from the speakers in front but my mind isn't really ready to focus just yet. The winding forest lined streets have given way to what I can only guess is the center of town. So this is Panem?

I see the town market on a convenient corner next to a bookstore, florist, and butcher shop. At the end of the street my Dad points out the Bakery he bought to take over. To start over I should say.

I close my eyes and lay my head back against the seat. Not in the mood for the picturesque landscape I sigh. A fresh start my father has said. Like all of our problems have anything to do with our surroundings. I know better. My family like the picture perfect town outside has proven time and time again. What it looks like from the outside hardly matters because inside it's a fucking mess.

Once we seem to have crossed town I notice the distance between homes growing and the road starts to narrow. We cross a small bridge. A beautiful man made interruption in all this nature. The river beneath rushing with the clearest water I have ever seen. The forest opens up to reveal a small farmhouse. Charming and simple with its sloped roof and curving covered porches. It could be made of ice from this distance as every eave is shining with it. I let out a relieved sigh when we park both resigned to get out of the hot car and relieved to finally be able to put some distance between myself and my thoughts.

The slamming of our car doors echo loud and severe throughout the trees. The sound is intrusive and makes me cringe. Upon closer inspection I see signs of neglect in the home. Unpainted shutters flank the windows, the chain on the porch swing is rusted and the seat uneven. Leaves from the previous autumn pile up around both my ankles one real, one false. They have gathered on the porch but never escaped, confined between home and freedom. I know the feeling.

"Hey Pete! Go on up and pick either of the rooms at the top of the stairs and then come give me a hand with what you can. "My Dad smiles wide as he says this and I try to return it as best I can. I know he really wants this move to work out. I really wish I could give him what he wants. I nod and grabbing my duffel from the back ease open the front door. The quiet creak is a welcoming sound. Like a greeting that's rusty and uncertain. Because the inside of the home is as frigidly cold as the outside there is no smell. Growing up in a bakery I have always paid most attention to my sense of smell when I walk into rooms, buildings, even the arms of people.

My father smells like cloves and yeast and makes me think of loud laughter and comforting hugs. My childhood bedroom was a strange combination of bubble gum, sour gym clothes, and freshly opened baseball cards. Which I guess is the culmination of three boys sharing a room.

As I ease my way up the stairs I realize how strange it will be without them. Definitely be quieter, I think with a smile. But why does this thought make me suddenly so very lonely?

My leg throbs and aches as I reach the top of the stairs. I know the intense cold only makes it worse but it's still not something I'm used to.

The first bedroom I come to on my left is the larger of the two. Wall papered in pale creams and floral pinks it obviously once belonged to a young girl. At the end of the hall is a smaller room painted pale green with a large window facing the forest.

My breath catches at the view as I set my bags down. There is a canopy of ice and snow as far as I can see. I'm certain that come spring the contrasting greens and shadows will be just as compelling. But it is the rusts, and vibrant oranges of autumn I suddenly wish to see. My fingers itch to paint it and I know this is the room I want. On a heavy exhale where my breath spirals in front of my face I relax briefly for the first time. I settle on the iron framed bed, elbows on my knees, head in my hands and look down at my feet. Inside of one boot the foot is hard, cold, it's foreign.

I close my eyes letting my mind drift briefly. Crystal clear I can hear my mother's voice angry, always angry inside my head. I can feel the sweat dripping down the side of my face mixed with the blood pouring from above my eye. I can feel my heart pumping in my temples with the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I'm staring at her across the kitchen that day, her face sour and pinched, the rolling pin still clutched in her hands. My own hands had fisted by my sides, my breathing erratic as I tried to control my own anger.

I was so tired. Tired of feeling as worthless as she wanted me to believe, and so tired of the belittlement and manipulation in her voice. Sick and tired of it all and realizing I was no longer a little boy she could scare. I realized as I stared into her now widening eyes that I was done in every way with the woman in front of me. She could read it in my expression and she regarded my body language warily.

I remember feeling like I was going to come apart shaking with my rage from the inside out. Taking steps closer and closer across the bakery tiles until I was one step away. Close enough to see fear reflected back at me for the first time. It was that fear that snapped me back. I turned on my heel and headed out in to the November cold and the truck my father passed down to me just a year before.

I knew I had to go before I did something I could never come back from. I didn't want to be like her but knew I wouldn't be able to stop if I began. There had been too much pain for much too long and it had built up within me like a fuse as I peeled out of the parking lot.

After that my memory gets a little fuzzy. I know it was cold; we had had several inches of sleet and snow the night before. I know I was fighting tears and that combined with the blood was making it hard to see. I tried taking a turn too quickly and lost control over an embankment. My truck flipped two times before coming to rest against a tree.

I'm told I was pinned for over an hour followed by an ambulance and six hours of surgery trying to save my life and failing to save my leg. My heart stopped twice my father told me. He had watched it stop in the ambulance once himself.

I hate that. Knowing that he had actually seen me die even for a moment. He had done such a good job not seeing or trying not to see over the years. That's how we got here. He couldn't hide anymore. My parent's divorce has been finalized for two days now. With my brothers away at school it's just him and me. A new start he said.

How do we begin again with the past hanging over us? I sigh and open my eyes. The sun is setting and the night is reflecting my face back at me through the window. I look up and my heart falters when I realize that reflected back at me are not my own blue eyes but a pair of intense silver. Eyes that belong to a young girl standing behind me.

I jump to my feet turning so quickly I nearly lose my balance. There is nothing there.

My eyes dart all around the room, my hands rubbing my face in disbelief because I know what I saw. I look at the hairs on my arms standing on end along my pebbled skin.

"What the actual fuck?" My voice in the room bounces back at me as my heart rate finally begins to slow. Shaking my head I turn to leave the room. I down the stairs two at a time aching leg be damned. This is fucking fantastic not just crippled but losing my freaking mind.

It takes the better part of the week for my father and me to both unpack and settle into a routine. I'm left mostly to my own devices as his time is spent at the bakery. He seems optimistic about it and I'm selfishly glad that it gives us some distance.

I have always been close to my father. He is a loving and hardworking man. I think that's why I did all I could to protect him to be honest. I wanted to protect him from the truth. I know we have some healing to do. I can only hope there is enough time and space for it to happen.

Being alone as much as I am the house doesn't feel empty. Truth be told I'm not entirely sure this feeling isn't simply in my mind.

I saw a girl. I was not alone in my room. Am I going crazy? The haunted sense could be a fabric of my imagination since that first night here. Yet interspersed among my nightmares, the same I have had since I was a boy is a new dream. It's a face, solemn and serious with flashing silver eyes. I know it's not real but I welcome this new dream every night.

Kantiss POV

He's having another nightmare. This one seems worse than the others. Sweat has beaded upon his lip and along his hairline. The moisture is making it curl ever so slightly and appear darker in the moonlight. I watch him toss and turn a grimace upon his face. It looks like he is in pain.

I don't know why I watch him every night. Curiosity I suppose. I thought he saw me. He did. I know he did. It has felt like so long. So long since someone looked at me. So when it happens it can be a heady thing. I stand here watching him sleep every night. I have nowhere else to go that's true but even I know my fascination is strange.

There seems to be some connection between me and this boy. That alone is odd because I no longer know who I am or what happened to me. I know I am here but not. No recollection of my past. I have little sense of time. Strangest of all is I seem to merely exist without purpose. Until this boy arrived I even lacked the ability to feel.

I think that is why I watch him. Day after day and especially at night. Watching his face reflected as it is now by the moon, he can go from such peace to such torture so quickly. It's painful to see. My stomach clenches and my chest aches seeing him experience it. It's excruciating but the relief of being able to feel it overwhelms me and I cannot seem to give him up. Sometimes I sing. I sing softly or hum by his side and it seems to calm him. "Silent night, holy night…."

He moans loudly into the night and his movements are becoming more and more frantic. I step to the side of his bed unable to watch his torment continue. I whisper,"Shhhhhh it's not real, you're all right it's not real." His brow relaxes and his breathing begins to slow.

I take the time to admire his profile, the bridge of his nose, his strong jaw now unclenched, and his softly parted lips. What would they taste like? Are they soft?The thought comes unbidden to my mind when he suddenly opens his eyes. He is staring into mine. Not through me, but at me.

"Are you real?" His hoarse whisper with his glacial blue gaze sends a shiver through me.

Do I answer him? How is this happening? "I don't know. " My voice is so soft is seems to hang in the air between us.

His eyes are barely open and I wonder if he has fallen back to sleep then he speaks, "I hear you singing sometimes. I thought I was losing it. But it was so beautiful I didn't think I'd mind." My lips lift faintly of their own accord. "Ahhhh she smiles. Good to know." My scowl returns immediately. He laughs, "Well done Peeta, insulting the beautiful figment of your imagination, well done."

His eyes close briefly as I feel myself fading away. "Please don't go. I don't know who you are or why I see you but I think about your face all the time. I hear your voice in my dreams. I want you to be real." The catch in his voice hitches something in my chest that leaves me so very confused I simply whisper, "Goodnight Peeta."

Peeta POV

I wake up with the sun feeling surprisingly rested. Sleep has never come easily for me especially since the accident. This morning however it's like I have never slept better. It leaves me energized and for the first time since we moved in I pick up a notebook from beside my bed and begin to sketch.

Within the hour the portrait is complete. Staring up at me from the page is the face I see each time I find sleep. I admire the angles of her face, and the slope of her nose. She has a wide full mouth that even in my sketch is drawn and distrustful. Her eyes are much too serious but never lacking in their beauty. Her raven dark hair is loose around her jaw in a single messy braid that drapes over one shoulder.

"Who are you?" I can't help but wonder and amused that I said it out loud I chuckle.

Shaking my head to clear it I set the book aside and head downstairs to get something to eat. Dad has just started bringing home leftovers from work so I decide on some raisin toast and juice when the sudden ringing of the phone makes me jump and I almost drop my glass.

I forgot we finally had one installed. "Hello?"

"Good morning Peeta dear." I suck in my breath and freeze.

"Mom? " I'm not sure what I'm feeling. Anxiety? Fear? Whatever the emotions they are rolling around in my stomach along with my toast and I suddenly wish I had stayed in bed.

"You know you are not supposed to be calling here Mom."

I hear her long heavy sigh. "Come on now Peeta, it's Christmas in a few weeks and I want us all to be together as a family."

Together as a family? Is she fucking kidding me? "A family Mom? Family doesn't beat the shit out of one another. I almost fucking died! So what? You want everyone to gather around the fucking Christmas tree and pretend we are normal? So you can pretend you actually care about me?"

"Now listen here you ungrateful little shit. You ran off the goddamn road. You nearly killed yourself not me. It's not my fault driving that damn truck is just another thing you are too inept to accomplish. It's not my fault you crippled yourself and can now add simple tasks like walking to the long list of things you will never be able to do right. Just like it's your fucking fault our family fell apart. Poor Peeta just can't handle a little discipline. And now who's suffering? Your father had to change his entire existence. Everyone's holiday is ruined. Why? Because of you. Every fuck up of my life has been because of you."

Tears are streaming down my face and choking in my throat. I'm shaking so much I know any moment I will drop the phone. "No Mom, you're the fuck up. Me believing you could be a mother to me is the only fuck up I have ever made." A muffled sob escapes as I try to breathe.

"Are you crying Peeta? Can't handle hearing the truth from Mommy? Jesus Christ you are so pathetic."

I crash the receiver down before she can continue and rip it out of the wall for good measure. I can't really see straight as I climb the stairs and slam the door to my room so hard it feels like I shake the entire house. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. A scream roars from my chest as I pull on my hair. It gets louder and louder until there is nothing left but the echo of my pitiful sobs in my ears.

Why is she able to still do this to me? Why do I let it matter? What is so wrong with me that my own mother hates me so much?

Sitting on the floor leaning against the bed I feel the last of my tears as I blink them from my eyes. There is nothing left. A deep shuddering breath leaves my lungs and spirals in front of my face. The room is suddenly very cold. Along with the sudden cold the smell of honeysuckle fills my nose.

"Hello? Hello is someone here?" Silence greets my voice."Please I know you're here. "

The air around me seems to shift and then there she is. Sitting not even a foot away from me, her back against the bed next to mine. "Hi Peeta."

I realize I'm holding my breath and it comes rushing out all at once. I should be so terribly afraid or at least shocked but I just feel wonder and safe?

"Are you all right?" It takes me a few moments of staring to realize she has spoken to me.

"What?" I stutter. She looks from the drying tears on my face down to my false foot sticking out from my flannel pants. "I'm okay. I mean no. How are you here? Have I been imagining you?"

She looks out the window and her hands play with the end of her hair. Her nails are short and round at the end of long, graceful fingers. They toy with her braid leaving her neck and shoulder exposed long, and elegant, fragile even.

When she speaks her voice is lower than I would have expected. " I'm real. Though I'm not sure what I am. I know my name and there is so much sadness yet I've been unable to feel anything else for such a long time. Just me and nothing. Until one day there was you."

She meets my eyes and hers seem so confused and conflicted it hurts to see.

"So you're a ghost? A spirit or something?" I ask.

She lifts her shoulders and shakes her head. "I suppose so. I'm not entirely sure. It's funny until the night you moved in I never really questioned it myself. No one else has ever been able to see me. I just sort of existed." Her lips lift in a soft smile igniting something in my chest.

I have to ask. "But I can. See you I mean. Why? What makes me so different?" The questions just sort of tumble out not even to her in particular. I just feel like I need to say them out loud.

She is tracing small circles on the floor. "I don't know but…"

"But what?" I'm terrified to move waiting for her answer.

"It feels good, you seeing me." She whispers.

I can't help but react to her words and my stare intensifies. "What's your name?"

Her eyes meet mine and she hesitates on a breath. "Katniss. My name is Katniss."

I smile. "That's well… that's sort of beautiful. Nice to meet you Katniss."

She dips her chin and I can see her smile return. "I should go. It was nice to finally meet you too Peeta."

I can't let her go not yet. "Wait!" I don't know where the panic in my voice is coming from. It seems unfair. I just found her. I just found out her name. Shit I just found out she actually exists. I'm terrified that when she fades away this time it will be for good. Or I will wake up and realize it's all been another dream. "Will I see you again? Will you come back?"

I see her hesitate before she meets my gaze and shakes her head. "I'll try. Get some sleep tonight okay?" With this she is gone.

I'm left to stare at the place she stood only a moment before. A ghost. I'm seeing and talking to a ghost. Closing my eyes I laugh to myself. Because I want to see her again. I want to watch her scowl slide into a smile and light up the smokiness in her eyes. I want to know more about her. I am so fucked.

With the holiday so close business at the bakery is extremely busy. So much so that I have taken to spending most of my day there. It feels good to be working alongside my father again and to feel dough beneath my hands. The repetition of motions draws out my anxieties. The air and my skin absorb the cloying sweetness and spice that accompany the pies, cookies, and cakes that I make. I begin to feel like myself again.

At night I sit in my room and talk to Katniss. The more time that passes between us I forget the circumstances. This seems unbelievable but being near her, getting to know her makes me forget what she is and why she is there.

I forget that it makes a difference. Late into the night we talk and together we achieve something neither of us thought possible. We begin to heal.

I smile more and Katniss begins to remember. She knows that her favorite color is the deep greens of the forest in summer. I show her a drawing I made of a sunset. It was from a summer we vacationed at the beach, and the warmest shade of orange I had ever seen. It took my breath away.

I make her laugh. I draw it out if her like a flame and it slowly extinguishes the sadness in her eyes.

I talk about my brothers and our fights growing up. She tells me she thinks she was a hunter and if she closes her eyes can feel a bow in her hand.

Three nights before Christmas we are sitting propped in my bed. Surrounded and safe with pillows my mind wanders. I wish I could touch her.

She has been intently watching me sketch and it's like I can feel her gaze on my skin. It hovers above my eyelids, along my jaw, and across my lips. If I close my eyes I can imagine her small hand on my arm instead of resting next to it. I know her touch would feel cool against my heated skin. The thought makes me sigh out loud and her eyes jump to mine in question.

I'm sure she can see the lust there. I'm not trying to hide it just like I'm not dwelling on the fact that I have begun to picture her naked on a fairly regular basis. She's just so perfect, so Katniss.

Her skin is dusky and smooth and the perfect contrast to the midnight shade of her hair that cascades over her clavicle and shoulder. I find myself fantasizing about her lips, full and chapped against my own.

In the shower I imagine them moving with mine and a breathless moan escaping them when I thrust my tongue into her mouth. I feel guilty because I often end up thrusting into my hand before the shower is complete.

"What?" Her whisper is hardly audible. Her eyes seem darker and uncertain but they never waver from mine. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I wish I could touch you." I can't seem to say anything but the truth. "I'm looking at your skin and your mouth and wishing I could feel you…..Katniss?"

She hasn't moved or spoken. Just a slight intake of breath until finally, "Where would you touch me?" "

A deep and short groan quietly escapes my mouth as I lean back against the headboard. I'm watching her eyes that are now half-lidded and pleading.

She whispers, "Please…tell me."

I lick my lips and rub my hands along the sheets. "I want to touch you here," and I reach my hand to hover above where her neck meets her shoulder. I want to feel how warm you are and what your skin will taste like. I want to feel your pulse beneath my tongue."

At this a small whine escapes her throat and she has laid her head completely back.

This encourages me so I continue. "I want to feel your voice when I kiss your neck just up the center here till it leads to your mouth. I'd taste your quick intake of breath before pressing my lips softly to yours. I taste you in my mind. I know it would be earthy and rich and fuck Katniss I bet you taste sweet everywhere."

At this she whimpers slightly and opens her eyes. Her voice is shaky and falters when she says, "I can't feel you but I think you might be able to feel me. Close your eyes Peeta."

My breathing is uneven and slowly my eyes flutter closed.

Pressure and cold is what I register first. Then a subtle tingling along my jaw. A flutter that increases in intensity until I feel it sweep across my lips. I push back and I can feel her. It's lighter than a kiss should feel but I can feel her lips move on mine.

The blood in my head is pounding with my pulse. It's also gathering in my pants.

I open my eyes to see her over me her face so close and her eyes wide open in both shock and fear before she backs up so far she scoots off the bed.

I groan out loud before gasping, "You kissed me. You can touch me." I'm so overwhelmed by this that it takes me a moment to notice she still looks terrified.

She brings her shaking hand to her lips. "I could feel it. I could feel you Peeta." It comes out choked and scared. "I've never been able to feel another person. What does this mean? You can see me, and my memory coming back, now this. What the fuck is happening Peeta?" Her voice is rising and she sounds manic as she paces around the room. "I'm dead! But I don't know how I died. Or why I'm still fucking here. What the hell are we doing? "I'm so selfish I didn't want to be alone anymore but I don't understand. Peeta what are we doing?" She finally just squats down covering her face with her hands.

I go to her side. "Shhhh. Katniss its okay I promise we'll figure this out. You're not alone anymore. We'll do this together I promise you."

A choked laugh escapes her. "Together Peeta?" She looks at me with shining eyes, eyes that have given up. I want to know what made her give up.

Her voice is stronger as she says, "We have to stop whatever this is. You're alive and wonderful and you have time and a future. I'm nothing. I'm here but gone. Or here and for some reason unable to leave. I can't see you anymore you have to let me go."

Tears begin to fill my eyes when I tell her, "I can't."

With this she smiles at me so sadly and when she slowly fades away I can still smell honeysuckle and feel the cold of her kiss on my lips.

The local library is small and uncomfortably stuffy. With only two days till Christmas I am relieved that it is completely deserted but for the hostile librarian and myself. I got no sleep the night before and my eyes are dry and tight as I search local news archives one by one across the computer screen.

I was telling the truth when I said Katniss was not alone and decided to seek answers for myself. The most time consuming part of the entire process was getting access to the archives themselves and once I had my hands on them the rest is surprisingly simple.

Katniss Everdeen. Even her last name suits her. It makes me picture the trees of the forest. They are distant and lovely.

The picture in the newspaper looks to be about two years old. She can't be more than seventeen standing next to a willowy blonde woman who must be her mother. There is a tall robust man with a full beard and broad smile and similar coloring which I know to be her father, and last a petite sunny blonde with an innocent grin and braid who I would say is about twelve.

She has a little sister.

Had a little sister.

One family's tragedy in the Seam. That's the title of the article. Katniss lost her entire family in just six months time. It goes on to explain that following a car wreck that took both her parents, the teenager lost her younger sister Primrose in a drowning accident off a bridge by their home. The beautiful bridge near the house is both a memorial and a tragic reminder.

My heart aches in my chest. I feel tears drying on my cheeks. She looks so happy here so young and unhaunted.

I sniff and my eyes go over the rest of the article. No mention of what happened to Katniss after that. I keep up my search but find nothing. How did she die? How could so much horror happen to one family?

The one piece of information I find is her next of kin. The legal guardian that must of took her in. A Mr. Haymitch Abnernathy. I write his name down and decide to push my luck and approach the ostentatious Ms. Trinket at the front desk.

I affix my most charming smile on my face and make a big show of my limp as I approach her pinched expression.

"Good afternoon. Thank you so much again for all your help I was wondering if you recognized the name of a local for me. Haymitch Abernathy?"

For a moment I hold my breath because I just know she is going to send me on my way but she pauses. "Everyone knows old man Abernathy. We've all given him a ride home from the bar a time or two. He's usually up at the hospital cafeteria playing chess in the afternoons. It's across from the school." With that she sniffs and nods her head good day to me before heading to the back.

Having new information and not having to put in too much effort energizes me and I swiftly head out the door hoping this gentlemen can paint a clearer picture for me of what could have happened to Katniss.

Mr. Abernathy is no gentlemen. He's a brass, unkempt, surly asshole that is presently glaring across a chess board at me. "So how did you know Katniss?"

I narrow my eyes back at him, "Oh through some friends at her school. I came to stay with them and met her a few summer's back before she lost her parents."

A part of me is sickened to have to come up with a lie but I figure I need a plausible reason. Not just, Hey so your ghost of a niece visits me in my room every night and I think I'm falling in love with her, oh yeah how'd she die?

"Hhmmf well sweetheart wasn't one for making a lot of friends, never mentioned you. What did you want to know?"

I nervously clear my throat and desperately want to sit and rub my leg. Just being in any part of a hospital is making it ache. "I just wanted to offer my condolences. I read what happened to her family and I know she must have been devastated but I couldn't find any information on her. I'm so sorry for all of your losses but I wanted to know what happened to her?"

"You didn't hear what happened? "He asks.

I'm shifting slowly foot to foot now as I shake my head, "No sir. Please... How did Katniss die?"

He squints at me confused for just a brief moment before speaking. "Well shit boy she's not dead. At least not yet. She's right upstairs in room 626. "

I'm frozen staring into his tired lined eyes.

He stares back."Katniss didn't die, she's in a coma."

Beep, beep, beep. The machines blink and whirr continuously creating a buzzing in my head.

She's alive. She's right here. I'm looking down at her prone body splayed across a hospital bed.

Her skin is paler than what I've seen. She's too thin in her gown and I can see her hipbones. Her hair is splayed across the pillow but looks as silky as ever. Warm. That's what I feel when I place my fingers on the inside of her wrist. To feel heat coming off her body makes my heart race. She's alive.

Unresponsive is what the medical staff says. Attempted suicide. She couldn't take the pain anymore and tried to give up before her body was ready. The staff doesn't know what to make of it at this point. They don't know why she hasn't woken up or passed on she just is.

But I know. She's lost somewhere between sleep and heaven, torture and peace.

"It's been almost a year now. After Christmas last year she withdrew completely. Took a bunch of pills, before I could get to her." He looks so haunted when he tells me. "I probably could have done better by her. I didn't take losing my sister or niece well. Disappeared myself into a bottle. I failed her, and now I can at least give her peace."

My head snaps up at this. We are side by side on a bench outside her room.

The staff carry on like puppets rushing past, oblivious out of necessity to our pain.

"This will be her last Christmas. I gave it a year and she hasn't woken. If there is one thing I know about that girl it's that being trapped in a bed, hell even her body is torture. She's needs freedom to fly Katniss."

I'm losing my ability to breathe instead focusing on the slight tremor in his hands. Two days. I just found what I thought was hope and now I know I only have two days.

I can hear my own desperation when I tell him,"You have to give her more time. She's so strong she can do this. Please she needs more time. We need more time."

I'm bordering near hysterics at this point. I need to hit something, or shake her. I need air.

I abruptly stand and limp as quickly as I can out of the hospital. I need to get home. I need to talk to Katniss.

Katniss POV

"Prim." "Oh my god Prim. I remember." I meet Peeta's gaze my wide eyes frantic. "I remember. She fell through the ice. I was there not ten feet away and then she was just gone. I couldn't reach her. I tried." I can't seem to focus. The stuffy air that I no longer need to breathe feels like it's trapped in the vice of my chest. I can still hear the screaming from that afternoon. My fists were angry and red from beating on the ice. I couldn't feel them. "Oh god Prim. I couldn't reach her. It should have been me. Peeta it should have been me!"

I can hear his shuddering breath next to me kneeling on the floor. "Katniss look at me. Please. Look at me. "

His eyes are so beautiful. I know in my past life and my next I will never see anything like them. One moment they are a deep ocean blue, but when he laughs they lighten as endless as the skyline.

His mouth is moving so I know he's speaking but I can't get past the screaming in my head. "It wasn't your fault. It's wasn't you. Please Katniss listen to me. You have to understand. It was senseless and tragic and I'm so sorry. But what could you have done?"

I feel like I can hardly speak. The words trapped inside me. "She was all I had left. I was all she had. She shouldn't be alone. I had to go with her. I still have to go with her. Peeta she needs me. Please you have to understand."

He abruptly stands shaking his head at me. "Katniss what are you saying? Go with her… no. You were sad, alone, depressed maybe. But you just needed to talk to someone please you don't have to be alone anymore. You have me. Let me be there for you. You just have to wake up; you have to stop trying to save her."

"Peeta…" My whisper is desperate. "Please you have to let me go. She needs me. Please."

I watch his beautiful eyes fill with tears and so much pain. Why do I have to cause him more pain when he's seen enough?

I see his chest shudder with his barely contained sobs his words begging me, "I need you. Please. When I think of you being gone, losing you. I can't breathe through it. It will bury me."

No it won't. It can't. He has to know. "Life will be good again Peeta, you'll see. You belong in the sun, in the meadow. You have sunsets to paint, and hope to share. I promise. Before you know it you won't need me. I'll just be a memory; you won't even know was real."

He sounds and looks so tired asking, "Katniss please don't do this."

My answer is weak I know this and my whisper is quiet. "I'm so sorry. I never had a choice." Without ever closing my eyes I lean forward to brush my lips against his. "Thank you. For being who you are. For helping me remember. For giving me hope. Thank you Peeta."

He's staring down at the floor beneath his feet. His false foot more visible from this distance. I wish he would look at me one last time but as usual that is my selfishness speaking. I know I'm not allowed to ask that now. But I never look away as I back up and begin to fade.

I never hear him whisper, "It was real."

Peeta POV

There are no nightmares. I can't dream if I don't sleep. I keep thinking or desperately hoping she'll come back.

Tomorrow morning. That's when the doctors will do it. Turn off the machines.

It all sounds so cold so removed from the humanity of the situation. I feel the tears begin again and will them away.

This is her decision. Fuck that it's her selfish decision. I know what it's like to be tired and to not want to fight anymore but that was before we met. I want her to fight, but for us, for me. I just want her.

The sun is rising slowly behind the trees lighting up the ice until the forest looks like it is made of glass. Breakable and empty.

It's hard to believe how in just three short days Katniss has gone from beyond my grasp, to within my reach, to her releasing my hold on her entirely.

There is so much I never had time to say to her.

I look at the clock and on a sigh I decide that with the little time I have left what I want is to say goodbye.

She looks the same. Seems impossible. I feel so different.

The doctors leave me alone like I requested before reminding me of the time.

"Katniss."

Is that my voice? I feel like I'm hearing it from a safe distance. The defeat in it and resolve sounds sad even to my own ears.

"You know words have always kind of been my thing. Though just like always I'm face to face with you and forget what to say."

"So I'll start there I guess."

"You render me speechless."

"That first night it was in wonder maybe a little fear. But also every night since."

I take a deep breath and run my fingers along her wrist. I savor the warmth. "You're so quietly beautiful. I know you would roll your eyes at me when I say that but it's true. You're breathtaking. Not just your skin, and your eyes, and your body which believe me I have lost sleep over."

"Your loyalty is beautiful. And your strength. I now know how deep they both run. As much as I want you to stay I understand why you can't. I have never known anyone so strong, so selfless, and that's beautiful too."

"I wanted to learn more about you. I wanted to know what foods you can't refuse, and I wanted to hold your hand. What would that feel like?"

"I wanted to find out if you are ticklish and if you fight fair. I'd probably let you win but I bet your eyes flash like lightning when you're angry. I'd have loved to see that." I smile because I can picture it.

"I also wanted to thank you. For finding me when I needed someone most. For singing to me and fighting my nightmares with me. Thank you for protecting me."

"Fuck I'm going to miss you. You know that right?"

My words seem to stick in my throat. I feel like I'm desperate and drowning and no one is listening.

"Katniss please…wake up. Just open your eyes."

"Fight. Kick and scream and come back to me."

"I never got to tell you that I have fallen in love with you."

"The first time your voice pulled me back, stayed with me through the night I was a goner."

"Please. I'm asking you to just stay…stay with me."

The machines continue as I stand shaky on my feet and slowly kiss her cheek. I cherish hearing her breathe.

"Goodbye Katniss. Goodnight."

I sit with Haymitch until the last moment but as I hear the beeping of the machines taper off into silence I can't stand it and have to go. I have to get out into the open before I lose myself completely. I need air. I need her. She's gone.

Christmas comes and passes and behind it follows the snow. Months melt into one another until the view outside my bedroom changes growing lush and full. I think of her when I see the greens that flutter in the breeze and shade the forest floor.

She was right. Life does go on. It just is never the same. I can smile. I have some good days.

Others I am so caught up in the memory of her and my dreams of what could have been that it makes it hard to move.

It's on one of those days that I smell it.

I'm standing at the open window with my eyes closed breathing deeply... honeysuckle?

It taunts my senses and clenches my heart as the wind whips it around my body. Still I breathe in as much as I can, selfish and desperate to imagine she could be here.

I can imagine her profile and hear her voice.

"Hi Peeta." I miss her voice so much. It seems so real.

"I'm sorry. I would have come sooner but it took me a while."

Like months before I turn too quickly my eyes trying to adjust after staring into the sunlight. She's here. Standing here in front of me

I stand so still afraid to blink then ask, "How? What are... how is this possible?

She looks down and that slow smile almost makes me want to collapse, my legs are shaking. I'm shaking.

She clears her throat and sounds shy. "My heart, it ummmm after they unplugged the machines it started up again, on its own. The doctors didn't know what to do, and well I woke up. Just like that."

I'm afraid to move, afraid this all in my mind. I whisper, "Just like that."

She is rambling now, "They sent me home a week later. Haymitch talked about you. I was so confused. My memory it only went as far as the night I took the pills. Even then it was vague. I've been seeing someone. There's been therapy, medicine, it's been hard but…" She takes a deep, uncertain breath.

She's alive. It's like a chant in my head. I look at her. There is a light pink in her cheeks. Her chest rises and falls with each of her breaths.

Those beautiful fingers play with the ends of her hair. I can't believe I'm hearing her voice.

She closes her eyes briefly as she explains, "I began having these dreams. Lovely dreams. There were all these colors, like paintings, and so much peace. There was a voice, a man's voice. He said the most wonderful things and his presence well I've never felt more safe. It was you Peeta. I remembered the blue of your eyes first. The crooked lift of your smile. When the sun would set I could hear your laugh. It was so much it overwhelmed me but it wouldn't let up. I remembered the sound of your pencil across paper, how you take you tea, and seeing the breeze from the open window blow the hair back from your face. I couldn't escape you. After a while I didn't want to."

I whisper, "You're here. You're alive."

She smiles. "Yes." "I'm alive."

I release the breath I've been holding. "You came back to me."

She takes a step closer then another until she is so close I can feel the warmth of her body and mine begins to shudder.

Her voice is smoky and warm as she whispers in my ear, "Yes Peeta I came back to you."

I reach for her hand and when my fingers close over the solid, steady feel of her pulse tears catch in my throat. "You stayed. You stayed… with me."

She leans into me and meets my eyes. "Thank you for fighting for me Peeta. For wanting me to stay."

I slide my hands into the hair at the base of her head. It's like satin through my fingers. Resting my head against hers I can taste her in my mouth. Her breath is heady and perfect. "Always Katniss. I want you to stay with me, always."