Hey all! I recently re-watched the Hunger Games movies and had the sudden inspiration to write about one of Peeta's flare-ups after his brainwashing at the Capitol. This is before the epilogue after the final chapter.

The idea of getting married had seemed so ridiculous at the time. I remember thinking how ridiculous it was, even on our wedding day to have a wedding or even a marriage. We had, at one point been property of the Capitol and the thought of their star-crossed-lovers of District 12 getting married in real life was near laughable. But we did, and we were blissfully happy about it. It took a long time to get happy at all, much less enough to decide a wedding and marriage were worth anything in this new world. Peeta's episodes were less and less, my nightmares began to fade, and we finally allowed ourselves to actually enjoy President Snow free Panem.

While the world moved on, we stayed in our little corner away from everyone. Though looking back now, I could understand why someone may think staying secluded, only with each other for weeks on end would seem like excess or even a death wish, we had some of our greatest days, and nights, during those months. We rediscovered ourselves as well as each other, and found that there was true love there.

Peeta hadn't experienced a flare of his brainwashing from the Capitol in months, and that one had been minor compared to his violent reactions when District 13 officials rescued him. Every now and again, he would brace himself on the back of a chair, and that was my cue to distract him or, depending on the look on his face, leave him alone to sort it out for himself. With his children running around, however, his episodes were less frequent and much less violent.

I had been married to this man for years, five years this December. The idea is mind-blowing and I couldn't decide whether to be horrified at how quickly time was flying, or be excited by all of the happy memories we shared despite our dismal situation.

I set the table for my little family and called out for them to come to eat.

My children run out of their playroom, the three year old nearly tripping over herself as my 1 year old tries his best, brows knit in concentration, to get to the food without killing himself. Though I scolded the older one on the outside, on the inside I was smiling, because this display was actually somewhat adorable to me.

The conception of our first child had been a shock, and actually a trigger to one of Peeta's episodes. It wasn't violent, but it was loud, and after I got him calmed he tried to leave. Not because he is the type of man to abandon his children, but because he didn't want to have his episodes around them. I convinced him that he was nearly completely under control and as long as he tried his best, they wouldn't see anything. I even convinced him children may be a good thing for him. It turned out that I was right, after the birth of Willow, his episodes were rare... Once every four to five months rare.

Now, our children were our hope and the reason Peeta was as well as he was. I could sense something was wrong because Peeta was taking so long to come to dinner. I set the plates for the children and went looking for him. The house was small, so it didn't take long.

He was in the small library, the place we were working on our book, years in the making. Though he was standing as though coming to dinner, he was rigid, a pained look on his face... An episode.

I rushed to him, closing the door behind me in case he got loud.

"Peeta?" I ask. He stared straight ahead, either ignoring or not hearing me. I placed my hand on his cheek, hoping to bring him back that way. Before I knew it, a singing pain slapped across my cheek and neck. He hit me. I backed away quickly. It had been so long since he had become even remotely violent, it was a shock.

"Why are you here, Katniss?" He growled.

"Peeta... This is our home... Real... Or not real?" I ask him. He rolls his eyes.

"I don't want to play stupid games with you Katniss. I want to know what the hell you're doing in my house?" He barks. I set my jaw, not allowing my horror to show on my face.

"Peeta... Do you know what year it is?" His eyebrows knit together in concentration. I know the answer, but he doesn't. He thinks we are still at war. That we are nearly ten years in the past and are on opposite sides of the war.

"What's the point of that?" He retorts.

"It's been almost a decade since the war. You came back to me... you always come back to me. You fought with me, for me, in the Hunger Games... Twice! After Snow was killed, we moved back to District 12... You stayed with me... We fell in love... We are married, have children... They are in the kitchen waiting to have dinner with their Daddy." His eyebrows stay knit together... He's confused. He's too far gone for this normal exercise. I don't even remember how to bring him back now. He looked down at his left hand, searching for the gold band. We did buy wedding rings, he just usually took it off if he were planning on doing yardwork. Which he did. Oh no... He must have forgotten to put it back on after his shower.

"Liar!" He charges at me and I jump out of the way, but he must have expected that because he changes his trajectory as I make the move myself. He grabs my throat and shoves me against the wall. I immediately start crying. I couldn't hurt this man I love, even in this situation. I can see a flicker in his eyes that tells me he is fighting so hard the urge to kill me.

"Peeta..." I choke out. "Peeta, you're... hurting me!" The fury in his eyes tells me the real Peeta is being overshadowed. "Please, come back to me... You always come back to me!" He squeezes even harder so speech is impossible.

"Shut up! You're a liar! You seduced me to try to get me to sacrifice myself for you! Well it's not happening!"

"Peeta... The Games are gone... The Capitol we knew... is gone! Snow... is dead..." I have to breathe in harshly after every burst of speech. I have to get him back to me before I have to use his prosthetic leg against him. I don't want to, but he always told me if he got this bad to disable him that way and get away until the flashes subsided. "We're married because... I love... you... And you... love... me..." I can feel my consciousness fading as he keeps tightening his grip. Black spots blink across my vision... There's one thing I can try that usually brings him back... but this may just make him more angry. I fight against his hand, tightening over my throat and reach his mouth and kiss him.

He slams me against the wall, still not believing. He wipes his hand across his mouth in disgust. My heart snaps. He slams me against the wall again and I have no choice, I slam my foot into his prosthetic leg, just above where the prosthetic meets the rest of his flesh. His leg weakens and he falls in a heap to the floor. I gulp in much needed air and start toward the door. I don't want to bring this to our children but perhaps, just perhaps seeing them will be the final thing to bring him back.

In the kitchen, my angels are eating quietly.

"I need you both to say 'Daddy' when Daddy comes in." I turn to the oldest, "You remember I told you sometimes he isn't himself, and he needs you to remind him?" She nods. "Well, he's not himself, so you are going to sit in your chair, don't move, just call him Daddy, okay?" She nods again. She has Peeta's heart, my looks and stubbornness. A blessing in this case.

Peeta comes crashing in. "Katniss, damn you!" I move to stand behind our children. One hand on each of their chests so if anything happened I could scoop them up.

"Daddy!" The eldest called out. My son is quiet, he's too young to even know what's happening.

"Why is she calling me that?" He asks. My little girls' brows knit together, much like his and tears well in her eyes. My heart breaks. She will remember this, and it's my fault for bringing this to her. Hopefully, my Peeta will make it up to her.

"You're my Daddy..."

"Quit calling me that!" He roars. She starts crying, and though it kills me not to, I don't comfort her. Peeta will do that. My Peeta. The Peeta that will be horrified with himself when he sees the mark I feel swelling onto my neck. The Peeta who will be horrified that he made his little angel cry from fright and denial.

"Daddy..." Her lips pull back in a deep frown as she tries to gain composure of herself... A trait I gave her. I see old Peeta flash behind his eyes. The muttation is losing control. Real Peeta is coming back.

"Katniss?" I nod. "We are in District 12. Real or not real?" He asks, eyes not leaving his daughter.

"Real." I reply automatically.

"Snow is President."

"Not real."

"You tried to kill me."

"Not real." I feel more tears slide down my cheeks. He's coming back. The relief is incredible.

"This is my daughter."

"Real."

"And my son?" He asks, looking at our baby.

"Real."

He looks down at his ring finger, absent. His brows furrow. I don't say anything, allow him to come up with the answer.

"We're married... and our five year anniversary will be in two months..."

"Very real." He nods. Our daughter is still crying.

"Come here baby." He coos at our daughter who immediately stands and runs to his open arms. He settles back and sits on the floor where he can cradle her more comfortably.

"I'm sorry, baby... I'm sorry... I hope you never have to see me like that again."

"Why did you say I wasn't yours?" She asks. He blanches.

"Daddy wasn't himself... But he's better now... You made him better." She continues to cry into him and I see him fighting tears as well. I turn to our son who is watching the display absently, already finished with his food. I gather him into my arms.

"Look at you, you're already done!" I say in my baby voice, the kind voice I use to soothe our children. "It's bedtime now." Our son, being his father's child gave no protest and actually starts falling asleep in my arms. I wash his food covered face and place him into his crib.

I go straight to our bedroom. I trust Peeta now, he's not going to hurt her... He's back.

When Peeta finishes putting her to bed he comes to our bedroom, eyes red and a horrified look on his face.

"Katniss?" He murmurs. I nod, allowing him to come in to see me. As soon as the door is closed behind him he falls to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "I should leave... I'll send you money to help with the children... but I shouldn't be here where I can hurt you. I almost didn't come back this time..." He sobs. I stay sitting at the edge of the bed.

"Peeta, you don't need to leave. You and I both know that this doesn't happen often anymore. Don't let one bad-"

"I could have killed you! And then what would have happened?"

"It didn't happen... So don't worry about it." I reply cooly.

"Don't worry about it?" He looks up at me, eyes incredulous.

I sink to the floor on my knees too.

"No. Don't worry about it."

"How can you-"

"You came back. You always come back." I reply gently. And suddenly, I want to make love to him. In a way that he will never forget who he is or where we are. I place each hand on either side of his face and draw him in for a kiss. He groans but pulls back.

"No, Katniss. I almost killed you-"

"Peeta, you know I'm more than capable of defending myself." I kiss him again. I feel his muscles relax, just a bit. He wants to. He really wants to.

"Please, Katniss. I just-"

"Peeta..." I sigh. I hate having to beg, but he's going to make me. "Please." I look into his eyes, his wide red rimmed eyes, confusion darkening them. I throw my arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck in that place that makes him shiver.

"Katniss..."

I settle myself on his lap, feeling him, and I shiver. I want him inside of me so dearly. I move my kisses back to his mouth and invade his mouth with my tongue. He groans again, and I feel him, tightening and hardening. I move against him, groaning at the friction there and he thrusts into me. I don't think he's going to fight me anymore. In fact, to my surprise, he wraps his hands around the backs of my thighs and picks me up and moves me to our bed, where I lay out and wrap my legs around the backs of his, pulling him closer. He fits himself to me, chest to chest, abdomen to abdomen, sex to sex. The feeling makes me moan again.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss." He sets his forehead against mine and breathes in deeply through his nose. "I'm so sorry." He looks me in the eye, and I feel my heart melt. "I never want to hurt you again."

"It's not your fault, Peeta. I know that." I kiss him on the mouth again, trying to bring him back to the light, to the present. We are about to make love. We are in love. We will always return to each other. We were made for each other. We both know it. "But if it will make you feel better, I do forgive you. I'll always forgive you." He sighs and nods his head.

"Thank you." I grin and grind my hips against him, sending another shiver through both of us.

I wrap my leg around his hip and push up sending him over and me on top of him. He needs to relax.

I kiss him once more and make my way down his neck toward his chest where I stop to take off his shirt and he assists. I take in the sight of my man's chest. He still works out, and so has the same figure even from the games, improved since the games in my opinion. I kiss his chest and move my way down, in a rush now, to his pants where I make short work of it. I leave his underwear on, though wanting to play with him a little. He's hard, but not completely there yet. I slowly move my hand over him and feel it harden ever so slightly under my touch. I remember the day that I spent plenty of time down here, figuring him out, learning about him physically and about what he likes. It was before we had children, when we had time to waste like that. I'm still so grateful for that day. We learned more about each other in that one day than we had in the past three years of the games. He sighs as I continue to tease him. Kissing him through the cloth, rubbing him just the right way to drive him crazy. Finally he is hard enough.

I slip the fabric over him, and he springs free. I wrap my hand around him and squeeze ever so slightly. He groans and thrusts into my hand. I then wrap my lips around him and give a little suck. He sucks in a breath as I swirl my tongue over him and push down. He and I aren't usually the type to do something like this. But as we figured out that one day, sometimes this is the best way to bond, to connect with someone. He wraps his hand around the back of my head and weaves his fingers in my hair and almost massages the back of my head, urging me on. He breaks my connection with him, bringing me up to face him.

"That's enough for me." He murmurs. I don't want to argue, or talk about what just happened. It would kill the mood and I want him very badly. He helps me undress, being tender with me now. Okay, I think, I can be gentle. I love him when he's this way. I feel almost worshiped as his fingers slide over my skin, being so soft as he removes my clothes. He flips us over so that I am underneath him now. He removes the last articles of clothing and gazes at me. I stretch my arms up and wrap them around his neck, sliding my fingers through his hair. He groans as I massage his scalp as he did mine. "I love you, Katniss." He murmurs. He sounds scared, so scared. As though I'm going to leave him now. "I- I'm—"

"Shh... Peeta, it's alright. It's alright." I can feel him losing his arousal as he allows his guilt to overshadow him. I bring his face down so I can kiss his neck, his ear, his throat, all of the places that make him shiver. "Please just... love me." He nods and kisses me, hard.

He glides his member between my legs, feeling how wet I am, getting us both ready. I groan as he slowly inserts an inch, then retreats. He repeats this several times until I lose our unspoken battle and thrust into him, making him take me. We both suck in a breath. I open my eyes and we are nose to nose, gazing into each other as he slowly glides in and out.

"I love you." We say at the same time. I laugh lightly and he places his forehead on mine. I spread my legs just a little and move against him, urging him on, his rhythm slow, gentle, adoring. I claw at his back, his pace driving me crazy but hitting the right spot every time.

I hum my approval. He breaks our connection to kiss my neck, in that spot that makes me arch my back and I grind down on him making us both gasp. I hear myself getting louder and kiss him, hard, to muffle my moans and cries. He wraps his arm around my back and sits up, me astride his lap, him still inside me. It feels so much deeper this way. I grind my hips around on him, not wanting to pull up just yet, that would be much too intense. It's been a long time since we've been in this position. I circle my hips around him feeling him in all angles. It feels heavenly.

He is still so concerned with how I'm feeling as he tries to press on my clitoris. But I want this to last as long as possible. I want this to heal him, let him know we are still okay. Even though I know I'll have a large hand-shaped bruise on my neck and he'll have a good tender spot on his leg, everything is forgiven because underneath it all it's not his fault. That was not my Peeta. The Peeta that would hold me through the night, awake unbeknownst to me so he could wake me if I started having a nightmare. The Peeta that allowed me to be weak for a moment so I didn't have to be the strong one all of the time.

I push him down on his back and follow him, staying astride him.

"Katniss—?"

"Shh..." I muffle his question with a kiss and raise up on him and slam back down. He groans loudly. And I giggle slightly at the memory of the day we discussed the location of the baby's room before Willow was born. We wanted her to be on the same floor as us, right next door. But I reminded him that there would come an age where she could remember sounds flooding from our room. He had flushed and agreed to put her room as far from our room as possible, but still a safe distance away so we could get to her in case of an emergency. He smiled, really smiled and not for the first time I wondered if sometimes he was able to read my thoughts.

I ground down on him and sucked in a breath as he hit the perfect spot inside me. He placed his hands on my waist and guided me along his length, hitting my spot dead on and I cried out. I leaned back down and placed my head in the crook of his neck, muffling my cries, our breaths mingling.

I was so relieved that he was allowing himself to enjoy himself, enjoy our bond. I was so close and now wanted so desperately to finish, to cuddle into him though no one would see me as the cuddling type, and to sleep in his arms feeling safe.

One hand let go of my waist and allowed me to sit up so he could reach my clitoris. He rubbed on it so painstakingly gently that I came almost instantly. I could feel myself clamp down around him so tightly, so deliciously that he came with me. A hard, long, and cathartic orgasm that ripped beautiful cries from both of us.

I collapsed on him again and stayed there, reveling in the feel of our bodies sticking together from the perspiration and the quakes from my orgasm still massaging him. Though generally I would have climbed off of him immediately to lay on my side to sleep, I stayed where I was. I wanted to feel him inside me, not for a sensual or sexual reason, but just to feel close to him in the most intimate of ways, the closest we could be without being one body.

He kissed my damp forehead and relaxed once more. With each pulse of my core, he groaned again. I giggled, afraid he would want round two and would be sorely disappointed. My Peeta of course, was a gentleman and allowed me to fall into a deep, sated sleep as he whispered his "I love you"'s in my ear, rubbing my back.

I knew we would come apart at some point in the night, but falling asleep this way, I knew we were still all right. He was not leaving, I would not let him, and we were still incredibly in love. Even though I was never the sappy kind to say so aloud, I knew we were soul mates. The type that challenged each other while complimenting each other. Made for each other in a way that could not possibly be explained. And I loved him so much that no muttation could mess him up enough to send him away from me.