Despite Effie's disapproving looks and Haymitch's knowing glances, there was nothing sexual about the time they spent in each others' embrace on the victory tour. There were strong arms and stroking of hair, yet nothing but the low rumble of the train interrupted the warm blanket of tranquility. That was, until the nightmares began. Savage eyes of both the mutts and the careers permeated the dreams of Katniss, while visions of tracker jackers and a broken, bloody Katniss haunted Peeta's sleep. She screamed until her throat was raw while he squirmed like he was still as weak as he was in the cave. In some ways he was.
The first time she led him from her shower to her (their) bed (she had already seen everything anyway, whether it was his or not), there were no words. Moonlight littered the bed, awakening Katniss when the spasms of Peeta didn't; she peppered his shoulders with kisses, where the scars would be if the Capital hadn't made them their puppets. She couldn't do anything else, because the promises of 'it's ok, i'm here, they can't hurt you' could never be kept.
The last time they shared a bed together, they were at home in District 12, close to the meadow. It was in bloom once again, alive with dandelions and the various wildlife that were free to roam as much as the human inhabitants; their children were grown up, and their grandchildren were nearly as tall as the rest of them. The nights were still bitter, but not uncomfortably so due to the electric heating.
"It still hits me sometimes." Peeta's tired voice emanated from their bed.
"What does?" Katniss asked, slipping her wrinkled body under the sheets next to him.
"That our grandchildren… grandchildren are able to live as carefree teenagers. They don't have to sign up for tesserae, or pray hard the night before the reaping that their name won't be drawn. The worst thing they'll encounter is a stinging nettle."
Peeta wrapped his arms around Katniss' stomach, pulling her close.
"They know have us, and the reminders are fresh. The Nut has never been reopened, and variations of the nightlock pills can still be made." She glanced towards their book of memories, still open to a blank page, ready for an addition the next day. Even in their old age, they added to it, whether it was to keep a daisy chain their grandchildren had made or hold a sample of a bouquet from a friend's wedding. "Anyway, sleep darling, we have Annie visiting tomorrow. I think Reed is coming too."
"I see-" Peeta cut off suddenly, gasping as his chest tightened.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, just another twinge. It's not too bad. Anyway, I was saying how I see Finnick every time I look at Reed. He has his eyes, big and blue and wet."
"I see Finnick every night in my dreams." Katniss giggled; suggestion laced her tone.
"Oh shut up." Peeta laughed along with her, believing the tingles in his chest had stemmed from exertion from the day.
The next morning, after a night of blissful sleep, Katniss rose early - old habits die hard. "Peeta?" She nudged him, wanted to tell him that they should've those cakes again, the ones with the little icing flowers that they -
"Peeta?" He was cold. Unnaturally so. She had never had to deal with that. All dead bodies that she handled were warm, blood still spilling from the wounds of battle, or carried around in a bag for a meal later in the day. She didn't know what to do. Her breathing quickened, tears began forming, and her eyes became hazy as they slid out of focus. He couldn't be dead. She had to make sure he was the one to survive, he was the priority, he was… he was her everything. And she couldn't survive without her everything.
As she led back down, wishing the crushing weight away, she caught a glimpse of their book. Inside was a drawing of the valley in the woods.
He had never finished painting it.