"Do you ever stop and think about exactly how dangerous this is?" Peeta asked, turning to press himself against Katniss' back. He brushed his lips along her bare shoulder.

"I know exactly how dangerous it is," she said. He could hear the smile in her voice and imagined her eyes closing.

"That doesn't scare you?"

"Are you scared?" Katniss asked, turning onto her back to look at him. Peeta smiled, letting out an embarrassed chuckle. She set her hand on his cheek and kissed him. "You're a soldier. Isn't it your job not to be?"

"I never claimed to be any good at my job," he said. Katniss laughed and draped her arms around his neck as he shifted on top of her.

"Clearly you aren't," she said, letting her legs fall open as he kissed her again. She sighed and tilted her head back as his kisses moved to her neck. "I am a wealth of your enemy's information. I really don't think this is what you're supposed to be doing with a spy."

"My enemy?" Peeta smirked. "Did my lack of an ostentatious mustache not prove to you I am not actually Kaiser Wilhelm?"

Katniss opened her mouth to respond, but all that came out was a soft, breathy moan as he moved against her. She reached between them, curling her fingers around his cock. Peeta buried his face against her neck, softly moaning while she stroked him. After a moment he touched her arm and stilled her hand.

"Katniss," he breathed. "What would we do?"

"What?"

"If we were caught," Peeta pulled back and smoothed Katniss' hair away from her face. "What would we do? I can't lose you."

"You're not going to lose me," she said, a smile playing on her features. She combed her fingers through his hair. "Do you really think I'm some waifish little thing who can't take care of herself? What kind of women do you have in Germany?"

"None like you," he said, returning her smile.

"If either of us end up in danger I'll just go into hiding," she said with a shrug. "I've done it before. I can even leave the country if I need to. And no one knows about us. Not on my side, anyway."

"I'm afraid someone may have figured us out," Peeta looked away. "He knows who you are, anyway. That you're in the city."

"A lot of people know that," she said, trailing her fingers up his back.

"I mean, he knows you're not a dancer," he clarified.

"You know I'm not a dancer," Katniss said.

"Joking or not, I don't think I like what you're trying to imply with that," he said. Katniss kissed his jaw.

"I'm not implying a thing, and if anything happens," she set her hand on his cheek, turning him to face her again. "If there's any danger, I'll disappear. I'll lay low until it passes, and we'll reunite somewhere safer. If it gets bad enough I could get you new papers. We could disappear together. For good."

"I can't lose you," Peeta said again, quieter this time.

"You won't."

Two and a Half Months Later

In better times, Oberleutnant Peeta Mellark may have actually enjoyed Brussels. In the spring, maybe. And by choice. However the war ended, he had a hard time believing any of the people he passed on his way home would feel like they won anything. Maybe the end of the occupation would leave them feeling relieved, but not a single one of them looked like they had enough spirit left in them for victory. He didn't even care about the loss anymore. What Peeta cared about was getting the major off his back, finding Katniss, and getting home. Or India. Argentina. Anywhere. Starting the life they'd planned.

He bought a paper from the newsboy on the corner by his apartment, as always. He paid a little extra, as always. Occupying forces or not, there was no reason not to be a good neighbor. He went home, too tired for an immediate meal, the way he'd been ending his workdays for the past few weeks. Instead, Peeta shucked his jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair, and sat down at his table to read the paper. He shook it open, unbuttoning his shirt as he looked down at the headline.

Popular Dancer Katniss "The Mockingjay" Everdeen Executed at Dawn

"No," he breathed, leaning forward and smoothing his hand over the page, as if he could somehow wipe away the words and replace them with something less heartbreaking. He leaned his elbows on the table and combed his fingers back into his hair. "No."

There had to be some sort of mistake. It couldn't really have been her. Someone incorrectly identified. Or even someone set up to take the fall. That had to be it. She couldn't have been taken from him. Things couldn't have gone that horribly, irreversibly wrong in the three weeks since she'd vanished. They both knew that there would come a day when she needed to go into hiding. They'd talked about it. She'd reassured him. It came with the position, but she knew how to keep herself safe.

Peeta pressed his eyes closed, took a deep breath, and forced himself to read.

The popular Parisian dancer Katniss "The Mockingjay" Everdeen was executed just a few minutes after dawn this morning, having been tried and convicted of espionage and fraternizing with the enemy.

Katniss. No one else even knew her real name. He'd promised to keep it that way, as best he could. Even with all they had gone through, he had kept that promise. Someone had betrayed her. Betrayed them both, and he'd lost her as a result. He balled his hands into fists, tears flooding his eyes, and shoved at the table as he stood. It rocked back and forth on its pedestal base, the sound just enraging him even further. Peeta turned around and kicked the edge of it, sending it to the floor, the newspapers fluttering through the air as it crashed against the tiled kitchen floor.

Someone was going to pay. Someone was going to suffer for it. Peeta would make absolutely sure of that.

This story was inspired by the true (or as true as anyone will ever know) story of Mata Hari. Thank you to my beta for putting up with me. Also, thanks to everyone who is taking the time to read and/or review. You can find me on tumblr as yourpeetaisshowing.