I Do, I See You

by peetasbunmyoven

As a child Peeta had a dream. It was raining and there was a girl. He could see what she saw and feel her drifting away. He stayed with her. He saved her. He woke up. Twelve years later when life feels like nothing but another wasted day he hears a voice in his head. Maybe that night so long ago hadn't been a dream after all. Maybe the girl that haunted him for weeks was real.

It's raining. Sheets of it pour from the sky and I'm cold.

I'm so cold I'm shaking and it makes my jaw ache where my teeth chatter together. Exhaustion pulls at my limbs and I sink to the ground. Mud sloshes slick against my legs, soaking the hem of my pants as I blink through the fall of water.

I want to sleep and feel my lashes flutter softly against my wet cheeks. As they begin to close I look down to where my hands lie in my lap.

They shake and twist together but these hands aren't mine.

The small fingers with mud crusted nails do not belong to me.

Looking around I realize that I don't recognize the dark house in front of my eyes and that my hair is long and matted against my face. Sobs leave my throat in a soft pitch that is decidedly female.

I'm not me. I'm a girl. The clothes I wear are too thin for the weather and there is an ache deep within my stomach that tells me that it has been empty for some time.

Confused, I try to sort out what is happening. I am not the girl. I am just there with her. Seeing what she sees and feeling…well feeling what she feels. She's starving. She's scared. She's so sad and lost and empty and her anguish steals my breath so that I gasp out of a deep sleep and sit up in my bed.

Breathing heavy, I look around the room. My bedroom.

I want to panic. To figure out what is happening. Why I am here, in my home, in my bed even, but still feel like I am someone else…with someone else.

Because for some reason I can still feel her. How she's lost hope and wants to sleep. She wants it to end. Her tears feel hot on her freezing cheeks and the desperation in her whispers makes my chest ache to do something.

So I do.

I start to talk.

I bunch the GI Joe sheets that used to belong to my brother around my waist and clench them in sweaty hands shivering like I can feel the rain on my skin. I talk like she can hear me. Because I need her to hear me. I don't know why but nothing has ever felt as important.

I tell her stories from books I've read and that happy endings sometimes only happen once everything else has fallen apart. That I aced my vocabulary test because words come easy for me.

I talk about the bakery and how I burned my hand yesterday when I spilled a tray of sugar cookies. That when my mother wasn't looking I grabbed three of them off the floor and ate them anyway.

I feel her smile at that. Just a soft lift of lips when she closes her eyes. She whispers about that being gross.

She can hear me.

Grinning I shake my head and look out the window next to my bed. I tell her they were still warm and buttery and I never get to eat the cookies warm. When this makes her stomach clench my heart hurts. She hasn't eaten in a long time.

The rain around her has puddled so she is wet up to her hips. She tells me she's tired. I tell her I know. I can feel it.

Desperate for reasons I don't understand, I crawl to my knees and whisper her promises. That if she will just hang on, it will be okay. That I will bring her an entire dozen sugar cookies she just has to fight a little longer.

She's too tired to get up. I catch whispers about her father and sister and how her mother has become a ghost even though she's still alive. That there's nothing to hold on for.

So I ask her to listen instead. I just ask her to stay.

She whispers she'll try as her eyes close and I can feel that each breath is a struggle.

So I sit up against my headboard and I never leave her. Not as the rain turns to mist and the stars begin to shimmer. Her heart still beats but her lips become numb and I just whisper asking her to stay awake.

I ask her to tell me a story, to say something. She says she isn't good at saying something.

When I ask her what she is good at, she begins to sing softly and my head falls back as I feel her voice beneath my ribs. Tears fill my eyes and I begin to pull at my hair because I can feel her slipping away as her voice slips into my veins.

The sky is quiet. She is quiet.

So I get louder and start to beg her to hold on and for what I don't even know but there is something about this girl and she's probably only real in my head but I can't let her go. For some reason I have to believe if she can make it 'til morning, things will be different.

I tell her that she has a beautiful voice. I talk about hot chocolate and blankets and how much I love the sunsets but want to watch the sunrise with her. That I'm eleven and hate sixth grade and that I think I want to be a painter.

When the warmth of the sun spills across her legs I am terrified it is too late because somehow she feels like she's drifting away. I can smell the earth and the morning and then I hear a loud voice screaming. It's gruff and panicked and I can smell tobacco and the subtle warmth of whiskey when its owner comes close enough to scoop her up in his arms. He curses colorfully and calls her sweetheart and I can see the love and remorse in his steel eyes. He promises her it is going to be okay now and she lays her head sleepily oh his shoulder.

She feels relieved and begins to drift to sleep as he wraps her in a blanket but before her eyes fall closed she sees a dandelion in the wet grass. I see it with her. It is gold and full and shades deeper than the sun. Letting out a deep breath she whispers thank you.

I feel it leave her lips as I feel the heat of hope in her empty belly.

With dawn cutting through the curtains and pooling on my sheets I sigh, because I know she was talking to me. I feel myself time my breaths to hers and drift off as well.

Hours later I sit up blinking in the light and wake wondering about the fate of a girl a world away. The girl from my dreams. I can't help but wish she was real.

---

Twelve Years Later

I'm so tired my skin hurts. My eyes feel dry and driving into the setting sun burns like they're on fire. Flames of heat pour from it through the windshield and even with the windows down my lips beads with sweat and my t-shirt sticks to the small of my back. This piece of shit hasn't had ac since 1992.

Dragging my hand through my hair I lean into it and stare at the trees that blur past five miles from my exit. Driving gives me time to think, too much time.

I wasn't ever supposed to come back here. This tree line, this cracked sticky interstate should be a five states in my rearview rather than beneath my tires.

I did do it.

I got out. Got the grades, the accolades, the recommendations, and the promise. 'Til I fucked it all up.

Seems surviving a miserable childhood puts a chip on one's shoulder and mix that into a cocktail of the wrong moments and the wrong people and well…it changes a person. Doesn't really matter if that was the one thing they never wanted.

Only took me a year to lose myself. Only a year to take my future and my opportunities and wrap my fingers around them until they suffocated and I was left with one colossal regret and a two year jail sentence.

Lifting my head up, I shake it softly to clear it. Sweat runs from my hairline down my jaw and I brush it away while rubbing the weeks' worth of blonde scruff that's grown in. It itches like a bitch as I hit my blinker and turn off the exit onto a secluded worn road. The trees here are tall and green and almost as thick as those I used to dream of as a child.

When my mom would drink or just on the afternoons she'd decided I didn't deserve to take up space at home, I would hide in the bathroom closet. It was one of the few places I felt calm. For some reason with the sound drowned out by stuffy silence, I never felt alone in those moments. I felt protected and I would curl into a ball and fall asleep dreaming of angels with silver eyes beneath a canopy of green.

The road turns to gravel and my truck bounces sending my sunglasses from the seat with my old sketchbook. I take it everywhere. For two years that cramped jail cell often felt like the closet. Because sometimes at night when I couldn't sleep I'd feel the comfort of someone else, of their heartbeat and I would hold my breath until I could try to hear my own and make them beat as one. I'd blink and drift and in the morning I would draw delicate hands with fluid fingers and a long dark braid lying over a shoulder like nightfall.

The book is full of pictures like that. Sometimes those fantasies and those feelings were the only thing that kept me sane.

Rounding the corner the peeling exterior of my cabin appears… home sweet home. The brakes squeak and dust blows from my tires as I park and jump from the cab of my truck. The door slamming is loud and it makes a flock of birds flee to the tops of the nearby trees. I begin unbuttoning my flannel as I climb the cinder blocks that count as steps to my porch and I swing open the door. No reason to lock it. Got nothn' worth stealing anyway.

Dropping my shirt to the floor, I step over it towards the kitchen tugging the sweaty t-shirt off that was underneath it and God as I open the fridge, the cold air feels good on my bare chest.

A pizza box and six pack make up the contents inside the good ole Frigidaire. Snagging a beer, the cap hisses as I pop the top off of one and tip it against my lips immediately drinking the entire thing down in one go. It's cold and malty on my tongue and Jesus fucking Christ, this is what I have been dreaming about all damn day.

Tossing it in the trash that looks like stacked and spilling abstract art, I grab another dark bottle and kick the door closed with my boot. My cell phone buzzes in my back pocket and I grin when I see Glimmer's slick smile. Quirking an eyebrow, I take another pull and scratch my stomach figuring that a little company later on might be welcome. Another couple beers and I won't even give a shit that her head is as empty as her breasts are full.

Toeing off my boots I unbutton the top of my jeans and fall back onto the couch grabbing the remote wedged between the rust colored cushions. Laying my head back I push the button a few times and nothing happens. Shit. The set I have is an ancient asshole. Leaning forward I push the button again a few more times.

Looking down I bang it on the heel of my hand.

"Fuck!"

Fuck!"

The second voice startles me so much I drop the remote on the floor. When I bend to pick it up my hand changes in front of my eyes and becomes smaller with delicate knuckles and nails painted blush pink.

What the…?

I pull my hand back and stare at it twisting it back and forth.

"Jesus."

"Shit you're right I probably need Jesus."

"What? Who the fuck is this?"

"What?"

My heart starts to pound as I look around the room and up at the ceiling shit I don't even know what I'm looking for. I can hear heavy breathing that doesn't belong to me and am I really hearing someone else's voice?

"You heard me who the fuck are you?"

My eyes shift again and I can see small feet walking along a sidewalk and a black skirt that moves with the legs attached.

"Please stop talking. Not real. You're not real I can't hear you stop talking."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah holy shit. Oh my god my mind is fighting with itself. I am. I'm losing it."

"What?"

"Shit. I have multiple personalities. I'm hearing voices and having hallucinations. Shit. Shit. Shit. One of them is a man and he sounds like a confused hick. Great. This can't be happening. Go away, go away, please go away."

"Hey who are you calling a hick?"

"Look you are part of my fucked up brain I can call you whatever I want. Oh my god why does my mouth taste like cheap beer?"

Pinching the bridge of my nose I narrow my eyes and clench them shut, but god I still can see everywhere she walks. It's like I can see my living room and cheap ass carpet and refocus and see the traffic on the street she's walking past.

"Lady I don't know who the hell you are. But I am sure as shit not in your head. "

She's stopped walking and climbed into a dark Lexus. Nice. Both the car and the set of legs that had to haul her into the SUV. I can hear her breathing. Hell I can feel it. The slight panicked rise and fall of her chest and the pound of her heart beneath it. She smells nice. Like flowers or something, but not perfume. Like spring. She keeps mumbling to herself and I feel her stomach tense before flipping the visor down.

The sight nearly knocks the wind out of me. I can just make out her wide eyes in the small strip of mirror. I see dark arched brows and below them flashing gray fire that could cut a man off at the knees. She blinks tears from them and something about her confusion and pain makes me need to comfort her.

"Hey. It's okay. I mean this is freaking me out too, but we'll figure it out okay?"

She sniffs and flips the visor closed. I'm unreasonably sad to see those eyes disappear and when she speaks again, it is with the faintest whisper.

"My mom got sick. Years, well a long time ago. Oh my god I can't end up like her. I can't. This cannot be happening. I cannot believe this is happening."

I shake my head and stand up dragging my hand through my hair. "Yeah. Okay. Hey. You're not I promise. You're just fine."

She snorts and rests her forehead on the steering wheel before groaning long and loud. I can feel the heat of her breath hit the leather before brushing back against her cheeks. God this is weird.

I start to say something several times but I mean what is there to say?

"Oh my god I can feel your jaw moving just spit it out."

I can't help but grin as I start to pace the room. "I was just thinking how this is crazy."

"Ya think?"

"And you are sarcastic."

"It is one of my best qualities."

I laugh softly. "I mean this is nuts but kind of incredible. I can see everything you see. I can smell you. Fuck that sounds creepy but it's happening to you too so… sorry this is just the strangest day of my life. Where are you right now?"

"My car."

"No shit I can see your ridiculously expensive interior. I meant like where are you from? Where is the sidewalk I just walked down with you?"

"Oh. Ummm. Connecticut. You?"

"Nice. I live in Kentucky."

"Wow. That actually makes sense."

"And that means what exactly?"

"Sorry. Just you got pretty defensive about the hick thing. And well you know Kentucky…the beer…and…"

"Yeah?"

"Well I don't know you just keep doing that swagger thing around the room without a shirt on. It's distracting."

Biting back a laugh I say, "First of all, there has been no swagger. Just the usual nervous breakdown panic and pacing that happens when you start hearing a woman's voice in your head. And second of all, do you find my shirtlessness distracting?"

Her cheeks flush and I can feel the heat of it. It makes me smile so wide my jaw hurts.

"Oh my god shut up. Are you? Are you flirting with me? Really? The unstable voice in your head."

"Hey when you get sudden telepathy with a completely beautiful stranger a man shouldn't waste his time."

"I'm not beautiful."

"Your eyes are."

Dropping her head I can feel the soft strands of her hair fall against her cheeks where I can only feel the lift of her lips.

Narrowing my eyes I ask, "How did you do it anyway? I mean when you heard my voice?"

I can feel her lay her head back as she rolls it back and forth taking a deep breath.

"I don't know. I think I've been hearing you for a while and it was so loud and I could feel your frustration and it was like this pressure in the back of my head so I focused and suddenly I'm feeling the remote in your hand."

"So you think we can make this happen any time?"

"Maybe? God what are we going to do?"

Her words sound just scared enough that I wish I could fix it for her. This complete stranger that for some reason feels more familiar to me than my own family.

"I'm not sure. But like I said we'll figure it out okay? Together."

She nods her head with a shaky sigh.

"Yeah all right together."

Settling back down I look at the floor. "Hey one more question if that's okay."

"Sure."

"What's your name?"

I see her fingers tracing circles on the glass of her window. They shake a little as they go around and around again.

"Katniss."

Letting out a breath I whisper. "Well it's nice to meet you Katniss. I'm Peeta."

She smiles again and when she looks out the window I can see wind cut through a group of trees beyond a fence line. I can smell the sweet air.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Well I have to drive home ummm…"

I'm not ready for her to go. I don't know why. Maybe because this is so unbelievable that I'm just terrified we won't be able to bring it back and I need to know her. "Can we maybe talk later?"

She goes still and quiet and all I can hear and feel is our breathing for at least a minute.

"Is nine okay?"

Grinning I just shake my head and pull nervously at my hair. "Sounds good. Bye Katniss."

"Bye Peeta."

---

I'm restless with energy and adrenaline with nowhere to expend it as I pace the living room for a good hour after she said goodbye. My mind bounces between complete disbelief and a rush so intense it makes my stomach burn.

She was in my head. I was in hers. How the hell is this possible? How long has this connection been there?

Am I having a nervous breakdown?

Shaking it off, I strip and take a shower and make a conscious effort to not think about the shade of her big eyes or the smoky softness of her voice. I feel myself twitch against my thigh anyway which freaks me the fuck out because what if she can somehow know what I'm thinking about?

Focusing my mind, I think of anything but her and wash myself as quickly as possible. Rubbing a towel over my hair I dig through the pile of clothes on my floor till I find what I think are a clean pair of sweatpants.

I have another beer and eat the rest of the pizza cold standing in my kitchen. At eight-thirty my phone buzzes and without looking at it I shut it off. By ten till nine I am pacing again and my hair stands up from my hands so much my scalp hurts from pulling it.

It wasn't real. She's not going to come. She…

"Peeta?"

"Oh thank god! Sorry. I just thought well I didn't know if you were coming and then I thought..."

"You were crazy?"

Leaning back against the counter I smile. "Yeah. Pretty much."

I can see her bare feet go down a narrow hall and then close a heavy wooden door. She flips on a light and she must be in some kind of office. It's nice. Like damn nice. She pulls herself up on top of the desk and I try not to notice that her thighs are lean and bare in little sleep shorts.

Clearing my throat I ask, "So your house is nice."

She looks around and the glass display cases gleam and I see awards and pictures of her with what must be friends and family as she shrugs and shakes her head.

"I guess. I mean yeah it is. Still doesn't feel like mine. I mean not yet. I just moved in a few months ago, it's my boyfriend's house."

For some reason this makes me push off the cabinet and rub the heel of my hand over my heart. "Oh… you have a boyfriend?"

"Gale. His name is Gale."

Her voice is distant as she kicks her feet.

"He's been asking me to move in for years and I well I like my space I guess and I tend to be more simple but I figured I owed him so…"

"You owed him?" My voice lifts a little with my smirk as I walk slowly up and down the hall before leaning against the doorway of my bedroom.

"Not owed him I just I mean we've been friends for years and together for two. It was just time I guess. Is this your home?"

She sounds flustered but it's my turn to panic a little when I realize she can see the room in front of me. The bed is unmade and water and beer bottles litter the nightstand and a mountain of clothes cover the floor.

"Umm yeah. I mean it's nothing special, typical messy guy living alone."

I kick clothes behind the bed and then just sort of stare at the floor instead meaning she can't see anything else feeling an infuriating blush climb my neck. When I don't move it makes her laugh. The sound is ridiculously beautiful.

"Hey! No fair don't do that. I don't judge. You scheduled this meet up anyway remember?"

Groaning into the wall I laugh when she imitates me. "All right woman, but I am a complete slob and I live in a dump. And I asked because I wanted to talk to you. If I am stuck with you in my head don't you think we should at least try at being friends?"

She goes quiet again. She seems to spend a lot of time in her mind working stuff out. I like it. Picking at her cuticle she lifts her head.

"What if making friends isn't something I'm great at?"

This makes me smile wide and cocky. "Well sweetheart I guess you are lucky. Because I happen to be excellent at it."

Groaning her head falls back.

"You did not just call me sweetheart."

Raising my hands I chuckle, "With my Kentucky drawl, you found it charming as hell do not try to deny it. This friend thing is pretty easy Katniss. I just need to know everything about you inside and out, every trauma, fear, insecurity, not a big deal at all. Hit me with the deep stuff."

I feel her mouth open incredulous and adorably confused.

"The deep stuff?"

I nod. "Oh yeah. What's your favorite color?"

She laughs again. It might be my new favorite sound.

"Green. What about you?"

"Orange."

I feel her nose wrinkle.

"Hey orange is a perfectly acceptable color. We are not talking anything gross or extreme. We aren't delving into the horrors of Tennessee football or anything. But more like a sunset. Like a beautiful sunset that just burns over the tree line and minute by minute lights the sky on fire."

Her fingers flex into the wood rim of the desk by her hips as she whispers.

"That sounds perfectly beautiful."

Smiling softly I nod. "I'll have to show you sometime."

"Oh so you think we are doing this again?"

"Oh yeah. Ladies can't get enough of me."

She laughs loud this time and I grin knowing she can feel it.

"Well it could be the fact that you are topless all the time. Do you own a shirt?"

"Always checking me out."

On purpose I look down at my chest and stomach.

"Stop it! Seriously!"

"Stop what?"

I flex and make my stomach muscles roll in a belly dance which makes her start to giggle hysterically. It is octaves higher than her voice and girlish and free and I can't help but laugh along with her.

"Oh my god please stop it I can't…"

"Katniss?"

"Gale!"

A tall dark headed guy walks into the room with a serious almost stern set to his eyes. So this is Gale? Petty as hell I decide immediately he's a douche.

"I heard you laughing."

"I was on the phone. Sorry. I'll be quiet."

Hesitating he just nods.

"I'm going to bed. You should come soon. We have that benefit tomorrow and I don't need you looking tired."

She nods at him. Oh yeah. Douche detector was accurate.

"Yeah I'm wearing that red dress I bought."

He straightens a little.

"Really? I don't know Catnip. Just wear that black one okay? More appropriate and I need you to look like the other wives."

I can feel her get tense and the dig of her nails into her palms hurts.

"I'm not one of the wives but sure. Whatever you want. Goodnight."

He brushes a kiss to her forehead and I cringe at the wetness his lips leave behind before he eases the door closed.

She's suddenly distant and quiet. Something has made her shut down and it makes me want to clock the guy in the jaw. How the hell is she with someone like that? She clears her throat so she can whisper.

"Sorry. I thought he was asleep and he's usually…"

"It's okay Katniss."

"No it's not…I just…"

She starts and stops and I can sense her flustered attempts at words and her mounting embarrassment as she closes her eyes and I just want to hear her laugh again.

"Hey it's fine. Open your eyes."

She pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Please come on. Just for a second."

When she does I'm looking at my stomach again and making it roll and wave and this time my pecs bounce and I grind my hips back and forth. The Magic Mike attempt is just sad but the reward is worth it.

The laugh erupts from her belly and spit leaves her lips as she snorts and horrified covers her mouth.

I tsk her smiling. "Checking me out again."

I make my voice comically deep and stern. "I don't think that is appropriate Catnip."

Her body shakes even harder as her laughter grows so she has to sink to the floor. It takes her minutes to recover and she is left drained, grinning, and with the hiccups. She sighs. I watch her stretch out her legs and wiggle her toes. Those are some pretty cute toes.

"I should go."

Nodding I lay back on my bed and look up at the ceiling. "Okay. Can we maybe talk tomorrow?"

She bites her lip but I can feel her nodding already which feels like a win.

"Yeah okay. After Gale leaves for work. Goodnight Peeta."

"Goodnight Katniss."

---

*Authors Notes

All Rights to Suzanne Collins

This story will be sometimes closely based sometimes loosely based on the movie In Your Eyes.

Big thank you to jennagill for being a beautiful beta, and another thank you to andthisisthewonder for encouraging me to put this out there despite us both using the same movie for some everlark inspiration. Love you girls. 3