Chapter Two

I am moving as fast I can, thrashing away at branches and bushes as I run, fueled entirely by a mind-numbing fear because I know one false step means they will be right on my heels. A spear soars past the right-side of my head, so close it practically grazes my cheek and I hear a battle cry behind me, "She's got nowhere to go!" The voice is eerily familiar, but I am too panicked to concentrate on why.

Is it true? Do I have nowhere to go? The woods seem to stretch out ahead of me for miles and miles. There must be some trick, some loophole I'm not aware of. I feel myself slowing slightly, discouraged by my enemy's words, and eventually halt altogether. What's the point? I can't run forever and I'm outnumbered, of that I'm sure. What's bothering me the most is that I don't even know who is chasing me...

An arrow sinks into the flesh of my right shoulder and as I fall to the ground, I turn around just in time to see their faces before my attackers close in on me. "No," I try to scream out, but suddenly I'm paralyzed. This can't be.

Gale has his bow and arrow poised, ready to finish me off with a single shot. Finnick holds a spear, his eyes wild with hatred. Prim and my mother run behind them, laughing, cheering on my capture. And Peeta. Peeta stands there with the rest of them, a smug smile on his face.

"You had to know this was coming," Peeta says. "Now wake up."

Wake up? Wake up from what?

"Katniss, it's okay, wake up," Prim says, but she is nodding at Gale, approving the release of his last arrow.

I don't know what to do or say. Not to any of them. And that's when I start screaming.

"Wake up." I become aware of someone roughly shaking me, and my eyes suddenly flutter open. "Katniss, wake up. You're having a nightmare," Peeta says.

It takes me a moment or two to orient myself, to realize I am in my own bed, in my house, that those horrible lucid images of my friends and family hunting me belonged to a bad dream and nothing more.

I clench my eyes shut again, forcing myself to take deep breaths in an effort to calm myself, but it is Peeta's arms wrapped around me, gently rocking me against his chest that eventually does the trick, as my muscles begin to loosen and my heart rate returns to normal.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice, still groggy with sleep, alerts me back to the present, and for the first time since waking I realize that have no clothes on and neither does he, his bare skin warm against mine as he spoons me from behind. I am glad I'm not facing him as I reach to pull the bed covers over me, needing this moment to gather my thoughts.

"No," I say, memories of last night's events flooding my mind instead.

A strong emotion has taken hold of me that I can't quite place. It's not embarrassment or shame. It's not regret. But it's not exactly contentment either. In many ways last night was everything I could have asked for - after being indecisive for as long as I'd known him, what I'd wanted had suddenly been so clear, the world had disappeared around us and it had just been Peeta and me, the years of tormented need erased as we let our bodies make our decisions for us. It had been passionate and erotic, but at the same I could feel the emotion behind every kiss, every touch. It was not just anybody making love to me but someone who desperately loved me, who put my happiness before his own. Not to mention it had felt incredible. Even now, I could feel the after effects of his presence, my insides sore but achingly satisfied.

But something was holding me back from the joy I knew I should be feeling. For the moment, I could only label it as uncertainty.

Peeta squeezes my body to his, his face buried in my hair, inhaling deeply. I pretend not to notice the pressure of his growing erection against my lower back, although I'm confused by my body's response as I feel myself grow moist and a pang of desire pierce through me.

I crane my head to look at the clock for a distraction. "My god, it's three in the afternoon, we've slept for hours," I say.

"Doesn't seem like we're missing much of a nice day anyway."

He's right. Despite it being the height of the afternoon, the room is oddly dark. Whatever sunlight had begun to filter in through the windows early this morning is gone, and I can hear the rumbling of thunder in the distance.

"How do you feel?" he asks. "You passed out on me last night before I could ask you how it was..."

I blush slightly, recalling how I could barely keep my eyes open following our lovemaking. It had drained all of my energy and made even opening my mouth to say good night seem like too much exertion.

I elbow him playfully. "You know it was good," I say. "I'm not going to feed your ego with flattery."

He laughs, affectionately grazing his lips along my shoulder, before placing a small kiss to the nape of my neck. "I'm glad. If you felt even half of what I felt, I'm glad," he murmurs.

I breathe out heavily at the touch of his lips without intending to, and he jumps at the opportunity, trailing a line of kisses along the side of my neck. I can feel him again on my lower back, pressing urgently into my skin. My thoughts are almost critical of him... really, again? But I have no logical excuse for the way my body is responding either; I arch my neck to give him greater access and move his hand to my breasts, my nipples instantly hardening at the first touch of his fingers.

"Katniss," he sighs, more so to himself than to me. His mouth moves down to my upper back, alternating between kisses and gentle bites, while tweaking my nipples between his fingers, and I find myself gripping the sheets at my waist in an agonizing impatience.

I can feel the cloak of desire beginning to cloud my thoughts as it did this morning. No one has ever had this effect over me... not even Peeta had prior to now. I had almost expected to wake and have the spell be broken, be disgusted with myself for giving myself up to him, with the fact that Peeta was in my bed, but that hadn't happened. No, I wanted him again. Now that I knew the way he could make me feel, I wanted him even more. It was almost perfect, if it weren't for that uncertainty, that unknown that kept creeping in on the edge of my thoughts. Not now, I think. I don't want to know. Not yet.

I turn my body to face him, looking at him for the first time since we have woken up.

"Hey there," he says.

That smile, the sparkle in those blue eyes when he sees me. That hair, always falling in waves across his forehead no matter how many times he brushes it away. His muscular, capable body, that gentle strength that comes across in everything he does or says. I suppose I had always seen these things in him, I just hadn't wanted to acknowledge them, hadn't wanted to further complicate what already felt like a life full of overwhelming responsibility. I wasn't ready for the mental weight of a boy I barely knew announcing on public television that he had loved me since I was a young girl, for all of Panem to see. Finding out later that it was not a strategy to win the Games, that his feelings were all too real, watching his heart visibly break as I told him it hadn't been real for me... It was too much. I was too fragile at the time, too unsure of myself. Now was different. Now I had nothing to lose.

All of this races through my head as I stare back at him, but all I say is, "Hi."

He purses his lips together, as if studying me. "What are you thinking?"

"You first," I say, because he also has been lost in thought.

He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, lingering for a moment on my earlobe, and then sweeping his fingers along my jaw bone, says, "I was thinking that this is the happiest I have ever been in my life."

There it is again - that mental weight. Why, Peeta... why even now when I am beginning to explore my feelings for you must you make me feel so inadequate? Eighteen years on this planet, and this is your happiest moment - lying in bed with me, sleeping the day away. How can I compare, how will I ever be able to return the amount of love he has already so selflessly given to me?

He has enough insight to stop there. "Your turn."

"Can I show you instead?" I ask.

I don't wait for a response, and a low growl escapes him as I form a tight fist around his erection. I have never touched him like this before, and my excitement builds as I begin to slide my hand up and down his shaft.

"Tell me if I'm doing it right," I say as I lean in to press my lips to his. He kisses me eagerly, guiding his hand over mine to establish a slow but steady rhythm to my strokes. He pulls away and groans as I continue to work his pulsing hardness.

"You got it," he says, darting his tongue in my mouth to find mine, his hand sensuously crawling down my body, from my breasts to my stomach, down past my navel.

I feel a jolt as he finds my clit, the sensation almost too sharp as he begins to gingerly finger it.

He notices me squirm. "Too sensitive?"

"Yeah, I think," I say. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he answers, as his fingers make their way back up my torso, lightly tracing my breasts and the tender skin around my nipples.

He pauses our kisses to run his tongue over the surface of my lips, teasingly nipping them with his teeth. "Can I lick you?" he asks, his voice heavy with desire.

"Yes," I say, before I can even make meaning of his words. Anything to feel more of him. I startle slightly as he pulls away from me, spreading my thighs and positioning himself between them. Oh... that kind of licking.

I start to protest but his mouth is already on me, his tongue warm and deliciously rough as he places swirling licks around the source of my wetness and surrounding lips. He works his way up unhurriedly and deliberately, and I let my head fall back to the pillow, my eyes closed, basking in his teasing as he tastes me everywhere but where I find myself craving him the most.

My hips buckle forward as his tongue finally flicks over my clitoris. He presses a few long, firm licks up my slit, before again settling on my clit, his tongue slowly circling it as his hands hold down my thighs. I hear myself moaning before I feel the vibration in my throat, as he licks me over and over again, his swirling tongue increasing speed and pressure. I feel my legs extending, my toes flexing, all control over my body lost.

"I want you," I manage to plead.

He understands without me having to provide further clarification, a perceptiveness I appreciate given the difficulty I'm having in stringing together words. With one last flick of his tongue, he emerges from between my legs, and he is giving me that half smile of his as he licks his lips.

He climbs on top of me, the weight of him pressing me comfortably down into the mattress. He bends down to kiss me just as I feel the pressure of his manhood rip through me. I cry out but bend my knees to feel him even deeper as he pumps himself in and out of me, his breathing becoming heavier as his thrusting becomes more and more urgent.

"Touch yourself, baby," he says, leading my hand down towards my pelvis before leaning towards my chest, taking my breast in his mouth, and sucking hard.

I tentatively lower two of my fingers, copying his broad circular motions from before as he adjusts his movements to mine, creating a dizzying rhythm of pleasure. Between him now licking and sucking my nipple, his hard, thick member tantalizingly entering me over and over again, and my own touch, I succumb to the inevitable.

I grip his chest with my spare hand as my muscles tighten, knowing I'm only moments away. He suddenly raises his mouth to mine, kissing me hard and fast as he grabs my hips, jerking them forward as he slams himself inside of me, going the deepest I have ever felt him. I climax as he does, our sweating bodies entwined as we grasp at each other for support. My ears are ringing and my body is flooded by a warm, tingling relief that I feel spread to my toes and fingers. He pushes into me one last time, his chest heaving, before he stills, his body coming undone as his head drops to rest on my chest.

We lie in silence for several minutes, the only sound in the room our still ragged breathing. He runs his fingers up and down my body, from my collarbone to my knees and back, and I break out in goosebumps everywhere he touches, shuddering at the power of such a light motion.

He lifts his head slowly at first, placing a kiss to my chest, then to my neck, then to my lips. "That was incredible," he says, before adding, "You're incredible."

I don't know what to say, and when I do speak, I've officially ruined the moment. "I'm starving, are you?"

He laughs good-naturedly before pressing a final kiss to my forehead. "Yeah, I am actually. Do you have anything here?"

I nod. "There's a stew of some sort in the fridge that I can heat up, and some bread."

"Sounds good," he says, rolling off of me and getting to his feet. "Do you mind if I take a shower first?"

"Nope, I'll meet you downstairs."

He gives me one last lingering kiss, before disappearing into the room's adjoining bathroom. I wait until I hear the water turn on before I lazily drag myself up and out of bed. I stare at our strewn clothing on the floor and shake my head. How did this happen... twice? But I am smiling as I pick up Peeta's shirt, boxers, and pants, folding them and placing them in a neat pile at the edge of the bed. I throw on a white t-shirt and some jeans before I wander down to the kitchen, feeling ravenous with hunger.

As my body begins to calm and return to normal, my mind unfortunately returns to the same nagging thoughts of earlier. I absent-mindedly place two bowls and spoons on the table and light a flame under the pot from the fridge, sinking into a chair at the table while I wait. My thoughts turn to Peeta and his unexpected sexual prowess... where did he learn to be such an experienced lover? More importantly, with whom did he learn...

I wish I could pretend that it wasn't true, that these had been his first times along with me, but I don't believe my own self-made lie for a second. He never hesitated, he was never unsure of himself or about what to do. The way he touched my body, his movements so effortless... A tight knot is forming in my stomach, as I let myself accept that everything we have just done, he has also done with another.

I don't even notice he has entered the kitchen until he is standing in front of me. He has on the same clothes that he was wearing last night, his shirt hopelessly wrinkled despite my folding attempt.

"Sleepy?" he asks with a smile.

"No, just thinking," I answer quietly, rising to spoon stew into both of our bowls.

We settle down to eat, obviously hungrier than we thought because we devour our first helpings in seconds.

"Guess we worked up an appetite," Peeta says, giving me an exaggerated wink.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You must have a wild imagination," I say as I get up to refill our bowls.

His demeanor turns serious suddenly as his gaze focuses on the open kitchen window, the view of our once busy town decimated in rubble. "I don't think I was fully prepared coming back here... seeing it like this."

"I know what you mean," I say, pausing with a spoonful of stew halfway to my mouth to listen to the howling wind outside, a clap of thunder no more than a few miles away.

"I'd seen footage on television of course. Snow made sure of that. But it looks even worse in person."

"You should have seen it months ago... there were bodies everywhere, in piles on the side of the road. No one had even bothered to clear them away."

He swallows hard at my words, and a flash of pain enters his bright blue eyes. I regret the bluntness of my description instantly, carelessly forgetting that Peeta's family perished here along with the rest of the town.

"When were you back here before this?" he asks.

"The rebels let Gale and I come back not long after I was brought to District 13. I wanted to see it for myself, gather some personal belongings, and they got to film a propaganda piece in return." I shrug, those events seeming like a lifetime ago.

"Gale, huh..." His voice is as biting and nasty as Peeta is capable of being. "Good thing you had him around to protect you."

I frown, giving him a questioning, disapproving look. He looks embarrassed, almost as if he had spoken his thoughts aloud without meaning to, and stares back down at his bowl.

"Gale helped save you," I remind him. "I would have gone myself, but they wouldn't let me."

"Yeah, I know," he says, but there is a bitterness to his voice that rubs me the wrong way.

His jealousy of Gale seemed more justified in the past, but what did it matter to him now? Gale was long gone, and we had never been together the way Peeta and I had just been. Peeta, on the other hand, had obviously had another lover.

Up until this point I had tried to ignore my gnawing curiosity, but his immature reaction to the mention of Gale's name makes me vengefully change my mind.

Before I can think twice about it, I say the words. "Peeta, who else have you been with?"

It's his turn to be startled. "What do you mean?" he asks.

"You know what I mean. You were my first just now, but I wasn't yours."

His complexion noticeably pales at my words, but he stares back at me, steadfastly. When he speaks, his voice is calm. "What does it matter, Katniss?"

His answer catches me off guard. I hesitate for a moment before saying, "Now that we've been intimate, I think I have the right to know who your previous partners have been."

"Partner," he corrects me. "Listen, I'll tell you anything you want to know, I just don't see what good will come of it. You're the only person in this world that matters to me, you know that."

He takes my hand from across the table, caressing my fingers with his thumb.

It's not that I don't believe his words, because I do, but I unfortunately have never been the type of person who could let questions go unanswered. He is stalling telling me, and I can feel the knot in my stomach tighten as my nerves begin to get the better of me. It must be someone I know, I think.

"Please, just tell me. I'm not going to be angry."

He looks at me for what feels like an eternity before he answers, and the moment he does, I immediately wish I had taken his suggestion and left this stone unturned.

"It was Madge," he says.

I inhale sharply, the name so unexpected coming from his lips. Madge Undersee, the mayor's daughter, the girl who gave me the mockingjay pin which would eventually become the symbol of the rebellion, one of the only friends that I had ever known.

"How..." is all I can manage to get out, a hot wave of jealousy beginning to course through my veins. The three of us had been in the same class at school since we were little, but I had never known Peeta and Madge were even particularly good friends, let alone anything beyond that.

"It was after we returned from the first Games. She reached out to me when no one else really did, and we started to hang out more and more." He pauses, obviously uncomfortable. "Katniss, I don't really know what you want me to say..."

I don't know what I want him to say either, but I do know that the information he has given me so far has been inadequate. I wait him out, refusing to let him off the hook so easily.

"That was a hard time for me," he continues, a defensive tone entering his voice. "I was depressed. I was isolated. She was the only friend I had."

"And what a friend she was," I retort snidely. "How long did this go on?"

He runs his hand nervously through his hair. "I don't know, four or five months... We ended things a month or so before the Victory tour."

"And you were sleeping together the whole time?" I ask, becoming a masochist for details, even as every new revelation makes me more and more nauseous.

"Most of it, yes." He sighs. "Katniss, please. Don't punish me for this."

But that's exactly what I feel like doing. Punishing him, making him hurt the way I am hurting right now. Part of me knows I'm being unjust, but I cannot think rationally at the moment.

"What I don't understand is why neither of you ever told me. I understand you weren't mine to claim, but this was clearly a well-kept secret."

"Honestly, I thought she had told you. I knew you were friends and hung out from time to time. I just assumed you didn't care one way or the other. It wasn't until months after it was over that I realized she never had."

There is something about the earnest way with which he talks that reassures me that he is being honest. Even so, the truth still hurts. More so than I ever imagined it would.

"Why wouldn't she have told me..." I am talking more to myself than to him, racking my memory for any conversation I may have had with her that I may have overlooked at the time.

There was one. Soon after we had returned to District 12 from the Games, I had just finished settling my family into our new house in the Victor's Village, when she had stopped by with a housewarming gift. We were sitting in the living room catching up.

"It was really something watching you and Peeta on tv," she had said. "It was so romantic the way you fought to stay together, like Romeo and Juliet."

I had rolled my eyes, causing her to laugh. "It was all for show, Madge," I had said. "We knew it was our best chance to stay alive, to get sponsers."

"So you really don't have feelings for him? You aren't going to continue to see him now that you're back? He really is so handsome, Katniss." Now that I think of it, her eyes had been wide, imploring, her demand for an answer a little too eager.

"Definitely not," I had said. "To be honest I just want to put all memories of the Games behind me and never look back."

The deafening sound of thunder outside snaps my attention back to reality. The sky opens up and sheets of rain begin to pour down as I turn to Peeta. "I suppose she did ask me how I felt about you," I say. "But she never told me about the two of you, that I'm sure of. I would have remembered that."

" I think..." He stops, and a look of guilt shadows his face. "I think her feelings for me may have been stronger than my feelings were for her. I was never dishonest with her - she knew I was in love with you, that I cared about her only as a friend, but she seemed to want to ignore that sometimes. She told me she loved me once..."

A scowl crosses my face. "You were fucking her, Peeta, what do you expect? She obviously wanted something more from you."

"I know, I felt terrible about it," he says with a grimace. "That's why I ended things."

"So she didn't tell me because she was secretly in love with you and knew it was really me you had feelings for, fine. But you never told me either. Why?"

His eyes darken with anger and he practically glares at me. "When was I supposed to tell you, Katniss? You ignored my very existence after we returned from the Games that year. You wouldn't even look at me if we passed each other on the streets, like I was a complete stranger."

I avert my eyes from him now, knowing this is true. I did avoid him. "I'm sorry about that," I mumble. "I was confused, Peeta."

"Well, I was confused too," he says, his voice rising in intensity. "Do you know much you hurt me? Do you have any idea?"

I continue to refuse to look at him, a lump forming in my throat. He reaches for my hand again, softening. "Katniss, I would never intentionally hurt you. You have to understand that for a long time, I was convinced I meant nothing to you at all."

I nod, and suddenly the fight has left both of us as the room falls silent. He squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back.

"Come here," he says, tugging at me slightly. I get up, walking the few short feet over to his chair, and without protest let him scoop me onto his lap. My arms wrap around his neck and I rest my head against his chest, closing my eyes and focusing only on the fact that he is holding me.

This is all that matters, I think. Being with him now. The news of him and Madge still upsets me, I know that I will have more questions, that there will be more hurt feelings, but for now, this is enough. The poor girl is gone, after all, it seems almost disrespectful to be thinking ill of her like this.

The phone rings and I make no movement to answer it. It has been ringing for weeks, usually around this time in the evening, but I have always ignored it, not wanting to talk to anyone.

He rests his chin on my head. "You're going to have to start answering that. Dr. Aurelius told me to tell you he can't keep pretending he's treating you forever - you have to pick up the phone."

I sigh into his chest. "He usually tries a few times a night. I'll answer the next time."

"Good," he says, placing a kiss to the top of my head. "The rain's lightened up. I was thinking about running over to my house and grabbing some fresh clothes. That is, as long as you still want me here."

"I do," I say, hugging his body to mine, before getting to my feet.

I bring the dishes to the sink before walking him to the front door.

"Be back in a bit," he says, giving me a quick kiss and disappearing onto the foggy road that leads to his house.

I am about to make my way back into the kitchen to wash the dishes, when the shrill sound of the phone makes me jump.

Jeez, again? Usually the doctor waits longer than this to make a second attempt; he must be getting impatient. I make my way to the parlor room where the phone is, deciding I should probably get this therapy session over with. I can picture Dr. Aurelius's calm but stern reprimands as soon as I answer.

"Hello? Katniss speaking."

My mouth drops open as I recognize the voice of the person on the other line. It's not Dr. Aurelius after all. In fact it's one of the last people I would expect to be calling right now.

"Katniss, it's me. You never answer your phone, do you? Listen, I don't have much time to talk, but I need to see you. I'm arriving in District 12 late tomorrow evening. We need to talk."

"Okay," I say, finding my voice. "Call me when you're here I guess."

I replace the phone on the charger slowly, my heart pounding. Gale is coming back to District 12.