The next morning I woke with a start. The pillows around me and the cocoon of duvets were unfamiliar to me. I was drenched with sweat from my nightmare and I found myself shaking. Slowly I unwrapped myself from the fort of covers and looked over to the figure next to me. Peeta looked like a sweet angel, innocent and pure on the white sheets, making his cream skin glow. His ashy hair was no longer slicked back but slightly ruffled and the luxurious curls felt as soft as feathers when I stroked them. He stirred slightly, and turned onto his back. His eyelids fluttered, and I guessed he was dreaming. I wanted to kiss every part of him, his eyelids, his rosy cheeks flushed from sleep, his small yet slightly crooked nose where a light scatter of freckles lay. Last of all his perfectly arched lips, which reminded me of the pink wild flowers which grew in the untouched woods in springtime.

Slipping as quietly as I could out of the room, I rushed into the bathroom and locked the door. For the first time in months, I faced a mirror. My dishevelled appearance made me flinch. I leaned forward to my reflection for a closer inspection. My cheeks, which had once been slightly tanned from the many years of hunting in District Twelve's scorching sunshine and the olive skin inherited from my father's side of the family, was now patchy and dark brown from the months of collective dust. My lips were red and swollen from endless crying and my eye's resembled Glimmers disfigured face from the 74th Hunger Games, when the Tracker Jackers attacked. My eyes were swollen to the small size of balls, red and shiny, and the whites of my eyes bloodshot. The pupils were permanently dilated with fear, wide and black.

Sighing, I turned to the huge marble shower, which I had not used for what felt like years. I selected lavender scented water, the warm shower sprayed me lightly. I began scrubbing under my finger nails and rid myself of dirt, scrubbing my skin red raw to remove any traces of grime. It felt like I was washing a whole layer of skin off, scrubbing off the emotionally damaged personality who did not have the will to do anything for months. As I scrubbed and scrubbed I felt my motivation come back, as though Peeta had finally given me the will to do something. I washed my hair thoroughly, felt the silky strands between my newly-washed nails. Emerging from the shower, I was lobster pink and shiny, the whole bathroom steamed. I wrapped a large fluffy towel around myself, and crept silently past a snoring Peeta and into the huge walk in wardrobe I'd always dreaded.

Piles upon piles of unused clothes', made of luxurious silks and swathes of satin, in vibrant colours of reds, yellows, purples, electric blues, all of the outfits I would have worn on my parade after the 74th Hunger Games victory. Turning to the lower and hidden drawers, I grabbed a pair of stretchy black trousers which clung to my skinny hips and long weedy legs and shoved a yellow vest, which hung loose. I looked in the mirror and gasped at how much weight I'd lost from stress and neglect. I turned my head, not wanting to look at my skeletal self. I braided my dark hard into a plait down my back, and slipped back into the bedroom and under the sheets next to Peeta.

I lay still for a few minutes, watching his perfectly angelic face whilst he slept. His eyes rolled under his cream eyelids, while he dreamt. The long lashes fluttering lightly, and his lips parted slightly. He mumbled, and I leant in close to what he was saying, "Katniss", he mumbled, turning his head to the right and left quickly, I leaned over even closer, "No, Katniss," his voice full of indignation. I froze- was he under the effect of the Tracker Jacker venom again? Was his memory of me still being tampered with, as he became restless in his sleep? "Peeta" I whispered, shaking him slightly. He didn't even flinch, "Peeta!" I said more desperately. Sitting up, I grabbed his hand- "please don't be Tracker Jacker dreams again, please!" I pled to myself. He stirred again, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. His eyes snapped open, the pupils growing wide. "Peeta?" I asked, unsure of his reaction. His head turned slowly to me, sizing up the situation. A flash of vengeance crossed his expression, one I remembered from our previous reunion in District 13, when Gale and the other rebels had saved him from the Capitols clutches. I backed away from the covers, scrambling out of the sheets and pressed myself against the wall, "Shit-" I breathed heavily, the last time Peeta behaved like this, he tried to kill me. Nobody was here to restrain him this time, nobody even cared enough to save me, hey, maybe they wouldn't find my body for a couple of weeks. They wouldn't even notice I was gone...

Peeta stood up, look militant and assertive. He made way to me, when another look flashed in his diamond gleaming eyes- pity, recognition, and split between two personalities- the good Peeta, who cared for everyone and had a self-assured humour, and the Capitols Peeta, who was cold and unresponsive and wanted to destroy me. "NO!" he shouted, and he slumped to the floor.

I hurried to his side, and knelt down quietly beside him. "Peeta?" I whisper, lying a gently hand on his shoulder. He flinched and grabbed my arm, turning his head menacingly. Again, when our eyes met, my dark and cold gaze meeting his blue and innocent stare, his good personality fought control of his mind. "I-I'm sorry..." he stuttered, falling against my body, which was shaking with fright. I slid my arms round him, holding his shuddering body against my heaving chest, "It's okay, Peeta, it's okay" I soothed, my voice cracking. Wow, finally, somebody more emotionally damaged than me. I felt something wet slide down my wrist, Peeta's head bent over my arm, and I lifted his head to meet mine. We were level now, his blue eyes drowning in tears. "K-Katniss, I have to go. I'm only gonna hurt you. I'm sorry-"

I shake my head. "No, Peeta-" he tries to cut me off, but I shake him, "No! I only just got you back, don't think I'm gonna lose you again!" I whisper desperately. Peeta trembled and held a tentative hand, and stroked my cheek. I softened at his touch and closed my eyes. He withdrew his hand, and tried to stand up. "I'm sorry. But the Tracker Jacker venom doesn't let me forget, Katniss. It might get worse-" he says, exasperated. I breathe deeply, and push back a strand of my coffee coloured hair. I approached him, but he backed up a few steps, wanting to put some distance between us. "Peeta, I need you. And I know damn well you need me. We'll get through this, together," I say gently, and close the space between us. Taking both of his hands in mine, I interlink our fingers in a promise. "Together?" He whispers hoarsely. I nod and reach up to kiss him gently on the lips. It was the sweetest of kisses, and I sigh, wrapping my arms around him tight. His arms go around my waste, locking us together. "I promise I won't leave you-" I say, breaking off the kiss. He stares back, and his eyes are full of promise and regret, "It won't be easy," he warns, "but I promise that as long as you need me, I will always be here for you, no matter what." My heart swells and I kiss him again.

He lets go and takes my hand. "Come on," he says, leading me down the hall, "I'll get some breakfast down you, you're gonna need it." I look at him confused, "why? What are we doing?" Peeta gives me his all-knowing smile, "oh you're gonna come back to the real world, get some fresh air. When I arrived last night I couldn't believe the progress they've made cleaning the bomb debris up. I thought we'd lend a hand, the quicker the towns rebuild, the quicker people can move back." I smile at his genuine concern for our destroyed town. When we go to the kitchen, Greasy Sae has her back to us, whistling at the stove. She must of only just arrived, and when she hears two sets of footsteps she turns around and her jaw drops in amazement. "Katniss!" she exclaims, "You're walking and talking again! Good on 'ya girl!" She grins her toothless smile, a cigar perched between her lips. She hurries over and gives me a quick hug.

She takes in Peeta, "my oh my, Mr Mellark, look at you! They fixed you up good, at the hospital, dint' they?" She cackles, pinching his flushed cheeks. "Hey Greasy," he laughs, bending down to kiss the old woman on the cheek. "Oooh a real man, Katniss I'm glad he came back, finally talked you into a shower, thank god-" She sounds her cackle again, and I roll my eyes. "Hey Greasy, I think we can take it from here, you go on and get back to your grandkids," I say. She grins, with a sparkle to her eye. "Okay now, I left some squirrel on the stove, I'm sure you can figure out a way to cook it for breakfast," she winks. "I'll let you two have your privacy." She hobbles out of the kitchen with her walking stick, whistling again. I begin to work on the squirrel while Peeta looks through my cupboards and finds some bread. Raising it to his nose, he sniffs it. I raise an eyebrow, "what the hell?" I laugh. "Checking how old it is-" he replies in innocence, "you need proper food! Carbs and meat! It's only three days old this loaf, toast half of it, that's for you." We eat our breakfast in peaceful silence.

When we finish our breakfast, I stack the plates in the sink while Peeta grabs my jacket. It's not cold outside, a light breeze swaying through tendrils of my hair which escaped my braid. Peeta shrugs on a thick coat and grabs a small cane because of his slight limp due to his prosthetic leg. I take hold of his hand and together we walk to the town square which held so many memories, tragic and joyful alike.

There's nothing. Most of the buildings have been demolished because the other buildings were destroyed beyond repair. The Hob is no longer standing there, and the town hall is all but a few dusty bricks. I suddenly remember Madge Undersee and her father Mayor Undersee. I look away from the building as tears spring to my eyes. How did Madge not escape? Her father was Mayor of district 12! She of all people should of been able to afford an escape to the Capitol, under her fathers influence. I remember how strong Madge was when she pinned the Mockingjay Pin on my dress after the reaping in my first Hunger Games. How she was truly sorry and was confident in me. She was always a true friend. My memories of Madge and the summer we spent together after the Hunger Games lead a tear to fall down my cheek, and I rub away fiercely so Peeta doesn't see. He saw anyway. Clenching my hand tighter, he raises our clasped hands and kisses my hand as we stand together, united.

A strong pungent smell of stale liquor and body odour crawls up my nose. I turn around and Haymitch is stood there, looking even more rough and dishevelled than I remember. It seems the stress of the war a couple of months ago finally took its toll, his middle aged face lined with worry and hung-over mornings. "Oh Haymitch," I sigh heavily. Peeta moves towards him and pats him on the back, "Come on, Haymitch. We'll get you cleared up," he says cheerily. I glare at Peeta, "he isn't our problem anymore." A cross of conflict flickers his face and I'm scared it's the Tracker Jacker venom again. But I see him scanning the desolate town which once held thousands of starving families, all united in trading and coming together to help keep each other alive. I remember when I was eleven again, and the simple act of kindness when Peeta through me the bread. My thoughts switch to a time when a young boy came begging at our door, and my mother gave him half a pound of cheese from Prim's goat, another time when I shared out a deer between hands fighting each other for a strip of the meat, and I shared it equally amongst my starving peers. This was our town, and I knew in that moment what Peeta meant. It was our problem; it was up to me and Peeta to rebuild this town and people.

I nod at Peeta, and link one of my arms under one of Haymitch's, while Peeta grabs the other. Haymitch blearily stares at us in his drunken state, "where we going?" he murmurs, stumbling to keep up with us as we make our way back to the only remaining houses that still stand in victors village. "We're going home, Haymitch," I say determinedly. A plan is formatting in my mind, and me and Peeta exchange a knowing glance- we're going to rebuild this town if it kills us, and help rebuild the rest of Panem's district's into free towns, with no Peace Keepers and no one to kill us if we enter the woods. We will all be free, even if it kills me.