A/N: Thank you guys so much for reviewing! It made my week! You guys are all just awesome.(: So dont stop reviewing. It lets me know if Im doing okay or not.

So sorry I didnt update sooner. I have to go to this horrible thing called school. And trust me, I know how it feels to have to wait for a new chapter. One word: ANNOYING! So without any more blabbing, here is Chapter 2...

2.
As soon as my head hit the pillow that night, I fell asleep. A deep, deep sleep that I needed and wanted.
Until the nightmare.

I was running. My leg was brutally burnt. My backpack hit my shoulder-blades in unison with my braid. The quiver strapped tightly around my body, the bow in my bloody hands. The unwilling look in my eyes that was un-deniable. I knew instantly where I was.

The Hunger Games.

My first. The worst, yet best thing that ever happened to me.
I didn't know why I was running in my dream, but I was. I knew about the time it was in the Games, though. It was after Rue died, and I knew because my dream-self still had the burns and tracker jacker stings, but they weren't extremely noticeable.

I didn't know why I was running until my dream-self screamed his name. Loudly, desperately. And I knew it wasn't a memory when I ran into the lake clearing and found Cato and Peeta at each others necks. But I didn't move in my dream. I wanted to, but I didn't.

I just watched.

Peeta was putting up a hell of a fight, but Cato still forced him onto the ground, sword at Peetas' beautiful neck. Cato turned and looked at me, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Here to watch Lover Boy die, Girl on Fire?" he asked, pushing the sword a little closer to Peetas' throat. Yet, I still didn't respond to what was happening. Not even when Cato said he would enjoy killing Peeta.

I watched, the whole time. I tried to scream, but my throat hurt too much. I tried to run, but I didn't move.

I watched as Cato killed Peeta. He took his time, killing him slowly. I knew Peeta was in pain because I saw the tears on his cheeks, I heard the murderess screams. I felt sick. I felt dead. The boy with the bread was gone. My throat hurt more then ever. I didn't understand why. But it wouldn't let me cry. I just sat back and witnessed someone I've loved so much get torn apart.

I began to cry. I began to scream. I tasted the unmistakable taste of blood as it danced in my mouth. I screamed louder. I screamed his name over and over, bawling like the little helpless girl I was, praying Peeta would come back.

I looked up to see Cato walk up and grab my arms, and then he shook me, hard and violently. But he wasn't saying what I thought he would, considering I was screaming nasty comments, yelling and crying over the death of the boy with the bread, spitting swear words into Catos' ugly face. But my head started to become less foggy, and I realized he was shaking me gentler then I thought he was, and his voice was different. It was calm, soft, soothing.

"Katniss." It said, "Please, Katniss. Snap out of it." The voice spook words of worry, but Catos' eyes were almost murderous, staring me down. I closed my eyes tightly. I didn't want to look at Cato, and I didn't understand why he wasn't talking in his normal voice. The voice he was using.. It was Peetas' voice. I knew it was. It was the same tone he used in the past when we slept next to each other, when he would to whisper words of pure love and caring into my ear. But how is that possible? I just watched him die, didn't I?

I slowly opened my eyes again. I wasn't in the Arena. I wasn't in Catos' unforgiving arms. I was in my room. And when I saw whose arms I was in, I did everything in my power not to kiss his lips, not to touch him all over and know he's real. Instead, I rested my head gently on his chest, his arms rapping around me.

I didn't realize that I had truly been crying, but I knew instantly because Peetas night-shirt was drenched in them.

"Shh." Peeta whispered. "Its okay, Katniss, I'm here. Don't cry. Please, don't cry."

I cried even harder. I've missed him so much. I missed this so much. After half a year without him, I knew I was broken. And having to deal with seeing him for the past 2 months and not being able to show my affection, it just killed me.

Peeta gently rocked me back and forth in his arms, kissing my head ever so softly. I calmed down a bit after that, but that only allowed questions to stampede through my head. How did he hear me? Why is he being so gentle? Did he miss me too? I shut myself up, deciding that assuming would just make matters worse in my screwed up head.

"Peeta?" I began, finally getting the courage to look up at him. His face was sad; tears were barely visible in the late night. His eyes were such a bright blue, they were almost paralyzing. "How did you know I was having a nightmare?" I asked quietly

His face instantly flushed. He smiled a sheepish smile. "Actually, I was on my way over here.. I had a nightmare... And I-I" he stuttered, looking away from my face and closing his eyes. For the first time ever, the boy with the bread had to think about what to say.
"I needed to make sure you were okay. I was walking out my front door and I heard you scream. I came here as fast as I could and found you like this." he said, gesturing to the blood on my hands that I hadn't noticed before. It looked like I had dug my nails into my skin. It stung, but I didn't want to get up from this position. Peeta had his arms around my waist, holding me in his warm lap.

I sighed looking back up at Peeta. He was searching my face, almost as if for an answer. I stared into his eyes, and waited to see if he found what he was searching for.

He didn't.

"Common, let's get you cleaned up." I stood up with Peeta, walking into my bathroom and to the sink. He put his arms around me, grabbing my hands and turning the water on. I winced when the bitter cold water touched my cuts. Peetas fingers softly rubbed the cuts, washing off all of the blood on my ruff hands.

We walked back into my room, and I went and flopped back down in my bed. Peeta tucked me in, just like I was a little child, vulnerable and pure to the world. The exact opposite of what I truly was.

He looked at me with sad eyes, then turned to leave. My hand quickly flew up, grabbing his wrist. "No," I say. "Don't leave me." I tugged gently on his wrist, begging silently that he would come and lay down, that he would kiss my neck, his arms rapping me in safely against his strong chest.

He looked unsure, almost confused, his body facing the corner of my room between me and my door. I frowned, and then gently pulled his wrist again. He turned back towards me, lying down on my bed without saying one word. And I barley caught the smile on his face.

Peeta rapped his strong arms protectively around me, his chin resting on my head. I couldn't help but rap my small arms around his waist. I slowly breathed in. I smelt the undeniable smell of yeast and dill. His chest was next to my cheek, strong and comfy like a man's chest should be. It felt just like old times.

Before I knew what I was doing, my lips reached up and kissed his collarbone. "Stay with me." I mumbled to his neck. My eyes widened with panic as I shoved my face back into his chest, cursing myself for not thinking. He was going to flip. There was going to be an episode, I just knew there was.

Peeta flinched a bit when my lips touched him, but he didn't push me away. Instead, he pulled me in tighter to him, shocking me beyond my beliefs. I knew he was smiling when he said the word that reminded me how much I loved him. "Always." he whispered, kissing my head gently with his soft lips.

With Peetas arms around me, I slowly fell into a long, dreamless sleep.