A/n: I've decided that this fic will alternate between Katniss's and Peeta's POVs – because I really enjoy getting into Peeta's head (ahem) and why should Katniss get all the words? I'll mention the POV at the start of each chapter, though it's going to alternate.

***So this chapter is from Peeta's POV.***

Also, huge thanks to everyone who followed, faved and reviewed the first chapter!

Disclaimer: Characters, setting, scenes and main story are the property of Suzanne Collins.

Chapter 2: Everdeen Girls

Cato is in my dreams tonight.

In the first one, he's sitting by a fire, polishing his sword. I watch, trying to mask my distaste, as the red gives way to silver. He grins at me, and then begins to list the ways in which he's going to torture Katniss before killing her when we find her. There are ten in all.

In the second, he and Clove are taking turns to shoot arrows and knives into Katniss, one from the front, one behind, while the tributes from District 1 hold on to me as I scream. I watch as she falls like a rag doll.

In the third, he is a mutt. My eyes fly open just as his teeth sink into Katniss's neck while I lie bleeding nearby, helpless.

It takes me a whole minute to realise that I'm at home, and Cato is dead. Fear has paralysed my three functional limbs, and it's a while before my hand discovers that it can move. I touch my neck lightly, heart thudding, and despite not wearing a shirt and having thrashed the blanket off at some stage, I'm sweating profusely.

Slowly, my eyes adjust to the moonlight streaming in through the thin curtain, and my heartbeat returns to normal. But the images in my head are too vivid, too gruesome. I know they won't let go of me, and it's no good trying to sleep.

I get up carefully, inching off the bed without any sudden movements, and reach out for my prosthetic leg. I'm still uncomfortably hot, so I attach it and walk slowly down to the kitchen for a glass of water. The fire is almost out, but gives off a warm glow. I think about the Quarter Quell announcement earlier, and whether it could have had something to do with my dream. I revisit the Games nearly every night, and this is certainly not the first time Cato has appeared with a vengeance, but something about that announcement made me very uneasy.

I turn on a lamp in the living room and drag my easel from the corner, placing it by the fireplace. Then I begin to paint.

I'm just mixing the perfect shade of red on the palette when a soft knock on the door makes me jump. Who could it be at this hour? Slightly nervous, I walk warily to the door and open it a crack.

It's Katniss.

"Hey!" I say, surprised, opening the door a little wider. Katniss has never visited me before. A cold blast of air hits me and I realise I'm still not wearing a shirt, which seems to make her uncomfortable, because her eyes widen slightly as she notices, and then she stares at her boots.

"Nightmare?" she asks.

"Yeah," I reply, shuddering.

"Me too," she says, squinting at the region just above my head. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," I say, moving to let her in. "How did you know?"

"You've got paint on your forehead. And a paintbrush in your hand," she replies, and focuses on it like she's never seen a paintbrush before. How cute.

"Here, make yourself comfortable. I'll be right back," I say after a pause. She seems shaken up, but she doesn't seem to want to talk about it – yet. I decide to put her out of at least part of her misery by putting on a shirt.

When I return to the living room, she's sitting on the couch, staring at the embers in the fireplace. I head over to it, and soon it's crackling merrily. I sit down and look over at her. "Do you want to talk about it?" I ask carefully.

She looks right into my eyes then. Her eyes scream yes, but slowly, she shakes her head.

"Oh."

"I can't sleep," she says. "Can I…can I watch you paint? For a while?"

I hesitate. She's never seen me paint before, but the only time she saw my paintings, she said she hated them. I can understand that. Sometimes, I hate them too.

"Um, are you sure?" I ask.

She nods. "If it's okay with you, I mean, I don't want to…intrude."

As if she could ever intrude. "Of course you can watch," I say, "it's just…I don't think you're going to like what you see."

She shrugs. "Couldn't be worse than what I saw in my dream."

Uh, yeah it could.

But I don't say anything, and start painting again. At first, I'm a little nervous – not because I'm being watched while I paint, but because it's soon going to become pretty apparent that this is a scene from a horror we both want to forget. Katniss must know that my painting will be something from the Games, especially because I woke up from a nightmare, so she won't be expecting fields of sunflowers – but she's never seen Cato-the-mutt.

I try to paint all the parts first that are not the main event, stalling in my own way. I must have been really engrossed, because I suddenly become aware of soft breathing and the corner of my eye spies bare feet over the arm of the couch. Katniss has fallen asleep.

I put my paintbrush down and go to the adjoining room, returning with two comforters and a thin mattress. I cover Katniss with one, grab a spare cushion off a chair, and arrange the mattress on the floor. When her screaming begins, the closer I am, the better.

When I wake up the next morning, the living room is bright, and the couch is empty. Katniss must have slipped out – she can move so silently you wouldn't know she was there. It's a bit unnerving at times.

I roll around a little, but now that I'm awake, it's hard to ignore how uncomfortable the mattress is, not to mention sleeping with my prosthetic on for all those hours. I get up, and then sink on to the couch, still drowsy. I close my eyes, but open them again after a few minutes.

I head over to the kitchen counter to make myself a cup of tea, and notice that three of the cheese buns from last night have been stolen. Grinning widely, I put the last one in the oven for a second to warm it up.

I'm just about to bite into it when a soft knock on the door makes me jump. What, is she back for the last bun? I think, somewhat grumpily. Putting it back in the basket, I walk to the door and open it.

It's Prim.

This is all getting a bit strange.

"Prim!" I exclaim, even more surprised than I was to see Katniss. I don't hesitate to open the door, and Prim steps in, looking worried.

"Morning, Peeta," she says softly. "I can't stay long, I'm going to be late for school." She takes off her coat, though, and turns to me. "You can't tell Katniss I came here," she continues gravely.

"Where is she?" I ask.

"Woods," replies Prim.

"She went back to the woods?" I yelp. I thought she'd finally begun to listen to everyone who told her it was dangerous.

"I think so. I haven't seen her at all, actually, or I would have stopped her, obviously," says Prim seriously. "But where else would she go?"

Where else indeed?

"Here," I say, leading Prim over to the counter. "Want a cheese bun?"

She shakes her head. She looks supremely worried about something.

"Prim, what is it?" I ask. It must be something serious if she sought me out over Katniss to confide in – and wanted to hide it from her. Was it something about Katniss? Did something happen? Is that why she came here last night?

Prim takes a deep, shaky breath.

"You know the announcement last night?" she says. "About the Quarter Quell?"

I nod, my fingers gripping the counter.

"I think they're going to reap me…again," says Prim, trying, but not succeeding, to hide her terror.

"What?" I ask, stunned. "What…why…what makes you say that, Prim?"

"It all fits," she whispers. "We all knew something was going to happen, and I don't know any details, but I know Katniss has been afraid about something. She talks when she's having a nightmare, you know."

Yes, I do know.

"She's scared of something. Of Snow. She's worried because even though she won…you both won. She never tells me anything because she's always trying to protect me," Prim shakes her head in frustration, "but some things I can guess."

I look at her. How much has she guessed? I know Katniss would never forgive me if I told Prim something she didn't want me to, so I just say, "But what has this got to do with yesterday's announcement, Prim? Why do you think they'd reap you again?"

She fidgets. "It's…just a guess. I could be wrong. But the Quells are always…more, aren't they? I mean, look at what they did for the other two. And this year, they're only removing the option to volunteer? It doesn't seem that harsh, somehow."

I still don't get it.

"How will that affect anyone?" she continues. "The Career districts will still reap someone who has been trained, and no one else ever volunteers. Except…"

Except…Katniss. Katniss volunteered. President Snow is not happy that Katniss volunteered. But will he really reap Prim again? Could he do that? The reaping is supposed to be based on luck…but I'm not naïve enough to think that it couldn't be rigged. Things have happened to Victors' families far too often to be mere coincidences.

I can't tell Prim she's wrong. I can't give her a false hope, because I know something like that could happen. It's not beneath Snow. And if I admit it to myself, from his point of view, it does sound like the perfect plan. The perfect punishment. I feel nauseated.

Prim is staring at me.

"Peeta," she says, before I can respond. "You have to help me train."

I stare at her, stunned. She doesn't seem to want consolation at all. Not for the first time, I see Prim as someone strong, less fragile than everyone else would believe. I see her as…Katniss's sister. Different in every way, yet so similar.

"Prim," I say finally. "You have to talk to Katniss. She'd want to know, she'd want to help."

"Peeta, you know full well how Katniss will react if I say something like that to her. She won't listen to me, even if she knows I'm right. She'll dismiss it, and she certainly won't help me train. It'll freak her out. She can never be calm about anything concerning my safety…especially not something like this."

I have to admit this is a likely scenario. But did Katniss already realise this? Is that why she came here last night? She was agitated by more than a nightmare. She wanted to say something…but didn't. Why didn't she?

"Prim. I don't know about this," I say, shaking my head. "I can't lie to Katniss about something like this. She'd never forgive me. Us."

Prim looks stricken. "I don't want to lie to her either, Peeta! I really, really don't. But…if I'm going into the arena, I at least want to have a fighting chance." She says it matter-of-factly, but her blue eyes sparkle with tears.

Is this our window to run? Could we do it?

With a jolt, I suddenly remember the rumours about the houses in the Victors' Village being bugged. We have no proof, but it's more than likely. I panic slightly, trying to think back to everything we've just talked about, but if reaping Prim is Snow's plan anyway, us realising it isn't going to change much.

"You do know that I'm not much of a fighter, right?" I say. "Katniss is, she's the one with the bow and arrow, the aim, the fire to kill someone if they harm her friends and family. I just got lucky, because of her. She's the survivor. I'm not…much."

Prim's blue eyes, so much like mine, are scornful. "Please, Peeta. Don't underestimate yourself. We all saw what you did in the arena! The Cornucopia bloodbath, you survived it, you managed to team up with the Careers…"

My face must have reflected how revolted I feel thinking of all those things, (and that tribute I killed, after the Careers maimed her, yes, I killed her, though I probably did her a favour. She was pleading with me to kill her, I still hear her in my dreams) because Prim lays her hand on my arm, and says, "…we all know you hated it, but you did it, Peeta. For Katniss. And it took a great deal of strength, and bravery, and it took Cato quite a while to hurt you with his sword even though all you had was a knife."

Prim's nice.

I have to admit that I hate hearing her talk like this, but she's no longer a child. She's seen a lot more than many of her age. Besides, she didn't make me promise to not tell Katniss. Maybe I can hint at it somehow and get her to guess…

"Okay, Prim. I'll do what I can to help," I say. Maybe we can find a way to leave. Maybe Prim won't get reaped. Maybe Katniss will find out about all this and…I am not a fast runner.

"Really?" Prim exclaims, and her eyes almost shine. Almost, but neither of us can wave away the gravity of the situation. "And you promise to say nothing about all of this to Katniss? No hints?"

Damn it.

But Prim is looking at me with so much hope that I don't have the heart to refuse.

"I do."

Prim smiles. "I have to go to school. We'll figure out how to do this," she says.

I nod, thinking about what I've gotten myself into. But if the worst does happen, at least Prim will have something going for her. If we tell Katniss, she may well try to be protective, but there's nothing stopping Prim's name from coming out of the reaping bowl, and there will be no one to take her place this time. If this is what Katniss was worried about last night, all I can hope is that she decides to take me into her confidence, and then we can work together.

"Peeta?" says Prim.

"Yes, Prim?"

"I do want that cheese bun."