Hey everyone! First, I am shocked to have received so many views and reviews on this story! I honestly believed people would HATE it! Second, I apologize for the length of time between updates! This weekend was my Bachelorette weekend so I've been pretty busy (though I had 75% of this typed up and just needed to finish it). Third, you'll notice that once again the first paragraph is the same as it was in the first chapters...I'm pretty confident saying that will be true for every chapter. Last, please let me know what you think of this chapter (if I should continue or just stop because I am ruining these wonderful characters [which I always fear I am]). I appreciate every one of you that has taken the time to view this story and those who have taken time to review...I'm just shocked and honored, really. Enjoy!

As always all mistakes are my own!

When the third anniversary of her death is thrust upon her she is absolutely destroyed by the feeling of her heart breaking apart in her chest all over again. The burn inside of her is so extreme that every piece of her feels dead, like her...and every part of her wishes it was actually true. So quickly her breaking point had been reached and slowly every bit of resolve she had managed to build up in the previous 1,095 days shattered somewhere deep inside of her, in a place she hadn't even known existed prior to that moment…and she knew she would never be whole again. There was no possible way she could be; after all that had happened within the span of those brief terrifying moments she…she didn't want to think about what had happened, but she couldn't help it. It consumed her, defined her…ruined her.

She rolled over, longing for the comfort of his blue eyes, and frowned when she found his side of their bed empty. Reaching out, she ran the tips of her fingers along his pillow, and relished in the warmth it still possessed. He couldn't have gone far, and he couldn't have been gone for very long. Lifting her head, fighting the exhaustion that told her it was impossible to move, she focused her eyes on the clock on his nightstand. The glow of the neon numbers burned her eyes and uncharacteristic tears blurred her vision when she realized that he'd gotten up with just enough time to shower and get to the bakery. It'd been reopened for months now and everyday he came home and entertained her with the stories of the many District 12 residents that had returned and become his regular customers. She loved those stories, loved seeing him smile, loved seeing him so happy…but today, she just wanted him to stay with her. To get lost in his eyes, his embrace, the very essence of hope his mere presence provided when she thought dealing with the memories of her dead sister were going to kill her.

She needed to bury her face in his chest and scream through the agony. She needed to allow his breath, his touch, his life to put out the fire. She needed him to dull the ache because she knew she couldn't on her own. To face the day alone would feel like a death sentence. She didn't trust herself, her brain would rattle off a million different ways that she could end her pain if he wasn't with her…and her heart wouldn't put up much of a fight. She feared him walking in the door and finding her dead on the floor, having succumbed to the alluring pull of peace…of freedom from a pain she knew would never go away. Today, she was broken, and she needed her husband because if she didn't have him she knew he wouldn't have a wife to come home to. And she couldn't leave him that way, in any way, without feeling as if she'd forfeited his love in the cruelest of fashions. He'd sacrificed his body, his mind, his life to protect her…she owed him everything. She couldn't go, especially at her own doing. She wouldn't let herself do that…to him.

She pulled herself upright, gasping at the ache in her chest and the pull of grief, as she focused her eyes on the bathroom door. The water was still running, he was still there, and she still had time. As she pushed herself from bed, her mind screamed at her. What are you doing? Today is the day to die! To join Prim. The physically pain the barrage of subconscious comments caused was nearly enough to make her surrender back into the mattress but as she reached their closest she attempted to shake her mind free of the onslaught.

"Okay," she gasped, her own voice sounding unfamiliar to her, as she opened the closet doors and leaned against one for support. Without it there, she would have fallen over, her legs betraying her and the floor seeming more inviting with each passing second she remained upright. "Stop!" she hissed as she reached for the nearest articles of clothing she could find. It wasn't until she'd stumbled back to the bed that she realized she'd grabbed a pair of her pants, but one of his button up shirts.

The day is a failure. Go back to bed. Die in bed.

Pulling off her nightgown she tossed it to the side before forcing an arm through the sleeve. She drowned in his clothing but she didn't care. She wanted to celebrate victory today, and the victory was she was up and moving in the first place. And he wouldn't have to save her and they could be like they were every other day of the year…when she was normal, or as close to "normal" as she would ever be. She fumbled with the buttons of the shirt for a few moments before abandoning the task. The shirt was on, that was all that mattered. Turning her attention to her hair she threaded her fingers through it, hoping to tame it somewhat, before using trembling fingers to force it into her standard braid.

"I have to do this," she whispered to herself as she closed her eyes and fought against the memories of years gone by.

Prim had loved playing with her hair. After their Father had died it had become a comfort to her, a constant in a world where their Mother was catatonic and food was scarce. Prim would play with her hair and she would sing, drowning out the growls of their empty stomachs. Half the time her hair had ended up in a tangled mess but she hadn't cared, because it had made Prim smile and she would have walked to the ends of the Earth to make her smile. In her minds eye the image of her sister grew more and more distorted with each passing second, replaced with images of burning skin and dead bodies, and the sound of exploding bombs and tortured screams.

"Katniss…" she nearly pulled all of her hair from her head when his voice broke through the mess of memories her mind had managed to conjure up.

"I can do it," she choked out as her fingers continued to tug at her hair. He got down on his knees before her, his hair still damp from his shower, as he set his hands on her legs.

"What are you doing?" he questioned as he took in the site of his wife, half dressed in one of his shirts and knuckles white as she yanked at her unruly hair.

"I want…I want to come with you to the bakery today," she breathed her reply as her exhausted hands fell into her lap. She didn't know how much longer she could do this, she was already so tired. It was sucking the life right out of her, rendering her incapable of even the simplest of tasks. He managed a small smile as he reached up and stroked the dark circles beneath her eyes with the pads of his thumbs. She was only a shell of herself on this day, half of who she was on days when her mind wasn't betraying her and taking her back to the day she lost everything that had been important to her for so long. Her face pale and eyes void of the stubborn strength that defined her, looking as if it was taking every ounce of sanity and strength she possessed to remain upright in spite of the pain he knew pulsed through her.

"Please," she begged quietly as his eyes focused on her own, her still shaking hands finding his arms and hanging on like they were her only lifeline. "I…I won't be here when you get back if I'm alone. I'm…scared. Please, Peeta."

He considered her for a moment, continuing to gently stroke her face. She was typically so fearless, but the pain that consumed her on this day robbed her of that…and it terrified him. He didn't know what he would do if she ever gave in to all of the horrible things her mind told her she should do. Losing her would mean he'd lost himself. There would be no reason to go on if he didn't have her to look to for the love, life, or hope that she gave him. Even after all of these years, she still had no idea how much of an effect she had on him. There had been a time, not too long before, when she wouldn't (or rather couldn't) ask for his help but that had changed and he was grateful. If she could find the strength to admit her fears, he would have no choice but to give up his own sanity if it meant she found some peace. He would do or be anything that she needed.

"Okay," he nodded his understanding as his hands finally left her face and fell to the still open front of the shirt she'd forced herself into. He smiled at her once again as her hands rested on his own, following him through every movement. "We definitely want to button this up. I'm sure I could find the enjoyment in leaving it open but, so could some of our customers, and we don't want that."

His eyes never left her own as he made fast work of the buttons and straightened the collar before his hands fell into her lap once more. She let out a heavy, exhausted breath as she leaned forward slightly, her forehead resting against his, as he slipped his hands beneath the bottom hem of the shirt and found her thighs. She rested her hands on the back of his head, her fingers threading through his hair, as she nuzzled her nose against his. Inhaling on his every exhalation she bit back on her bottom lip and attempted to stifle a sob.

"Hey…" he whispered as she slipped from the edge off the bed and into his waiting lap.

"I'm so tired," she cried from the sheer exhaustion of it all as she wrapped herself around him.

"I know," he breathed as he enveloped her in his embrace, his hands splayed across her back. He pressed his lips to the side of her head, placing a loving kiss to her temple, as he rocked her back and forth. "We can do this, though, Katniss. We can make this happen together, okay? I promise you."

"Everything hurts, Peeta," she sobbed as she locked her arms around his neck. "Everything inside of me is telling me I can't. I hurt everywhere, I see her burning…I see her dying, I feel her dying. My head keeps telling me it's my turn…it's my turn to go, and I want it. If it means that this hurt stops, that I stop burning, I want it."

"But the fact that you haven't given in to it means that you don't," he whispered before pulling back and cradling her head in one of his hands. "You are strong, Katniss."

"I used to be," she muttered as she brought a hand to her face and wiped furiously at her still falling tears.

"No, you are," he insisted softly. "You're sitting here, telling me everything you're afraid of. You're trying to keep moving despite all of the pain you feel. And you know that even though nothing would probably feel better than to not feel that pain…that's not what Prim would want. Remember, after last year, that's what we talked about. Prim wouldn't want you to go, it's not your turn, and you're fighting it. That's strong."

"I…need her here," she stated gently.

"I wish I could get her here," he declared as he brushed a piece of hair from her face. "I would in a minute."

She acknowledged his statement with a slight nod before bringing a hand to his face. Lining his lips with the tips of her fingers she stared into his eyes…letting them heal her. He was the strong one. Unwilling, unable, to let her give in to herself…revealing himself as her salvation just before she thought she might die. Pressing her mouth to his, she kissed him gently, hoping that it conveyed even half of the love, admiration, and gratitude she felt for him. She may have been the face of an uprising, but he was her hero.

She reached for her hair, holding it in a heavy hand for a moment as she searched his face for the strength she needed to keep moving forward. She had to do this, she had to prove to herself that she could get up on this day, knowing that Prim was gone, and move forward with life. She owed herself that. She owed the memory of her sister that. She owed her husband that.

"Don't stop looking at me," she pleaded as she began to move her trembling fingers. His gaze quieted the awful thoughts that relentlessly tried to push themselves to the surface. It kept her from wanting to die. As she tied off her hair with a rubber band she let out another heavy breath and reached for his hands.

"Can you help me finish getting dressed?" she questioned hopefully as she lifted herself back onto the bed. Once out of his embrace the tempting words, the promise of tranquility that comes with death, started picking apart her sanity once more. One last smile spread across his lips as his eyes brightened, glowing with love and admiration, and he nodded his reply while reaching for her pants. It comforted her, made her feel like she could do anything so long as he was by her side. She would do this, only he could help her do it.

"Hurry...we, we don't want to be late opening the bakery…"