Okay, another chapter that got away from me. I meant to make this chapter about the Day of Remembrance but instead this chapter just wanted to be written so here it is. Let me know what you think about it. I watched the movie version of The Hunger Games again and was desperately in need of an assertive Peeta.

HG Fanfic Rec: The Luxury and the Necessity by Devanrae. Another take on the Growing Together Genre. It is so worth the read.

I love your reviews. Thank you, thank you! The more you review, the faster I write J.

Thanks also to TiffOdair, for letting me borrow her brain. She gave some great ideas for this and upcoming chapters.

Chapter 10 – Confrontation

As soon as I agreed to accompany Peeta to the ceremony, a felt a ball of anxiety settle in the pit of my stomach. I rose from my place on his lap and leaned on the bannister of the porch, looking out into the darkened woods. It was nearly pitch black, the only light coming from the houses in Victor's Village. Looking over to my right, I could see the twinkling of lights in the town but the edge of the woods represented the limits of humanity and safety. The darkness beyond was barely held at bay by the pinpoints of light, threatening to encroach and snuff out the fragile security built by the children of men.

I put my head between my arms and let it hang, my braid dangling in the air. I was suddenly morose, the feeling in my stomach blossoming into full-blown dread, so painful I could feel the stabbing through to my back. So up would go the memorials. So we would all remember. I thought of Johanna, how irreverent and tough she was and how she had been reduced to fearing water – water – of all things. Would the memorials bring her to love water again? Would the memorials bring Prim back? What was the point of all of it except to feel all of that loss and pain again? Maybe that is what the living needed – the upheaval of deep emotion to feel alive. To forget that we, too, were the walking dead.

I turned from my place at the bannister and looked at Peeta. He was also transported by his thoughts, staring off into darkness. Words seemed to have no place here, the phantoms of lost tributes taking the trivial sounds out into the night. When there was no more light by which to see, I put my hand out, silently entreating him to follow me inside. Heavily, he rose from his spot and walked with me up to his room.

Lying next to him, I felt so far from everything. Despite my exertions of the day, I refused to sleep, forcing my eyes open every time I felt myself drift, knowing the evil that waited around the corners of my dreams. Peeta took a long while to sleep, an air of expectancy around him. Maybe he wanted to talk. But I had nothing. My mind would not rest long enough to latch onto anything coherent. When his breathing became even, I carefully slipped out of bed and crept quietly downstairs. There was nothing in this house to calm me so I opened the front door and stepped barefoot into the clean summer air.

Here, I let my thoughts take hold of me. It occurred to me that Prim had been a tribute also, if only for a moment. I thought of that day when I volunteered in her place, believing that I was conceding life to her, taking the certainty of self-destruction in her place. How naïve I had been. What I had really done was hand her a death sentence, deferring the moment of her demise. I had momentarily taken her death out of Snow's hands and handed it in a neat, bloody package to Coin instead. The futility of it all pushed me deeper into the dark hole that lived inside of me. I had possessed no real freedom, no choice, embracing a hope that was just a mask for death.

These were the thoughts that kept me company that night. Despite all of my efforts, I eventually fell asleep in the chair. No sooner had I lost my connection to the world than the nightmares began. I was in the town center, standing behind a crowd of District 12 residents. My dream-self walked towards the crowd until I saw what had captured their attention. It was a stature of a girl. As I drew closer, it was clear this was not any girl, but Prim herself, standing on a stone pedestal. However, she was not made of stone, instead held immobile by some force, her face as impassive as the rest of her body. I sensed the danger even though it was not visible to my mind's eye – the conclusion of every dream involving Prim was the same. I fought against the unrelenting crowd, a wall of bodies resolved to not let me pass. As desperation overtook me, I screamed her name over and over. Hearing my name, the statue that was my sister turned its head in my direction. At that moment, she burst into flames, her dress and skin becoming blacker and blacker. I began to claw and kick, screaming to reach her, to try to put out the flames that were charring her alive. Slowly, she raised an arm towards me, finger pointing. Though her mouth did not move, I heard the words inside my head; "You did this to me." Helplessly, I watched her burn, the scene becoming more horrible by the complete absence of a reaction from her, just eyes that held mine in accusation. I was insane with my uselessness. It was only when the flames reached her hair that I could turn away from the vision.

Trapped as a witness to my sister's continued destruction, I heard my name being called in a voice I recognized and slowly began to recede from this vision into those familiar arms. Half-way between the flames of Prim's destruction and the waking world, I could feel Peeta shaking me, having tried for who knows how long to wake me. I was no longer in the chair but on the floor, having fallen out at some point during the nightmare. I pushed away from him, still in the throes of my vision, trying to crawl away from him on my hands and knees, searching for a corner in which to curl up and die.

It was then that I cried out, a howling sound like the keening of a dying animal that carried into the darkened forest. There was shuffling around me as I vaguely became aware of Haymitch's tread on the porch, kneeling next to me. I couldn't stop my wailing, balling myself on the ground to keep out the horror that only lived in me, my hands pressed against the sides of my head, sobbing and calling for her. My closed eyes kept replaying her burning body from my nightmare, from the Capitol. She died over and over and I did not have the means to retreat. Finally, I heard before feeling a sharp slap across my face that pulled me completely out of my dream. My cheek stung painfully as I felt Peeta suddenly leave my side, screaming angrily and hurling vile words at Haymitch, words I never thought his mouth could utter.

I opened my eyes to see Haymitch on his haunches, hands up to ward off Peeta's blows. I shook my head and sat up to stop Peeta from hurting him.

"Don't, Peeta, it's okay. It's okay."

Peeta turned his eyes to look at me, the pupils of his eyes having taken over the incandescent blue, rage making them glitter even in the dark.

"He was just trying to help." I whispered before pulling him down to me.

"Nice language." Haymitch smirked, dusting himself off and examining his arm. There would surely be a bruise in the morning. "Didn't know you had it in you." Peeta had a murderous look and I pulled him closer to me. "Look, boy, they're called night terrors. You can't just talk a person out of them, same way nobody can talk you out of a flashback." He looked warily at Peeta's fists before directing his attention to me. "And what are you doing out here, anyway?"

I just shook my head, trying to clear it of the lancing pain on my cheek and the remnants of the nightmare. "I didn't want to wake Peeta. I didn't think I'd fall asleep." I was ashamed of my weakness, my throat raw from screaming, my face still wet with my crying.

"So you decided to wake the neighborhood, instead? Lucky me."

"I'm sorry." I sobbed.

"Don't. He probably wasn't even sleeping." whispered Peeta as he held me against him.

Haymitch looked down at me, assessing my condition while Peeta still shook from his anger. "You better get something cold on that."

"It's okay. I've had it worse." I looked up meaningfully at Peeta, hoping he would at least apologize to Haymitch.

"Yeah, thanks." Muttered Peeta. Haymitch turned to go down the stairs, waving vaguely into the air.

As an afterthought, Peeta called out to him. "By the way, if you ever put your hands on her again, I'll rip your head off of your shoulders."

Haymitch smirked at this and said "Then you slap her. You'd both probably enjoy it more, anyway." At that, he was soon across the lawn and back in his house.

If I had not been under the influence of my nightmare, I might have been mortified by his vulgarity. As it was, I let Peeta help me up and lead me inside. He gently removed my jacket and walked me upstairs, putting me into bed and bringing me a glass of water. He took the glass from me when I was done and got into bed next to me. He then removed his prosthetic, wincing as he put it in its place next to the bed.

"Is it hurting you?" I asked worriedly.

"I was in a hurry when I put it on and think I put it on wrong. It's just sore." He said, taking a cream from the end table and applying it to his stump, rubbing it.

"Let me." I whispered, ashamed to add this to the list of wounds I had given him. He wore boxer shorts because of the summer air but he pulled the blanket over his leg, a blush of shame creeping over his face.

"I've seen your leg before." I begged quietly.

Peeta gave me that intense look that went right through me and made it hard to hold his gaze. He released the blanket as I took the cream from his hands, smelling it out of curiosity. It had a slight minty smell and felt cool on my fingers. I scooped a bit more out of the jar and spread the cream gently over the spot where his thigh ended, just above where his knee would have been. I was careful not to press too hard, even though it was silly to think he still felt any more pain there than anywhere else. I rubbed the pinched scar of his amputation, the muscled skin of his thigh above. I had not been this close to his leg since our time in the cave and it filled me with a terrible sense of loss I had to push away from me for fear I would cave into it. Instead, I let the movement of kneading his skin hypnotize me. I barely heard him when he spoke again.

"Why were you downstairs?" he asked.

"I didn't want to fall asleep." I said truthfully. "I knew what was coming."

Peeta seemed to accept this and leaned his head back on the pillows propped against the headboard. He let out a small moan of pleasure that made me shiver. "That feels good."

"It's the least I can do." I said guiltily. "You should let me do this more often."

Peeta did not respond, his eyes becoming hooded as he continued to watch me. I was wearing a thin gown. The heat did not allow for anything more. I suddenly felt every inch of my expose skin tingle with electricity.

"The next few days won't be easy for anyone, Katniss. You can rely on me." He whispered.

I stopped my massage, shaking my head. "I rely on you too much already."

He leaned forward and touched my arm. "It's not too much. I depend on you a lot also."

"Not nearly as much as I on you. I wake you up ten times on a bad night. I could feel that nightmare coming on." I said miserably.

"Then let them come. See, you went outside, had a nightmare anyway, fell out of a chair and woke up to Haymitch. Is that really the alternative you were looking for?"

I smiled at that, shaking my head. "If you put it that way, no."

Peeta pulled me in to lie next to him. He propped himself on his elbow to look down at me, running his hand over my shoulder and arm. "We take care of each other. Real or not real?"

Somehow the context of the game did not make me miserable so I played along. "Real."

"Good. Because otherwise, you'll get stuck with Haymitch." He chuckled at his joke and I couldn't help but widen my smile. He pulled back to look at me seriously, running his forefinger over my wounded cheek and skirting over my lips. "You are so pretty when you smile." He whispered.

I felt unbearably shy, my smile faltering under the examination of his finger. The air in the room seemed to go still, the sounds of the night creatures pausing outside of the window. The vibration of my body increased as I became more disoriented by his finger. My lips parted involuntarily and Peeta, sensing the invitation, brought his lips down to kiss me, first gently, playing with my lips, taking them between his and savoring them. Remembering when he kissed me in the kitchen, I caught his bottom lip in mine and gently sucked on it, reveling in their incredible softness, feeling a sense of satisfaction at his sharp intake of breath. The constant chatter of my brain went still as every fiber of my conscious became riveted on the feeling of his lips on mine. When his tongue dipped into my mouth, my own tongue rose to embrace his, dancing with him. I became disoriented from the feeling, drinking in the taste of him.

He pressed deeper into me, his kiss becoming more insistent. I brought my hand up to his neck, feeling his short blond hair tickle my fingers. I let my fingers linger in his hair, playing with them before tugging his head down closer to me. He responded to the increase in intensity by running his hands down my side to my waist and pulling my hips toward him. I moaned into his mouth. The sensation of his hands made me delirious and my own hands explored his back, the sinews of his arms. His chest was broad and well formed. I could feel the curls through the material of his t-shirt and ran my fingertips over them, feeling the indentations they made in the material. I was desperate to taste more of him and stopped kissing him to run my swollen lips down over the cleft in his chin, my tongue darting out to capture the taste of him. His entire body shivered as I continued along his jaw and to his ear. The sounds that I made embarrassed me but I was beyond caring. I let my tongue dip into his ear and suck on the delicious skin of his earlobe, nipping it with my teeth. I was ravenous to sample every inch of him and ran my lips along his neck, skating my tongue across the hollow of his collarbone. I was recklessly bold, making his body tremble. His gentle caresses turned into kneading as his fingers dug into my hips.

Soon, the length of my body was pressed against his and what had been hands gently running over each other became more demanding. I whispered his name, which made Peeta grind himself into me, trying to close the space that no longer existed between us. I was without limit, tugging him towards me, my gown riding up around my hips. His hands ran along the exposed skin of my thigh and up my side, his thumb just skirting the swell of my breasts, causing the peaks to harden painfully. The sun had meanwhile relocated to someplace between my legs and I felt a wet throbbing so fierce it was real pain and I longed for relief. When Peeta shifted his good leg between my own, I felt the clear evidence of his arousal against my thigh. The contact with me made him shudder and groan. I was suddenly curious – what was he like there? The thought made my back arched involuntarily against him, exposing my neck to his mouth. He kissed me feverishly, licking and tasting my skin.

I became almost ill with the need to relieve myself of the incredible pressure that had built up between my thighs. I shifted my legs, wrapping them around him, feeling his hardness pressed against me. Here, Peeta did not even try to disguise his groan. I could lose myself this way – all the nightmares, the grief – I could swallow them up in his body. I bucked against him, feeling him rub against me, his rubbing becoming rhythmic, his head hanging over me. His hands crept under the gown again which was now somewhere around my waist, swept his hand over my belly, every inch of my skin burning from his touch. My hands slipped down into his shorts and boldly ran over his ass, pulling him into me. At this, he suddenly froze and pulled back, his head hanging as he panted.

"Katniss, If I don't stop now…"

It was visible that the effort it took to control himself was a significant one. The occasional tremor ran through him as he struggled to catch his breath. I felt murderous – why would he stop? I, too, was panting, my body screaming in disappointment. I rolled over onto my side as he flopped onto his back, every ache I felt magnified a thousand times for him. I felt ashamed at my display – my moans, my squirming, practically begging for him. I didn't understand – and yet I did. Of course it wouldn't be like this with him. He would never treat this like an afterthought, an impulse and for once, his perfect goodness, his reliability to always do the right thing infuriated me and made me want to slap him. I knew before I asked what his answer would be but I was a masochist and would do it to myself anyway.

"Why?" I whispered.

Peeta sighed, his arm over his head, not answering for a long time. When he finally did, it was a whisper. "Because it has to be real. Not just something we do for comfort or loneliness; especially with the Reaping and everything else. I'm already a goner but if it turned out to be something else…"

I understood him. It was me. He needed to be sure that I was doing it for him, not out of some other baser instinct of which I was quite capable. To drown out the nightmares. To forget. It would destroy him if he thought it was an instrumental act. I ached a little for his doubt but I, more than anyone else understood self-preservation. My pride was wounded so I was not in any condition tonight to relieve anyone else of their insecurities. I accepted the emptiness created by the exercise of his patience. I continued to lie on my side, even when he pulled the blanket up to cover me. I could feel him come close to me, as he often did, one arm around my waist. I didn't bother to snuggle into him or even move. I just lay in that position, rigid, the echo of him burned into my skin, no relief in sight. I felt the mindless anger continue to build in me in consequence to my embarassment, the one that took the place of more nuanced emotion, the easy emotion to retreat to when subtlety was the better option. I felt him pull in closer, kissing my shoulder, which felt like needles pricking my over-sensitized skin. "Don't do that, Katniss. Relax, please."

"Katniss, kiss me, Katniss, I need to stop, Katniss, relax please. Katniss, Katniss, Katniss. Guess what, I'll just sleep in my own house!" I hurled this at him as tried to get up from my place in bed. I was so achy and frustrated and unsatisfied, I wasn't in the mood for the delicacy the moment required.

His arm would not budge. Sometimes I forgot how very strong he was.

"I'm not going to let you do that. You're not freezing me out." He said, his arm tightening around me.

Perhaps because it was easier to be stubborn than wise, I pushed uselessly against his arm. When this did not work, I began fighting against him. I took him by surprise as I smacked and punched him, screaming in my frustration. All of the stress of the day came out and I was like a rabid cat, kicking and fighting, the tears of rage dripping down the sides of my face. Peeta avoided the worst of my blows, though a few landed hard against his arms and face.

He still did not release me, grappling with my arms instead. I brought my legs up to kick at him but even without his leg, Peeta was agile enough to pin me down, my hands ending up over my head, held in the vice-like grip of his hands. If I had not been so angry, I would have thrilled at his domination. I arched my back, bucking my hips, the friction a reminder of our heated contact of only a few moments ago.

"Let me go!" I screamed, writhing beneath him.

"I can't." he said simply,

I thought of another time, of a crushed nightlock capsule and assassinated presidents and seethed at his words, banging my head into the mattress until I was spent and all my muscles collapsed at once.

He lowered his head to my ear, the breath hot against my neck. "I want you all the time, so bad sometimes I can't think straight." He paused, seeming to breathe me in. I began throbbing again and hated myself for my weakness. "But I want you to want me too, not just need me to get you through things. I don't want to be your crutch, the one you just happened to end up with. I'm not going to be that guy." He looked at me.

"What do you want from me?" I hissed at him.

His eyes went dark. "Everything."

I felt the fight go out of me, my limbs finally becoming jelly. Funny, he could have whatever he wanted. It would be so easy to tell him that I loved him, to try to pacify his need but I couldn't do it. The words got stuck in my throat and my anger and frustration constricted my throat further. They were binding and he was right, this was not the time to figure it out. I couldn't utter in the light of day my secret whispers on the night of the flashbacks and that made me a coward.

"You can let me go. I'm not going anywhere." I whispered.

He released my arms, sliding off of me and onto his side. I imagined how uncomfortable it must have been for him to put his weight on his stump and could feel his relief when he took the pressure off of it. I tugged the nightgown down from where it had ridden up over my waist and turned away from him, this time, too tired to be tense but not seeking him out either. Peeta reached over me to switch off the lamp. Stretching out next to me, he undid my messy braid and ran his hand through my hair until it was untangled. I really wanted him to stop touching me and just let me sleep, his every movement painful to me but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of speaking further. I had come undone and did not know where to rest my mind. When I finally did close my eyes, I spent the whole night dreaming of tangled bodies and heated kisses that ended in the satisfaction I had been denied.

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