A/N: Yay, another chapter! And this time sooner rather than later, hehe.

This chapter covers some of the events (oh, who are we kidding? It covers pretty much all of the events) from chapters 18, 19, and a little bit from 20. As always, there are extras in here as well!

Thanks guys, for all of the reviews and comments and messages! It means the world to me. You make lovestruck!Peeta very happy, hehe. So thank you, thank you, thank you! I can write more chapters contentedly knowing that everyone is enjoying this story. So hope you like chapter 14! Feedback is always, always appreciated.

Thom won the election by a landslide.

It had been a cold day, a few weeks after the Harvest Festival – which everyone was still talking about – when the entire district, eighteen and up, had been allowed to vote. Peeta and Katniss had walked to town together, his hand finding hers before they'd even left the Victor's Village. At the polls, Katniss had slipped her hand from his so that he could socialize – there was a press of people wanting to talk.

"Now you know, no soliciting at the polls…" Peeta joked when Thom found him. The former coal miner turned mayoral candidate laughed.

"Actually, I was going to see if it's not too late for you to make a cake for my celebratory dinner tonight," Thom replied.

"That confidant you're going to win, huh?" Peeta asked, quirking an eyebrow at the dark-haired man.

"Oh, no…" Thom said with a laugh. "Whether I win or lose, I'm still going to have the dinner. You and Katniss are welcome to come, if you like." He added.

"Thanks, Thom, but I'll have to pass," Peeta told him, glancing over to where Katniss stood in line to vote. She didn't seem too fond of the crowd of folks surrounding her. "But I can make that cake for you."

Others quickly swamped Thom and he moved away from the voters – he didn't want any of his opponents accusing him of recruiting near the polls. Hughes and Donnell came to chat with Peeta – they wanted him to design new signs for the barbershop – and Brink and Swift – or was it Peck, Peeta wasn't sure – joined the conversation as well.

Peeta excused himself when the talk became bawdy and headed back toward the lines that filled the town square. Katniss had already placed her vote, but came to stand beside him anyway, lacing her arm in his and leaning close. He smiled at the simple joy her touch roused.

"Looks like you have a few admirers," Katniss told him, her voice soft. She inclined her head toward a few girls standing near the edge of the square.

Peeta recognized them all. Sorka – the blonde-haired butcher's daughter who came by the bakery almost every day and, according to Marc, pouted if it just so happened to be Peeta's day off. Channon – a young girl from Eight who was somehow related to Meek or Leidy. And Laurel – a dark-haired girl who'd been in Rye's class at school. They were a ragtag group – Channon couldn't have been a day over fourteen while Laurel was pushing twenty or twenty-one – but Peeta figured they had one thing in common. And he found it all rather ridiculous. He was scarred and had an artificial leg. He'd been beat up, tortured, and forced to kill to survive. And his brain still didn't function properly sometimes.

No one should want him.

And yet there was Katniss, standing right there beside him. He tugged his arm from her grasp and wrapped it around her, his hand resting on the curve of her waist.

"Well, they are loyal customers," Peeta replied in a teasing tone.

He gave her waist a good squeeze, but she still scowled at him and tried to pull away. It was a feeble attempt, though, and so Peeta knew she wasn't really upset with him. He tugged her back, forcing her body close to his. The line was moving and Katniss had to take a few extra steps to right herself after all the tugging and pulling. Peeta pressed a kiss to her forehead and then she finally did pull away so that he could enter one of the booths to vote.

Peeta spent the rest of Election Day at the bakery. With more citizens out voting, they were quite busy. He also had the cake Thom had requested to work on. But in the back of his mind, he wondered about Katniss's behavior from earlier that morning. Her coming to stand so close and linking arms, then mentioning his "admirers." The way she had scowled when he'd teased her about his "loyal" customers.

Was Katniss jealous?

He didn't know if she'd noticed those same flirtatious girls at the Harvest Festival a few weeks back. But she'd definitely noticed them that day. He didn't really bother with those other girls unless it was to sell baked goods, but the thought of a little jealousy on Katniss's part made him glad – in some twisted way.

He'd been jealous of Gale Hawthorne, he would admit. He'd been jealous of the friendship that Katniss had had with Gale, all of the years and memories.

Peeta remembered back to a few weeks before the Harvest Festival. There'd been a news story on – about District 2 – and suddenly the reporter had said his name. Gale Hawthorne. The tall, dark-haired man was standing in front of a newly rebuilt munitions factory. He looked rather sullen in his gray uniform, but he had smiled at the pretty reporter and answered her questions matter-of-factly. Peeta had exchanged a look with Haymitch before turning toward the kitchen to look for Katniss. He couldn't quite place the look on her face. It wasn't exactly rage or fear or sorrow, but more like a mixture of all three. And some.

Peeta hadn't said a word as they had gotten ready for bed that night. She seemed to calm down a bit once they'd slipped into bed, her body finding his.

"Do you miss him?" Peeta ventured some time later, praying that she didn't slug him for asking. She did tense, but then she relaxed. It was quite a while before she answered him, though.

"I miss how things were, in the past," she replied, her voice steady in the dark.

She didn't say anymore, but Peeta pulled her close anyway and pressed a reassuring kiss to her brow. He knew that any part of Katniss that still cared for Gale was at war with the anger and betrayal she felt over his role – albeit unwittingly – in Prim's death.

Life was cruel – but that didn't mean it was all bad. It did have its funnier moments.

"Have any loyal customers at the bakery today?" Katniss teased a day or two after the election.

"I think you scared them off," Peeta replied without missing a beat. Perhaps Katniss was a tad bit jealous. But he'd not seen those three girls since Election Day.

"Now who am I going to get to buy all those cupcakes?" He asked, his voice laced with fake disappointment. Sae – who'd come over to cook that evening – was giving him a look. Katniss shoved at his shoulder playfully.

But Katniss only picked at her food that evening. At one point she stood quickly, scraping the rest of her food into the trash. As someone who knew true hunger, such behavior was highly uncharacteristic of Katniss. And it made Peeta worry. Was there something she wasn't telling him? He knew there were probably a myriad of things she kept to herself, just as there were things he didn't share with her, things that he spared her. But if it were bothering her enough that she was haphazardly wasting food, he wanted to know.

"Everything is ok, right?" Peeta asked after Sae had left. Katniss was at the sink busily washing dishes.

He came to stand beside her, and she looked up from the soapy water to meet his gaze. For a split second, she looked surprised, almost as if she'd been caught red-handed.

"Nothing is wrong…" She replied. Peeta could tell she was choosing her words carefully. He was just thankful that she was answering him at all.

"It's just…I'm happy. I really am." She told him, the corners of her mouth curving up into a bright smile.

And he smiled as well, gazing at her, standing there with her hands still plunged into the soapy dishwater, her long neck turned so that she could meet his gaze. He wanted to cup her face in both his hands and kiss her – firmly and properly – but he resisted. Instead, he moved to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Her body fit against his perfectly and they stayed like that for a while.

Something was weighing on her mind, he knew, despite how happy she claimed to be. He didn't doubt the emotion, but he could tell that something was making her anxious as well. Had she had a change of heart and was trying to figure out some way to tell him?

When Katniss slowly turned her head toward him, Peeta felt his heart start to race. Was she going to kiss him? But she didn't move any closer, only raised an eyebrow and nodded toward her now-cold dishwater. He let go of her with a soft laugh and headed toward the living room.

They lay together on the couch sometime later, Peeta half-watching the news report being broadcast. The clear leader in the election was Thom, but they'd had to send all the ballots off to the Capitol for official processing, and so – two days later – the winner had yet to be announced. At one point Katniss rolled over and buried her face in his shirt. Peeta grabbed a large quilt that had been perched on the back of the couch and covered them both with it.

"I love you," he said, not as a whisper but in a speaking tone, his voice even.

It was almost a desperate plea, a last ditch effort to make sure she knew how he felt about her. If she was going to tell him that she didn't share his feelings, that she wanted nothing to do with him anymore, he had to be up front with her. But it was more than that. It was the song his heart sang whenever he thought of her. And it was the freedom he was allowed to say such things, whether she said it back or not. There was no pretense, no show to put on for the cameras or the crowds. There was only the two of them, learning how to live again.

But she made no attempt to break things off with him, or even change their routine. She still smiled sweetly when he came in from the bakery, the world already dark around him. She still sat close to him on the couch, laid in his arms at night. The central heating no longer worked – he figured it had gone out sometime after the Quarter Quell, or perhaps even due to the firebombing. Peeta had tried his best to fix the cooling and heating system, but he was no electrician.

"Hell, my heating hasn't worked in years," Haymitch told him one cold evening. Peeta almost laughed – of course their former mentor wouldn't keep up the maintenance on his house.

"You've just got to invest in a lot of firewood," the older man continued. "And there's always a little bit of white liquor to keep you warm…" Peeta knew in Haymitch's case that it was quite a bit more than "a little."

"And besides, you've got someone to warm your bed at night…" Haymitch added with a smirk.

But body heat could only do so much. So Peeta ordered an electric space heater from the Capitol – for the bedroom – and started a nice roaring fire in the hearth each evening. And Katniss didn't shy away from the flames for long. Peeta guessed the bone-chilling cold outweighed her fear. He liked watching the fire – the reds and oranges and golds, all leaping and mixing together – and took it as a very good sign that it didn't cause any flashbacks.

"Do you remember…that day in the Capitol?" Katniss asked softly one evening.

They were wrapped up in a quilt in front of the fire, full from the meal they had prepared together earlier. Peeta could count on one hand the number of times Katniss had spoken of their ordeal, the mission to the President's Mansion that had ultimately lead to Prim's death.

"Mhmm…" Peeta replied, staring into the flames. "What about it?" He asked, trying to make it sound casual.

"I didn't know you'd made it to the City Circle," she said, her voice small.

He took a deep breath as memories began to swarm him. He didn't feel the frightful tug of a flashback, though, so he let his mind wander.

They'd been hiding in Tigris's shop, then made the decision to dress up as refugees, make it to the President's Mansion and finish him off or be finished off themselves. Katniss and Gale would go on ahead and Peeta would lag behind, causing a disturbance if he felt like Katniss and Gale were in danger of being discovered. She had slipped the handcuffs off of him slowly, watched as he flexed his wrists, rubbed the tender skin there. And then she had wrapped her arms around his neck. He had been a little surprised by the gesture, and so it took him a moment to respond. But then he wound his arms around her – covered in layers of clothes and fur – and pulled her close. And he'd known it might be the last time he'd share an embrace with her, ever.

"Yeah, I followed you guys as best I could," he explained, clearing his throat from the emotions that threatened to well up. "Lost you for a good bit, but no one ever stopped me. When I got to the City Circle, the first wave of bombs had gone off…"

He hesitated to explain more. Katniss had relived that horrible day in countless nightmares, so why go over all the graphic details?

"I was in a group of mostly women – older refugees. I had to find you, though," he explained before he could stop himself. "It was crowded, but then I saw her...I saw Prim...And there you were, running through the crowd, calling out her name and pushing people aside just like on Reaping Day…and so I ran after you…"

A log in the hearth popped loudly and Peeta was afraid he'd said too much. He didn't like to think back on the weeks after he'd been rescued from the Capitol, when he hadn't really been himself. Everything after that – after the second set of bombs had gone off and injured him – was a blur. He'd woken up in the Capitol Hospital days later, in excruciating pain and asking after Katniss so frantically that the doctors had kept him heavily sedated.

Katniss was quiet for a moment, but then the tears started. He saw the light from the fire glint off the tears that trailed down her cheeks and he held her close. She buried her face in his shirt and sobbed bitterly.

"I'm sorry…" He whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have – "

"No," she cut him off. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry that you got hurt…I'm sorry, for everything," she managed between sobs.

He could feel the weight of her guilt as if it were some tangible force. And he prayed – selfishly – that it wasn't the only force holding them together.

"Shhh…" He whispered, stroking her dark locks with one hand. "It's not your fault." She looked up at him then.

It took everything in his power to not bend down and quiet her tears with a kiss. He brushed away a few teardrops with his thumb, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of her cheek.

"Come on, let's go to bed," he said after a moment. She nodded and he relinquished his hold on her so that she could stand and climb the stairs. He followed close behind.

And whatever Peeta feared, whether it was Katniss telling him she didn't reciprocate his feelings or that she needed time apart – it didn't happen. Maybe it had just been her sense of guilt that was weighing on her mind.

Peeta was at the bakery a handful of days later when he had to do a double take. A girl with long, dark hair and the same olive skin as Katniss had just entered. But when he caught sight of the girl's face, he knew it wasn't Katniss. Her nose was a bit too long, her face too narrow to be the girl he loved. But she could have passed as her sister – the thought made his heart clinch, as Katniss did have a sister, once.

It was Leevy – that was her name. He remembered her from District 13 more than he did from Twelve, though he knew she had been in the same grade as him in school. Her younger brother – same dark hair and gray eyes – had clung to her like a shadow after the firebombing.

Peeta greeted her with a friendly smile when she brought a large loaf of bread to the counter. She counted out her coins carefully, but he could tell the brightly frosted cookies in the display case had caught her eye.

"Want a few?" Peeta asked, and Leevy looked up quickly, her cheeks flushed.

"Oh, no, I…" Leevy stammered shyly. "I mean, my brother would love them, but I don't…" Peeta realized then that she didn't have enough money for the bread and the cookies.

"On the house," Peeta told her, wrapping up a few of the frosted cookies before she could protest.

"Thank you…" Leevy smiled gratefully. "And Peeta…" she added, her voice almost inaudible. "How's Katniss doing?"

Peeta felt his features break out into a dopey grin.

"She's doing well. Really well." He replied. "I'll tell her you stopped by."

Leevy thanked him again and then left. Marc raised one eyebrow in Peeta's direction.

"On the house?" Marc asked, giving Peeta a long look. Edda chuckled softly as she frosted a cake in the back.

"What? She was Katniss's friend…" Peeta replied in his own defense. He had only meant to be kind to the girl, not have his employees get any ideas.

He got busy placing orders for more supplies and equipment and completely forgot about Leevy until later that night, when Katniss was lying naked on the bed.

Well, she was only half naked.

After her tearful apology less than a week back, Katniss had been a bit more easy-going around Peeta. Surprisingly, she didn't protest when he practically demanded she let him apply the medicated creams to her back. He'd noticed the absolutely horrid condition of her skin one night. Her thin cotton nightgown didn't cover much. The cold, dry air of winter – combined with hot showers – had made her skin crack and peel and bleed. She really did need to take better care of herself, Peeta thought, shaking his head.

Her face had gone beet-red, but she'd tugged off her shirt and undershirt anyway, while Peeta retrieved a jar of salve from the bathroom. To see Katniss lying on the bed, her shoulders and back and the narrow curve of her waist completely bare – he had to take a deep breath and fortify himself against the lascivious thoughts that were bombarding his mind.

It was even more difficult once his hands made contact with her skin, so he recited the name of every tree and plant and flower he could remember from the Everdeen's plant book instead of thinking up more untoward scenarios. Katniss let out a sigh of relief as he spread the medicated balm across her damaged back.

Wild ginger, mayapple, mountain laurel, wild oats, he listed off in his head.

"Anabel asked if you wanted to help plant the field tomorrow," Peeta told Katniss. The wild oats had brought the task to mind. "Marc told me."

Katniss craned her neck to look up at him and gave him a nod. He took it for a yes as he smoothed the salve over her shoulders.

Thom had been busy in his first few weeks as mayor. Orders had come from the Capitol to bulldoze the mines months ago, and now the land was being appropriated as well. The new mayor and the members of the town council had been encouraged to use some of the land for crops, make the district a bit more self-sufficient. There were plans for a factory to be built on the remaining land, and Thom was in talks with several different companies at the moment. It had also been his idea to go ahead and plant winter wheat in the field instead of waiting until spring to sow other crops. As a baker, Peeta quite liked the idea. Citizens of the district who weren't too busy had been encouraged to help in the field. Marc's wife Anabel was unofficially in charge of the event - she'd gone to Thom herself and volunteered to lead the able-bodied residents. It would be a group effort – the sowing as well as the reaping – and the harvest would be divided amongst the people of the district.

His thoughts had wandered, and Peeta realized he'd covered all of her back and arms. He didn't want to give up the contact, though, so he drew out patterns of leaves and trees with his fingers, studied every scar that marred her olive skin. She giggled when his fingers brushed softly over her waist and he was suddenly aware of how warm it was in her bedroom.

"Oh, I saw Leevy today." Peeta mentioned. He had remembered the dark-haired girl when he tried to bury his more unseemly thoughts. "She came by the bakery. She asked about you." He added.

Katniss turned around quickly, and Peeta almost got a glimpse of too much flesh. She pulled the quilt up to her chest, though, and remained covered.

"Leevy? Really?" She asked. Peeta moved back to sit on the edge of the bed as Katniss sat up.

"Yeah, I think she just moved back," he explained, though he didn't know much. He didn't tell her about the free cookies or how Marc had teased him.

Without another word, Katniss turned back over, exposing her back to him once more. He didn't move from his perch though. She seemed to be tugging on a loose string on the quilt, but he knew she was deep in thought. He knew Katniss and Leevy had been friends – and neighbors – once. But maybe the thought of Leevy had caused Katniss's mind to wander to other things, other people from the Seam.

"I actually had forgotten about her until today." Peeta told her, his tone light. "But I remember seeing her in the mess hall in Thirteen, her little brother hanging on her skirts…"

But Katniss didn't respond, didn't even look up at him. She was still lost in her thoughts.

"Katniss…?" He asked, raising his voice ever so slightly and placing his hand on her shoulder. She did turn and look at him then, her features breaking out into a grin.

"Want me to get your back?" She asked.

So they switched positions, Katniss now clad in her nightgown and Peeta minus his shirt. Her hands were cold on his back as she rubbed the salve onto his skin. His body betrayed him with a shudder, and he quite forgot about reciting from the plant book to distract himself.

He couldn't help but stare at her once he'd turned over onto his back, her hands smoothing the medicated cream onto his chest and shoulders. He watched the look of careful attention on her face as she traced each pink or white scar, as her fingers lingered over freckle and flaw alike. Her cheeks had a soft pink glow and her lips were slightly parted in concentration.

When her hands moved to apply the salve to his forehead, he couldn't help himself. He pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of her wrist, his fingers resting lightly on her arm. When lips met skin, Katniss shuddered – just as he had done earlier when her hands touched his back. Something dark flashed across her gray eyes – a look he could only describe as desire – and she didn't resist when he tugged her toward him.

As she moved in his direction, Peeta pushed himself up and captured her lips in his. The kiss was warm and soft, but urgent at the same time. With his hands on her arms, he gently pulled her all the way down to the bed, never once breaking their kiss. He felt the sharp angle of her hips, the delicate curve of her breasts press against him, and it destroyed the tiny bit of self-control he had left.

But his mind wouldn't completely allow his body to take over.

He felt an undeniable tug on his thoughts - thoughts that were wrapped up in the present moment with Katniss, the physicality of it all. But then other images flashed across his mind, almost like a damaged recording.

Katniss kissing him, their bodies crammed into the small bed in her train compartment.

Katniss letting out a moan when Peeta's hands slipped beneath the silky fabric of her negligee.

Both of them naked, legs entwined, Katniss whispering his name desperately, as if she were pleading for her very life.

And then the images changed from fabricated moments of pleasure to scenarios that were altogether different.

Peeta with his hands around her throat, squeezing as she gasped for air and tore at his hands.

Peeta pushing the pillow – so pristine and white – over her face so that she couldn't breathe as she thrashed beneath him…

Peeta was thrown sharply back to the present when Katniss dug her fingers into his upper arms. It was frantic almost, and Peeta realized they were still locked in a passionate kiss, that he hadn't harmed her, and that his hands had slid down from her low back and now rested on the muscular curve of her backside. It would have been so easy to tug at the fabric of her nightgown – ball it up in his fists and draw it up, exposing her legs, hips, torso…

But the violent images worried him, so Peeta moved his hands back up to her waist and slowed down the kiss. He broke away not long after, and Katniss met his gaze. Her gray eyes were searching his blue ones, and Peeta didn't know what she was looking for or what exactly she would find there.

He couldn't tell her about what he'd seen. Not then, at least. He'd just shared a passionate kiss with Katniss Everdeen – one that hadn't been fueled by misplaced emotions – and he didn't want to ruin it. But his brain had gone a bit haywire and ruined it anyway, even if he told her or not.

Was his brain trying to warn him? Would he become his non-self – the deranged and hateful Peeta – and attack her if he let himself be consumed by passion? Or was it simply his own worry, his own sense of fear that had brought those images to mind?

Whatever the case, he had to say something. Katniss was sitting back on the bed, waiting for him to speak. Her lips were swollen from their kiss, her cheeks flushed, and it was rather difficult for Peeta to concentrate. But he knew what he had to say.

He gathered her hands in his, her fingers so tiny and delicate – though he knew the deadly precision of them.

"You don't have to say anything. In fact, I don't want you to say anything," he told her matter-of-factly, looking down at their hands.

"I just need to say it," he said, catching her gaze in his.

"I love you."

And perhaps he needed to say it not only for her, but also for himself. To reassure himself that love was a powerful force. That his love for her was stronger than any hate or anger that the Capitol had tried to program into him. That despite everything he'd been through, he still loved her. Perhaps even more than before.

Katniss didn't say a word. She didn't smile. She simply leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. She kissed him sweet and slow, but he pulled away before it could intensify. He didn't want his thoughts to go haywire again that night.

It did something to him, to see Katniss look quite a bit disappointed when he broke away from the kiss. He really had to figure out what was going on with his brain. Another amorous kiss like earlier, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop if Katniss pushed things further. Nor would he want to.

"I'd have to run a few tests to be sure," Dr. Aurelius told Peeta a few days later over the telephone.

Peeta had explained the situation – not all of the details, though – to the head doctor. The older man was quite perplexed by it all. Had something triggered those images, just as a hijacking episode could be triggered? Or was there something more sinister going on? Had the Capitol programmed those malignant images to crop up on purpose, to deter Peeta from ever having a physical relationship with Katniss?

Peeta prayed that it wasn't true. That it was simply a misfiring of neurons. But he knew the only way to find out was to go back to the Capitol.

"I can't leave her…I can't leave now, doc." Peeta confessed. He'd just have to be more careful around her.

"I understand, Peeta," Dr. Aurelius told him. "And I'm not too worried about it. You didn't act on anything, or even have a flashback, really. I'm just curious, that's all…"

Peeta wanted answers, but he didn't want to go to the Capitol. He couldn't go to the Capitol. The thought of leaving Katniss – even just for a few days – was unfathomable. This was the girl he'd loved since he was five years old. He wasn't going to let her out of his sight again. Not if he could help it.

But fate conspired against him. Fate, and his own clumsiness.

It had been a busy morning at the bakery, a solid week since he'd been plagued by those disheartening visions. He hadn't had a flashback or any other type of episode in the meantime, though he hadn't been in any king of situation with Katniss either. Marc was helping a customer check out when Rolf – sitting at his usual table with Hally – spilled his mug of coffee. The cup had been overturned and the dark liquid spread across table and floor alike. Rolf had stood quickly, trying to avoid getting any of the hot drink on himself, then reached for a handful of napkins.

"It's alright," Peeta said with a good-natured smile. "I've got it," he added, coming around the counter with a few dishtowels in hand. There was a mop in the storeroom as well, he knew.

Rolf offered him an apology, and Peeta waved it off. He took another step toward the couple, but when his left foot made contact with the floor, it didn't stop. It kept sliding from beneath him, and before he could even realize he'd walked right into the spilled coffee, the whole world tilted on its axis.

An explosion of pain rocked his senses, and then there was nothing, only darkness.