There were steel traps under the porch. Her father never left them ready to strike, but their metal teeth would shine in the right angle of sunlight, and Katniss was afraid of them. They were never used, waiting for the first taste of blood, rusting in the mud. The neglected traps her father bought by accident. He never used them.
In her dream, the bite into her legs, fingers, arms, neck. Mutt's teeth made of bear traps cut her into tiny pieces. She has to cut her limbs off to get free, but is she's free, she cannot run.
Peeta feels her body twist and flinch under the sheets. Her leg seizes as if suddenly a hot iron touched it.
"Are you scared?" he whispers. She stares back at him, her voice lost in her throat. The air around them is a tensed as a guitar string, with no faith in melody from strumming.
She rubs her eyes awake, finding tears that haven't yet managed to escape.
He stares at her wordlessly, panic swelling under his Adam's apple. She offers a weak smile, a wordless gesture as silly as a ruffled flower handed between sweaty children's hands. He refuses the gesture. His face is too somber. She hates it.
"Nightmares?" she chokes out.
He nods.
"No one can hurt us. We're too valuable."
"You're too valuable." He answers. "I was a capitol toy."
"No," her fingers move along his temple, trying to soothe the tension going on inside his head. "No, you're the reason I'm alive, you're the second half of the most famous duo in Panem. And they want to see you happy and strong as much as they want to see me…however they see me."
He takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring in a way that sets her on edge.
"Go back to sleep, sweetheart." He says finally, rolling onto his back and running a hand over his face distractedly. She watches him stare at the ceiling, curled on her side, hands tucked under her cheek like a child. Her eyes flicker to his hands, wanting one smoothing the tension at her back, but she stays silent. For some reason, she does not want to sleep with her back facing the door. She rolls over, a little sullenly, from his lack of attentiveness.
She sighs, and apprehensively allows sleep to take her hand and lead her away.
Only to wake with a hand on her throat.
She's pulled roughly out of the trance of dreamless slumber. Her body surges in surprise.
She flinches. Her reflexes all act, though her eyes lag to open. That is one reflex she barely needs. She knows who it is.
She can breathe fine, normally, he hasn't applied pressure. He just stares down at her, tears staining his face. He growls "mutt…mutt…mutt…" over and over.
He's hovering over her, and it strikes her suddenly, the gyration of his hips. His eyes are so dark and so deep. And he's pressing his pelvis down into her lower belly. She's felt him like that before, but not in this situation. Not with his murderous glare hovering over her.
She pushes him off, hard, and draws the sheets over her body.
"What was that?" she barks out, forgetting his mental state. "What the hell was that?"
His face freezes, recognition and responsibility wavering in his eyes.
He blinks at her, and while he's done worse, they know that, they really know that, neither of them understand what happened.
"I…" he blinks down at her. "I don't know. I- I was having a nightmare, you were this mutt and I saw you and I just…"
"Peeta, what was going through your mind? Tell me."
She looks up at him patiently, knowing it's gone, for now, what was making him like that. He'd been like that before, but the grinding of his hips, that was new. And they had to clear that out immediately.
"I don't know Katniss. Sometimes it happened in my cell. Dr. Aurelius said it was probably because I was going through puberty and….you know. I couldn't get you out of my head."
She takes a deep breath, because it was hard enough to understand his attraction to her before he was trying to kill her every other day.
"Peeta, this can not happen again." She says stonily.
He looks so ashamed. She wants to take it back, but knows for her own sake, it had to be said.
"When do you talk to Dr. Aurelius?"
"I call him from the bakery. He's not crazy about waking up before six to talk to me, but I'm alone then, and it's nice to just talk while I work."
She bites her lip, feeling betrayed by the secrecy.
"You should be talking to a doctor too." He says softly, reaching for her arm.
She flinches, not forgetting what just happened.
"Hey," he continues softly, not withdrawing his hand. It hovers in the air between them, "a couple days. This'll be over. We'll be normal again."
"We'll still be sick." She answers hopelessly.
"We're healthy enough to live." He points out.
She draws her knees to her chest, resting her chin on a bony kneecap.
He shuts his eyes, still visibly ashamed.
"He said it was a dominance thing." Peeta points out nervously.
She glances up at him, "What?"
"My…impulse during the fit. That I sexualized you when I couldn't control you…" he takes a deep breath. "Like…I need to make you mine."
"I'll punch your lights out if you even think that justifies you ever…"
"No!" he bursts out, grabbing her hands in his. "Never. I won't do that, and don't ever speak to me again if I do. But this is why it happened. There's something just…I wish we could be, subconsciously, and I want you. So I act aggressively."
Katniss blushes at him, though her eyes say she's still not convinced.
"Is this going to happen again?" she asks pointedly.
She doesn't mean fits in general.
He squeezes her left hand gently. "I'll feel safer…if you answer a question."
Her eyes lock on his. He can't read the answer. It bites at his heart.
He can't ask her like this. He returns her hand to her, fingers brushing over her palm lovingly.
"Do you want me to sleep in the other room?" he whispers.
She looks at him, hollowly. Her eyes flicker in fear. She just wants this to be over.
"I'm scared."
Of this damn display. Of traps. Of unwelcome ghosts. Of what he can't control. Of what this could turn into.
She looks into his eyes and sees his shame of what he can't control and tries to anyway. Yet she senses something.
He knows what the purest act between them has ever been. She sees every muscle in his body in complete rigid attention. He's running himself, to never let that happen.
When she learned to defend herself, she noticed how his body was less tense. Like he felt a little safer against the possibility of hurting her. He was secure, knowing they were a little more prepared, a little more snug.
He was going to fight this. He looked her dead in the eyes now, knowing she was going to sleep safe from him in their bed tonight and every night remaining in their cursed time together. With every fiber of his being. He wouldn't force himself on her like that. He'd sooner run away.
She gives him a slight nod. He takes her chin in his hand, pressing his brow to her with eyes clenched shut. He cries for what he did, and the sobs move against her body, breath tangling into hers.
"I promise." He begs her. He needs her to forgive him, and to know he won't let it happen again.
He curls his arms tight around her. He doesn't own her in the way he holds her. He clings to her like she's made of stone and he's being tossed away by ocean waves. Like she might cast him off.
She holds his arms in place, and they tighten.
She doesn't have peaceful dreams. Neither does he.
She sort of gets what she wanted, something to cling to during the night. She's less scared.
Throughout the night, they both wake in tears and panics and cold sweats and fear. But they stay linked together.
As she drifts off, each and every time she kicks them awake, his whispers in her ear all of his promises. He uses a lot of words, mostly ones like "forever" and "safe" and "together"
A/N I worked my ass off trying to make this not too…how do I say it? Digging myself deeper into themes I can't tackle. But Peeta was a physically tortured teenage boy, I've felt for a while he would have this problem. But it's not going to be the next dark plot, don't worry. I feel I handled it alright.
Do I think he what did is okay, NO, but I feel it would actually happen. Geez, Suzanne Collins, why did you leave them so impossibly mangled at the end of Mockinjay, with no transition between crazy and baby making? Oh wait, that's why I wrote this story. Right.
I need to stop being so vocal in ANs, but man…these Anons are killing me. I'm kind of scared to open reviews now. But then I get amazingly kind reviews, and they light up my day. Thanks for the support and appreciation. I'm wrapping this baby up in a few chapters, though I'm not sure how many yet. The interviews are going to be elaborate, I hope.