THIS IS HOW I IMAGINE IT WOULD HAVE BEEN IN KATNISS HAD EVER THOUGHT TO SNEAK INTO PEETA'S ROOM TO HELP HIM THROUGH HIS NIGHTMARES. I OWN NOTHING! (Also, this is not a continuation of "Katniss", it is just a different experience.)
I am the only one awake on the whole train. Haymitch passed out a few hours ago, and he sits next to me in the compartment that has one of the most comfortable couches I have ever lounged on. He twitches now and then, moaning slightly as he undoubtedly remembers the faces and screams of the tributes he faced so many years ago. I fear that I am destined to remember them until I am much older than Haymitch is.
Effie went to bed a few hours ago, mentioning something about "beauty sleep". Peeta literally fell asleep at the dinner table, and when woken up by a concerned Portia, stumbled down the hall to his room. I think it's because he hasn't been sleeping well. Cinna and Portia both retired to their respective beds after desert was served. And here I sit, unable to sleep. This is the third night that insomnia has claimed me, and I have nothing to do but sit and wait for dawn to break so I can creep to my room, unmake my bed, tussle my hair, and pretend that I slept soundly all night.
However, being that I am bored beyond words, I get up and walk down the hall. I pass Peeta's room and am just at my door before doubling back. Peeta always thinks to check on me, but I've never been there to silence his fears. I silently open his door and walk hesitantly inside. I feel so invasive, coming into his sleeping quarters without his knowledge or permission, but I know he won't mind. I slowly creep to the vacant side of his bed and slip under the covers. Propping myself up on a pillow, I angle myself so that I can watch him, looking for signs of distress.
He sleeps so soundly, I begin to wonder if he will have any nightmares at all, or if he was too tired to dream of anything. Impossibly, I begin to nod off. Is it possible that Peeta makes all things in my life right? I have not slept a wink in three nights and now, beside him, I feel like I could sleep for a week and not stir. I feel my eyes flutter closed and allow the hands of slumber to slowly pull me down into a deep rest, but a small sound rouses me before I can drift off completely. I look down on Peeta's resting figure, and see that his mouth is caught up in some sort of grimace. I realize that his jaw is pulled back in either pain or fear…or both, and I search underneath the covers for his hand. Finding it, I hold it softly, rubbing my thumb over the top of his hand. He responds by gripping my hand tightly, and the small sound he made earlier escapes from his clenched teeth. It's a cross between a moan and a growl, but still so small it's no wonder he has never woken me when he has nightmares.
Noticing the sheen of sweat that has appeared on his forehead and above his lip, I reach over, the sleeve of my shirt over my hand, and gently rub the sweat away. His face looks truly pained now, and his entire body becomes rigid. He squeezes my hand tighter still, and his mannerisms seem to indicate the peak of his nightmare. I begin to quietly say his name, caressing his face with my free hand, shushing him gently, hoping to dull the effects of whatever he is seeing. It comes to mind to sing him Prims lullaby, the one that I used to hum to her whenever she dreamed of mine explosions, dead fathers and a cold mother. I hum bits of it to him now, stroking his hair as my melody reaches his ears. He seems to be, for the moment, calming down, and I sigh in relief as the song ends. Maybe the worst is over; maybe he can rest easy now.
Of course, I'm wrong, and the arm of his free hand strikes out violently off of the side of the bed. The moaning growl forms a word, over and over, silently.
"No…no…no!" he says, still quiet enough that if I had been asleep I would not have heard him. His nightmare has apparently reached its climax as he grips my hand the tightest yet, making me wince in pain, but I don't try to pry my hand from his, because I know he needs this. After a moment though it's all I can do not to whimper in pain, and I try to wake him. I hear it's not good to wake someone from a nightmare, because they will only dream it again the next night, but Peeta is destined to dream this dream every night for the rest of his life regardless, so I shake his shoulders gently and call out his name. He jerks awake, throwing himself into the sitting position, nearly hitting his head against mine as I try to balance myself next to him. He takes a moment to realize where he is, and when he does, he turns to me.
Before I can explain to him why I am in his room, why I have woken him, he hurriedly pulls me into his lap and holds me.
"Oh, I dreamt I'd lost you, Katniss. I lose you every night…" he whispers to me, holding me tightly, as if reassuring himself that I really am here.
"It's okay, Peeta. You didn't lose me. I'm right here, and I'm fine, aside from my sever lack of oxygen…" I said, refereeing to the fact that in his desperation, he was hugging me too tightly. He adjusted his arms, allowing in much more air, but still held me.
"You came to me this time." He said into my hair.
"It was about time I returned the kindness." He laughed at this, and slowly set me aside so he could get up. He walked clumsily to his bathroom, and the sound of a running sink told me he was washing his face. When he came back, I had straightened his pillows.
"It's almost three in the morning; you should get back to sleep." I told him.
"Will you stay?" He asked, almost in a panicked voice, but he adjusted his tone to be somewhat nonchalant.
"Only if you want me—"
"I do." He cut me off. I smiled at him, and excused myself momentarily to change into something that I could sleep in. When I returned, he was sitting up, as if he had been waiting impatiently for me.
"Must have been some nightmare…" I said to him as I climbed into his bed.
"It was. You told me you didn't want me; that you wished you'd never met me…" he said, no hesitance in his voice. He was always so open about his feelings for me. I settled myself into the crook of his shoulder.
"That would never be the case, Peeta." I said to him. I looked up just in time to see sparks dance across his eyes, a smile on his face, before he kissed the top of my head and was engulfed in sweet, dreamless sleep.