AN: I apologize for the time it took to continue this story. Real life does that sometimes. Enjoy.

Chapter 13

~Katniss~

I picked up a berry from the ground; remembering our 'come find me' game. The next few were scattered up the hill, almost lost among the ground cover, but my sharp eyes are trained to look for the subtle things. His back disappeared in the distance when my eyes came level with the top of the incline, and I took off after him.

"Gale!" I shouted, my vision fading to sterile gray walls, my side protesting the sudden movement. I brought my hand over the thickly-taped patch over my ribs. They throbbed painfully, but not sharply as before.

"Hey," a soothing voice came to me, arms guided my shoulders back onto a nest of pillows. Peeta's ever-concerned blue eyes drew mine in. "I'm here. It was just a dream." His hands brushed over my forehead and brought me fully into the present.

"What did I miss?" I breathed. He'd brought me back to bed after Haymitch's fill-in; I was nearly passed out in his arms as it was. I considered the possibility of my dreams taking me back to the cellar of the training center, or perhaps to follow the traitor to her hiding place. Gale didn't even enter my mind, but he was bold enough to enter my dreams. I'd given up trying to figure out what he wanted me to do with that.

"Not much," he soothed me. "They're still looking for her; Weaver sent some agents to the palace and a few teams are out looking, discreetly. It's a sure bet that if she shows her face anywhere she'll be called out, so she's keeping a low profile. They think she has some hiding places back in Eight, so they're looking heavily there. At any rate, running off makes her look more than guilty." His eyes scanned my face. "How are you feeling?"

"Confused, I guess. Not sure why. I hate being useless." I deserved bonus points for honesty. That was the most genuine and sincere thing I could have said, and I didn't think it through or edit, I just let it out.

"I know, love." He gave me a moment, or maybe he wanted to say something and was afraid of how to tell me. He settled on the latter. "Um, your mom was frantically trying to get ahold of you. She saw the propo and freaked out a little bit. She called Hazelle and the got the twins to transfer it down here."

"Ohhh..." my face crinkled with regret. I didn't like my mother very much, but she didn't deserve to hear my almost-end broadcast for the country to hear. "I didn't even think about her. I'm a terrible daughter."

"No you aren't. Not ever. I spoke with her myself. She wanted me to pass on that she's glad you're all right. She hopes you'll connect with her once things settle down. Don't worry, I didn't give her any room to think you'd get back to her immediately. Just whenever you're ready, okay?"

"Thank you, Peeta." I squeezed his hand lightly.

"So... we're going home tomorrow," he told me.

"What?" I didn't know if my face lit up, but something inside me did; this was the best thing I'd heard since I'd left home.

"We'll have a few agents to escort us and everything. And Haymitch, of course. He's eager to get home to his geese." Peeta chuckled at himself.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it exactly." Then something dawned on me. "Do we... I mean, I don't have to come back, for the trial, do I?" I worried. "That is, assuming they find her before the citizens do. They might do her in before the agents can bring her back. I don't really want to come back here, Peeta." I was really getting the hang of this blatant honesty thing. Maybe it's just that was Peeta, not Dr. Aurelius, who has some critique of everything I'm thinking. Peeta takes me as I am. I should have trusted him from the start.

"I know you don't. Believe me. I know exactly how you feel." He did, he really did know. "We'll try to work it out so it doesn't come to that. But I promise you, If it's necessary to come back, I'll be by your side no matter what. We're in this together."

I sighed. "We make a good team." This brought out his rare, crooked grin, the one that only came out when he was sure that I was his, and no one else's.

"Yeah, we do," he agreed. "So tell me about this dream of yours..."

The underground train dropped the six of us at a freight elevator. It reminded me of the one used in Twelve to send workers into the mines. I shuddered, willing myself to remember that we were going up, not down. And this one was rather roomy and devoid of coal dust, so that helped negate the long-imprinted mental imagery. The doors opened into a dark warehouse; we had one of those in Twelve also, but smaller, and it also carried a load of coal dust, though its purpose was for storing the grain for tesserae. It rarely stored anything though, and some of the Seam kids often went there to play, only to be chased out eventually by one of Cray's deputies. The path of my thoughts helped me break from the daze. Peeta had carefully gathered me in his arms again for the walk to the train station, and I let him without question. I was in no shape for the speed at which they walked. In the low light of late evening and with our dark clothing, we went unrecognized. The train was a familiar and strangely comforting sight.

Since Paylor had largely been targeting Victors, Weaver's committee had decided it would be best if we each had an agent assigned to us, for protection, until she was found and brought to justice. We'd reluctantly agreed. It gave Peeta peace of mind, and so I didn't fight it. Haymitch was a mother hen that evening, coming to check on us, bringing a variety of food from the private dining car and making sure I was brought extra pillows. He and Peeta worried over me; and for once, I welcomed it. Later, I wondered if maybe my lack of resistance to their ministrations added to their worry, but I brushed it off. Peeta got a certain satisfaction and enjoyment from caring for me, and I was going to allow him that. As for Haymitch, he'd have his geese and his alcohol soon enough, and would forget to worry about me entirely, so I wasn't as concerned about what he thought of my sudden change in attitude.

It was Peeta's turn to have a nightmare that night. He woke with a shout, sitting bolt upright and panting, the sheets crushed in his fists. I reached out to touch his arm and he startled for a second, calming down almost instantly with a shuddered sigh. He flopped unceremoniously back onto his pillow and faced me. "I'm sorry," he said, over and over.

"No need to be," I stroked his cheek with my fingers, reassuringly. His eyes closed and he leaned into my touch. "Talk to me, Peeta. Tell me what happened."

His eyes opened, they were dark as they studied my face. I gently reminded him not to edit for my benefit, and he nodded. "I was remembering the day you came home with your hair cut off... it was strange. The whole day played in reverse, and then went forward again. I saw everything, every mistake right before I made it, like they were taunting me. It was awful." His hand came up to cover mine, still resting on his face. He turned into my palm and planted a kiss there. "I'm so glad you're here with me."

I gave him a sleepy smile. "I remember something about that day too." He waited for me to continue. "That list you left me that morning... it wasn't until after I left for Two that I remembered it was still in my pants pocket. It had been washed but it was still intact, if a little crispier than before. I was on the train when I saw it... the note you wrote on the back. Do you remember what you wrote?"

He nodded solemnly. "I asked if it was real if... we were married." He cleared his throat. "The Doc didn't know for sure and Haymitch said I should talk to you, he wasn't saying anything. I mean, I kinda recall the interview where I said it, but I've been so unsure and it seemed so private and so trivial compared to all the other things, that I didn't make it important enough to really talk about." He paused. "So... are we?"

My heart chose at that moment to flood with such deep affection for the boy with the bread, I had to restrain myself from throwing my arms around him and kissing him deeply. Also because such careless movement was bound to ache terribly. I chose my words honestly. "We could be, if you still want to be."

The crooked grin broke across his face. Twice in as many days, I brought this pure joy to his face; and it radiated back to my heart. He was as much mine as I was his, in that moment and forward. "More than anything," he told me.

~Peeta~

I wish my family was here to see how happy I was, how happy she'd made me. They of course knew all the time, what she meant to me. My brothers teased me relentlessly, my father constantly encouraged me to tell her how I felt. But my mother had been right about me, I was too soft at the time, too wimpy to tell her. I hadn't deserved her then. I did now.

I carried her most of the way home from the train station; it was late evening again, and we slipped quietly through the darkness. Katniss insisted that I put her down when we got to the end of our street, and so we walked hand in hand the rest of the way, bidding Haymitch and one of the agents a good night as we stepped up onto our porch. One of our protectors stayed with us while the other briefly swept the house for intruders, checking for eavesdropping devices with a small handheld scanner along the way. When he deemed our house was clear and all doors and windows had been secured, they bid us good night and retreated to the empty house next door. My old house.

"I think I'll go up and get into the bath," Katniss decided.

"Need help on the stairs?" I offered, and she shook her head.

"I'll manage. Thanks though, Peeta." Her hand pressed briefly over my breastbone and headed for the staircase.

"I'll bring up some tea, all right?"

She turned back and smiled. "That would be great."

I busied myself boiling water and setting out mugs, digging up some tea leaves from a canister and shaking them into a strainer. I added honey for a touch of sweetness. I tried to ignore the foreignness of our own kitchen. It felt like I'd been gone so much longer than two weeks, but it was long enough to leave a slight layer of dust on the counter. I decided to remedy that in the morning.

Balancing a tray with two steaming mugs in one hand, I knocked lightly on the bathroom door. "Would you like your tea in there, or in the bedroom?"

"In here," she called back.

I opened the door slowly, keeping my eyes respectfully lowered to the brownstone floor tiles. She'd turned the lights on a low setting, but just high enough that I could peripherally make out her form reclining against the back of the tub. I carefully passed one of the mugs in her direction, averting my eyes.

"It's okay, Peeta," she said, as I felt the mug leave my hand. "I don't mind if you see me. Besides, the bubbles are covering most of me."

Shyly, the corners of my mouth turned up, and I raised my lashes, trying hard not to be bashful. Her hair was wet, curling only slightly at the ends where it touched her shoulders. Her shoulders... bare and lightly freckled, glistening from the steaming bathwater. My eyes traveled to her neck, the dip between her collarbones, and up to her eyes. Her scars had largely been smoothed by the Capitol medicines; only tiny lines remained of the more prominent ones. She was watching me, watching me watch her. Everywhere south was masked by a thick foam of creamy bubbles, except her hands which held the tea I'd handed her. "I'm sorry," I chuckled, looking away, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. My heart thumped hard in my chest.

"Peeta, if you want to be my husband, you can't be afraid to look at me," she teased.

"I'm not afraid," I glanced her way again, my breaths coming faster. "Just... overwhelmed." I scraped my bottom lip against my teeth. "You're so heartbreakingly beautiful."

Now it was her turn to blush, hardly distinct through her olive skin, but I noticed. I noticed everything about her. Always had. I hoped that I always would. I sat down on the floor next to her, taking a sip from my mug and reaching forward to set it at the edge of the sink.

"So... about getting married," I began, "how would you feel about waiting a little bit, just till things calm down and you're all better?" I gulped. "I don't want you to feel rushed. And we don't have to do a wedding or anything big, unless you wanted to... we could just register at the Justice Center and then come home and have a toasting. Or anything you want, however you want." My tongue was starting to trip over itself, and I was glad she stopped me there.

"Peeta, I just want to be with you." Her voice was so resolute, I was surprised at the depth of feeling emanating from her eyes. "I'm okay with waiting if it's what you want, but things will never calm down, there will always be something to deal with. I just want something to be clear between us, because there's no going back if we do this."

I braced myself, knowing what she was about to say. "You... don't want children."

She nodded slowly. "I feel like I owe you an explanation," she said softly. "The thought scares me. It's something I'll probably never get over. I might have... reconsidered... if this whole thing hadn't just happened, but it did, and it proves that no matter how safe we think we are or how much better things can get, there will always be people out there that can ruin it all over again. If no one had caught on this time, we might be back to the way things were in Snow's time right now. Maybe minus the Games, but..." she sighed. "I can't with good conscience bring children into such an uncertain place. No matter how much I'd love to give you them. I just can't, Peeta."

I was nodding, swallowing back the devastation, but knowing this was an inevitability, one of the many things I was willing to give up just to keep her. I blinked back my sorrowful expression, bringing my arm to rest on the rim of the tub, and she brought her hand to grasp my fingers. "I understand," I offered, barely succeeding at willing my voice not to break. "It's okay, Katniss. I knew that was part of the deal, and no matter what, I still want you more than anything else, and it's enough. If you'll still have me."

She smiled sadly, knowing what having her was costing me, but resigning to my decision. "Of course I will. And I promise to try to be the best wife and friend to you that I know how to be. I might mess up sometimes, but I won't ever give up. I'll do everything I can to make you happy. It's the very least you deserve."

"It's more than I deserve," I whispered, leaning toward her, resting my head against the warm, curved porcelain, and felt her lean her head against mine. "You're everything I've ever wanted. Just tell me when you're ready, all right?"

"Okay."

We enjoyed each other a while longer, murmuring words of care and affection until her bathwater ran cool and I coaxed her out, wrapping her in an oversize towel and holding her in my arms. She left me to shower a few minutes later and waited for me to join her in the bedroom. How my heart ached for her when I came in and saw her curled up on her side in only her underwear; I donned a pair of my own and climbed into the bed, and she instantly pressed herself against me, skin on skin for the first time. I'd dreamed of this moment for so long, and now that it had come, it was more than I'd ever imagined. I pressed my lips to her forehead, breathing in the clean hair and the scent of her soap. One arm curled around her shoulders and, pulling her to me, I let the other hand carefully explore her back and then down her side, being careful of her still-tender ribs, ending at the curve of her hip that peeked out of the small bit of fabric that I wouldn't dare breach without her permission. Her fingers traced patterns across my chest, moving down to the plane of my stomach, lingering over my belly button. Strangely, this casual, new exploration did not overwhelm us, but felt natural, and after a few long moments of getting to know one another, our hands stilled and we drifted off to sleep.

~Katniss~

Weeks passed, I didn't count how many. Peeta returned to the bakery during the day, and after a while of being cooped up in the house, I returned to hunting. My agent, a dark-skinned fellow called Lem, tailed me stealthily at a comfortable distance wherever I went; he was quiet and didn't interfere, but his presence actually did make me feel a bit more secure. Sae took most of my game every day and fed it to the workers tending Twelve's first harvest. Peeta would usually show up with a donation of excess bread and then we'd walk home together, but on one day not in particular, I detoured to the post destribution office to pick up a package I'd been notified was on its way. A young, gray-eyed Seam girl, helping her mother with the post that afternoon, handed me an envelope through the pickup window, her expression betraying awe and reverence. I never did get used to how people looked at me, and I felt my ears turn red as I thanked her and marched away, tearing at the corner of the thick paper.

Miss Everdeen,

I've never been very good with pleasantries, so I'll get straight to the point. Enclosed is a letter that was originally intended for you, in the event of the late Mr. Hawthorne's passing. It is written in his own hand, as confirmed by a graphologist under my employ. I apologize for intercepting this correspondence, but it would have been dangerous for us all if it had fallen into the wrong hands before the present. I assure you that only my eyes have seen the entirety of this letter, and that its contents will never be made public.

Sincerely,

R. Weaver

My heart thudded. Shaking fingers shoved the cover letter back inside and pulled out a smaller, torn envelope. My name was written on the front... yes, it was Gale's messy, incited script.

Katniss. I'm so sorry.

That day, you lost the most important person in your life, because of something I did. I can never set it right. I didn't give the order, nor did I know the circumstance, but it was my plan and my creation that took her life. No amount of my sorrow will ever console you, this is why I have not tried. I no longer deserve you in my life, and it's an insufficient punishment for the worst deed I'll ever do. All I can do now is to make sure her loss will be remembered, and that it won't have been in vain. I asked Rory to relay these things to you, and if he hasn't already, please tell him he's off the hook. He'll know what that means.

Now, there are some things that are vital for you to know, and if you're reading this, it means I'll never be able to tell you myself. There are things progressing in the Capitol that have a lot of us worried. We've come to the realization that Paylor's intentions may not be entirely honorable. There's little proof as yet, but you can't trust her. I've had a target on my back for some time now, over the things I've discovered. Someone named Weaver may be contacting you shortly with questions, and you may not like his manner, but you can trust him. He'll know what to do and can keep you safe. Please be careful, you have no idea how much you mean to me.

I have no right to ask anything of you, but I'm going to anyway. Love, Katniss. Love fiercely, as I know you can, and let your life have meaning. Fight when it matters, and forgive when it counts. Let that boy take care of you; you deserve him. You were my dearest friend, and I miss you terribly. Be happy, Catnip.

-Gale

The letter crumpled in my fingers. I hadn't realized I'd stopped right in the middle of the street.

"Miss, we should move along," Lem suggested quietly from over my shoulder.

I blew out a breath and sucked in another. I hadn't realized I'd been holding it. My mind swam with Gale's words, my gut twisting in a cloying sweetness that had me reeling, but I wasn't sad. There was a lump in my throat, but I rather than being in despair for the ones I'd lost, I was quickly brimming over with a determination to embrace everything I still had. I burst into a dead run, weaving past a scattering of people toward the Merchant's Quarter. The bakery was still lit in the late afternoon, and though my lungs were in desperate want for rest and air, the need to reach my goal was greater. I threw myself through the front door, the bells tied to the handle ringing shrilly from the force of my entrance. Peeta looked up from behind the counter, his face went straight to concern from whatever it had been before I barged in, holding out a paper bag to a customer.

I struggled to catch my breath. "Can I borrow you for a little bit?"

Peeta licked his lips nervously, but sprang into action. "Jin, come up front!" He called toward the storage room, and his middle-aged assistant came out carrying a bowl of half-kneaded dough. "I'm going out for a while!" He pulled his apron over his head, offering a swift apology to the customer, and was in front of me within seconds, his own agent, Sedge, close behind. I grabbed his hand and pulled him along with me, still breathless. I dashed past Lem, Peeta tripping at my side and a little behind.

"Where are we going?" he ventured to ask.

"The Justice Center."

"Oh no... what did Haymitch do?" he assumed.

"Nothing," I felt a smile tease the corners of my mouth. Peeta didn't ask anything more until we were on the concrete steps, when the tension on our joined hands pulled me back to face him.

"Katniss, what is this?" he reached down and pulled the envelope out of my other hand. I'd forgotten I was carrying it. Peeta just held it up, he made no move to open it. "Please, tell me what's going on. Is this why we're here?"

"Um... not really, it just made me realize some things." It was as vague an explanation as there ever was, but it didn't matter. My heart was swelling with everything I felt for him, and that's all that mattered in this moment.

"Like...?" he prodded.

I gulped. "Like, I want to get married. Now. Today."

Peeta choked on his own breath. He dropped the envelope and both hands came to cup my face. He looked into my eyes, trying, I think, to see if I was crazy. Which I sort of was, but then, so was he. "You're not kidding, are you?"

I shook my head, a smile creeping its way across my lips. Lips that were instantly crushed by his own, his breath blowing hard and sweet on my cheek in his excitement. He broke away for a second to ask "Are you sure?" and stole another kiss as I'd barely begun to nod. Then it was his turn to pull me up the steps.

The formality of marriage was a surreal blur. We signed papers with our names stamped onto them, submitted a spot of blood for the records, and recited a few outdated declarations of household sharing and other nonsense that would likely be amended in the years to come, but as it was the requirement, we dutifully complied. Our fingers remained entwined from the beginning. "So, that's it?" I asked the official.

"That's it, Mrs. Mellark," he offered me an acknowledging smile, handed Peeta a folded, wax-sealed copy of our marriage certificate, and excused himself. My eyes glazed over. Had this really just happened?

Peeta swept me into a laughing hug, his arms drawing me tightly into him. When he pulled back, his blue eyes were dancing. "I love you so, so much." It was all he could say before I rocked forward on my tiptoes and kissed him. This would be our life from now on. I would fill it with as much love as I had within me, and then maybe, I'd begin to deserve him. It was the only way to start again after all that had happened to us. When I came up for air, Peeta was still mesmerized. I smiled at the remembrance of how long he'd been waiting for this, for me. I cupped his face, dusting a bit of remnant flour from his jawline. "I need to start taking better care of you," I said.

He chuckled at this. "You already take such good care of me." He planted a triumphant kiss on my palm and entwined his fingers in mine again. "Shall we?"

I nodded, letting him lead us out into the hall. The attendant who'd directed us on the way in stood as though we were somehow much more worthy of notice than when we'd entered, and when he pulled the double doors open for us, I learned why. A roar of cheers and applause rang out from the square. A sea of smiling faces and waving hands, all turned out in support. I was floored. I looked to Peeta, and we exchanged matching expressions of bewilderment. I wondered if we were thinking the same things... Is this going to trigger a flashback? What do I do if it does? And least importantly, How did everyone know? But his eyes were clear and bright, and his crooked grin so lovely and meant only for me, that I did something I'd never thought I'd do in my life, let alone twice in less than an hour; I told my brain to shut up and let my heart take over, and pulled my husband to me in a world-shattering kiss. My husband... yes, this is what he would forever be. My love, my life. Gale's words had given me the push I needed to finally let go, to make me realize I could be with Peeta without fear of betraying my past. When we broke apart finally, Peeta raised our joined hands between us. I recognized so many faces, etched in varying spirits of congratulatory mirth, from the post administrator's daughter to the leagues of tiredly elated harvest workers, from Thom and his building crew to our agents... who were trying to keep their approval reserved... from Sae and her granddaughter, to Haymitch... pushing his way through the crowd to stand before us.

"About time, Sweetheart," he said, and tucked a golden dandelion into my hair. Traditionally, a girl's father is supposed to crown her with a wreath of flowers when he gives his daughter's hand to her new husband, but on short notice, this seemed all he could handle. I had no idea he felt so strongly for taking on this role, I didn't even know how the entire town found out. It hadn't been more than twenty minutes since we'd arrived, and it takes about that long to walk across town, so I supposed it was possible. Haymitch swept me into a bear hug before I could do anything to stop him, and in doing so, actually did remind me of being wrapped in my father's arms, and it brought me more comfort than I could have prepared for. Peeta's sweet, joyful laughter rang out behind me, and Haymitch released me, kissing both of my cheeks. He turns to shake Peeta's hand firmly, "Just go along with it, Sae's making me do this," he mutters to us, then turning and raising his arms to quiet the crowd.

"Well if I'd found out earlier that Twelve's favorite Victors were gonna pull something like this, I coulda had something better to say," he looked back to shoot us a glance of affectionate irritation. "In any case, I'd say it's worth a party. I propose we mark the end of the harvest in three weeks with a shindig in their honor. Twelve is due for some celebratin' if you ask me." Cheers broke out again, and Haymitch, along with our three protectors, ushered us down the steps and out of the square. "Sae didn't think you'd want to spend the rest of the day explaining to every last person why you tried to keep this all secretive-like. And," he leaned toward me as we fast-walked toward the Village, the crowd tapering off as we went, "I think your mother and and a few others would be hurt if they weren't invited."

I could swear he wasn't drunk. Would have bet on it. It was like back when we were training for the Quell, but this time he wasn't sour and pissed off. And he was right, I hadn't thought of my mother, the Hawthornes, Annie and little Finn, Pollux, even Effie... they'd be hurt that we didn't think of them. Happy for us I was certain, and absolutely understanding, but disappointed. No, I wouldn't disappoint anyone else with my usual behavior. I wouldn't disappoint Prim... she would have loved this day. She would have loved having Peeta in our family. Gale would be proud of the person I now chose to be. Gale... my envelope!

"The envelope!" I stopped dead in my tracks. Peeta's forward momentum didn't stop in time and his hand yanked me forward, thankfully his arms caught me before I could fall.

"RIght here, Miss... er, Mrs. Mellark." Lem had the envelope tucked into his jacket, he held it out for me.

My heart thudded with relief. "Thank you," I breathed. Peeta raised an eyebrow, and I returned with a look that said I'll explain later.

Haymitch bid us good evening with a knowing wink, and Peeta blushed bright red. Lem and Sedge secured our home as they did every day around this time, and offered their polite congratulations. We closed and locked our front door and turned to each other. I was in his arms, and he in mine, instantly, our lips greedily crashing together. When we broke, hardly sated, it was only in need of air.

"Now what?" Peeta asked expectantly.

"Now..." I panted, "... aren't we supposed to have a toasting?"

He laughed lightly, brushing a lock of wavy hair behind my ear and pulling out the dandelion that he'd accidentally crushed in our fervent make-out session. He laid it on top of the envelope I'd placed on the entry table, next to our marriage certificate. "If you've taught me anything, it's that you rarely do what's expected. So yes, traditionally we would toast now... but what would you like to do?"

I sighed, thoughtfully. "Tradition would be good for me right now. I mean, for us." I rocked forward onto my toes and pecked him chastely on the lips.

Peeta grinned, my favorite, crooked smile. "One toasting, coming right up." He reluctantly let go of my hand and went to the kitchen, and I retreated to the living room, slipping off my hunting jacket. Did I just get married in this? Effie would be appalled. I grinned mischievously at the thought and set about lighting a fire in the stone hearth. Kicking off my boots, I tossed them and my socks in the corner, sitting on the floor in front of the fire and rubbing the bottoms of my feet back and forth over the soft carpet. I wondered how I should feel in this moment, just before sealing myself in spirit and love to this man who had become my sweet friend and confidant, and shook off the thought of meeting anyone's expectation. I'd feel however the heck I wanted to feel, and not how I was dictated by society or medical professional to feel. And I felt... well, good. I felt sound, and sure, and... whole. That was impossible; there were too many dear people missing from my life for me to feel whole. But I still felt it, and then something crossed my mind. They were all here with me, in my mind, in my memory. In the bushes lining the front of our house, in my bow, my jacket, the chair I now leaned against, in the book tucked safely in a chest in our bedroom, and in the letter I'd left by the door. They were all here beside me, around me, filling me up. And now I'd fill Peeta with all this love I'd been so selflessly given, to guard him against the darkness.

"Katniss?" his soft voice broke me from my epiphany. He knelt beside me, balancing a small loaf and serrated knife carefully on a wooden bread board. His calm eyes searched mine. "Is everything all right?"

I smiled warmly, genuinely. "It is now."

He lowered his eyes bashfully, then became serious. "I've made one of these every morning, since we came home," he gulped, setting the board before me and carefully slicing the bread. "I wasn't sure when or even if you'd ever be ready, but I made them anyway, always hoping. I wanted to make that connection to the first time, when I tossed you the bread from my family's store during that awful season years ago," he continued. The first slice fell to its side, and then I saw; it was the same fruit and nut bread that had saved my little family when there was nothing else. My heart fluttered at the kindness of this gesture. He'd remembered, after all this time and through all the things that had been done to make him forget. "I want you to know," he vowed, breaking the slice in half and holding it near the flames, "that I'll always take care of you, I'll always be here for you, and..." he pulled his hand away from the flames, "I'll always love you."

He held the bread to my mouth with pink fingers, and I bit into it, closing my eyes. In an instant, I saw my mother and sister, gratefully eating the same bread around our small kitchen table, back in the Seam house. My sister's eyes looked to mine, and she flashed me her fair, dimpled grin. I hadn't let her down then, and I would never again. When I opened my eyes on the present, Peeta wore a sad smile. He knew where I'd been, and was ever so patiently awaiting my return. He speared the other half of the bread on a fireplace skewer and held it out for me. Of course, he would singe his fingers, but wouldn't allow me to do the same. I held the second piece to the flames.

"Peeta, you know I'm never good at saying the right thing, but then you know me better than anyone. I've never met anyone as patient, kind, and loving as you are. I don't know what I did to get to keep you, but I wouldn't be me without you. I fished the slightly charred piece off the end of the skewer and held it to his lips. "I love you."

He chewed slowly, eyes never leaving mine. "You are mine... and I am yours," we recited together.

~Peeta~

A choked, half laugh, half sob, escaped my lips, and my eyes filled with tears. She pressed forward in that moment and covered my mouth with her own, both of us losing our balance and rolling onto our sides on the carpet, the rest of the bread forgotten. My fingers went straight to tangle in her hair, and my tongue ventured out to slide across her lower lip. I just couldn't help it. A delightful moan escaped her, and her tongue came to caress mine. I tried to be gentle, I just wanted her so badly. I forced myself to break away, continuing to kiss her cheeks, her forehead, the tip of her nose, along her jaw, and down her neck to the hollow where her collarbones met, a delicious little spot my lips had never touched. It was so soft, so delicate. Her pulse beat madly against my lips, and suddenly her fingers were fumbling down the front of my shirt, shakily pulling at the buttons. I moved back up to kiss her, smiling against her lips.

"Maybe we should go upstairs," I whispered, as my shirt fell open. She burrowed into my chest and nodded. Kissing the top of her head, I got unsteadily to my feet, and when she moved to do the same, I swept her up into my arms. Her eyes were wide with surprise and they didn't leave mine, not for an instant. To this day, I have no idea how we made it up the stairs safely, our eyes locked and my legs shaking, but we managed.

I thought I knew her great and subtle nature from the time I was five. From sixteen, I thought I knew her true beauty. But I knew neither before this night; had no idea her subtle power and quiet grace as our bodies met and eternity was whittled down to nothing at all, not in comparison to my brave, beautiful wife. I couldn't hold her close enough, couldn't feel enough of her to satisfy me. She wanted far more of me than I could give. It would take a lifetime to begin to fill this need for her, to shape this primal sketch of her want of me. The pain I dreaded bringing upon her was soon forgotten, and all that was left was her, holding fast to me, whispering desires and dreams and great nothings that mattered to no one but us. And after, when we rested in blissful, boneless embrace, I realized finally... I hadn't just made her mine. She'd made me hers.

The darkness was electrifying. My senses snapped to full and immediate attention, something they'd never done before upon waking, not at this level of insistence. I blew out a sharp breath to adjust. Being with her last night... I didn't have words for what we did. What we achieved. Never in my life had I felt so intensely, utterly in need, and the one person who could relieve this longing, the last person who would have wanted to so many years ago, moved a mountain to be with me. For one brief instant, as our world came apart, we shared a soul. She gave more of herself than she'd given anyone ever before, she'd whispered to me.

I felt past my clutch on a pillow... it smelled like her hair... to her side of the bed. Empty. Barely any warmth left, either. My pulse fretted. She's probably just downstairs, my rational side told the other. Maybe she was hungry, we weren't exactly interested in having a proper supper last night. I smiled briefly at the remembrance, and then my more erratic side threw a snide remark, one that hauled me out of bed in an instant. I fumbled with a pair of sleep pants, yanking them up over my legs. What if she... oh no... she thought this was a mistake! She doesn't want me... she used me! No... I squeezed my eyes shut. She would not do that. Even if she was having second thoughts, we promised to talk through things. She promised me she'd stay, even if she thought the alternative was better for me. But it didn't matter what I told myself. My fear of losing her- the one thing that scared me more than flipping out in the throes of a tremor- was trumping anything rational my brain could conjure up.

I heard something fall downstairs, just a light clatter, and I heaved a sigh of relief. See? I told you she was just hungry, I told Meltdown Peeta. I cracked the bedroom door as a muffled female voice drifted up the stairs.

It didn't belong to Katniss.