Dedication: I love each person that has clicked on this story. You are amazing and don't know how many bad days you got me through by watching as you read my story. You are beautiful beyond words. Thank you….this chapter is for you. I do so hope that you like and enjoy it.

My Heart Dreams…

My heart dreams of simple things
Of stars on a moonlit night—
Of loves songs being softly played
Of doves taking off in flight.
My heart dreams of simple things
Not of gold or lands far away.
It dreams of poems, of whispers
And of a sunny, golden day.
My heart dreams of simple things
Not of anger or of pain.
It dreams of laughter, of happiness
And of a gentle, summer rain.
My heart dreams of simple things
Like roses kissed with dew.
But my heart's fondest dream
Is to be loved by you.
_

It had been two weeks. Two long, empty weeks where nothing managed to break though the protective wall that he had built around him. The doctor finally consented to let him leave his bed under the stipulation that he rest often, keep himself calm, and didn't push himself to try to remember. Peeta laughed bitterly at the last. Try and remember. What a cruel joke! How could he remember what had never been? The holes in his memory didn't come from not being able to recall the events of those days. They came from remembering too much. The feel of her hair. The way she smiled. The way the scent of green growing things enveloped her. The way her kisses tasted. The sound of her voice whispering his name.

Peeta couldn't bear those thoughts. They rolled over him like the tide and pulled him down. His heart broke again and again as the knowledge beat itself into his brain. Not real. Never real. How was he expected to believe that when his heart told him differently? Insisted upon it. It knew what love was. It had held it, contained it, and had been warmed by it. Even with proof staring him in the face, his heart stubbornly maintained otherwise. He loved her. Only her. Always.
He worked silently, his hands moving by rote as he assembled loaves and pastries for the following morning. Pryce watched him with a worried furrow cutting a line in his brow. He shared a somber look with Seth, who was busily loading finished trays into a divided rack. "Peeta, we have more than enough to get set up tomorrow. Why don't you get out of here? Go find Gale or one of your other friends. Take some time for yourself."

Peeta glanced up, blue eyes shadowed and dull. He pushed errant bangs off his forehead with the back of his hand. "I'd rather stay here and finish up if it's all the same to you." He made an intent examination of the table surface after glimpsing the disappointment so clear on his father's face. "I still have a lot to do."

Pryce nodded wordlessly, knowing his son had seen what he had tried so hard to hide. He gulped past a sudden tightness threatening to close his throat. "Do whatever you think best, son. "

Peeta gave him a funny little wince of a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He opened his mouth but then seemed to think better of it and closed it once more. His fingers drew jagged lines in the flour before him. Finally, he let out a breath that caught on a sob. Pryce reached out to him but the boy sidestepped his hand and turned slightly away. A few muffled sounds escaped him, thickening the already leaden silence. He stayed that way for several moments, rebuilding the walls and closing the cracks in his already shaky façade. When he faced Pryce again, his red-rimmed eyes were the only outward sign of the hurt he tried so hard to ignore. "I'm just not ready to let go yet. I'm not." He muttered. "You of all people should understand that."

Pryce felt his mouth tighten but let the barb pass. The boy was hurting. His son was in pain and he couldn't fix it. He darted a placating look at Seth, whose face had taken on an irritated cast. Seth's jaw tightened but he remained silent. He knew better than anyone that Peeta didn't mean what he said at times like this. Seth had taken more than his share of pointed remarks but had patiently turned the other cheek. He continued to load the trays as he looked from one to the other in between repetitive trips from the table to the rack. Peeta looked almost ashamed when he turned to face them fully.

Pryce bit his lip, mind going automatically to Hyacinth Everdeen. His best friend once upon a time and the woman who had first claim to his heart. He loved her but not in the same way that he loved Maura. There would always be a tinge of maybe or might have been when he thought of her. His opinion of his wife wasn't so easily defined. The innocence and sweet wistfulness that had marked her out was unlike anything he had ever known. She embodied whimsy, beauty, and fairy tales. Finding such a creature in the wasteland that was Twelve in those days was unlikely. He had leapt into marriage before his heart and mind had reconciled to Hyacinth's loss. His nostalgia had gotten the better of him and Maura had seen it. Cut and bleeding, she had taken the road of many a fallen dreamer when cruel reality forced its way in. She became withdrawn and distant. She lavished what feeling she had left on the two boys he gave her. By the time Peeta came along, it seemed there was nothing left to give. That awful night two weeks ago had shown him differently. He had been wrong about so many things.

Taking off his apron, he gestured for Seth to cover the front area and went to the stairway leading to the family quarters. He looked over his shoulder and met the Peeta's lifeless stare. "I'll be back. You stay here as long as you need to." He stopped with one foot on the first step of the tier. "I do understand. Not all of it but mostly I do. Work through it in your own time and at your own pace. You can come to me. I'll listen as long as you want me to. Just don't give up, Peeta. Don't let it change you into something you're not. You stay you." Peeta nodded once sharply. His eyes stared intently at the ball of dough before him but Pryce saw the tentative twitch of a lip curving up. Pryce breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't gone yet.

Maura looked up from her sketch pad at the sound of her husband's heavy tread on the stairs. "How is he doing?" She questioned softly. Pryce wordlessly shook his head. Maura turned back to the sheaf of papers spread out on the table before her. Each one contained the same face repeated over and over in every possible variation. Maura chuckled quietly as her fingers lovingly traced the flowing lines. "Katniss Everdeen," she murmured. "Of all the girls that he could have set his heart on, he chose Katniss Everdeen." She looked up at her husband in weary amusement. "What is it with Mellark men and Everdeen women? Is there some unwritten law that says the two are fated to be joined for eternity? How can mere mortals compete?"

Pryce remained silent, knowing that she found the situation anything but funny. Her questions had a desperate edge, a note of disappointment in the tone. "He inherited your romantic sensibilities along with your artistic eye, my dear. He saw something in her that completed him." Pryce hesitated and then gently took her hand. Her eyes widened slightly and her fingers stiffened in his gentle grasp. "Just like I saw something in you that was lacking from my life the day I stole your sketchbook. I didn't understand it but I knew that it was special just as Peeta knew when his time came." Pryce wryly shook his head. "I never expected he would take her so much to heart. So much so that there is no room left for anything else. I'm to blame for the hurt he feels. I told him that story. I gave him that picture. He loves her because of my foolish inclinations."

Maura let out a low laugh that he hadn't heard in years. It was joyous and free. It warmed him from the inside out. "You never cease to amaze me, Pryce. You told your son a bed time story because he was afraid of the dark. That, my idiot friend, is the extent of your involvement. He loves her because he wants to, because he chose to. You had nothing to do with that." She let go of his hand and flipped through the sketchbook until one caught her eye. Carefully running a thumb over the top of the page to keep it lying flat, she eased to book across the table. "Look carefully. Do you see it? It's all right there on the page. You just have to know what to look for."

Pryce smiled at her teasing tone as he slowly took in the drawing. "No. I don't. What do you see?"

Maura's eyes became hazy as her fingers outlined the figure. "He's drawn what he needs, Pryce." She gestured toward the steady, gray eyes. "He was afraid so she has no fear. He's never been able to openly express his emotions so she smiles at the world. He always does what's expected of him so she's completely unexpected. The way she's dressed, the way she wears her hair and even the scenery of the drawing isn't typical for a girl in this District. She's completely different from every other girl that he's likely to find here. To put it bluntly, she's everything that I am not." She grinned to herself. "I don't take credit nor blame for his feelings but I understand them. I understand them too well."

Pryce gave his wife a searching look, marveling at the changes in her. She was completely enthralled with the drawings and seemed to forget that he was still in the room. He cleared his throat and almost laughed when she jumped slightly at the sound. "What can we do? How can we help him?"

Oddly, her mouth curved up in an enigmatic smile. "What can we do?" She asked speculatively. "We can't conjure the girl out of thin air. We can't wave our hands and make the last two weeks disappear." She tapped her fingers studiously on the tabletop as her gaze found the drawings once more. "We can give him something else to do. Distract him from thinking about what could have been so he can focus on what's actually in front of him."

Confused, Pryce asked slowly, "How can we do that?"

Maura climbed unhurriedly to her feet and gathered up the scattered sheets before tucking them tenderly inside the sketch pad's worn covers. "I have some arrangements to make and a letter to write. You need to make sure that he stays busy. Let him stay in the bakery as long as he wants. We can always keep the extra dough in the freezer if we have to. Have Seth and Dodge stay close by to lend a hand as needed." She eyed him expectantly until Pryce nodded his head. "I have to go out. I'll be back soon." With those parting words, she gave him another small smile before she quickly left the kitchen.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Well, well. This is unexpected." Haymitch Abernathy drawled as he leaned nonchalantly against his front door jamb. "It's not every day that the town witch pays me a visit. I don't remember ordering bread or asking for a lecture on what you referred to as my disgusting habits. Those are the only two reasons that I can think of for you to be camped out on my porch." His gray Seam eyes narrowed threateningly. "Spill it, sweetheart. What has you of all people knocking at my door?"

She held out a plain envelope and stated simply, "I need you to send this letter as quickly as possible."

He looked at from her to the packet that she waved infuriatingly under his nose. "I hate to break it to you but I've got nothing to do with delivering the mail. You need to see the porter at the train station or someone at the Justice Building."

Maura shook her head adamantly, "No. I've come to the right place. This isn't an ordinary letter. It's an important request. You're the only one who can get it into the proper hands. I'd like for you to send it right away."

"Just how would you like me to do that?" Haymitch wondered. "Head on back to town, honey. See if that husband of yours can handle your important request. It's past my nap time."

"I know about the pigeons, Haymitch. I know who you are in contact with on a regular basis." She declared. "I need this delivered and you are going to help me. It's for my son. Even a drunken louse such as you can understand that."

Haymitch shifted at the mention of the pigeons. He made a shushing motion with his hand and stepped out on the porch, pulling the door closed behind him. "I understand a lot of things but this is a little over my head. How is sending a letter going to help the boy? This is a lesson in futility if I've ever seen one. You're wasting your time and mine."

Her returning smile was edged with optimism. "I know nothing of the kind. I don't know if it will do any good but I hope that it will." His derisive snort pulled a laugh from the infuriating woman. "A girl can dream, Haymitch. Sometimes, that's all she can do."

The man shrugged and snatched the letter from her outstretched hand. "You understand that I guarantee nothing. I'll send it but that's all I can do. Don't expect anything else." He barked.

She acknowledged him with a slow nod and small smile. "Rest assured that I don't expect anything, Haymitch. I hope. Anything more than that would be foolish." She turned on her heel and stalked off the porch. "You will let me know when you receive a reply." She commented.

"You'll be the second person to know." He muttered. "I'll send word as soon as I can."

"Thank you," She said quietly. "I'll wait to hear from you."

Watching her step daintily along the stone pavers that dotted the walk, he mouthed silently, "Don't hold your breath." He glared at the letter in his hands then with a shrug, headed for the shed. Within moments, a pigeon winged its way eastward with a cylinder secured tightly to its leg.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

She found him bent over the table absently doodling on a torn piece of paper. He was still covered in flour from the bakery, his eyes shadowed and disinterested even as his hand moved deftly across the paper. She gently touched his shoulder and said his name quietly. "Did you need me for something?" He asked hopefully.

She couldn't contain her excited smile. "We just received a significant order for bread to be delivered every week starting today. I need you to take the first delivery." He nodded tiredly and climbed to his feet. "The house is pretty far out. We haven't been asked to do a delivery out that way for some time. The gentleman who placed the order offered to go with you this time so that you don't get lost. He's waiting downstairs when you're ready. I have the order already packed up."

Peeta shrugged as he pulled the apron over his head and hung it up behind the door. "I'll head down now." He walked listlessly downstairs, slamming the door behind him. Maura let out the breath she had held. Now she could only wait and see. That and hope that she had done the right thing.

The waiting man climbed languidly to his feet as Peeta entered the front area of the bakery. He didn't recognize the features but dark hair and gray eyes clearly marked the man as being from the Seam. A couple of tightly bound packages set nearby on the counter. Peeta wasted no time in gathering them up then turned to his ersatz guide. The man nodded wordlessly and spun on his heel, motioning for the boy to follow. Peeta readily kept pace and let his mind wander as his feet automatically followed the man through the square. When they bypassed the rugged pathway leading toward the Seam, Peeta became confused. He knew the trail they were following intimately, having walked it for over half his life. Peeta opened his mouth to ask if there was some mistake. The man seemed to expect his objections and remarked quietly, "I understand you ran into a bit of trouble not too long ago. Got caught in a tracker jacker nest." Peeta gave a reluctant nod and the man winced sympathetically. "Haven't heard of those things in years. We thought they had all been killed off."

Peeta didn't know how to respond so he kept silent as he followed the strange man into the familiar woods. The guide picked up his pace once they had been swallowed up by the trees. They veered off the main path just below his rock ledge and angled toward low-lying valleys that were usually enshrouded in fog. Peeta walked warily, eyes alternating from the rutted route before him to the man walking easily up ahead. "I didn't know anybody lived this far out." Peeta commented. A noncommittal shrug was his only answer. He shifted the packages so that he could see where he was going and looked around curiously.

The lane angled once more and bent into the undergrowth. It was so faint that had Peeta not been watching closely, more than likely he would have missed the turn. The sudden flash of sunlight on water caught him by surprise. Peeta found himself on a small knoll surrounded by trees and low flowering shrubs. He stopped as the beauty of the scene was revealed before him. The lake stretched out, its surface dark and unruffled. From here, he could see the copse of willows that he sat in barely two weeks before. His gaze wandered over the clearing, noting small flecks of color amid dark, dusty green. His companion paused as Peeta took it all in. After a few moments, he took off again and didn't wait to see if Peeta would follow. Huffing angrily, Peeta walked faster. He fumed silently at every broken twig and shifted branch. The man's amusement seemed to grow with every crack and rustle that Peeta inadvertently made. "You're loud," he remarked as an unwilling grin split his face.

Peeta grunted sourly in reply. The strange character laughed uproariously and waved him forward. The trail became more and more faint the deeper they traveled. Peeta brushed aside a branch and almost ran into the man's broad back as he halted once more. "You can come the other way to the lake. From there, circle around until you get just opposite of your willow grove. There should be a clear path that will bring you the rest of the way in. It's been a while since we've had baked goods from town. This will be a welcome change."

Peeta nodded as he shifted from foot to foot. Was he supposed to leave the stuff here or try to find the house that remained elusively out of sight? The man saved him from further questions as he pivoted on a heel and stalked through the undergrowth. Peeta followed nervously. Up ahead, the trees thinned and then opened up into a narrow meadow. He gasped as a house unlike any he had ever seen came into view.

The walls seemed to be fashioned from concrete or plaster and were thick and unfinished. A wide porch fronted the house creating a shaded sitting area complete with roughhewn furniture and tubs of brightly colored flowers. The windows were large and inset allowing for window boxes that held cascades of greenery that flowed over the sides like water. The interior would be replete with light for most of the day as the house was situated to catch both the morning and afternoon sun. A few outbuildings were hidden in the trees. It was a fairytale setting with a magical allure that drew a person in. The man gave Peeta a crooked smile and said, "Come on up to the house. You can get something to drink and we'll have a talk before you head back. I'll bet you have a lot of questions."

"Uh. Okay. Sure." Peeta stuttered. He still had no idea what was going on. The man seemed to expect something from him. What exactly, Peeta had no idea. He followed in bemused silence until movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. She stepped from shaded darkness into hazy afternoon light, lifting a hand to shade her eyes. A coffee hued tail of hair hung over one shoulder twined in an intricate braid. Eyes like smoke narrowed on him in particular and the corners of her mouth lifted into a wide, beaming grin. She waved a greeting, and he was dumbfounded when his hand rose in answer.

Confused blue eyes sought out the man who had led him here. The man smiled encouragingly and even went so far as to laugh when he noticed Peeta's fingers digging into the skin of his opposite arm. "No need for that. I assure you that we are quite real. That being said, I understand your confusion." The jovial tone pulled Peeta's attention away from the smiling girl silhouetted against the fire laden sky. "Peeta, my name is Basil Everdeen. I knew your father a long time ago. He's a good man. I didn't know your mother but my wife assures me that she is a lovely person. Judging by the letter I received from her recently, I'd have to agree with that assessment."

"Letter?" Peeta croaked out. "My mother sent you a letter?"

Basil nodded and pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. "She made mention of your accident and asked if it would be alright if you to visit us from time to time. Your grandmother once took care of my wife and daughter. She was at my wedding and there when Katniss was born. Your family has always treated me with respect. With that in mind, I couldn't refuse your mother's request." He pulled out another piece of paper and unfolded it. He smiled at the contents and turned it to allow Peeta to get a glimpse of what was inside. His drawing stared back at him, the mirror image of the girl standing in the sun a short distance away. He gulped. Seeing his expression, Basil laid a comforting arm on the boy's shoulder. "It's a very good likeness. It surprised me when I opened the envelope and saw this staring back at me. You have an unusual talent."

Peeta found his voice and mumbled, "I found a picture of her a long time ago. I've drawn her ever since. I don't understand, sir. How did my mother know where to find you? Why did you bring me here?"

Basil shrugged uncomfortably, "Your mother didn't know about us. She gave Haymitch Abernathy the letter and pictures and asked for them to be sent to me. I won't lie to you, son. I didn't agree to this visit initially. My wife convinced me that this was the right thing to do. She has fond memories of your grandmother and of you. I didn't know until today that you played with my daughter as a child. Katniss has a picture from that time. She's quite fond of it considering the thing is falling apart."

Peeta felt his breath seize in his chest. She had a picture too. Absently, he pinched the soft skin of his inner arm once more. The twinge of pain made him gasp. Not asleep then. Was this real? Was he dreaming while wide awake this time? He bit the inside of his cheek and almost howled as the flesh cracked open and sent a salty rush of fluid flooding into his mouth. Still no change. He felt himself begin to shake uncontrollably. He couldn't do this again. "Can I talk to her?" He asked faintly. Basil Everdeen's face softened and he agreed readily. Peeta took a few steps toward her but stopped as another question floated up. "Does she know about me? About what happened?"

Basil nodded, his eyes searching the boy's face. "She was quite concerned. She's spent the last few days out in the woods taking down as many of the nests as she could find. It was a pretty big project but my girl's determined when she sets her mind to something. She's also very protective of people that she cares about. Take this as a warning. She may smother you for your first couple of visits. You'll get used to it eventually."

Peeta felt his face break into a wide grin as he turned to stare at the girl waiting impatiently for her father to finish his talk. She rocked backward and forth on the balls of her feet, fingers twisting together only to let go so that she could fidget with her braid or the hem of her shirt. He took a few hesitant steps toward her again and then paused as his eyes sought her father once more. "My coming out here won't put your family in any danger, will it? I don't want any of you to get hurt on the count of me."

Basil laughed heartily. "No, son. You won't cause any problems. Everybody looking for me was picked up a long time ago by Paylor's security squad. That's all over and done. The young man who found you after you were stung has decided to join up. He'll be leaving the district soon for his training." Peeta's relieved face brought forth another bark of laughter. "We're safe here, Peeta. You can come as often as you like."

That was all the reassurance he needed. Spinning on his heel, he headed for the girl at a fast walk. She returned his smile and flung herself at him as soon as he got close enough. "Took you long enough to get here," she teased lightly. "I can't believe you kept me waiting this long."

"Sorry," he mumbled as his arms tightened in reflex. "I promise I'll never do that again."

Katniss loosened her hold and gave him a severe look that almost had him laughing. "See that you don't. Makes a girl feel like she isn't wanted."

"Oh I want you," he blurted out then felt his face explode with color as the words echoed uncomfortably in his mind. "I mean….I…That is…" He groaned audibly. "Damn it! I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

Katniss laughed gaily and flung her arms around his neck once more. "Never mind that. This is no time to be silly. We've got a lot of catching up to do. Come inside. We've got dinner all ready and I want to know everything that you've been up to since I've been away. Don't leave anything out."

Peeta eyed her in amazement as the whirlwind of questions continued unabated. His heart stuttered joyfully as the sound of her voice rolled blessedly over him. Even after all that had happened, somehow he managed to end up right back where he belonged. With her. He caught her hand and intertwined their fingers as they walked side by side toward the flower strewn porch. She blinked at their joined hands and then gave him a secretive smile as her fingers tightened ever so slightly in return. "I'm really glad you're here," she whispered softly.

"I'm glad too," he echoed just as quietly. "There's no place in the world that I'd rather be."