Thank you to everyone that has taken the time to review, favorite and follow.

As always thank you to my Beta, Court81981.

And a very special acknowledgement to my friend, muse, and all around cheerleader, Scoutchick104. She held my hand through this entire chapter, and openly accepted everyone of my crazed emails and messages. Thanks, for putting up with me and my ramblings.

I also want to confess how special and close to my heart this story really is. Because, I believe the real battle is what comes after the abuse has ceased, when the healing needs to take place.I have personal experience with the subject matter and much of what Peeta feels about himself, I too have struggled with such feelings and doubts. And I hope that I'm doing justice for my fellow survivors. Thank you. -S

Chapter Six

It takes only a few minutes for his vision to become clear, but his confusion is still etched onto his face, his brow furrowed as he takes in the scene before him. He's standing in the center of a room that seems vaguely familiar as he scans his surroundings. It's then that he concludes that he's inside the Hawthorne residence. The walls are less scratched than he remembers; the wood closer to the appearance it must have held when the house was newly built. A cool breeze blows against his back, bringing his attention to the open window to his left where thin curtains lift up into the space in front of the windowpane. Bright patterns of flowers, daisies he decides, cover the material, and like the walls the curtains are familiar but don't yet hold the yellowed coloring from years of use. He steps towards the window, and the reflection of the glass holds his image before his feet have halted. Squinting he takes in his appearance; everything seems to appear the exactly the same as he remembers. The strands of his dark blonde hair curl at the ends to frame the space around his brow above his blue eyes that seem if only a bit brighter.

Peeta continues to study his reflection until a thud behind him brings his attention to the movement, causing him to whirl around quickly. He has to catch himself from falling against the window when his focus rights, allowing him to take the scene in fully. Peeta takes a few steps forward, experimenting with his pace, considerate not to startle the two young boys seated at the center of the room. The youngest pounds the heels of his boots into the wood floor, protesting the words coming out the darker haired boy's mouth. The older boy seems entertained by the other boy's outburst, the corner of his mouth lifted up in a smirk. When it seems that the two children are unaware of his presence, Peeta kneels down beside the blonde boy, his face is flushed, a pinched expression on his face, causing his blue eyes to narrow. He leans in closer to inspect a light scar located at the boy's cheek, Peeta's right hand goes directly above his own cheek ghosting over a similar scar of his own.

He leans back watching the boy closely; his lips are still puckered to go with his sour mood as his arms wrap around his chubby stomach. Peeta runs his hand over his toned torso, thankful for the time when he had began puberty and most of his baby fat had disappeared. He could remember every look of disgust that his mother had given him when regarding his husky build, the curses sharp and unrelenting. Finally when his body began to slender, and fat melded into muscle he assumed that he would earn his mother's respect and love. However, any change in his appearance didn't change her ill will towards him or the schedule of daily beatings she would force upon him. Peeta shook his head, trying to rid his mind of haunting memories, forcing himself to concentrate on the child in front of him. It's me.

His younger self hugged his sides tightly as his voice came out strained. "She's not gross."

The darker haired boy sat across from him, the smirk from before still gracing his lips. "She's a girl, ain't she?" Peeta followed the boy's voice, studying his sharp features and the way his dark bangs fell into his eyes. He almost let out a low laugh when the realization occurred to him. Gale? Peeta thought he almost looked bearable as a child, but it wasn't long until the younger version of Gale's attitude towards his brother began to irritate him, causing him to compare the boy with the grown man he knew. He could understand that some of Gale's resentment had come from pain but it was also clear that some of it came naturally.

Peeta looks back over to his left to see his younger self shrug. "Yeah, but she's the good kind."

Younger Gale narrowed his eyes at the boy in front of him, his shoulders pushed back to display some masculine superiority. Peeta attempts not to roll his eyes at the action, it being so familiar to him already. "I'm older so I'm smarter than you."

The blonde boy shook his head slowly, as if he was mulling the other boy's opinion over before disagreeing. "I don't know," he said slowly and almost methodically. "You're not smart if you think she's not pretty." Peeta can't stop the smile that forms at his lips.

It was Gale's turn to roll his eyes before exhaling a long breath, indicating his irritation in attempting to reason with the younger boy. "She pushed you in the mud and you cried."

Peeta watches his younger self as little Peeta scratched the side of his head, turning the actions of the girl in his mind over. It wasn't long until his eyes appeared to brighten along with a smile. "She only did it because she likes me."

Gale waved him off as he pulled at the thread located at the hem of his worn slacks. "That's stupid."

Peeta glares at the older boy before shifting his attention back to the quiet boy beside him. He leans in so that he's face to face with the blonde child as though he has knowledge of his presence. "Hey buddy, don't let him push you around. He may seem all right now before he learns how to grow a beard, but he eventually becomes an asshole."

Peeta watches as the boy's entire demeanor shifts; his shoulders slumped as his head fell towards his lap. "I know. My mommy tells me I'm dumb a lot." Tears began to well up in Peeta's eyes as he watched the boy's spirit break.

He was so caught up in watching the boy that he missed the exact moment that young Gale stood up from his place across the room to sit beside the younger boy. He placed a hand on his shoulder before patting it softly. "You can have my mommy."

Gale sighed as he shrugged. "I guess Catnip is the good kind of girl."

Peeta watches the boy roll his eyes, a sigh of frustration leaving his lips. "Her name is Katniss."

Gale shook his head. "Nuh uh she told me it was Catnip."

The blonde boy contemplated this for a few seconds until he conceded. "She does have nice eyes like a pretty kitten."

Gale giggled. "You love a girl!" Peeta watched his younger self blush, the tone apparent on his fair skin.

He kept his place beside the boys watching their interaction, which seemed to be comfortable even with their disagreement. It was an exact contrast to his current relationship with the Gale he was accustomed to. What had changed so disastrously that they could barely tolerate each other now? This puzzled him, causing his mind to wander until a blur of dark hair and red material skittered past him to land directly in front of him. Peeta nearly fell back onto his bottom when he took in the scene with undivided attention. His eyes fell on the dark, thick strands woven into a plait down the little girl's back to land against the rich color of her red, plaid dress. She sat down with a resounding thud that shook the surface around them before reaching out to push the blonde boy back lightly.

"You left before we finished playing." She stuck her tongue out, her nose wrinkling ,which only made the freckles on her nose more prominent. "It's not nice to leave a girl. My daddy said that girls are more better than boys and that's why he wishes that the baby in my momma's belly is a girl. Because we are specialer"

Peeta felt the air leave his lungs as the realization hit him head on. Katniss? He angled his body for a clear view of her face. The sharp features of her cheekbones were covered by round cheeks that she hadn't yet grown out of; her face was fuller than it was now. However her eyes already held the defiance that he already associated with Katniss.

Gale leaned forward pushing at her side. "Specialer ain't a word and if it was, girls would not be specialer than boys."

Katniss turned to the side, her eyes narrowed in a glare as she punched his shoulder. "What would you know, smelly Galey Hawthorne?"

"More than you ,Catnip Evermean!"

Peeta began to argue before the blonde boy spoke up, his hands at his hips. "That's not her name!"

Gale rolled his eyes. "You're just saying that because you want to marry her and have babies."

Katniss scrunched up her face before sticking her tongue out in disgust. "Yuck! I'm never having babies because I'm never going to kiss a boy. EVER!"

Gale shoved the younger boy playfully. "He wants to kiss you."

Peeta watched the boy flush once again in the little girl's presence as she studied the blonde closely before answering. "He's different."

Gale eyed her suspiciously. "Why?"

Katniss shrugged. "Because boys are mean and he's nice. Aren't you, Peter?"

Before Peeta could question the name that she had used, Katniss leaned forward, pushing the blonde boy down before hopping up and screaming for him to chase her. Gale kept in place muttering about silly little kids as the other two ran around the first floor. Peeta stood up, walking towards where Katniss and his younger self played an unmatched game of tag. Her agility was impressive for a seven- year- old as she jumped over the furniture giggling. Younger Peeta ran after her but ended up falling to the floor, laughing more often than not. Peeta couldn't help but smile- he had forgotten how carefree he had been.

Katniss had snuck up behind Peeta, her hands reaching out to his sides to tickle him. They both fell to the floor in a pile laughing. Peeta backed up, watching the two play as a hollow feeling came over him. It was difficult to watch their interaction because even if this was a hallucination or a dream his mind had created, he longed to feel that content with someone. Even though after Katniss had kissed him he had felt content, he later discovered that the feeling was fleeting. Peeta's thoughts were interrupted when voices behind him drew his attention away from the giggling children rolling on the floor.

Peeta turned behind him where an open door led to a room; the door was slightly ajar, allowing him enough access. Like before with the children in the living room, he appeared to be unnoticed by the dark haired man and a pregnant woman, discussing something in what appeared to be a scarcely stocked pantry.

The man seemed familiar to Peeta as he ran his hands through his hair, visibly agitated. "What am I supposed to do, Hazelle? Just let her take Peter? I'm lucky if I'm able to see him more than twice a year. And if it wasn't for Luka Mellark, I doubt she would bring him when she comes to visit her parents."

The woman- who Peeta recognized as a very pregnant Hazelle- exhaled slowly. "Kale, I'm not trying to tell you to give up on having a relationship with your son. I'm just afraid of what she'll do when she feels threatened, and filing paternal paperwork at the Justice Building will do just that."

Peeta rounded the couple until he was beside the man, studying him slowly. He would run his hands through his hair, a nervous habit Peeta recognized in himself. Dad?

Kale threw his hands into the air exasperatedly. "Everyone in the entire district knows I'm his father. Hell, the old bags at the Hob love to gossip about it even now. And Peter is nearly seven."

Hazelle stepped into him to lay her hands at his shoulders. "Yes, as an open secret. It is entirely different to make it official."

Peeta looked around the room; something about the entire scenario was familiar. Is this a memory? He all of a sudden felt ill, an overpowering nausea coming over him. The opening of the door startled him as he watched the younger version of himself rush towards Kale.

The little boy tugged on Kale's sleeve, waiting until the man's attention was on him fully before he spoke. "My name isn't Peter anymore."

Kale shared a look with his wife before kneeling down so that he was at the boy's eye level. "Then what is it, son?"

The boy gave a wide smile before answering, "Gale says it's Peeta."

Hazelle reached out, running her fingers through the boy's hair, attempting to gain his attention. "Honey, that's only because Gale has trouble saying his 'R's."

The boy turned to lock eyes with Hazelle, his brow furrowed. "But I like Peeta."

Kale placed his hands around the boy's forearms, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "Then that is what your name will be."

Peeta watched the boy smile wide as he wrapped his arms around the older man. "Can we draw again before my mommy and daddy come to get me?"

He watched as Kale returned the hug and tears began to well up in his eyes, threatening to fall before speaking. His voice came out broken as he attempted to push his emotions away. "Yeah, of course. There's nothing I want to do more."

Peeta could feel the earlier nausea rise as he watched his father hold him as a child. His body began to tremble before everything began to fade all he was left with was darkness.

He awoke as his entire body was soaked in sweat; his pulse hadn't slowed down as the emotions of the dream flooded through him. Peeta squeezed his eyes shut, willing his breathing to settle, the air thick in the humid room as snoring from the bed across the room filled the space. Peeta shifted his body, rocking the mattress slightly, earning a small groan from Vick who he was now sharing a bed with. He had become accustomed to not having a private bed since the orphan homes were more always over crowded. Although it was entirely different sharing a room with his brothers, he had finally found a family, a place where he could belong but he couldn't shake the feeling that his contentment was only temporary.

Peeta sighed as he folded the quilt over to the side, allowing the air to hit his bare legs. Propping his elbows onto the mattress for leverage, he scooted his body down to the end of the bed. Peeta placed his right hand onto the wall, pulling himself into a seating position. His legs dangled above the floor until the pads of his feet landed onto the wooden boards. Quickly, he ran his hands through his hair, a nervous habit, as he inhaled slowly attempting to calm himself. A cool breeze traveled through the open window to brush against his neck causing a shiver to run down his spine. The sensation was a welcomed change compared to the feverish temperature of his skin.

It wasn't foreign for him to experience a nightmare during his first night in a new place. He had experienced it each time he had to relocate to another orphanage or on the off chance that his mother had decided to bring him into her current living situation- however those situations were short -lived and then he was once again sharing a bed in a crowded room with fifty other boys. But this dream had seemed more like a recovered memory, a part of his subconscious that he had locked away, be it from the abuse or the loneliness. No matter the reason, a part of him feared the return of any other memory because even though the sight of his father embracing him as a child had kindled some spark of hope inside of him, Peeta ventured that there had to be a reason why he had forgotten, and perhaps his disregard of his memories had been a form of survival.

However another question loomed: what had changed other than his surroundings that could cause his memories to emerge? Before his rational mind could formulate an answer, intense grey eyes came to the forefront of his mind, and Katniss invaded his thoughts. He cursed his traitorous psyche for allowing her to monopolize his thoughts, enabling her access to every waking thought that transpired even after such a short time of having her back into his life. It had been strange to catch glimpses of the glee she easily held as a child, a stark comparison to the serious and at times defensive young woman that had kissed him just hours earlier. He closed his eyes, willing his mind to delve deep into his psyche to recover more images of her as child, even a few flashes would suffice, fulfilling his curiosity. When it was apparent that none were possible, Peeta pushed himself up from the bed, careful not to wake Vick. He made his way across the short expanse of the loft to where the window was, an easy access to the roof outside.

Peeta kept his pace slow and deliberate, his eyes moving over to where Gale's body hung over the edge of the bed, the quilt only covering the lower half of his legs. Rory's knees were buried in the small of his back while the rest of the bedding was wrapped around the upper half of his body. Peeta was grateful that he had been made to share a bed with Vick because even though the possibility of being urinated could become reality, he was pleased that the younger boy for the most part was a sound sleeper and didn't inflict as much physical agony that Rory seemed to have already passed on to Gale. Peeta couldn't help the smile that crept up onto his lips; the thought of Gale in even the smallest bit of discomfort gave him a sense of satisfaction. But the triumph was short- lived as he considered the possibility of Gale having recollection of their interactions as children. He ran his hands through his hair once more before making his way to the wall and climbing out on the roof; his feet landed onto the widow's walk until he pulled the rest of his body free from beneath the window. Peeta breathed in deep reveling in the definite temperature change from being freed from the stifling air within the house. He held his hands out to balance his weight as he settled down pulling his legs into his body, his knees nestled into his chest as his body relaxed into the position.

Peeta gazed out into the Seam; the glow of the moon caused every surface to shine and he marveled at the beauty of it, but that only made his mind once again think of Katniss and he had to stop himself from physically smacking himself upside the head for being foolish enough to allow her to invade his thoughts once again. Peeta shook his head as he wrapped his arms around his bare legs. He had only wore a pair of thread- bare sleeping shorts to bed because of the climate, but now with the cool breeze of outside causing his skin to bump up, he had wished he had adorned the matching bottom of his pajama button top. His legs began to shake slightly from the sensation of the cold, his full attention on not slipping down the roof until the snoring and movement from inside the room caused him to peer into the house. Gale must have turned over onto his other side, because Peeta watched as he settled back into a resting position, not waking up once. Peeta's attention was brought to the nightstand sitting beside Gale where the moonlight bounced off of a framed picture. He had glanced at it shortly before to recognize it as one of Kale when he had been younger, the image matched that of the man in his dream. Peeta could see the resemblance that only incited a mixture of sadness and rage. He needed to get away; there wasn't any hope that he would fall back to sleep within the room and he didn't want to chance the possibility of his nodding off on the roof, which would definitely ensure a head- first plunge onto the ground below.

With a deep breath, Peeta scooted down to the edge where the drainpipe was located, sent up a silent prayer up into the sky and turned his body around the shimmy down onto the ground. His bare feet helped as he used his toes to curl into the slats of the house, regulating his pace, as the pipe groaned against his weight. The possibility that entering the house again when he had still been on the roof to take the stairs may have been a better idea came to mind, but he had already made it half way down and he hoped his impulsivity hadn't damned him. Peeta had reminded himself that he had done the same thing when living in the orphanages when he needed a quick escape, but the structures there, ironically, had been more stable. He couldn't stop the sigh of relief that escaped his lips when his feet made contact with the loose dirt, the smell of coal dust blew in the wind around him as he wiped his hands onto the sides of his sleep shirt. It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn't formulated a plan before he decided to scale down the house, which made him feel more foolish than he had when he was sure he was doomed to fall to his death while clinging to the rusted steel of the drain pipe.

Peeta turned around a few times before he began to walk in no particular direction; pebbles stuck into his bare feet and he had to occasionally stop to brush them away. He was positive that he would seem deranged to any onlooker as he walked through the Seam virtually undressed, so he was thankful for the darkness sans the moonlight that helped to light his way. He's halfway to the tree line that lies beyond the neighborhood when he hears a faint whimper, which causes him to halt his pace and turn to look up to the open window above him.

It isn't until he's nearly below where the cries are floating out to him that he recognizes the house, and it's then that he understands the voice to belong to Katniss. He leans into the space in front of him as he places his hands onto the slats, his weight settling into the side of the house. Peeta is aware of how odd it may be that he feels pulled towards her. But he can't shake the feeling that being there only draws them closer to each other. Her cries once again invade his senses and he can feel his pace quicken, having to stop the impulse to rush to her, and hold her close. Instead, he continues to lean into the wall, waiting until her cries subside because even though it seems odd to even him, he can't leave her when she's in pain. Not when all he wants to do is take the pain away.

Darkness. It's all she can sense or feel after the ground beneath, above and around her ceases to shake. The screams that had clawed out from her throat had died in the space before her and she feels small and forgotten. She had reached her arms out to her father as she watched his body implode into a blaze of fire and coal dust, her body oddly cool as the flames licked her bare skin. Katniss could feel the tremors rack up through her body as she clung to the sides of her nightgown, the material sticking to her skin as the sweat seeped through. She was alone, cursed to witness death on her own as she backed up her arms reaching out for anything to hold onto, anything to reclaim a semblance of balance, anything to feel grounded. She clawed at the solid walls that only seemed to disintegrate when she attempted to hold on. A chill traveled up her back as she fought the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She nearly cried out when she felt a strong hand land at her shoulder, the contact frightening her in such a desolate place. Katniss turned around sharply assuming to be met with more darkness or the beings that lay dormant in light but reveled in despair. However when her eyes met the startling blue that seemed to span oceans, she couldn't hold back a sigh of relief. And as though the veil had been lifted, light began to shine behind the blue eyes to cast his head of blonde hair in a glow.

Katniss placed a hand at his cheek, the skin there warm and inviting. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged as though her question was silly. "Why not? You needed me, didn't you?"

She glanced behind her, assuming to find darkness but only seeing light that seemed to travel miles. Katniss furrowed her brow as she turned back to him, a slight grin at his lips. "Where did the darkness go? I felt as though I was searching for a way out forever."

Without answering he placed his other hand at her chin to tip her face up towards his as his lips pressed into hers. Katniss curled her hands into the sides of his face before opening her mouth to his, a warmth rising up through her body. His tongue roamed over hers, applying pressure when needed, and Katniss found her body pushing into his, wanting to become closer, yearning for the heat beneath his clothing. She could feel the desperation mounting , to feel his skin against hers, to feel him inside of her. Her moans intensified as his hands began to roam the expanse of her body, his mouth traveling down the side of her face to land at the pulse point at her neck. She opened her mouth to speak but only a moan resembling a name escaped.

"Peeta."

Katniss' eyes shot opened as the sight of the ceiling came into view, her limbs tangled in the quilt of her bed. She tilted her head to look down her body to see her right hand resting at the apex between her thighs, the dampness of her panties seeping into the pads of her fingers. Katniss blushed before tearing her hand away, irritated with her traitorous body. The dream began to flood back into the forefront of her mind; she was puzzled and annoyed that he even seemed to invade her thoughts when she was dreaming. She had a hard enough time forgetting him when she had dressed for bed earlier in the night, her hands lingering at the most sensitive parts of her body when the memory of his soft lips came to mind. She cursed herself more than once at her ridiculous behavior, she mused that the kiss hadn't been that good, but then she reminded herself that she had never kissed someone until Peeta, and that it had been as feverish as she assumed kisses could be.

She was thankful that her mother and Prim had decided to sleep on the first floor after returning late from the birth that they assisted with because Katniss needn't the entire space of the small mattress to sprawl her limbs over. Her mind was foggy with a sensation she had never experienced before and she vaguely recognized it as what the girls who frequented the slag heap described as lust. Katniss was lustful for strong hands and soft lips that she yearned to roam her body and illicit deep sultry moans from her throat. She lightly smacked her forehead willing herself to stop being so ridiculous; she wasn't the many silly girls that followed Gale around and parted their legs to receive attention so why was she now acting as foolish?

With an irritated huff, Katniss sat up swinging her legs off of the side of the bed before standing. A cool breeze hit her bare chest where a few buttons of her nightgown had come undone, and she tried to ignore the fact that her own fingers may have been the cause for her slight undress as she walked over to the sill leaning her body out slightly to feel the air wash over her face. A movement from below alerted her hunter's instincts to engage, she assumed it was only the stray cat that occasionally came around to harass Buttercup which only held entertainment for Katniss when Prim would wail in annoyance. However she wasn't expecting to find his body leaned up against the side of her house, his head lulling above his chest. It took a second for her sight to adjust but she was positive that Peeta Mellark was asleep beneath her window, which confused and excited her. It was troubling how he stirred so many emotions within her, and that alone reminded her to keep her distance.

However she couldn't forget the way he had kissed her and how only a dream of him made her flush with lust, so when her fingers touched her lips and traveled down the expanse of her stomach to stop at the waistline of her underwear she didn't fight the shiver roaming up from her thighs to her hair line.

A/N:Sorry for the delay in updates, but I've been busy with other stories. I'm hoping to post one of them very soon, so for those of you that follow me, please keep an eye out. Don't forget to review! I look forward to knowing what you all think of the progress of this work.

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