10

I walked into my house and checked the clock. It told me that I had thirty minutes until Peeta said he was coming over. I took a quick shower and put some clean clothing. I had just walked into the living room and turned the television on when Peeta walked into my house. He found me curled up on the couch quickly and sat down beside me.

"So, what are we watching?" he asked, playfully.

I kept my eyes glued to the screen, not really taking anything in about what I was watching. I was already feeling guilty, and I knew I would completely break down and tell him if I saw that perfect smile on his lips. "I have no idea. I just turned it on and wasn't really paying very much attention," I replied.

"What were you doing, then, may I ask," he said. I could almost hear the smile in his words. I chanced a hopefully inconspicuous glance in his direction and almost completely melted under his gaze. There was a sparkle in his blue eyes, which I seemed to be getting lost in. I basically had to force myself not sigh with pleasure. I felt my cheeks reddening. He gave me a puzzled look, but didn't comment.

I turned my head, so that I could see him properly. "I was just thinking."

The corners of his mouth pulled downwards for a second as he nodded his head once. I was surprised he didn't inquire about my thoughts. I was about to say something, when I saw something peculiar in the corner of my eye. I turned my gaze back to the television screen and felt my jaw drop. There, on the TV, was a picture of Peeta and me in the middle of a kiss. I recognized instantly where we were. We were in the cave that we took refuge in during the first Hunger Games we were in. Peeta's leg was bandaged and so was my head.

Peeta turned to see what I was so amazed about, and then blush flooded his cheeks. After a couple of minutes watching the program, we came to realize that they were playing a mini-documentary about Peeta and me. We watched silently as pictures and short clips flashed on and off the screen of us. First about the 74th Hunger Games, then about the Victory Tour, then the next Quarter Quell, and then the rebellion. There was a man who spoke in monotone who described our story about being "star-crossed lovers."

There were clips of Peeta and I's interviews with Caesar Flickerman, some of the later ones after Peeta had been capture of just the two of them, clips from both our Hunger Games and the Victory Tour, and even some clips of propos. Basically anything to do with both Peeta and me. The monotone-speaking man went on to describe the details about how the Hunger Games changed our lives, and how we now reside in District 12, but it was wrong. The story he told was the story we fed to the Capitol, not the real story about Peeta and I.

The man with the monotone voice described our love as undying and said that we were going to live happily ever after together. He didn't mention me breaking Peeta's heart on our train ride home from our first Hunger Games, or how we didn't talk to each other for months after that. He didn't explain how our "undying love" was a scheme, made up for the cameras. He never mentioned Gale at all, unless he was referring to him as my cousin, never explaining how I could never choose between the two until it was too late. He probably didn't even know. Nobody beside Peeta and I would ever know the real story of what happened between us. The rest of the world could believe what they want.

"I guess people still love our drama," Peeta said, emotionlessly.

I replied, just as indifferent, "They never could keep the cameras away from us."

I could tell he was just as disgusted by the program as I was. They would never leave us alone, would they? Were they even authorized to show a story about our lives without us knowing? Did it even matter to them? I turned off the TV, not wanting to see anymore of the horrid show, and Peeta didn't try to protest.

We didn't say anything more about the show. Instead we did other things to distract us. He helped me clean the house, while he baked something in the oven. The smell was wafting through the rooms, and it smelt delicious. We talked and talked just like we always did. Sometimes we would laugh, sometimes he would have to distract me some more when something would remind me of Prim. I had pulled out the plant book that I liked to look through. I was sitting on the floor, flipping through the pages. Peeta was sitting on the couch behind me, reading over my shoulder. Next thing I knew, it was very late. I turned around to Peeta to suggest that I he should go home and go to sleep to find that he was already asleep on my couch. Not wanting to wake him up, I found a blanket to cover him, smiled at how peaceful he looked, and walked upstairs to me own bed.

I fell asleep immediately, but the nightmares came just as fast. I was running around again, in the clock arena of the Quarter Quell. My arm was bleeding where Johanna had attacked me. I was running frantically trying to find Peeta, knowing that everything would be ok if I could just find him. I heard his voice coming from somewhere to the left of me. He was screaming my name. "I'm coming!" I yelled back at him, as I sprinted as fast as I could in the general direction.

Peeta was now screaming, and I could hear the fear in them. I ran faster and harder as the screams got louder and louder. I had just run through a bush and caught him in my sight. Peeta was laying helplessly on the ground, wounded in the leg again, as a dark figure stalked closer to him, ready to kill. I knew I was too far away to save him, but I ran anyway. I then saw Brutus stab Peeta right through the heart.

"No, Peeta," I whispered. Then I screamed, "PEETA!"

Then, I found myself covered in sweat, tangled in my blankets. Peeta was hovering over me, saying "Katniss, I am right here."

I felt my heart rate come down and my breathing slow instantly when I saw his face. Tears of relief spilled over my eyes, and more sobs shook my body harder than ever. Peeta climbed into my bed and wrapped his arms around me. I cried into his shoulder. I knew I probably should tell him that I was fine and send him away if I were being a selfless person, but I wasn't being a selfless person, so I let him comfort me, happy that he was lying next to me.

Finally, I stopped crying and silence entered the room. I was still shaking from fear, but it wasn't as bad now that Peeta was with me.

"Maybe you should tell me about it," he said, breaking the silence. "They say that telling someone usually helps."

I looked away. Sensing my reluctance, Peeta then added, "Or you don't have to if you don't want to. I was just asking."

I replied, barely over a whisper, "No, it's fine. It's just, Peeta, do you remember when you told me that your nightmares usually consist of you losing me?" He nodded, with a slightly confused looking on his face. "Well, I dreamt of losing you."

A light bulb lit up inside his mind, and he immediately understood. He understood unlike so many, who never experienced how terrible the Hunger Games really were, would. He knew how I was afraid of my own shadow, and to dream of being alone, of losing another person who meant the world to me, was unthinkable. "Katniss, I'm here. I'm ok. We both are ok. It wasn't real. It was just a dream."

It felt good, lying in Peeta's arms for the second night in a row. I knew this wasn't going to make me leaving any better, but I didn't care at the moment. I wanted nothing more than to be with him, right now. I was going to stay as close to him as possible, until I leave.

"Peeta, the nightmares aren't as bad when you are with me. Do you think you could stay with me more often, like you used to?" I asked, partially hoping he wouldn't answer.

"Of course," he murmured.

I snuggled closer to him, taking in his scent. I wanted to remember everything about him, though I knew from firsthand experience that memories fade. I was sorry I would never get to make the book. I could do it when I am in District 4, but there will be nobody there who could possibly paint the pictures as well as Peeta could. Besides, I didn't really want to make it without him.

I knew it should have been a sad moment, or I shouldn't at least be so happy, but I could bring myself to regret my actions. I loved Peeta, and if this was what it would take to get close to him, then so be it. My conscience in the back of my mind was telling me that this was a mistake, that the whole entire idea of running was a mistake. I pushed it away though. My conscience sounded a lot like Haymitch, and I didn't want it to ruin the moment.

We fell asleep there, neither of us moving away from the other. No nightmares crept into sleep. I could feel the faintest of smiles creep on my lips as I slept, and somehow knew that Peeta was wearing one that mirrored my own.