As you can see, I've put some of the chapters together. I felt that it was a little choppy the way I had it, so hopefully it flows better this way.

Enjoy!

I decide to start dinner before Peeta is back, hoping that it ends up at least half decent. I've never been much of a cook.

"Katniss?"

I glance toward the sound of the voice briefly, and continue chopping up carrots. "In the kitchen!" His heavy footsteps draw nearer, and I hear something being set down carefully on the table. I throw the carrots in a pot on the stove and turn to see, and when I do, my eyes light up. "Cheese buns!"

He chuckles, an affectionate smile following as he watches me head straight for them. He snatches the plate away when I reach, though, leaving me annoyed.

"Not until dinner."

I huff and roll my eyes. "Fine. It's almost done, anyway." I go back over to the soup and test it, deciding it has cooked long enough and will go perfectly with my cheese buns. Peeta's already sitting at the table with a smile on his face, waiting patiently as I fill up two bowls. I raise an eyebrow when I set his in front of him, and say in a sarcastic – yet playful – tone, "Why are you so happy?"

His smile only drops slightly. "Just pleasantly surprised that you cooked. It just feels…" He trails off, and by the way the sentence started it was obvious what he was hinting toward.

I fight off a blush and clear my throat, taking the seat across from him and instantly reaching for the plate of cheese buns. I smirk, "these will go great with my soup." I station the plate next to me, making it so he can't get to it. Mine.

He raises an eyebrow and snorts, reaching over the table to grab one, which I quickly slap away and look up to glare at him. He sighs and folds his arms, relaxing back into his chair. "You do realize I made those, right?"

I blink, my face straight. "Your point?"

He rolls his eyes with a smile and quickly reaches over and grabs a cheese bun before I can stop him, stuffing it into his mouth, making him look like a chipmunk.

I fight off a laugh at the ridiculous sight. "Hey!"

He finishes chewing and puts on an innocent façade. "What?"

I want to send another glare his way, but it just ends in a fit of laughter. I hiccup as I cut them off, pressing my lips tightly together; I can't remember the last time I have laughed this much, and for some reason, I feel bad. I place the plate in the middle again, after taking another, and we drop into silence.

"You wanna work on the book tonight?"

I glance up at him from my soup and think it over. It was hard last night, really hard. Especially for him. This is one reason why I'm surprised he wants to work on it, but I don't question him. "Sure."

It's back to silence once again, and it stays this way until we settle down onto the living room couch, with all of the supplies that will be used to preserve our memories, both a blessing and a curse.

"I was thinking we could start with Finnick tonight. Annie just had her baby, so I figure we can leave a spot for the picture."

I turn to him, but he is not looking my way, rather down at the strewn pages and paints. "She had a baby?"

He then looks up at me, as if I should have already known. "Yeah. Didn't you get her letters?"

I look over to the spot where I have kept all of my unopened mail, and feel a sense of shame. "I…probably did. Nevermind. Let's start with Finnick." I sit back in a silent gesture for him to begin to paint.

He does, and when he is done it is exceptional. I feel tears come to my eyes as I stare into his sea green irises, and his perfect smile. Poor Finnick, who will never meet his child. I reach out and am about to run my fingers over, but Peeta stops me, making me look up at him in confusion.

He gives me a sad smile. "Still wet."

I look down with an embarrassed smile. "Oh. Right. Sorry."

We work for a while longer, writing down every little memory we can, and when we are done we are both in tears. We decide to play it safe for the next selection, and decide to go with one of the tributes from our first Games. It still hurts, knowing their deaths were pointless, but not as badly as someone you hold dear.

"You have really nice handwriting, Katniss."

I look up at him while I set the pen down, done with the installment. "Thanks. Only because I'm taking my time, though. Yours is still better." I smile then, letting my hand graze over his. "Must be the artist in you."

He smiles and looks down, shaking his head. "Maybe."

We put the pages with our last two and seal them shut, then put everything away for the night. When I look at the clock, it reads eleven.

Peeta looks to where my eyes are trained and sighs. "It's getting pretty late. I should probably head home."

Before he can walk too far, I grab onto his hand. He turns to me in confusion, and quite honestly I am confused by my bold act as well. "Stay." We stare at each other for a good amount of time, and I start to feel anxious. Great. I've just ruined everything, because I can't handle some stupid nightmares.

"Okay."

I blink, taken back to the present time. I'm surprised; even though we had spent the night together yesterday, that was not intentional. I can't help the smile that comes to my mouth, reaching my eyes, a very rare occurrence ever since my father died. "Okay." I keep things simple, afraid that if I allow my mouth to run I will ruin the progress we have made.

We walk up the stairs and to my room, me going to change in the bathroom and he taking everything off but his boxers – just like before. We both ease into bed silently, and I am surprised at how easy this is, almost like we'd never stopped.

We are quiet for a long while and I'm sure that Peeta is asleep, until he speaks up, "thanks for letting me stay, Katniss."

All I do is nod, even though he can't see. I'm torn between staying a distance, or curling up to him like I used to do those many nights ago. In the end I compromise – I move slightly closer and allow my fingers to rest on his hand. It takes me by surprise when he turns in my direction and wraps me in his arms, as though he can sense why I was so hesitant. I decide to keep silent and hope that this will be enough to fight the nightmares off, if even just for one night.

FGTHG

I wake up almost refreshed, though cold, and I can't figure out why. When I open my eyes, it becomes clear – Peeta is gone. I sit up quickly and look around, but there's no sign. He was usually here for breakfast anyway, so why did he leave?

It is only when I'm dressed and open my door do I smell bacon, and hear him humming a chipper tune. I laugh quietly and make my way down the stairs on hunter's feet, and step into the kitchen. "Your voice is awful."

He tenses for a moment, probably because I surprised him, and then turns around with a mock glare. "Why thank you, Ms. Everdeen."

I ignore the look and walk next to him, surveying our breakfast. French toast, bacon, hash browns and fresh berries. My stomach grumbles, and Peeta laughs, making me glare up at him. "I'm hungry."

He shakes his head with a smile and then motions for me to take a seat at the kitchen table, then placing a generous amount of food on two plates, though one seems to have more than the other. When he sets that one in front of me, I raise an eyebrow.

He shrugs and takes his place across from me, immediately digging in. "You're still too skinny."

I look down at myself; even though I've put on weight since my time in the Capitol, I'm still terribly thin. I decide to keep silent and eat my food.

"I was planning on stopping by the bakery again. It should be done by the end of the month and I want to start thinking about the inside layout."

I look up at him, whom is still looking down at his food. By telling me this, is he asking for my company or just making small talk? I think this over for a minute, and then decide to take the plunge. "Want any company?"

He looks up, the corners of his lips turning up. "If you want."

I nod and then we drop into silence once again – just like so many other times – though it is comfortable. When we finish, I take the duty of dishes before he can protest. As I plug up the drain and start running water, there's the sound of glass hitting the floor, making me turn. What I see keeps me rooted to the ground.

Peeta had dropped the plate and was now gripping the back of the chair like it was his lifeline, his eyes shut tight. He's having a flashback. I'm stuck between going to him to try and snap him out of it, or staying where I am; after all, the hijacking's main focus was for him to kill me. His jaw is clenched and I can't even tell if he's breathing; for once in my life, I actually want Haymitch to barge in. "Peeta?"

No response.

I stay in my place, watching him helplessly, until he's breathing evenly and slowly, and then moments later his eyes open and he bends down to pick up the plate, as if nothing happened. I'm still stuck, open-mouthed at how nonchalant he's acting, as he walks around me and turns off the faucet, grabbing a rag to wash his dish.

I snap out of it and take my spot next to him, and open my mouth to speak.

"Don't worry about it, Katniss. I'm fine."

The lack of emotion in his voice sends chills down my spine, but I decide to leave it alone for now. The dishes are done quickly with both of us working wordlessly – him washing and me drying.

Once all of the dishes are put back, he wipes his hands on a towel hanging from the oven handle and looks up at me. "I need to go get changed really quick. I'll be back in a minute." It looks as though he tries to smile, and then he's out the door.

I watch him through the window until he's through his door, and then sigh while I go to sit on the couch to wait, feeling like today will be longer than I planned.

So, thing's are getting a bit more comfortable around the (soon-to-be) Everlark household ;)

Next Chapter: Plannings with the bakery and the flashback discussion.

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