A/N: Thank you so much for reading and the reviews :D I do appreciate them I do hope I am not going too out of character here, but I think some emotions run deep after the sort of trauma the characters have experienced.

Chapter 3

How is this possible?

How can he be here? My mind is still trying to process what's going on, but my body is responding on its own. I've turned in his arms, and my own are not wrapped tightly around his neck and shoulders, clinging to him as if my life depends on it. I'm shaking all over, and crying as my breath catches. I feel so lost, so empty, that I wouldn't be surprised if I pass out.

But his arms are soothing. Now that I've turned, his left arm holds me by the shoulders, and his right hand goes up and down my back, trying to calm me. His head is against mine, his lips close to my ear as he continues to whisper things I barely hear.

He is like a rock, and barely flinches when my nails dig into his back as my sobs chokes me, the pain of the nightmare still coursing through me. Somewhere deep inside me, I notice the change in his breathing. He's taking deep breaths, and I wonder if he's getting tired of being here. The selfish part of me just dismisses the thought, convinced that there's no way I can let go yet. I feel too miserable, too scared to let go.

Eventually, though, I realise just what he is trying to do. As my own breathing calms, I realise that I have synchronised it with his. I'm still crying, but I am no longer choking.

"That's it," he whispers. "That's it. Just breathe."

And I find myself consciously breathing with him, taking each breath with his, and I begin to relax. It takes me a while to move, and when I do, I realise just how tightly I am holding him. My arms are stiff, and my head hurts from so much crying.

Feeling me loosen my grip, Peeta pulls back and looks at me. He smiles at me and cleans my face with his sleeve, snot and all. Without another word, he puts me back down, nestling me on the pillows. He is about to stand up and leave when I hold on to his arm.

"You want me to stay," he whispers, "real or not real?"

"Real," I croak, my voice hoarse from screaming. I close my eyes and turn to my side, facing the wall. I can hear him removing his shoes and clothes rustling, then I feel him getting into bed. His shirt is gone, probably dirty now after he cleaned my face, but his arms are warm around me. He makes himself comfortable around me, his forehead leaning against my head, and he lulls me to sleep.

x-x-x

When I awaken, I'm surprised to find myself rested. No nightmares came back to me, and I'm still enveloped in Peeta's arms. By his breathing I can tell he is still asleep. Once again, I start wondering how he came to be in my room, how is it he came to me the moment I needed him the most.

Obviously, I screamed a lot, but I don't think I screamed loud enough to hear me all the way to his house. Still, I'm grateful that he's here, however it is that he came to be here.

I just lie there waiting for him to wake up, but before that happens, I hear activity downstairs. Greasy Sae must be here.

When I move to sit up, Peeta wakes, and rubs his eyes.

"Morning..." he says.

"Morning."

He's looking at me, but I cannot read his expression.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks me, his hand coming up to my cheek. His voice is even, making it more difficult for me to guess what he's thinking.

"I am. Thank you for staying with me."

"You did call me."

He says nothing else to me, and I just look at him in astonishment.

"I..."

"You did scream my name."

"How did you get here so fast?"

"I came as soon as you started screaming. I tried to wake you, but it didn't work. I tried, and then you screamed my name, so I did the only thing I could think of, and that was take you in my arms. That's when you woke up."

"Thank you," I say. I know there's more I should be saying, lots more, but the words get stuck in my throat. The nightmare had completely overpowered me, and he helped me out of it. Perhaps I subconsciously called out for him because I felt him near.

"You're welcome." He sits up, and looks around for his shirt. As he does, I observe the scars on his back. The doctors repaired most of the damage, but some of the scars are still visible, much like in me. I reach a tentative hand as he puts on his shoes, and my fingers trace a scar just below his shoulder blade. He sits straight up, and turns to look at me, a bit stunned.

"Sorry," I say.

"It's okay," he says, pulling his shirt from the floor. "I do have a lot of other scars, if you want to see."

The glint in his eye tells me he's teasing me.

He finishes getting dressed and is on his feet.

"Greasy Sae is probably downstairs already," he tells me. "You should go eat." When I nod, he nods back. "I'll be going then."

I watch him as he walks to the door. I know I have to say something more. Why is it that when it comes to thanking Peeta I'm always lost for words? It was that way with the bread, and now with this. I just hope it doesn't take me another five years to be able to say anything to him.

"Do you want to work on the book this afternoon?" he asks, his hand at the door.

There... he's opened me a door to walk through.

x-x-x

I watch his hands as he paints. He hasn't said much since he arrived a couple of hours ago, and got to painting almost at once. I had written a few passages on the book over the last few days, so he is working on those now, while I write about something trivial, something that will not make me cry.

It's not easy, as a lot of things make me emotional these days. It's probably also partly because of my nightmare. I feel shaky and jumpy and can't focus much on what I'm doing. I have to concentrate hard and long before I can write anything.

"Are you going to tell me what it was about?" he asks, without looking at me. His hands are still carefully stroking the paper with his brush, adding colour to a picture of the miners' uniform.

"What was what about?" I ask.

"The nightmare last night." He does look at me now. "What was it that made you cry out like that? Were they hurting you?" There is concern in his eyes now, and I don't know what to say. Telling him what my nightmare was about would mean actually telling him what really haunts me. "You kept screaming 'I did it for Prim. I did it for Prim.' Were you talking about volunteering?"

"No... the Hunger Games." He looks confused. "The ones I voted yes to..."

My words hang in the air as they sink in. I know he understands, but he avoids looking at me. Something tells me this isn't going to end well.

"Who were you talking to?" he asks me.

"Snow. I was... justifying myself to him."

"For voting yes."

I nod, and I can see the shadow in his eyes. This is one point in which we did not agree, a point in which we never would have agreed. He can't possibly understand what drove me to vote yes at the moment.

"You did it for Prim, you said so at the moment."

"Yes. I did it for her. Her death was too recent, and too painful." That doesn't excuse what I did, I can see that in his demeanour. "I wanted revenge. I wanted..." I cannot explain it. "I wanted my life back, everything I'd lost since the reaping. I blamed Snow for taking it all away from me, and I was right. He took everything from me." I'm crying now. I'm crying because I know how hard this is, not only for me, but also for him. He lost a lot from the reaping onwards, and he suffered through hijacking on top of everything else. "And then..." I don't know if Peeta knows this... perhaps I shouldn't burden him with it.

"And then?"

"And then I realised Snow did not get Prim killed... her blood was not on him."

"What are you talking about? The explosions..."

"It was Coin." I crumple in my chair, crying loudly now. "Those were the bombs designed by Beetee and Gale, and she dropped them on those children. She sent Prim into the field..."

"Katniss..." he's standing now. "You can't be serious! Coin would never have..." Suddenly there is something in his eyes, and I can tell he's having another attack. He grabs on to the table edge and shakes, his face turning red with fury for a moment.

At last he screams, and stands up again. When he nears me, I have a fleeting moment of panic that he might hurt me, his anger is so strong. But he runs to the door instead, his fists still clenched.

"You killed Coin because of what she did to Prim," he says, his voice murderously low. "Real or not real?"

He almost doesn't wait for my answer as he runs outside to let the attack pass. At least he now knows that that very statement is very real.

I killed Coin for what she did to Prim.