(Point of View: Katniss)
Over my head I hear them. They scream. They scream with the voices of the children in the Capitol as they are being blown to pieces. I hear Prim's cry among them. They are the Jabberjays. And Who am I? Who am I? The Mockingjay! Am I not the child of the Jabberjays? There is no escaping that I am their legacy: the joining of the natural and the un-natural. Perhaps I was never meant to be in this world at all. I have no bow and arrows to defend myself against the Jabberjays. I press my fingers into my ears so hard that my skull bones seem to want to give into the pressure. My hands shake from the effort, but nothing decreases the volume of the screams. Then I feel the rain. It's a sticky un-refreshing rain that does nothing to wash away my misery. It is surprisingly warm though. And as I look upwards, I see that the rain is blood – not water. I feel something cold under my feet. I look down to discover that it's a white tile floor. There are ridges where the tiles meet. I push my toe into one of them to make sure the floor is real. The blood begins pool in the ridges. Then I see him out of the corner of my eye. He is a few yards away. Two men in white uniforms stand on either side of him.
"Peeta!" I scream desperately. "Peeta!"
I run in his direction despite the presence of the men in white, but I run directly into something hard that knocks me backwards. It's a clear barrier. I watch as Peeta puts his hands and arms up in a defensive effort as one man in white draws back some kind of straight club with which to hit him. The other man pulls Peeta's arms away so that he can't defend himself. Peeta resists though. Two more men in white come from the side and grab hold of Peeta.
"Peeta!" I scream. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. "Peeta!"
They finally overpower him. I can't watch. I turn away and lower myself down the barrier. I'm facing away from my love as they beat him. The Jabberjays call his cries of pain. I pull at my hair and scratch at my skin. I must be dead. Surely this is hell.
Someone shook my shoulders.
Leave me alone. I can't feel anymore. I have to shut down. Let me shut down. Leave me alone! I thought.
"Katniss! Katniss! Wake up." I heard. It was Peeta's voice, and it was coming from someplace other than behind me.
I opened my eyes to see Peeta's shadow over me. I startled and moved away, nearly falling off the bed in a loss of balance. Peeta grabbed my shoulders as I started to fall. He pulled me upwards.
"Katniss. Are you OK? You know where you are, don't you?" He asked.
I couldn't speak so I nodded.
"You know that you are safe here, right?" He asked. "You're safe here with me. Nothing is going to hurt you."
My eyes closed involuntary. The breath I'd been unconsciously holding left my body.
Peeta wrapped his arms around my head and shoulders. He pressed my head against his chest. I could
hear his rapid heartbeat. He was afraid for me. I was scaring him. I refused to make him suffer
any more than I already had.
"It was a terrible nightmare." I explained. "It was about the children at the mansion…and the clock arena."
He kissed the top of my head. Then he rested his chin there. He began to rock me back and forth ever so slightly. We stayed like that for a long time. Then the sun started to peak through the shutters.
(Point of View: Peeta)
I was surprised to find that the "gift" from Dr. Aurelius to Katniss was a book of parchment paper. Apparently Katniss had told him that she wanted to make a book of memories. At first I thought the book was a bad idea because Katniss seemed to be focused on bad memories when her mind shifted to the past. I was wrong. As she started to work on the book, it became clear that the book helped her focus on the good ones. Katniss asked me to make paintings and draw sketches for the book sometimes. I did whatever she asked. Then I'd watch her hands lovingly record the stories of the people she had lost beside the pictures I had created for her. She cried often. I cried with her. The memories were sweet though. I was glad they were in the book.
I didn't think it was possible for me to fall any more deeply in love with Katniss, but over those months, I did. I could no longer imagine my life without her. It was so far beyond my school-boy crush. We had proven that we were good for one another. I would have walked away if we weren't because I would have done anything to help her. The truth was that we were not only good for each other; we helped each other heal as well. My only remaining doubts about spending forever with Katniss were my fears for her safety. Of course, Katniss could have had doubts of her own.
One night Katniss was lying on the floor and working on her book. It was not a particularly emotional task that night as she was just decorating some of the pages.
"Remember when I told you about the nightmare of you dying because I got you pregnant?" I asked.
"Yes," She replied. "And I told you that I won't die that way."
She said it like she could simply will herself not to die in childbirth.
"That kind of thing is going to happen less and less anyway once we get more medical help here. Things are going to get better." She added.
"There was another nightmare about you dying around the same time." I said.
She kept decorating the book. She seemed unaffected.
"In the nightmare I killed you, Katniss." Saying the words sent a stabbing pain through my chest. "It scared me. It made me afraid to be near you." My voice cracked slightly.
Katniss stopped working on the book and came to sit with me on the sofa.
"You aren't going to kill me. You aren't going to be responsible for my death in any way. You have to stop believing that you are capable of that." Katniss said confidently.
"But I almost did it once, Katniss. I almost choked you to death."
She took my hand in hers. "That was not you. I know you, and that was not you." She said.
I looked over at her. Her gray eyes were so intense. This mattered to her. Why did it matter so much?
"Doesn't it bother you that I dreamed about killing you?" I asked.
"It only bothers me if you want to kill me when you're awake. If you just dream it then it's just a nightmare. I think the nightmare was probably just triggered by the remains of what the tracker jacker venom did to you. If you aren't sure, ask Dr. Aurelius." She said.
"I have. He said he wasn't afraid for your safety." I told her.
She smiled. "See. He agrees with me."
"So it wouldn't make you feel unsafe if I had a nightmare like that again?" I asked.
She was quiet for a moment.
"Tell me this, Peeta: What would you do if you had a nightmare like that again?"
"I'd probably get away from you for a while." I said. "That's what I did last time. I didn't want to hurt you, but I wanted to be sure I didn't. I'd probably tell you. I'd tell Dr. Aurelius too. I could tell Haymitch. Maybe I could talk to Delly. I could go bake or paint."
"Well, it sounds like you have plenty of ideas for dealing with it if it ever happens again!" She said with a giggle.
I had to smile too. I couldn't believe she was taking this so well.
She grew more serious for a moment though. "I was scared in District 13. I knew that you were very sick, Peeta. I thought it was my fault too. I still think that sometimes. It was so hard to see you like that. It was like the light had gone out in your soul, but you're back! You're you! And it's wonderful. None of us are exactly the same as we were before the war, but you are yourself again. That's how I know not to be afraid."
I put my hand behind her head and placed a soft kiss on her lips.
"Thank you for that." I said.
"For what?" She asked.
"For not giving up on me."
(Point of View: Katniss)
I was lying on the floor and caught up in the sounds and sensations of the two of us together. My head bumped against a bucket that I kept near the fire. I started to laugh.
"Peeta!" I said with a slight scolding tone.
"What?" He asked quietly, sounding like he'd rather not be interrupted.
Then he looked up to see me pushing the bucket away from my head.
"Oh, I'm sorry."
I sat up .
"Are we done?" He said breathlessly, sounding a little disappointed.
"Umm. No, but I thought we'd agreed not to be 'done' for now." I replied.
"I guess I just hoped we'd be closer to 'done.'" He said. He sat up too and rested his arms on his knees.
I kissed his cheek.
"Soon we'll be 'done.'" I said and smiled.