It's in the early morning hours when I wake. Is it possible I had a sleep; a sleep that consisted of no nightmares- no mutts, or children's deaths? Peeta is in the same spot as he was when I succumbed to the darkness. He looks so peaceful sleeping. I move closer to examine him. That is when I notice the circles under his eyes. His face is hard, no longer boyish. Whether it be the games, or the capitol, or the war- I'll never know at what point it changed. The blonde hair is swept in a way that exposes his scars. I put my hand out and run my fingers softly over his scars. I'm crouched beside him at this point, still running my fingers softly over his scars. He stirs in his sleep slightly causing me to retract immediately. I don't know if a flashback of distorted memories could cause him to wrap his hands around my throat again. No. No he wouldn't. My thumb runs over ever so slightly, I try to imagine the variety of awful things that could've caused it. Was it our first games or the second? Maybe it was the capitol or the actual war? I look down to see his eyes are staring softly at me.
"Hey." I let out in an almost whisper. The sides of his mouth pull up into a tiny smile.
"No nightmares?"
"No nightmares. You seemed pretty peaceful yourself."
"I was." Peeta notices my eyes are still on his scars. "Katniss, these scars aren't your fault. I was protecting you."
"Protecting me?"
"You told me that was what we did, the night before we went down those streets in the Capitol. I asked if it was real. You said it was." I smirk in the early morning hours. He remembers something. It's something that is the answer for so many of his questions really. We survived all that we have because we protect each other.
It becomes a routine of ours. Peeta bakes. I hunt. We meet for dinner. We work on the book. And eventually we both fall asleep from exhaustion. Peeta usually stays the night, if he doesn't he stays until two, sometimes three. That's enough time for me to accumulate some hours of sleep. When he leaves the nightmares consume my solitude. Lately they have escalated to those of Peeta. I see him helpless in the capitol, and around him are white roses that smell of blood. He's in a room with all these wires running into his veins. There's a monitor and a "doctor". He tells Peeta the lies that are what he calls his memories. I'll wake and pace. Then Peeta will be over to make sure I am out the door. Today is a bad day for me. I'm sitting on the floor of my bathroom, knees to my chest- I'm shaking with fear in my eyes. I woke up- only to vomit from the smell of roses. Now I am balled up; seeing flashes of Rue, Prim, Foxface, Cato, Finnick, Peeta… all dead. Peeta finds me as if he knew exactly where I was all along. He sits down beside me, eyes looking just slightly past me. He's sitting with his knees up and his face on his fist. No words are exchanged. The tears slowly fall and just like the nights on the train, I put my head into his chest. He's bewildered, but wraps his arms around me. His right hand rubs my arm up and down. It's soothing- and the only affection I've accepted since I returned.
"Shh, tell me what you saw." He finally says when the tears have finished.
I can't, but there's something that makes me blurt it out.
"It was you, and Prim, and Rue, and Finnick. All dead." I mutter, clutching his shirt in my fists.
"I used to have nightmares about losing you. Real or not real?" This is not the time to play this game. Then I remember how selfish I am for keeping so many answers to myself. I wasn't hijacked by the capitol. He was. Poor innocent Peeta- so lost.
His hand stops and I answer. "Real. Then you would realize I was okay." I try to beat around the fact we spent nights together on the train before the Quarter Quell. I don't need to make this confusing for the two of us.
He nods. "Hey." He says in a sweet little schoolboy voice. "I'm going to do my orders here today. You can help me. I'm not leaving you today."
"Okay." By late morning Peeta has me downstairs with him. He gave me some dough to work with, but let's face it; baking will always be his thing for a reason, just like hunting will always be my thing for a reason. My braid is really a poor excuse right now, so I start re-braiding. Peeta looks over and tilts his head slightly before saying:
"You used to wear your hair in two braids instead of one- Real or not real?"
"Real." I smile a little bit. He remembers. How I don't know. Mid-day is very boring. Peeta is really involved in his bread, and I'm not helping. I just keep eating. He smiles though each time he notices another cheese bun missing. I decide I will go to the woods. I won't shoot, just collect some plants, set some traps. The ones he taught me.