Title: The Next Chapter

Author: Ellipses

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or anything really except my own words.

Summary: After returning to District 12, how on earth did two broken souls end up finding their way back to each other? (Expanded Mockingjay chapter 27) K/P, 3-part.

Warning – this is the chapter that makes this story rated M.

Part 3

That night I lay awake in bed, alone this time, still wearing the locket with the pearl inside. Actually I'm clutching it like someone might take it from me in my sleep, but I can't sleep anyway what with all these conversations between us running through my head. I try walking around, reading a book, taking a drink of water. But none of those things relieve the feeling inside that something's not right. So without thinking I put my hunting jacket over my nightclothes and end up at Peeta's house, knocking on his door.

Although I'm not sure how I got there or what exactly tipped the scales, but I know that this is what would've happened anyway. Choosing Peeta – choosing the future, and the total honesty of his love. How could I ever have doubted us or considered anyone else to be his equal in any way?

He's bleary-eyed when he answers the door, dressed in nothing but his boxers. At the sight of his tortured expression I know I woke him from a nightmare. I want to kiss the frown off his face, the fear from his eyes, the scars from his body. I leap straight into his arms and kiss him with the full force of my feelings for him. It's that hunger again that I felt on the beach and earlier tonight. Like a hollow day, taking more and more just makes that hunger more intense.

His strong arms wrap around my waist and hold me tightly against him, my feet aren't touching the floor and with this heady feeling it's almost as if I'm floating like a cloud. The strength of his embrace reminds me that he'd never let me go. I know now that that's what I'll do, too. I will never make that mistake again.

Before either of us know what's happening, he's carrying me up the stairs to his room and my hunting jacket finds itself forgotten on the floor. My back finds contact with soft tangled blankets. We've never slept in the same bed in this state of undress before. It's the first time and I'm so very aware of the tingling, like electricity, of the feeling of his bare skin on my skin, the weight of him covering me from head to toe. I'm not sure either of us know what we're doing, in fact I'm certain neither of us have a clue, but we both know that this just doesn't seem close enough. There's still clothes separating us, keeping us from becoming joined as one.

The gentle touch of his fingertips along the side of my body, so light it's almost as if he's not even touching me, runs under my shirt from my hip to the side of my breast and back down again. It sends shivers down my spine, yet it feels like fire at the same time. I never want it to stop but it also feels like agony...and it's agony when he stops as well. There are goosebumps all over my arms but although the window is open, it's not because I'm cold.

He replaces his hands with kisses, here and there, on my forehead, temples, eyelids, my ears, down my neck and down, down, down until he stops at my bellybutton. He's discovered my one ticklish spot, and I'm squirming – whether it's to get away or to press closer still, I don't care – but it leaves me feeling incredibly flushed and far too excited. My heart's racing like a hummingbird and I'm sure he can tell. To me my heartbeats sound like thunder in my ears. Surely he can hear it too. Can he see my heart trying to burst out of my chest? Because that's what it feels like it's doing right now.

His lips return to mine but his hands continue their pursuit, grazing over my scars as if they were actually the softest silk. I feel his fingers tracing little circles on the insides of my thighs and I know I sigh out loud. I draw his body closer to mine and we are tangled, like a knot that try as you might, can't be undone. I can feel his heartbeat through the thin material of my shirt and I can tell it's racing just as fast as mine and in my heart, I decide that this could not feel more right.

We're both breathing fast and deep, and the warmth of these little puffs of air seem like they're filling the room with heat impossibly fast. But all of a sudden, the air gets ice cold as he pulls away from me. The loss of contact is excruciating.

He's propped up on his elbows gazing down at me when he says, "Are you sure?"

I nod, and that seems to be enough of an answer for him because he's trailing kisses down my neck and between my breasts now, again tantalising my ticklish spot with a light nip of his teeth. He gingerly fingers the edge of my shirt as if waiting for my assent. I nod again and before I can comprehend it my bare flesh is cooled by the loss of the layer separating us. I feel a little self-conscious as he takes his time removing the locket as well, placing it carefully beside the pillow. All the while he's taking in the sight of me while I do the same to him. I shiver involuntarily and then he's covering me again like a blanket. It's a delicious feeling, skin on skin. I could get addicted to it.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders to pull him closer and the feel of whip-like scars flit across my attention, leaving as quickly as it came. His mouth wavers a little against mine at the touch, so I know it's not just my imagination. I'm vaguely aware of his artificial leg but it doesn't seem to be affecting his ability to express his desire; I even feel it nudging my legs apart a little. He settles down between my legs and I can feel the full force of his arousal pressing against me.

He's asking me again if I'm sure and I can clearly see the urgency in his eyes, willing me not to change my mind. It's sweet of him to ask, and although my head is spinning I say it loud and clear, "Yes, now please don't stop." It comes out a little like a moan, but I'm not ashamed. Clearly, we both want this just as much as each other.

There are just a few more scraps of fabric separating us and these find their way onto the floor next to my jacket and the anticipation gives us pause to catch our breaths and take in the sight of each others' scarred bodies.

Peeta's eyes drop and he asks, "Are you disappointed by what you see?" There's nothing I see or know that disappoints me about him, not even his artificial leg.

"You're perfect just as you are. And you?"

"Not at all," he grins and flips us so that I'm straddling his hips now and I don't hesitate to take advantage of the position. I pin his arms down and get to work on returning the favour of torturous kisses and touches. I'm not really sure what I should be doing or where, but he's definitely showing his appreciation for the sensations I'm stirring up. I don't even want to explore the possibilities of touching that part of him, but considering I'm only a beginner, I think we can go slow. Maybe next time. He doesn't seem to need any more stimulation right now...

I think I'm right about that because he mutters something like "can't take it" and he's flipped us back the other way and he's hovering over me again. He's poised at my entrance and it's like his eyes are asking for permission a third and final time and instead of a reply, I send an invitation with a kiss and a nudge of the hips.

We're from District 12, not born with our eyes closed, so when I feel a sharp pain I know what it means. The pain soon dissolves and is replaced by the sensation of fire consuming me from the inside. Just not in the literal sense like I'm already familiar with. A confusing mix of something indescribable starts to build up within as we begin a steady rhythm and my senses seem to go wild and completely escape me. On one hand it feels so all-consuming that I don't want to ever stop, but on the other hand I want it to stop because I feel so overwhelmed.

It still seems like we aren't close enough even though he's inside me so I open myself to him further and deepen the contact. Now that he's sure I don't want to be treated like I'm wrapped in cotton wool, he takes advantage of the position. It's as if we're gradually reaching closer to heaven. I don't know if there's a heaven or a God, but I take his name over and over as we get so close I can almost touch it. The moment is interrupted when he makes me laugh by reminding me that his name is Peeta, not God. With that break in concentration in the mechanics of it all, we both lose ourselves to sensation.

And there it is, the release we were both working towards and I feel a burst within me not unlike an explosion except that it has me quaking rather than burning up. I'm rocked with waves and waves of it until it finally dulls down and has us both in a thrum of ectasy and exhaustion at the same time. We settle down against the pillows to catch our breath and wait for our hearts to return to their normal rhythm. It seems like forever until it does.

I will never regret what just happened. I know in my soul that he's the One and we were meant to share this with one another.

We gaze at each other from opposite sides of the bed. We're not touching but I feel like we don't need to right now since it's as if we're connected somehow. Our sleepy eyes start to droop and we both drift into a shallow sleep. I even dream. I haven't dreamt properly in ages, but even in my dreams Peeta is right next to me the whole time.

When my eyes open again I find that it's well past our usual waking time so the sunshine makes my eyes hurt. He's still sleeping peacefully though and it's a comforting sight that I want to see every day for the rest of my life. I know it's unrealistic to hope for such a miracle, but even one less sleepless night is better than none. I mentally trace the shape of his features. I'm no artist, but I'm trying to commit him to memory so that I can remember this perfect moment forever.

I don't want the sun to wake him, so I get up to close the blinds. The District 12 I see out that window is no longer the charred graveyard I first saw when 13 allowed me to visit. It looks like it's thriving. I even see dandelions sprouting from cracks in the pavement.

From behind me, a sleepy voice asks, "You love me. Real or not real?"

I turn around and I tell him, "Real."

I can't really recall a time in my life where I felt like things were looking up and that my future appeared to be safe. I probably will never believe the future is safe, but Peeta brings me the hope that someday it will be. I never realised what it would be like to let someone into my heart like I have since that night when I gathered up my fears, left them behind and never looked back. When I kicked down that final piece of the wall separating the two of us. I didn't even know what I was doing when I showed up on his doorstep but now I know what it feels like to know that I will never have to be alone and that I have someone to share my life with.

I have been alone for too long in my short life. Of course I had my family, but ever since my father's death, the burden of taking care of them kept me away from developing that closeness that normal families do. Like playing together after school. Or helping siblings with their homework. Doing chores together. I suppose what I mean is that being the pseudo-parent in our family meant I never got to be a proper sister and daughter. Perhaps it even robbed me of my family in a way. None of that means I ever loved them any less though, it just means that I know what I've truly lost now. And gained back in Peeta.

Are we still engaged (technically)? I don't even know. Maybe almost killing each other qualifies as a breakup. Either way, he's my family now. And Haymitch, too, if you must count him. He still looks out for us even though he doesn't really need to anymore. I've decided that he must just be lazy because he can't be so attached to us that he would refuse all the roles in the Capitol offered by Paylor. Unlike Gale, his devotion to the cause ended with the destruction of Snow. And then I recalled the drawer of things including the pearl, the plant book and the other belongings salvaged from my compartment in District 13. That locket though, was not the original. I don't even know what became of it in the end. I know that Peeta didn't put it there so it only left one suspect.

I won't go out of my way to acknowledge the gift since I know he will hate that, but it's like he was trying to send me a message except we're not in the Games anymore. I imagine it's telling me, I'm sorry for not saving Peeta like you asked me to. This is the best I can do now.

Apology accepted.

In the end we're only 18 so we decide that our fake engagement was technically over as soon as the force field was destroyed. We've made a promise to each other though and that's good enough for now. I think I'll need time to accustom myself to the idea of marriage being a good idea. I've spent so long telling myself that I never will that I don't know what to do with myself now that all I want is to spend the rest of my life with Peeta. And although that doesn't mean that we can't be one of those couples who just never toast the bread, I know that it's what he wants. And I just want what he wants. What makes him happy. I also have to admit that it would be nice to make it official though – 'hands off, he's mine' is what I'm hoping to declare. We don't need any of that to be truly happy though.

That's what we've been since that night. Happy. It took us a long way to get here, but there's no turning back now. Not even a visit from Gale could shake us. He's not going to visit though. He almost said as much in a letter he wrote me. Said it would be too painful for him to see me right now. He must've heard about Peeta and I from my mother (or anyone else – word travels fast – Panem's fascination with us doesn't seem to have died with Snow's regime).

My house is now 'Our House', and even thinking those words makes my heart warm up and flutter a little. I've turned into a schoolgirl with schoolgirl dreams, but luckily that's only when it comes to Peeta. The hunter in me is still as fierce as ever and my strength builds with each and every day. I almost feel back to normal in that regard. I'll never set traps so well as Gale, but I'm still a cracking shot.

The game caught is now spread between trading with those who have re-established the Hob, Greasy Sae's soup kitchen and my own kitchen. The Hob's trading is no longer illegal so it's actually more like a marketplace now. Soon there won't be any need for me to continue to hunt, but I will keep doing it anyway to keep myself sane. At the moment I only help out at the bakery once in a while but I prefer not to. I have no aspirations to the role of the baker's wife. Not because I don't want to spend all my time in Peeta's company but because I enjoy his homecoming so much.

When he walks through the door he's always carrying the aroma of fresh baked goods with him, along with actual baked goods as well. The smell and sight of him coming home makes all my worries disappear and when he gives me a kiss, even when he's exhausted, it's like...we're both coming home. Safe. Another day that's brought us back into each other's arms at the end of it.

He's teaching cakes and frosting to his apprentices at the moment so lately he's been bringing back samples from the lesson. Sometimes it's a design he's been perfecting for sale in the bakery. Sometimes it's a design that's just for me, like the one he did for my birthday in May. Either way it always looks and tastes delicious and although they remind me of moments with Prim, they are memories I'm happy to be reminded of now. I don't want to forget those little things about her. And I'm excited to see Peeta doing what he's good at again since I know it's what he loves to do. Seeing those cakes in the windows again reassures me that things are on their way back to normal.

This must be what it's like to be normal, whatever that means. We've lived enough for a lifetime and now this is like a reward. Real or not real? I want to pinch myself sometimes.

Of course it's not always sunshine and roses. All that living has piled up on us and there are still times where we'll have nightmares, often waking up sweaty, shaking and frenzied. Those are the times that bring me back down to earth and we spend the night telling each other that it's okay. He's better at it than I am.

I'm getting better at opening up to him as well. After spending most of my life keeping people out, I've found it really hard to let him in to see the real Katniss. We once had a long talk about our first Games since we never really got that chance, not in relation to our "alliance". Although I still don't fully understand my motivations at the time, he was finally able to fully understand and see things from my shoes. How I could have misinterpreted things the way I did. How Haymitch manipulated us both. But if we had both known each other's true feelings it would have been disastrous. We can't stay angry with him for it anymore – we're both alive because of it.

He told me about the betrayal he felt when we had that conversation on the way back home. He even admitted to near-hatred of me for a while, and Gale as well. Snow was cruel enough to use the footage he managed to get of the two of us in that one kiss in the forest as a form of torture. He said it still haunts him even though he rationally knows it and believes me when I tell him that Gale and I were never and never will be anything more than friends. Whenever I tell him that I love him, I always make it a point to say "I love you Peeta" in an attempt to banish all of the bad memories.

I reckon he didn't tell me the whole story about that though, because he often thrashes and shouts "No, get off her!" over and over when he has that nightmare. I've never told him that that's what he does. He most definitely sees a hijacked version of it. I don't know how far it goes, but I think he thinks I'll somehow feel hurt by such an invasion of my privacy. I know I would go insane if I ever saw Peeta making love to someone else, even if I knew it wasn't real.

My own nightmares are usually ones which feature people who I know to be dead – sometimes it's bloody and I actually see them dying, sometimes they're saying terrible things to me. Blaming me for what happened to them. The worst one is when I see Rue trapped in the net, asking me why I didn't save her. Over and over. I wake up from those with tears on my pillow. It's okay though, because Peeta is always right there next to me stroking my hair and wiping my tears away.

He surprises me with the little things that he does that's so thoughtful that most of the time I don't think that I deserve him. Like when I first asked him to move in with me, he insisted on not rushing into things. I thought it was strange considering we were practically living together already. He was definitely teasing me though when he started moving his stuff over one or two pieces at a time – I'd find a pair of pants in my pantry, or his toothbrush on the coffee table – until I got fed up and moved all his stuff in the middle of the night. We haven't turned back since.

I've been talking to my mother on the phone a bit more lately and she told me her most valuable piece of advice about relationships: you should never go to bed angry with each other. Luckily, when we argue, we can't take each other seriously for very long so we just end up laughing about it and kissing on the couch.

There will come a day when that advice will really come in handy. I know how he feels about kids. Again, we're too young to be thinking so far ahead, but that's going to become a sticking point between us, I know. I'm dreading that conversation. But at the end of the day, I don't think I'll be able to say no. One of these days I'm going to have to admit that my love for Peeta outweighs my fear for our future. For now, I'll hang on to my fears. It's hard to let go of them when they've been around for over ten years. Maybe it'll take another ten years for me to let go.

End

AN: So, what did you think? Please review!

Let me explain one thing here. This story is based on Suzanne Collins' use of just one word: "after". If you don't know what I mean, please reference the last few lines of chapter 27 of Mockingjay. This is what I imagined happened "before", and I'm very satisfied that I got to put into words what Suzanne couldn't.

I'm working on a new, longer, K/P fic which is projected to be about 10 chapters. Since I'm dreadfully slow at writing, I don't tend to post things unless they're done or nearly done. So that you don't die from waiting on me, please set an Author Alert if you wish to know when I finally do post it.

Btw, has anyone else noticed that K/P's possible nicknames are all dreadful? Like KatPee and Peeniss...? It sucks having to refer to them as just K/P. -Edit: thank you reviewers, I shall be using Everlark from now on then.