Author's Note: Thank you so much to all of those who reviewed the last chapter! To those who just fav'd it and walked away... *narrows eyes* I'm watchin' you. Reviews are polite, folks! Authors want to know WHY you liked their work. So please, review! It makes us feel better. Anywho, here is part two of this duet, told from Peeta's POV. Please enjoy.

I wake up early like always. I'll forever be on a baker's schedule, no matter how much I dream of just once sleeping in. I especially regret it this morning. I was afraid to open my eyes in case it had all been a dream, but I crack one open and see her there and I sigh in relief. She's curled next to me, her dark hair spread across the pillow and my chest. Her hand rests just above my heart. I can't see her face from this angle, but I know exactly what her expression is - soft, relaxed. Peaceful. And her lips pouting out just barely, almost making her look infantile. She'd hate to hear me say that, but it's the truth.

I know she's naked beneath the sheets. I can feel her smooth skin along my whole body, and it still gives me goosebumps. My thoughts drift to the night before - just a few hours ago, really - when everything came to a standstill. Time, my heart, all of it. My hand brushes through her hair and a small noise comes from her throat. My head is spinning.

She's finally mine. I'm the one she can't survive without. She needs me like I need her. She loves me, I know she does. Really this time. Maybe she always has and she just didn't know it.

I feel my face split into a grin and all I want to do is wake her with kisses and never let her go. But I decide to let her sleep. She needs it.

I carefully extract my arm from under her and slip out of bed, tucking the covers back around her. She whimpers a bit and her brows crease. She does this every time I get up in the morning, and I always respond the same: brush her hair back and kiss her forehead. This morning I let my lips linger a little longer, then I find my shorts and sleep pants and pull them on. I leave the room and Katniss to go downstairs. It's a Sunday, so I don't have to go into the bakery. My assistant Raab can handle anyone that comes in. I take the rare opportunity of free time to make a real breakfast. Eggs and bacon and cooked grain with dried fruit. The trains aren't scheduled to come in for another week, so its not my first choice for breakfast in bed, but it'll do. At least I have dried plums.

I set to work, making a quick loaf of bread from the starter I keep in the cabinet and sliding it into the oven to bake. While it does, I cook up oat and wheat meal and mix in dried plums and apples and raisins. I even make hot chocolate because I know she likes to dip her bread in it. I'm pulling the bread from the oven when I hear her footsteps upstairs. I'm so anxious that the oven mitt I'm using slips and my hand comes into contact with the hot bread pan.

That's when the world starts to get shiny.

I dimly hear a crash, and my last coherent thought before my mind erupts is that I've dropped the damn bread.

Images flash before my eyes and I dig my fingers into something, I don't know what, and feel a stinging pain. I smell fire. Something's burning. Children. They were in the hospital. Innocent. Katniss, Girl on Fire, she set them on fire, she's burning them, laughing as they are burned black like bread in the ashes. No, I did that. I burned the bread. Mom beat me. Did I burn the children, too? Katniss. She no it was me for her, would've died - kill her - no I love her. She's mine, always mine. Always mine won't let her go even if she burned it down. Children, they're on fire, they're screaming my name, why are they screaming at me?

"Peeta!"

I wrench away from their hands reaching for me. They call my name over and over, reaching out, trying to grab me, hold me still, keep me from running. Their eyes are burning. They're staring, pleading -

"Peeta, come back!"

Hands on me. Eyes. Grey eyes. Like mockingjay wings. I know these eyes.

"Peeta, come back to me. It's not real. Whatever it is, it isn't real. Come back."

Not real?

"Peeta, it's Katniss. Remember? Remember last night. That's real."

Last night? Flesh. Burning flesh, but not from fire. Not a real fire. Hands, cool on my face. Grey eyes, beautiful. Katniss.

"Katniss?"

Lips against mine. Strong. Taste sweet. I know these lips.

My hands unclench and grasp arms, not mine. I press my lips back against hers. I feel a warm wetness against my cheek. Tears? Are they hers or mine?

The lips pull away and I can see again. I'm on the floor or the kitchen. Dishes are shattered on the floor. I think I fell on some of the shards. Something is burning on the stove, judging by the smell. And Katniss is on her knees in front of me, her face a mask of worry and fear.

"Peeta?" Her voice cracks.

I stare past her for another minute or two, then say, "I'm okay." I push myself to my feet and wince. I think a plate fragment went into my leg. There's no blood, really, but it hurts like hell, like the vase shards in my hand before the first arena. Katniss is staring at me anxiously.

"I heard a crash, so I came downstairs..." She falters, and I just shake my head.

"It's okay. I just... had a moment." An episode. An attack. Whatever you want to call it, though personally 'hell' sounds the most accurate.

She nods at me, unsure of what to say. This isn't the first time she's seen it happen, and it won't be the last, but every time she's uncertain. If I'm really okay, if I'm really back. I can see in her eyes, Is he going to try to kill me? She doesn't understand that just her being there, to wait it out and bring me back, means more to me than anything.

"The bread seems okay," I hear her say, and I watch her set it on the table. Unfortunately, the eggs and bacon and grain are burned beyond being edible.

"Sorry. I wanted to make breakfast for you, something special -"

She blushes and looks down at the floor, then begins picking up pieces of broken plate so that I can't see her face.

"It's okay," she says. "We can make something else." She picks up the last few shards, then notices my leg. I was wrong about it not bleeding.

"Peeta! Your leg!"

I glance down at it. Still hurts, but I've had worse. Obviously.

"It's fine, just a scratch -"

She raises her eyebrows at me. "You need a bandage. Hold on." She stands and throws the broken plate pieces into the trashbin then leaves the kitchen, I guess to get the first aid kit. She comes back with the little white box from the closet.

"Turn around."

I comply quickly, knowing if I resist she'll just get more upset. I glance over my shoulder to see her kneel down next to my leg, her brows creased and her cheeks slowly emptying of color. I still don't understand how she can still get sick at the sight of blood after all we've been through, but then again...

Her fingers carefully prod at the puncture in my sleep pants, making me wince, and then she pulls away. I look down at her again, and find she's already looking up at me.

"What?"

Some of the color returns to her face in what I think is a blush. "You need - I'll have to take your pajama pants off to -"

I smirk at her. "Okay. Not like you haven't seen me in less." Her blush deepens and I laugh. "Katniss, really? After-?"

Her face is burning red. I can see it crawl up her scalp through the part in her hair. "I know! This is different. Now take them off."

I smirk at her again. "Yes, ma'am." She punches my hip but it lacks any real force behind it, and I push my sleep pants down until they're around my ankles and step out of them. I'm standing in front of her in nothing but my underwear. I shouldn't feel self-conscious. Hell, I was naked with her only hours ago. But I shuffle my feet. This is broad daylight. It's different now. Especially when she's on her knees and at eye level with my crotch. God, I hope I don't pitch a tent here. She'd run for sure.

But she doesn't seem to notice, or if she does, she's doing a really good job of acting like she doesn't. Katniss dabs at the blood around the puncture, then without warning pulls the tiny shard from my thigh. It felt a lot bigger than it was. She smears some ointment over the wound and wraps a bandage around it, then sits back on her heels. I turn and look at her, but her eyes are elsewhere. On my leg. My artificial limb.

"Katniss?"

The look on her face is hard to describe. I can see that she's upset, but it's tinged with sadness and pity and just the slightest bit of anger. They all fight to cross her face as she reaches out and gently touches my metal knee. Now I know another reason for my nerves. She's never seen the Capitol contraption up close. I've never let her. But I let her now. She deserves to see it, to know about it. I've given her all of me, and unfortunately that includes a prosthetic limb.

I watch her examine the leg, and though technically I have no nerves past my mid-thigh, I know exactly when she touches me, even when I'm only watching her face. Her fingers move up from the knee, across the translucent but harder-than-steel plastic plates that cover the metal mesh and underlying mechanisms that connect to the remaining ends of muscle and bone in my left thigh. Another plastic plate covers what would be my shin, and I know she can see the mechanism working as I shift from foot to foot. She seems fascinated by it, and I don't blame her. It's an unreal example of the Capitol's endless resources and technological superiority over the Districts. Wrong as it is, I was lucky that they could save my life, even if it meant losing flash and blood and replacing it with metal.

Katniss' fingers travel lower, around my ankle, and then her eyes are scanning the individual 'tendons' in my foot. I'm waiting anxiously for her to say something. I just didn't expect her to say what she does.

"You have toes."

It's a statement, full of surprise. I laugh.

"Yeah. I can move them, too." I lift my foot and wiggle the metal toes in front of her face. Her eyes widen and she shoves my foot away from her face. I laugh again, though she doesn't seem amused. She packs up the little first aid kit and stands in a huff.

"It's not your fault, you know," I say as she walks away. "There's nothing more you could've done. You know that."

She sighs. "I know. But it doesn't mean I have to like it."

I nod, understanding. She leaves to put the kit away and I lean back against the counter. There's blood on my sleep pants so I don't bother putting them back on. Besides, she can get used to seeing me in my underwear. There's no going back.

When Katniss returns I'm drinking hot chocolate at the table. It was the only thing besides the bread that hadn't been ruined by my hijack attack. She doesn't say anything about my continued state of undress, so after offering her a mug I bring it up myself.

"About last night -"

She chokes on her drink and sputters. "Peeta -"

"Listen." I stare her down until she looks at me in defeat. "When I told you last night that I couldn't stop, I meant that for more than just last night." Her eyebrows rise, but I press on. "Katniss, I couldn't have you twice before now. I'll be damned if I have to let you get away again after last night."

She stares into her mug, clearly uncomfortable. I'm making her discuss her feelings in broad daylight. I know she hates it. She hates being vulnerable. But she has to know that I can't go back. We can't go back, not after last night. I've had the full taste. I've had her, and I'll die before she tells me that it was a mistake or that she's not ready or that -

"Okay."

It's my turn to sputter. She quirks a small smile. I stare at her in disbelief.

"What?"

She looks back into her mug. "You're right. Besides, I meant everything I said last night." She pauses, psyching herself up. "I need you, Peeta," she whispers, and her eyes come up to meet mine. "I won't let you go again."

And in that moment I could not love her more. I take her hand and pull her towards me. She rises from her chair and steps around the table to stand before me. She licks her lips and I pull her down to sit on my lap and our lips meet. It quickly grows in passion and her mouth opens to mine and she tastes like hot chocolate. My hands grasp her hips, holding her tightly to me. Her pelvis shifts forward to make herself more comfortable, but she rubs against my lower body and I feel myself grow hard. I'm about to pull away to tell her we should probably stop when she swings one of her legs over and straddles my lap. I groan into her mouth as she settles against the new bulge in my shorts. I feel her smirk against my lips and I finally pull away to meet her eyes.

"Katniss..."

"Hmm?" Her hands are splayed across my chest, her fingers curled in the hair there. She's looking at me with soft eyes, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. She's never looked more beautiful to me, with her sleep shirt slipping off of one shoulder and her hair still loose around her face and pelvis pressed against mine and -

"Peeta?"

I reach up and tangle my fingers in her hair. She turns her cheek into my palm, her eyes closing as she presses her lips to the base of my thumb.

"I love you." I can't help it. It spills from my mouth before I can stop it. Her eyes flutter open, dove grey and liquid, and she smiles softly.

"I know," she whispers, and then leans forward and kisses me on the lips. I understand what it means. The time for words is past. Now touch takes over.

Images of the previous night blur with the things I experience now. My lips find her neck and I sink my teeth into the soft skin beneath her ear. She gasps, arching into me, and my hands grasp at her back, her hips, her ass, around to her front to clutch at her breasts through her shirt, kneading them and rolling her nipples between my thumb and first finger. I will never be able to get enough of her. For years this was the only thing I could dream about, and now, after surviving hell and worse, she is here, the object of my wildest fantasies, warm and soft and willing in my arms.

My hands slide up the curve of her spine and I pull her shirt up and she reaches to yank it over her head. In the chill of the room I watch as her nipples harden before my eyes. I duck my head down and capture one in my mouth, lightly sucking. I breathe her in as she arches and sighs my name. This is my greatest dream become reality. My thumbs trace her scars, the patchwork of burns and cuts along her arms and sides. We take the time to discover and rediscover each other, outlining scars and burns that are still tender and pink, laying feather-light kisses on old and new wounds alike. She moves against me, her nipples like little jolts of electricity as they rub against my chest, her pelvis grinding against mine and making lights flash behind my eyes. When I feel her whisper into my skin, "Take me," I don't have the will to deny her.

In one quick movement I stand, picking her up with me and then setting her on the table. She raises her hips so that I can pull her pants and underwear down her legs, and I kiss every inch of her I can as I do so, and now in the light of day I can finally see all of her. What hid in shadow last night is open to me now. My eyes slide down her body, coming to rest of the patch of dark curls at the junction of her thighs. I feel myself straining against my underwear and I want nothing more than to bury myself inside of her and never leave. But the way she looks at me, with swollen lips and flushed skin and fiery eyes, makes me want to worship her and giver her everything.

"God, Katniss," I murmur, and then I'm pushing her back against the tabletop and kissing her taut belly and downward until I find her core and I touch my tongue to her folds. She jerks and says my name, that I don't have to do this, but I ignore her and spread her legs and kiss her there until she falls back with a sigh. Carefully I run my tongue over her nub and her hips twitch up and a moan escapes her throat. I smirk against her and do it again and again until she is pleading for me to take her. Her fingers pull at my hair but I don't stop. I'd do anything to hear her make those sounds again, to hear her voice so low and raw calling my name. She starts to tremble, and I slide a finger into her tight, wet heat and her hips buck against my mouth. I can't help but grin. For once, I have the upper hand. I have her at my mercy. And from the look in her eyes when I glance up at her, she is just fine with it. But still she begs, and so I straighten and push my underwear down enough to free my erection. I watch her there, her eyes dark grey and boring into mine. But I have to look away. I have to watch myself enter her, just to believe that it's real. I bury my length inside of her and she cries out, but it's like listening from inside a bubble. My blood is pounding in my ears and in my cock and all I can feel is her, hot and grasping and so damn perfect...

Katniss moves against me, bringing me back to awareness. She's laid out before me, beautiful and perfect, and her legs wrap around my waist to pull me closer and deeper. I have to be careful, go slow, or I'll lose it before she's through, but she's working against me. She's desperate for her own completion, beginning me in a ragged voice to take her, to make her mine.

Doesn't she know she already is, that she always has been?

I can't hold back anymore, and so I give in to her pleas. I slam into her over and over, stretching myself out over her to kiss her lips as I fill her again and again. She writhes beneath me, making little desperate mewling noises, clawing and grasping to get what she wants. She is on fire, around me and beneath me and I begin to shake with the effort of holding back. But then she's stiffening and I feel her clench around me and she cries out, moaning my name and clinging to me as I manage one, two more thrusts until her orgasm milks mine from me. Fireworks explode behind my eyes and I fall forward, shaking as I empty into her. I feel her lips on my face and she smooths my hair from my forehead and all I can do is hold her to me. I'm probably crushing her but she doesn't seem to mind. We try to catch our breath, kissing each other long and slow, until I raise myself onto my elbows and look her in the eye.

"You love me. Real or not real?"

And she cups my cheek in her hand and smiles and whispers softly, "Real."

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please review and tell me what you thought. Also, stick around, because I will soon be posting a new Hunger Games story! Thanks so much!