A/N:

I apologize for the late update! I'm going to try to update more often as the school year comes to an end. Also, I can't thank you enough for the kind reviews that this story has gotten and to see that it has over 100 followers is amazing. Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.

Also, big thanks to my beta, Maleday. She has helped me tremendously with this story and I'm so grateful for that. Thank you for every ounce of effort you have put into this. I can't thank you enough.

Happy reading!

(Peeta's PoV)

"Peeta?" A voice says. "Peeta, you need to get up, c'mon."

My vision is a blur once I realize I'm awake. My body is sprawled across the couch, surrounded by empty bottles of white liquor. My head throbs painfully, and I struggle to remember what brought me to my current state. The last memory I have is of drinking my pain away with Haymitch, and everything before is foggy.

My eyes meet a pair of deep green orbs that can only be Finnick's.

"W-what are you doing here?" I murmur.

"Katniss came to our house last night to talk with Annie. I asked Annie what was going on and… yeah. I wanted to make sure you were okay so I figured I'd come check up on you."

"Is she okay?" I ask. Images of last night race through my mind: our fight, Haymitch, drinking and Katniss running away without me knowing where she was headed. It's all a nightmare.

"She seemed really upset, Peeta." Finnick sighs.

I'm instantly met with the familiar feeling of guilt in the pit of my stomach. I let out a loud groan and hold my throbbing head in my palms.

"I know," I huff. "It's just been difficult since I've gotten back."

Finnick sits beside me on the old couch and kicks an empty bottle away from his feet.

"You've never been so distant from anyone before, and I'm surprised that of all people, you're distancing yourself from your own wife. What's going on?" He asks. His forehead is creased which clearly shows how concerned he is.

I've never been good at letting out my feelings, but if anyone is to understand, it's Finnick.

"I just...I didn't want to hurt her or scare her away so I thought staying away from her would be the best option. I guess I still messed up either way."

Finnick ponders for a moment, tapping his foot on the ground before speaking.

"I think you need to talk to her, Peeta. This isn't easy for her either. She was a wreck last night and I'm glad we were able to help her out in some way, but I think what she really needs is you." He says.

"I've really screwed up, haven't I?"

Finnick shrugs. "Maybe. But I think you can fix this. I think you just need to communicate with her."

"Does she even want to talk to me anymore?" I ask.

"Peet, she's your wife. Of course she wants to, just tell her what you've told me so far and whatever else you think will make things better between the two of you."

I let out a groan and manage to bring myself to my feet. There's an inescapable pounding in my head, and a stifling sense guilt that follows. My stomach twists and turns while my mind churns with worry and regret. Of all the stupid choices...

"Let's get you a proper drink, okay?" Finnick suggests as he moves towards the kitchen and retrieves a glass, filling it with fresh water.

"Here," he says, passing me the tall glass.

"Thanks," I murmur. The liquid slides down my throat and feels so cool compared to the last thing I had to drink. It had burned its way through my system.

"So, how are you dealing with all this?" I ask, setting the glass down heavily. My voice sounds resentful, and I realize I'm a bit jealous of how well Finnick seems to be holding himself together.

Finnick shifts beside me and ponders for a moment.

"I know I have to be a good husband to Annie and a good father to Finn. Things are tough, yeah, but with therapy and support from my family, I've been able to keep myself together." He says with a shrug.

"Katniss suggested I go to therapy, but… I don't know how I'd handle that." I mutter. The whole idea makes my stomach churn. I've always preferred helping people with their problems, rather than speaking of my own. Keeping my problems bottled up inside is hard, but speaking of them to others seems even worse, for some reason.

"It's not half as bad as you think. The guy I go to, Doctor Aurelius, is pretty good. Maybe we could go together sometime if that would help." He suggests with the raise of an eyebrow.

"I'll think on it." I tell him. The truth is, I really would prefer to deal with my problems on my own. I'm sure I'm beyond help anyway.

"How about you clean yourself up and I'm sure Katniss will be back here later today."

"Did she sleep okay?" I ask. Last night, I can imagine, had been restless for her. All I want is to wrap my arms around her again like we used to, and fall into a dreamless sleep without any pain, but that's not how life is anymore. It's much more complicated than that.

"She's seemed fine. Annie and I haven't really checked on her, but there's been no screaming from what I could hear, and you know I'm a light sleeper."

No nightmares. I let out a sigh of relief and rub my hands up and down my face. Katniss's nightmares had began right after her father passed away, leaving her petrified to go to sleep almost every night. The only way she can fall asleep is if I'm there, or if she takes her unwanted medication.

"Please, when you get back, make sure she's okay?" I plead. I want to go back and tell her how much I love her and want to make things better, but I know that she'll be too stubborn to forgive me. Whenever she's been hurt, she doesn't forget easily. I'm really going to have to prove myself.

"I will, I promise." Finnick tells me reassuringly.

"I think you should dispose of these before Katniss gets back." He says, raising one of the glass bottles and chucking it towards the trash can where it easily makes its way in. He's always had good aim, missing arm or not.

I nod my head. I'd completely forgotten how much of a mess the place is. Bottles of beer and white liquor are spread about the kitchen, some at the feet of the couch I'd been sleeping on. Things had really gotten out of hand: breaking objects, yelling, and I've never drank so much in my life.

Hastily I help pick up the bottles and throw them into the trash. The house reeks, almost as bad as Haymitch's place. I don't know how he can stand it all the time without feeling sick. Well, probably because most of the time, he's too inebriated to notice.

"I need to get out of here." I say. My head still spins and the odor of the house only makes me feel worse.

"Let's take a minute outside okay, bud?" Finnick suggests as he pushes softly against my upper back and leads me onto the front porch. The fresh morning air is a nice awakening.

"That's better." I sigh. There's a cool morning breeze that gently blows against my face and the air is fresh and clean, unlike the air inside where I could only choke on the smell of my own foolish mistakes.

"You know, you could drive back with me right now if you wanted to see her." Finnick says.

I shake my head. "You know how that would end. Katniss needs to come see me on her own. I can't force her to forgive me, and I really need to get washed up before I even think of leaving."

"I guess you're right, and you do smell pretty bad." Finnick chuckles. I elbow him in the side only causing him to release another laugh.

"You get ready and I'll come back later and maybe we can head to Dr. Aurelius's together? I had an appointment today anyway, and he's pretty laid back, so I'm sure you'd be able to join the session without a problem."

My stomach twists in a nervous knot. Surely I'll be able to handle it, maybe I can test it out...but just this once; for Katniss. I tell myself.

"I guess I could give it a try..." I say.

"It'll be good for you," Finnick says, giving me a slap on the back before he makes his way down the porch steps and waves goodbye.

"Finnick!" I shout. He turns to look at me curiously before I continue. "Thank you, for helping me out. I know I can be… stupid sometimes but I'm really glad I have you around." I tell him.

Finnick shakes his head while chuckling to himself, "Anytime, Peet. Give me a call if you need anything." I nod my head and say goodbye before entering the house and letting out a deep breath.

I can still smell the alcohol and stench of my own breath and decide that right now, it'd probably be best to hop in the bath. I easily un-attach my prosthetic and sink down into the tub, letting the warm water surround my sore body. Ever since I lost my leg I've been unable to take showers.

One leg. I cringe. I hate thinking about it, but it's not easy to ignore. How does Katniss love a man with one leg? A man with no confidence. A man whose distant and mentally ill. A man who can't even protect his own wife. I don't get it. I don't deserve her, not by a long shot.

This route of thinking quickly leads to frustration at my whole predicament. I scrub angrily at my coarse hair, letting my nails almost scratch my scalp to nothing.

After finishing, I sit on the edge of the tub and re-attach the ugly metal prosthetic that is my "leg." I slip a pair of old khaki's quickly so that my prosthetic doesn't glare at me any longer.

I make my way to the bathroom cabinet and find the small bottle Zoloft, the pills used to treat my depression, PTSD and anxiety. Taking them helps, but the side-effects are what really bothers me. Drowsiness, nausea on some occasions, sleep problems and even loss of appetite that makes me almost want to give up on these pills all together. But I can't give up, even though I consider it every day.

The whole PTSD thing has changed me beyond belief. Had I known that being in the military would have caused this much stress in my life, I wouldn't have joined in the first place. In fact, I really don't know why I did anyway. Being there was by far the most traumatic experience of my life.

All I see is ways people can hurt me, which is part of the reason why I'm always on guard. Being in the military has changed my route of thinking. Instead of being the laid back, easy person I was before, I'm now constantly afraid- afraid of people around me, afraid that something or someone will hurt me. That's why I distance myself; I'm scared of everything.

A few hours later, sure enough Finnick stands at the front door wearing the same big grin on his face that he always wears.

"Ready to go?" He asks as I slip my jacket on and soon follow him out of the house and into his car.

"I called Doctor Aurelius while I was out and managed to get you in. I think that you need to speak with him yourself, let everything out. My being there will only make you more nervous, I'm sure."

"Great." Is all I can say, my throat suddenly dry. I feel nothing but dread over this therapy session, especially since I'm going to have to face it alone now. Finnick keeps babbling on about how great this therapist is and how he'll be able to help me sort out my problems, but I'm not so sure that I'm willing to open up to a complete stranger.

Finally, the car pulls into an open parking space and we both head towards the doors of the office.

The waiting room in Dr. Aurelius' office is a cold, uninviting, stark white and already, I feel uncomfortable. The white plastic chairs in the waiting room make me feel everything but welcome. I sit uncomfortably, flipping through my phone, trying to avoid conversation, which has become a norm for me.

"Peeta Mellark?" The young woman calls. Finnick quickly rises from his seat and waves for me to follow. My stomach drops to my toes and I feel myself break out into a nervous sweat.

Dr. Aurelius's office comes into view. It's much warmer and more inviting than the depressing waiting room. There's a large wooden desk in the middle of his office with two cushioned chairs placed in front of it and the room is painted a soothing green color.

"Finnick Odair, so nice to see you again. I'm glad to see you've brought your friend as well." He smiles.

"This is Peeta Mellark, who I've spoken to you lots about before." Finnick explains.

I give a curt nod and shake the older man's hand. "Nice to meet you, sir." I say, my voice wavering.

"You as well, Mr. Mellark. Take a seat." He offers with a wide grin.

Dr. Aurelius is an older man, with thin gray hair and sagging jowls but has a kind smile and friendly demeanor to him. I decide that maybe staying won't kill me.

"I'll see you after Peet," Finnick murmurs as he leaves the room and gently shuts the door behind him.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat and twiddle my thumbs nervously, waiting for the doctor to say something, anything.

"Mr. Mellark, it's great to finally meet you. It's such a lovely day out, isn't it? I had a great walk outside this morning before I came to work today. Anyway, onto you, tell me a little bit about yourself." He says with a chuckle as he leans forward in his seat and rests his elbows on his desk.

I'm unsure of what to say, there's really not much to me, though he seems genuinely interested in knowing every detail.

"I'm uh- I was previously in the military before I lost my leg and...I've been married for five years now." My sentence is cut short. There's a nervous tension in the room and I can't seem to get anything out. I rub my sweaty palms against each other to try and ease myself.

"That's all? Tell me what you like to do Peeta, tell me about your family, your life right now. Tell me anything you feel you need to tell me. Let me get to know you." He says.

"Okay uh, sure." I say as I nervously scratch the back of my head. "I like to paint, I've always been pretty good at it. My family runs Mellark's Bakery in town where I used to work. Life was as perfect as it could be before I went into the military, and since then it's never been quite the same." Good enough.

"Oh Mellark's bakery! You must be proud to have your family own such a lovely place."

"It's pretty nice, yeah." I tell him. At least he's friendly.

"Now, what do you think made you realize you needed to seek some kind of therapy?" He asks.

I was forced into it. I want to say. But I keep myself quiet.

"I guess I've just been having a really hard time facing this new disorder." I say with a shrug.

"Post-traumatic stress disorder is very common amongst people who have worked in the military. You're not facing this alone. For some people, it's worse than others, and in some cases it's mild. Would you care to tell me some of your symptoms?"

"Oh, I don't know, depression, anxiety, flashbacks, nightmares and well moodiness, my wife calls me closed off." I say bitterly with a roll of my eyes.

Dr. Aurelius quickly scribbles this information down in his notebook before facing me again. "Any medications you're taking, or ways that you've been able to manage these symptoms?"

"Well, I take Zoloft...and Katniss, my wife, usually helps me out of my flashbacks and nightmares."

"Ah, yes, Katniss Mellark. She's been quite worried about you and had hoped you'd come to therapy sometime." Doctor Aurelius smiles.

When had she called Dr. Aurelius? Behind my back? She'd mentioned I see a therapist before, but didn't tell me she'd been in contact with him.

"Oh, I had no idea. She'd mentioned therapy before, but she has no clue I'm here today. We haven't really been...getting along lately." Dr. Aurelius writes this down as well on his notepad.

"I've heard small details about this from her, but she never gave me anything specific. Would you care to tell me what's been going wrong in your relationship?"

I knew this question would be brought up at one point or another, and talking about it makes me want to vomit because of how much guilt I feel.

"It's me who's the problem. I've been distant from her, and I haven't let her in. I've been keeping to myself and I never tell her my problems anymore. Ever since I've been experiencing nightmares and flashbacks I've wanted to stay distant so I don't scare her away." Unshed tears threaten to escape my eyes. I don't really know where all this is coming from.

"How long has this been going on for?" The doctor asks, his eyebrow raised as he crosses a leg over the other and scoots his chair closer.

I ponder for a moment. "Right after I came back. Ever since I've been having nightmares and flashbacks... I've been worried that one day, they'll become too violent and I'll scare her away. I've tried to keep my distance but that's only made things worse. She...she left last night because she was so upset about it." I say warily.

Memories from last night flood my mind and the same feeling of guilt washes over me again. I wanted so badly to run after her and call her back, but because of the state I was in I knew I'd only end up hurting her even more. I'd drunk with Haymitch until I could barely see, before blacking out into oblivion.

Dr. Aurelius takes quick notes on his notepad again before raising his eyes to me. "How do you feel about coming here with your wife?"

I didn't expect this question.

"I- I don't know. Our relationship isn't really very healthy right now." I say.

"I know that, Mr. Mellark, but I suggest you two pay me a visit andwe can try to fix things. We just have to find a way for the two of you to understand each other. After that, we can focus on your disorder and expose you to some different types of therapy. Does that sound okay?"

I nod my head. I'd never imagined I'd be coming to therapy again, I thought that I'd try it and never want to go back, but something about todays session gave me hope that maybe there is a way to put myself on the right track.

Dr. Aurelius hands me his card. "Give me a call when you'd like to come back. I get that this might be hard for you, as your wife mentioned, but I think that this will be a good thing in the long run, Mr. Mellark." He explains.

"Will do." I tell him.

"It was nice to meet you. Hopefully you'll decide to come back and we can get this sorted out." He gives a genuine smile and rises from his seat to walk me towards the door.

"Thank you, Dr. Aurelius. I'm glad I came." I say. Surprisingly, I'm not lying.

"Anytime."

I let out a sigh of relief. It was no where near as bad as I thought it would be. There was something about Dr. Aurelius that put me at ease. His kind manner and easy conversation wasn't hard to work with.

Finnick waits in the front entrance for me. I give him a shy smile as I make my way toward him.

"So, how was it?"

"Not as bad as I thought. You were right, he's a good guy." I tell him.

"I told you so. See, nothing to worry about is it?" He says before giving me a pat on the back.

"Guess not." I mutter.

I'm left with a feeling of hope; hope that there is chance at a better life- a life without living in constant fear, a life where things can be good again.

A/N:

Thanks for reading! I apologize for the late update and the lack of everlark in this chapter. I'm going to try and update more consistently as it reaches the end of exams for me. There will also be lots more everlark in the upcoming chapters.

Let me know what you think about this chapter being in Peeta's PoV. I was nervous to try it out, but I think that it was needed for this story. Review and tell me your thoughts and whether or not you like it being in Katniss' PoV or Peeta's PoV better. Thanks again for reading! Don't forget to let me know what you thought.