DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Hunger Games, much like I don't own the Harry Potter universe.

A/N: Hello! And welcome to my first THG fic! Now, I was very nervous writing new characters, as for the last seven years or so, I've only stuck to writing HP fanfiction. Anyway, this was worth a go, because I really enjoyed writing it. Hope it's equally nice to read :). And I'm sorry if the characterisation doesn't feel up to the mark - I did my best, and just like I did with HP, I'll learn in due time, I promise! But do help me by reviewing and letting me know if something works out, or doesn't. :)

This fanfic is an early birthday present for my dear little sister, Nadia/lairyfight. I hope you like it, hon, because there's seriously no-one else that I'd write THG fanfiction for :). You are such a great friend, and sister, and you're always there when I need you! You're the best! I hope you have a great birthday, and I'm so sad that you'll be away when it's really your birthday :(. Love you! *hearts*

Dancing Lights

The moment the first ray of sunlight hits his face, Peeta knows that something is different about today. He opens his eyes to see that the space beside him on the bed is empty. Katniss must have gone to hunt, he realises.

It's days, weeks, months, probably, since the rebellion. Katniss and Peeta, along with Haymitch's help, have managed to complete the book. Katniss has taken up hunting again, as it makes her feel at ease. Peeta still bakes when he can. However, every night, without fail, Peeta is with Katniss, pulling her away from the realm of nightmares — being there for her. This means that he almost practically lives with her now, but both he and Katniss seem to find comfort in the thought, and no-one wants to change this situation.

Currently, as Peeta sits up and stretches, he tries to think about what is different. He doesn't feel the same as always and there seems to be something absurdly wrong around him. It is almost like another attack of a false memory is coming. A big one.

He walks over to the window and stands by it, his hands gripping the ledge so hard, he can see his knuckles turn white. Something flashes in front of his eyes, and he grits his teeth. No. He can't let it take over… he can't let it take over…

Light flashes through Peeta's eyes again — pure light — white and bright. No. His grip on the ledge tightens. Another flash. No. He will not let it take over. No.

Sometimes, you hate someone so much; it is difficult to contain your anger when you look at them. It is difficult not to reach out to them and grab their throats and strangle them. But hatred is an emotion that has to be contained sometimes, and worked upon at other times. Isn't that what they told Peeta, during all the time that he spent at the Capitol?

We know you're a good person, Peeta, but Katniss is not like you. She has tried to kill you before, and will try again.

Peeta watches Katniss as she enters the house. She doesn't bring her catch home anymore, as there is no need for them when she and Peeta have so much, thanks to the Capitol. No thanks to the Capitol. They ruined our lives.

Katniss smiles at Peeta when she sees him. "Hey."

"Hey," he says unsmilingly. "Lunch is almost ready."

"Oh, good," she says happily, but the loss, grief and pain are still audible in her voice. She can never be completely happy. Peeta knows she isn't. He isn't either. How can Katniss be happy, when she is a murderer?

Real or not real? Real or not real? Real or not real?

"Peeta?"

She most definitely tried to kill him.

"Peeta, are you okay?"

Peeta looks at Katniss straight in the eye. "Yes." No. I'm not okay with what you did.

She realises something is wrong. "Did you just have a flashback?"

He must lie, or she will know his motive, and stop him. "No," he says, smiling at her. "I'm fine."

"Do you want to look through the book?"

They go through the book every day. They look at the lost faces, sharing memories, reminding themselves that the world is a better place. That good people need not die again — not in the way that these people did.

"After lunch, yes," Peeta replies to Katniss.

She nods. "Should I help with—?"

No, no. I can't have you ruin my plan.

"No," he says. "You relax."

"Sure?"

"Definitely."

She heads off to the bedroom and Peeta returns to the kitchen to work on the soup. He stirs it with the ladle, adding this and that. He needs this to taste good. Not that it will matter anyway — considering what he is about to do. But it has to be good.

Peeta divides the soup into two bowls and admires his work for a minute. And then he reaches for the cabinet below the sink so he can add the last ingredient to Katniss's soup — the lye.

It will corrode her away. He will watch her melt from the inside — die before him. That will be her punishment for trying to kill him. What did she think — now that everything was over, she wouldn't pay for what she has done? That Peeta will pity her for Prim's death? No. She will repent. He, Peeta will make sure of that.

He brings the bowls to the dining table. "Katniss?" he calls out.

She emerges from the bedroom and eyes the soup. "Looks fantastic," she says, an ever-so-small smile appearing on her face.

He doesn't reply to it: he just gestures to the table.

She frowns at him. "Peeta, are you sure you're okay?"

"I am," he says. "Why?"

"I don't know…" she trails off. "What are you thinking? Let's have some 'real or not real'."

"No, I'm fine," Peeta says. He knows this is real.

"The doctors did say that the attacks could get bad sometimes."

"I'm okay."

Katniss stares at him as she spoons some of the soup. And before Peeta can react, she smells it. She puts down the spoon and looks up at him. "What have you put in it?"

How did she know? "It's nothing. Just the usual ingredients."

Katniss gets up, and Peeta remembers the times when she'd get angry. At this moment, however, there is concern on her face. "We need to get you to the doctor."

"I'm fine, Katniss," Peeta says, and there's another flash of light. He shuts his eyes and sees her, aiming an arrow at him, ready to kill…

Rage fills him when he opens his eyes, but Katniss is ready for him when he charges at her, trying to grab her neck. Her hand winds around his wrist and the other hand is on his shoulder, turning him around, so his arm is now behind his back. "This is not real, Peeta," she says. "I'm not trying to kill you."

Good thing to say while you're attacking me. He tries to escape, but her hand leaves his shoulder and cups up his chin firmly, tilting it upwards, and she bends him backwards, until he has come all the way down, his spine resting on her knee. "Look at me," she says. "Peeta."

He refuses, but she forces him to look into her eyes. "I'm not trying to kill you," she says. "You're safe."

"I don't believe you."

"You have to. What you saw is not real."

"No—"

"It's not real, Peeta," she asserts.

Peeta shuts his eyes while they remain in the awkward position. He can hear Katniss's deep breaths as he thinks about all the flashbacks. The images… they weren't real? But they looked so real. He was so sure.

And then, it all floods into his brain. If they have a surreal, shiny quality to them, they're false.

Katniss isn't trying to kill him. This is the girl he loves. The girl who has been there for him since the rebellion. The person who is closest to him, who he can't lose.

"Katniss?" he whispers, real flashes of memories coming to him as he opens his eyes.

He should see relief in her eyes, but he doesn't. Instead, there is horror and sadness. Her jaw is set as she looks at him, trying to find out if he is still under the influence of his false memories.

"You're not trying to kill me," says Peeta. "We are friends — very good friends. Real or not real?"

"Real," Katniss whispers. She lets go of him, her lips disappearing into a thin line. "Peeta…"

"I'm sorry," replies Peeta, dusting himself and sitting on the chair. "I'm—" he looks at Katniss's bowl of soup. "Don't drink that."

"What did you put in it?"

"Lye…" Peeta trails away. Katniss takes the soup bowl and proceeds to throw the stuff into the sink while Peeta puts his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Katniss," he says in a muffled voice when she comes back, a lump forming in his throat.

"It's not your fault," she replies, sitting beside him at the table.

"I could have killed you." A tear falls out of his eye as he looks up at her.

"Like I'd let that happen," she says. She pulls her chair closer to his and pats his hand.

"I'm your best friend," Peeta whispers, wiping his eyes. "Real or not real?"

"Real," she replies.

"We're fighting this together. Real or not real?"

"Real."

He shuts his eyes again. He can't believe that he almost killed Katniss. He can't believe how bad it gets sometimes. But he and Katniss will fight this together. They will beat the lasting damage that the Capitol has inflicted upon them.

Two nights after the incident, Katniss has her nightmares again. Peeta is there, lying next to her as always, when the screaming starts. He turns to Katniss and throws his arms around her, pulling her close. She screams again, and Peeta cradles her head against his chest. "It's okay," he whispers. "I'm here, Katniss."

She's hyperventilating. Her fingers grab at the fabric of his nightshirt as Peeta tightens the hug. And then Katniss opens her eyes. "P-Peeta?"

"It's me," he confirms. "You're going to be okay."

They stay like that for a while, Katniss's breathing calming down as Peeta holds her. After some time, she looks up at him, an odd look in her eyes, and Peeta knows what it is. He responds to her immediately — by placing his lips on hers.

She breaths sharply, surprised at this — surprised that Peeta could read her, and then, she starts to kiss him back. She is still clutching on to his nightshirt as the kiss deepens, Peeta's arm moving down to Katniss's waist and hooking itself around it. When they finally break apart, Katniss lets go of Peeta's nightshirt and her hands move to the buttons. Peeta is initially apprehensive as the buttons come undone, but he looks into Katniss's eyes, and everything feels better.

They lie under the enormous blanket, Katniss's leg curved around Peeta's, and her head on his bare chest, as he runs a finger up and down her arm. Then he asks the question. He has wanted to ask her for a while, but the apprehension wouldn't let him. Now, he is scared of nothing. And he is confident of the answer that he will get.

"You love me. Real or not real?"*

He gets the answer he knows he will get.

"Real."*

The magnitude of it wells over as he pulls her into a kiss again, warmth and hope penetrating the dark corners of their minds, amplifying themselves and emerging stunningly beautiful; like the dancing lights falling out of a large mirror when the first rays of dawn hit it on the surface.

The End

A/N: * refers to lines directly taken from Mockingjay.