The Flame That Never Dies

Chapter Three

(Peeta's POV.)

Watching your son grow into a mirror image of yourself makes you think. It makes you think long and hard. I watch closely as Finnius adds the final touches to his painting of the sun, his hand movements quick and swift.

Memories of being sixteen again start to resurface, making me smile. I think of all the times that I would paint my deepest feelings, giving me a sense of relief to let it out on paper.

All the nightmares brought to life in almost too real of detail, causing Katniss to hate them. I hated them too, of course. It just felt good to get the nightmares off of my chest. What happened in the Games definitely did not come across as sunshine and rainbows; it was dark and unforgettable, hence starting the chain of nightmares Katniss and I both battled through for a long, long time.

As time moved forward, the nightmares became less frequent, the comfort of being in eachother's arms at night giving us a sense of peace and closure. But when they do come, you'd better believe how truly real they feel.

Some nights it's Katniss, some nights me, only she takes them much harder than I do. She will suddenly jolt forward, panting heavily, her entire body drenched in sweat and tears as she sobs into my chest, muttering small bits that she remembers of the nightmare.
Seeing Katniss in pain breaks my heart more than anything. I could care less about how bad my nightmares are, I only want to comfort my beautiful wife. My Girl On Fire.

(Katniss' POV.)

Tick tock. I look over at the clock above the fireplace, the hour hand now striking the number nine.
I call out Rose's name, beginning to fold the load of clean laundry Peeta set out on the dining room table. Rose scurries over to me, her blond braid now more messy than ever. I smile, running my fingers along the stray strands of hair.

"I see you're finally getting the hang of braiding your hair," I say with a light laugh, pulling her into a side hug. She giggles into my shoulder, burying her face into my shirt. I gently rub her back, briefly holding onto her.

It's touching moments like this that I wouldn't mind freezing time, then living in that beautiful moment forever. The bond I share with my daughter is impossible to explain.

With her, I feel as if I'm looking at a younger version of myself, my appearance only slightly altered. It's like I'm watching myself grow up again, but this time I can make better decisions. More than anything, I want Rose to grow into a beautiful and strong woman. I will make sure that happens, no matter what.

Rose Mellark will not make the same mistakes her mother made, I'll promise you that. I release Rose from my grip, setting her small pile of clothes into her arms. She kisses my cheek, clutching the clothes tightly as she begins the journey back to her bedroom.

I stack Peeta and I's clothing in my arms next, cautiously making my way to our bedroom. Right when I make it to the closet door, the clothes slip from my hold and plop down onto the carpet below me. A deep sigh escapes my lips as I bend down to gather the clothes once again.

This time I balance them in one arm, the other grasping the door handle to our closet. I twist the knob slowly, the door creaking open. As if falling from the sky, a large box suddenly comes crashing down literally inches away from head, barely missing.

I fall to the ground with a thud; the clothes now sprawled out across the carpet. What in the world? I cautiously crawl across the carpet, studying the large brown box with strong interest. The box seems faintly familiar, but nothing is coming to mind.

Once I'm finally in arms length reach of the box, I slide it closer to me, my heart pounding faster in my chest with anticipation. I slowly claw away at the thick tape plastered tightly to it, curiousity getting the best of me. A loud burst suddenly comes from the top of the box, enough tape finally stripped free of it to open up.