After the rebellion

The dream

*Katniss Pov*

I woke with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. For a moment, I wasn't sure where I was, or even what had woken me. 

The room was dark, save for the sliver of moonlight that slipped through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the walls. 

The crackling sound of the fire in the hearth was a distant hum, and the wind outside whispered through the trees.

But something felt... off. My breath came in short, uneven gasps, like I had been running or hiding. I reached up instinctively to touch my face, only to realize it was wet. Tears.

I blinked in the dark, confused at first. Why was I crying? It wasn't pain, not like the times I had cried in the past. These tears felt different. 

They were warm, but not from sorrow. They were... joy. But why? 

I couldn't remember the dream, only the aftermath of it, and the strange, overwhelming sense that something had been lost, something I could never quite hold on to.

I shifted in the bed, the soft sheets rustling beneath me, and reached for the space beside me. 

It was warm, and I could feel the comforting, steady presence of Peeta next to me. 

He was still asleep, his breathing slow and deep, his body curled slightly toward mine. His arm was draped loosely over me, a familiar weight that grounded me in the present.

In my dream Peeta had been with me, his hand in mine, that familiar smile on his face, the one that had always softened the hardest of days. 

Our daughter had been running through the fields, her laughter echoing through the air, carefree, full of joy. She had spun around and laughed so brightly, her eyes wide with happiness.

 I had watched her, heart full, as the world around us felt safe. It was the dream I had always wished for—the one that seemed so impossible, yet felt so real.

I let out a soft, shaky breath. That happiness had been so... complete. 

The dream had felt like it belonged to us, to our future. But now, as I lay here in the darkness, it felt out of reach again. My chest tightened with the realization that it wasn't reality. Not yet, anyway.

Peeta shifted beside me, his arm tightening slightly around my waist as if sensing my restlessness. "Kat?"

 His voice was hoarse from sleep, but it was warm and soft, full of concern. "What's wrong?"

I didn't answer at first. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the jumble of emotions swirling inside me. 

I had been so caught up in the dream that I hadn't realized the tears were still flowing. 

Peeta's hand found mine, warm and solid in the darkness, his thumb gently brushing over my knuckles, grounding me in a way nothing else could.

"It was a dream," I whispered, my voice thick and uneven. "A good one... a happy one." I paused, swallowing, unsure how to explain what I had felt. "It felt real."

Peeta stayed quiet for a moment, then shifted closer, pressing his forehead gently to mine. I could feel his breath against my skin, warm and steady. "Tell me," he murmured.

I exhaled slowly, gathering my thoughts. "You were with me. Our daughter was running around, laughing. She was so happy." My voice cracked, and I had to pause to steady myself. 

"I wanted it so badly, Peeta. I wanted to believe it could be real."

Peeta's hand slid up my arm, his fingers gentle, as he cupped my face in his palm, wiping away the stray tears. 

His thumb traced the outline of my cheekbone, a gesture that always seemed to calm the storms inside me.

"I know," he said quietly, his voice full of understanding. "I know exactly what you mean."

I sniffed, turning my face into his touch. "It was so perfect. And then I woke up." My chest tightened, the ache from the dream still fresh in my heart. 

"I don't know why I'm crying."

"Because it was beautiful," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "Because you finally let yourself imagine it. And because it's worth fighting for."

I closed my eyes, letting his words sink in. He was right, of course.

 I had been so focused on surviving, on holding onto the past, that I hadn't allowed myself to truly imagine a life that was different. 

A life that didn't carry the weight of everything we had endured.

"I want that," I whispered, barely able to get the words out. "I want it more than anything."

Peeta pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, his breath warm against my skin. "We'll get there, Kat. Together. I know we will."

I turned my face toward him, finally meeting his gaze in the dim light. 

His eyes were full of quiet certainty, and that look always had the power to soothe the deepest parts of me. Without thinking, I reached up, my hand finding the side of his face. 

I brushed my thumb over his cheek, feeling the familiar roughness of his skin.

Before I could second-guess myself, I leaned in, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that was slow and tender. It was a kiss full of the promises we had made to each other—the unspoken ones, the ones that said we would keep going, no matter how hard it got.

 His lips were soft and warm against mine, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. There was no war, no pain, no fear. Just us.

When we pulled apart, I stayed close, resting my forehead against his, the warmth of his body keeping the chill of the night at bay.

"Together," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I like the sound of that."

He kissed me again, this time on the tip of my nose, before settling back into the pillow, pulling me closer to him. 

 As we lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, I allowed myself to finally drift back to sleep, knowing that the dream wasn't so far out of reach after all.