A couple months after the war Katniss had asked Peeta the one question that had been eating at her ever since she found out he was in Snow’s possession. Both of them were sitting Indian style in front of the fireplace, drinking hot chocolate and talking about everything that came to mind. They talked about some of Peeta’s recipes, Katniss’ father, how hot chocolate was the greatest luxury they’d ever discovered so far other then life itself. “What did they do to you, in the capitol?” Katniss said sternly, looking up from her hot chocolate to catch his gaze, as she continued to swirl around the marshmallows inside her mug with the tip of her finger. “Uhm, well they,” At first Peeta stuttered because he was completely caught off guard by the question and having to remember what they actually did to him was the most painful thing to do. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I just wanted to know,” Katniss said as she rubbed his knee to comfort him, to let him know that he’s not alone, he never was alone. Peeta sighed, “They would take, a, a, uh,” his voice was shaky and Katniss put her hot chocolate down and moved beside him. Once she took hold of his hand, he felt safe. He felt like he could confess any horror in his mind without feeling the need to grip a chair or scream at the top of his lungs. “They took a knife similar to that one,” he pointed to the one in his kitchen, “and cut-” He couldn’t finish the sentence, so he just pointed to the giant scar that began at the top of his shoulder blade and swirled down his inner arm to his palm. After his confession Katniss finally realized why he had been avoiding the kitchen and baking all together. He was still afraid, even though he knew nothing would happen. Katniss thought about embracing him, but did something subtle, something important, something overdue. She pressed her lips against his shoulder blade, kissing slowly down his arm. He stared at her, entranced. She could feel the chills on his arm as her soft lips pressed against his warm skin. When she got to his palm she held it to her face and rubbed the the back of it with her thumb, “you and me,” she looked up, so caught by his blue eyes that she almost couldn’t finish the sentence, “we could bake, together.” From that moment, on Katniss spent every day helping Peeta cook again. He eventually got back into his old bakery habits and for the first time in a while Katniss saw a genuine smile on his face. It was like he was himself again.