Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Darkness. She’s running. Her heart is pounding in her ears. She can hear her labored breaths. But there's nothingness, all around her. 

A piercing wail. She turns.

She’s in the middle of an eerily familiar rubbled out street. And there's a baby cradle. Oak, stained with a darker varnish. It's well made. Pristine. Slowly, rocking. Back and forth. Back and forth. A pale yellow blanket, swaddled up. She frowns when she hears the cries. Soft, like a baby that’s been left to cry for so long they start to fall asleep. 

She takes a step forward. A hovercraft goes zipping above her head, and she crouches, looking up as it flies past. It drops a bomb far off behind her. The ground rumbles. She stands up, trying to get to the cradle. 

Another hovercraft. Another bomb. She picks up the pace. But it doesn't look like she's getting any closer. The faster she goes the more balls of fire start raining down around her, turning the district to rubble. And they’re getting closer. And closer. The ground shakes so hard with each blast that it nearly sends her to her feet. She's running.

The cries raise to hairsplitting wails, high-pitched and incessant. The cradle rocks faster and faster.

Shes gasping. The air is filling with smoke. Her eyes burn with tears. The booms are too loud to hear her own heartbeat. They sound too much like cannons. She’s not getting any closer. 

A grenade lands just next to her. She jumps away, the blast sending her tumbling across the cobbled street. The cradle is in front of her.

She pushes herself to her hands and knees, grabbing the side of the cradle. It continues to rapidly rock, regardless of how much pressure she puts. She looks over the side. Down at the yellow blanket.

She jolts up in bed with a scream. 

Her chest heaves for air, and she clutches her stomach, trying to get the image out of her head. Out out out . She cries, pulling at her hair as she rocks in bed. Get out get out get out GET OUT . 

The bang of the door slamming open makes her jump, looking up at Peeta standing in her doorway, eyes wild.

She turns away from him. Wiping her tears. Willing her heart to stop racing. 

“Katniss?” His voice is soft, but gravely; she woke him up.

She shakes her head, waving a hand at him to leave. He hesitates. And for once he doesn’t listen. He steps inside. Her gut twists wickedly when she feels the bed dip, glancing over her shoulder to see him sitting at the foot of her bed, facing the opposite wall.

Silence. 

The moon casts shadows through her window as the train zips past trees. She squeezes her eyes closed, knocking a finger against her temple as she tries to think of anything but the capital and blood oozing out of a baby’s face.

“It’s okay, Katniss,” he whispers. It still startles her. 

But it’s not. None of this is okay. Not when they’re both being sent back into a hell they just managed to escape a year earlier. 

Not when she’s pregnant.

Peeta places a tentative hand on her shoulder, and she’s automatically shrugging him off. He takes a shaky breath.

“Leave me, Peeta,” she cries, clutching her stomach as she curls into a tight ball. 

He hesitates for a moment. But he does; he slips off her bed, with barely a whisper of “I’m sorry”, and leaves her. Shutting the door behind him.

He doesn’t know. Katniss knows she can’t tell him. It would absolutely destroy him. Break him to pieces. And he’d undoubtedly get himself killed doing everything in his power to keep her and their baby alive in that arena. Which Katniss already knows he’s going to do. But it makes it easier, this way, if he doesn’t know. Because he won’t be nearly as broken when he makes it out alive. Because Peeta has to live. 

She takes deep breaths. Counts in her head. One breath. Two. Three. Four.

She can do this. She can and she will, because she doesn’t have a choice. She tells herself this isn’t as painful as it should be; she never wanted children anyway. Not when the Games exist. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t . 

She tosses and turns the rest of the night. She only realizes she actually fell asleep when Effie is shaking her awake. 

“Miss Everdeen!” Effie shouts, “I’ve been banging on your door all morning! It is time for breakfast!”

Katniss apologizes. She sits up too quickly and feels dizzy. Effie notices her clutching her head. Effie takes a shuddering breath.

“Katniss, darling,” she speaks quietly.

Katniss doesn’t want to hear it. Effie is too aware of the situation for Katniss’s liking. She may seem empty in the head at times, but she’s far more clever than she lets on, or what people give her credit for. Katniss is aggravated that it took herself so long to figure it out, when it only took Effie a few days of being in her presence to pop the question.

“What,” she groans.

Effie just offers a sympathetic smile. She combs a hand through Katniss’s hair, brushing hair out of her face.

“Let’s get you something good to eat.” She whispers.

She gently pulls Katniss to her feet, offering her her robe before they head to the dining car. Katniss sends her a slight smile as a thank you, and then Effie nearly bounces out the door. 

“Wellllll look who finally decided to rise from the dead,” Haymitch remarks with a snort, pausing the video he and Peeta are watching. 

“Oh you boys-“ Effie rolls her eyes. “Women need their beauty sleep,” she defends. 

Katniss doesn't need Effie to defend her. But it’s nice anyways. 

She makes brief eye contact with Peeta, and she knows the question he wants to ask just by the look on his face; “ Are you okay? What’s going on? ” 

They’ve barely spoken since the Quarter Quell was announced. And they were already on rocky terms after the Victory tour. Katniss just can’t seem to let herself let him back in. And she can’t blame him for the hurt he must feel after she’s broken his heart twice now. And she knows she’ll have to do it again. That’s all she seems to do to Peeta. 

She looks away. Focuses on grabbing what’s left of the breakfast laid out on the table.  

“We’ll be reaching the capitol by tomorrow morning, so you both must be up and ready much earlier tomorrow,” Effie states, sending Katniss a particular glance.

Katniss doesn’t get a chance to roll her eyes, because she suddenly gets a whiff of cooking bacon. And it both makes her mouth water and her stomach churn. She’s setting her plate down on the table, hand coming up to cover her mouth. 

She’s been lucky to not have much morning sickness on their journey so far. Or at least it’s been a few days. Evidently she hasn’t been lucky enough to escape it entirely, because she’s quickly bolting towards the bathrooms. 

She’s surprised to find Effie following her. Her hair gets pulled back out of her face as she throws herself over the toilet, throat jumping. Effie does not do as good a job at holding in the sounds of her own disgust. Katniss appreciates the sentiment anyways. Effie is not the kind of person to get herself dirty, so the fact that she’s willing to stand here with Katniss as she pukes up what remains of last night’s dinner means a lot. 

“Thank you,” she groans out as she tries to catch her breath, falling backwards to rest against the tile wall when her stomach stops heaving.

Effie quickly flushes the toilet, plugging up her nose as she tries desperately to hide her disgust. 

“Is everything okay?” Peeta is suddenly in the doorway, looking worried.

Katniss doesn't know what to tell him. She can’t look at him.

“Yes Peeta,” Effie says, “could you grab Katniss some water?”

Peeta does as he’s told, like always. 

Katniss wipes sweat off her forehead, suddenly hot. She starts to pull off her robe, and avoids the sympathetic look Effie sends her.

It doesn’t take Peeta very long to return at all, but by the time he does Katniss finds herself leaning back over the toilet, coughing as her stomach starts up again.

“Katniss!”

A different set of hands are pulling her hair back, rubbing gently across her shoulders. 

She hears Effie say something along the lines of “thank god,” and then she walks out.

“It’s okay Katniss,” Peeta breathes, voice gentle.

And it makes her cry. As she heaves over the toilet. With Peeta’s hands running along her spine in soft motions. 

She hasn’t let him get close enough to touch her, other than for the cameras, in months. And she’s missed it. And it hurts. She doesn’t usually like people to touch her when she’s sick, but Peeta is different.

“I’m sorry,” she babbles into the porcelain bowl, gripping the seat as her stomach jolts.

“ Shhhh ,” Peeta hushes, “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They weren’t supposed to be back on this train. They weren’t supposed to be headed back for the capitol, to play in another Games. She wasn’t supposed to be pregnant . 

That night still burns like fire in her subconscious. The night she’d decided that maybe, if she tried hard enough, they could make it work. If she tried hard enough to pretend, and she tried hard enough to convince Peeta this was real, that maybe Snow would believe them better. That their families would be safe. 

Because the marriage proposal hadn’t been enough. There was no indication that it wasn’t, but something about the way the words in Snow’s letter congratulating them curled on the page as she read them- something in her gut knew it wasn’t enough.

They’d been sharing a bed almost the entire tour, because wrapped up under the same sheets made it easier to fight off Morpheus’ evil dreams. Waking up in a warm embrace, hot breath whispering “ it’s okay, we’re safe ,” into each others’ skin, made it easier. 

They’d gotten used to intimacy coming more naturally between them again, because they had to when there were cameras around them near constantly. At home in District 12 they’d had a chance to hide from the spotlight for a little while. Where Peeta was left to realize it was all just an act. And they stopped having to pretend. But as soon as the victory tour began, the front had to be built up all over again. Especially when President Snow had made such an egregious threat. 

Peeta had already been curled up on his side, seemingly asleep when she walked in. She had let the robe fall off, and then she peeled back the covers. He instinctively rolled over, an arm extended to let her curl into his side, as she did every night. 

And he’d stopped. Eyes blinking quickly as he took in the sight of her thin satin nightgown that was barely anything more than a short dress slip. Eyes flickering up to meet hers. 

Moonlight cascaded in through the windows, casting him in flickering shadows. It wasn’t light enough to see it, but she knew his cheeks were burning bright red. And hers were too. 

“ Katniss ,” he’d breathed. 

The memory feels like liquor in her stomach; hazy and scorching. As gentle calloused hands slipped up her thighs. Dark blue eyes drinking in the sight of her above him, rolling her hips over him. It blooms an inescapable warmth in her heart, when she thinks about how he asked for permission before every single touch.

“ This okay? ” As he held her hip. 

“ This okay? ” As he thumbed at the waistband of her panties. 

“ This okay? ” As he brushed a hand up the inside of her thigh, oh so close to where she really needed him.

“ This okay? ” As he flipped them to lean over her. 

“ This okay? ” As he hiked up her night gown to press kisses on her stomach. 

“This okay?” As he breathed over her entrance. 

“ You sure this is okay? ” As he’d lined himself up. 

The memory is sticky and hot, as he’d rocked inside of her. Hands intertwining with hers, pinning her to the sheets as he trailed delicate gasping kisses across her cheeks. Down her nose, along her jaw. At her neck and collarbones. A hand eventually coming down to thumb at her clit. Showering her in constant praises.

“ God Katniss- you’re gorgeous. ”

“ You’re so beautiful. ”

“ You are heavenly. ”

“ You feel- oh you feel amazing. ”

“ You’re so good, Katniss. ”

“ You’re stunning. ”

“ You’re so perfect. ”

“ Fuck- you’re amazing. ”

“ Thank you, Katniss. Thank you. ”

She regrets that night. She wishes it never happened. Because then they wouldn’t be here, in the bathroom. On their way to get slaughtered in the Quarter Quell, with a third person she never intended to exist.

And yet it’s hard to look back and say she hated it, because the truth is she didn’t. She’d gone in thinking it was something she had to do, for the both of them. But Peeta so carefully pulled her apart. Did it all with so much patience and care. Treated her like she was something special; like she’d always been special. And it was amazing. 

She’s not sure why she had to ruin it. Why as soon as they were back in district 12, she started to push him away again. Why she’d brought them right back to where they had been after the games. Except this time Peeta looked like he may never forgive her. 

Maybe she did it because the feeling scared her. Peeta made her feel things she wasn’t prepared to let herself feel. He gave her a sense of hope and belonging that she’d never really had. Peeta always manages to make her feel safe . 

But she isn’t safe. She’s never been safe, and she never will be. And so there’s no use in pulling the wool over her eyes, because that will only blind her from the real danger. 

Nausea washing over her for a third time has her pitching forward, rattled from her thoughts. 

She shakes when Peeta pulls her back into his side after she’s done. She can’t stand his touch at a time like this, with everything going on, and yet he always manages to ground her and stop her from reeling. And she’s missed being able to stop worrying, even if momentarily.

“What’s going on?” He whispers softly, “Please, Katniss. Tell me. Are these nerves? Please-“

“Yes,” she sighs, and it’s not even a lie. 

Fear makes her stomach toss and turn just as much as the morning sickness. At times she feels herself collapsing into her own mind, unable to escape. Thoughts over children and the games and Peeta are overwhelming. Sometimes it feels like she’s still living in the nightmares that keep her up at night. In some ways she is.

Peeta pulls her tighter. “I’m scared too.” He whispers. 

He does a much better job at hiding it. But she doesn’t doubt him. 

“Let’s get you food.” He says softly, and she doesn’t have the energy to fight his caretaking like she usually would, so she lets him pull her from the floor and bring her back to the dining table. 

She feels numb as Peeta piles food onto her plate in front of her. She holds her stomach. Cannot stop the tears that slip down her cheeks as Peeta prompts her to eat. Flinches away when he reaches to brush them away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, but Katniss says nothing. 

She picks up her fork, and her stomach burns with churning hunger, and yet she cannot fathom putting food in her mouth. She’ll be dead in a week anyways. She’s not sure why she’s still trying.

“ Please Katniss,” Peeta whispers, and her heart plummets.

She can’t ever really tell Peeta no. She’s doing this for him, after all. He has to live. Peeta deserves to live.

She slowly takes a bite of her scrambled eggs.

- - - - -

“Effie,” She whispers, turning around.

Effie takes a big breath, a sympathetic frown on her face. “I suppose that won’t work, will it?”

At just four months she doesn’t have that much of a belly. Just enough to look really bloated. But it's still enough to notice, especially with a tight dress on. 

“You know I hate it, but black is always slimming,” Effie says, producing a slick black fur coat from the closet. “This should help hide you from the side. As soon as we get you back to Cinna we’ll have him make some alterations.”

She takes a deep breath.

“Chin up, Darling,” Effie smiles at her in the mirror, “Today is a day to look vengeful.” 

That makes Katniss scoff. Effie isn’t one to voice her distaste for the Capital and the games. In fact, if you didn’t pay well enough attention you might think she enjoys them. Katniss knows better. 

When she steps out Peeta is already eating breakfast. Haymitch sits at the table with him, looking half alive, but at least dressed and ready to go. Peeta eyes her briefly, but otherwise pretends he doesn’t notice. They barely acknowledge each other as Katniss takes a seat. Effie kicks Haymitch awake and starts her preparation speech. She drones on, reminding them both for about the hundredth time what’s expected of them, how to act, what not to say and do, and to “pretend to be head over heels in love”. Katniss has already heard it all before. 

Peeta finally says something to her right as the train stops.

“Am I allowed to kiss you? For the cameras.” And he doesn’t look at her as he says it; just directly ahead at the doors. 

Her stomach feels sour. “Yeah.” She says weakly.

They link arms, and Katniss briefly wonders if from this angle, he could notice the bump. She skirts that thought away as soon as possible, mustering up a fake smile as they wait for the doors to open.

Stepping off the train into the Capitol sends a chill up her spine. They are instantly greeted with a roar of applause and a sea of bright colors. Peeta flashes a smile, giving a wave to all the media and people greeting their arrival. Katniss cannot reciprocate such actions; she feels mechanical and empty as Peeta leads her after Effie and Haymitch. He leans in to kiss her cheek, and she tries not to think about the last time he did so.

“Remember to breathe,” He whispers in her ear, planting another kiss to her temple to hide the exchange, and then he’s waving again out at the crowd.

Katniss is relieved when they finally make it inside and to their prep teams, out of view of the Capital people. 

The relief is very short lived. She loves her prep team, she really does, but they are just as bad with the onslaught of questions. They pounce like a pack of hungry lions, chatty and overeager as they start to strip her of her clothes and pick apart her hair. 

“Why Katniss, did you get a boob job?” Octavia squeals, “You look so much bigger since I saw you last!”

“Oh and dear you’ve gained weight! What is this !” Flavius motions towards her stomach.

And she doesn’t know what to tell them. She’s so overwhelmed she might just cry.

Cinna walks in before any more comments can be made. He takes one look at her, and she can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows . He crushes her in a hug. And she just about falls apart.  

“I’m so sorry, Katniss.” He says softly into her shoulder. 

Tears streak her face. And she can’t stop them, as she clutches his shoulders. The prep team goes quiet. And Cinna lets her clutch him tight.

“Effie told me.” He says softly, “He doesn’t know, does he?”

She shakes her head. 

“That’s probably best,” he pulls back to look at her, cupping her face to wipe her tears. “Let’s try to keep it that way.”

She nods, sniffling as she sucks up her tears. 

Cinna gives her some space, pushing his assistants off to the side, lightly reprimanding them for their zealous behavior. 

She takes a moment to gather herself, and then finishes undressing. 

She’s never been one to feel extremely self conscious about her body, or worry about being naked in front of others; there’s always been other things for her to worry about. But as she stands in the mirror, stark naked except for underwear, she feels the most exposed she’s ever been.

The prep team silences as Cinna begins to take measurements at her hips and waist. He’s not going to squeeze her into a tight dress, as if she’s bloated. Because she’s not. He’s preparing to make alterations.

He strikes up a conversation with Venia, and they all snap back to work. Katniss is grateful that he’s trying to act like all of this is nothing. Because she needs to pretend like this isn’t happening, and having her prep team gape at her does not help.

They are less chatty than usual as they sit her down for make up and hair. And Katniss knows the questions are absolutely killing them. 

Flavius is the one to finally snap. “Is it Peeta’s?”

Octavia slaps his arm, and he gives her an offended look.

“What? We all want to know.”

Octavia grumbles, and Katniss can’t help but roll her eyes at their bickering.

“Yes.” Is all she says. 

So then Venia asks a question.

“How far along?”

“Four months.”

Gasps.

“That’s- you did it on the victory tour?” Flavius looks thrilled . 

She gives a curt nod. 

“And he doesn’t know ?” Octavia resumes her beating of her face, a sponge pounding against her skin.

Katniss hums a no. And Octavia frowns. 

“You aren’t going to tell him, are you.” Venia says softly, mixing wax.

She shakes her head when Octavia pulls away.

There's a silence. And Flavius is obviously holding back tears. They don’t say much more. Katniss makes it pretty clear she doesn’t want to talk about it, and they drop it. She’s grateful.

Cinna comes in, having made some adjustments to her dress. He’s added strips of dark fiery orange flowing tulle, and the way it lays across her when she tries it on hides her perfectly. 

Peeta is already at their carriage when she finally arrives. His eyes linger on her longer than he probably intends them to, and she flushes. He leaves to go talk to other victors, and she pets the horses as they wait. Finnick comes up, offering her a sugar cube. And she decides that she does not trust him at all, as he speaks to her with a tone drenched in fake kindness; exactly what Katniss has come to expect from most people. And the way he apologizes to her about their wedding, lets her know that he doesn’t buy her and Peeta’s act either.

Peeta walks back up just as Finnick leaves. 

“What’d he want?”

She shrugs, “To know all my secrets.”

He grins, “Well he’ll have to get in line.”

She nods, and the tension between them feels thick. Luckily Cinna breaks it.

“No waving and smiling this time. I want you both to stare straight ahead like all of this is beneath you.”

“That should be easy.” Katniss sighs. 

He smiles, “Take this. Press it when you’re ready.”

She takes the switch, and then Peeta is offering her a hand to help her up into the carriage. They’re both silent as they wait for the parade to start. There really isn’t anything to say. 

Peeta glances at her. And she takes a deep breath. She reaches out to hold his hand right before they get through the arch. He laces his fingers with hers. And she looks forward.

The drums beat. The crowd roars. And she hates that she’s here, again . 

And then she sees Snow, up high in front of his podium. And he’s looking directly at her. 

She squeezes Peeta’s hand. And then presses the button, erupting them into flames. He squeezes back, and Katniss does not look away from the man that’s caused all of this. She glares as they pass, and finds a sort of satisfaction in the way he shifts, and the crowd chants her name.

“Nice, way to make friends out there you two,” Haymitch claps as they walk up.

“Well we learn from the best,” Katniss snips.

Haymitch disregards her comment, “I want to introduce you to some special friends of mine. This is Seeder, and Chaff.”

Before Katniss can even extend a hand or say hello, Chaff is leaning forward and pressing a kiss right to her lips. She recoils in horror.

“From District Eleven, uh…” and Haymitch chuckles at her reaction, “He’s very friendly. Don’t invite him over, he’ll uh- drink up all your liquor.”

“So just like you!” Peeta quips.

Haymitch sends him a pointed look, a grin on his face as he reaches out to shake Seeder and Chaff’s hands. Seeder laughs at Peeta’s comment.

“I’ll see you guys soon.” Haymitch dismisses them, and they both nod. He grabs Katniss by the arm, “Lets get you out of that horrid mask and talk about the other tributes.”

Peeta snorts, and Katniss glances behind them as Haymitch leads them over to the elevator.

“These tributes are crazy,” she hisses.

“No, not all of them.” Haymitch shrugs, and then points a thumb at Peeta, “He’s a good guy. Mostly.”

They pile into the elevator. The doors are just about to close when the victor from District 7 wedges her way between them, looking satisfied when she makes it through. She purses her lips as she looks them up and down. 

Katniss can’t remember her name, but she recognizes the face.

“Well you guys look amazing.” She turns around, rolling her eyes as she starts to pull at the decoration in her hair.

“Thank you-“ Katniss starts, confused.

“My stylist is an idiot.” She tosses something to the floor, and the elevator starts to move. “District Seven. Trees. Lumber. Ug . I’d love to put my axe in her face.” She rips at her bracelets, tossing them to the floor too. “So what do you think, now that the whole world wants to sleep with you?”

Katniss scoffs at the absurdity of the question, “I don’t think that the whole world-“

She spins around, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Katniss feels her face heat up. And she decides she hates her. 

“Will you unzip?” She asks Peeta kindly, pulling her hair away from her back and standing in front of him.

Peeta hesitates only briefly, and then does as asked. 

“Yeah.” He shrugs.

Katniss sends him a scowl, and he only looks at her with mock innocence as he pulls the zipper.

She turns around with a sigh of relief, and then begins to remove her sleeves. Peeta grins, and Katniss wants to slap it off his face. He glances over at Haymitch as soon as her boobs are out, and Haymitch just sends him a smile in return.

Katniss is so incredibly done with both of them. 

Katniss refuses to make eye contact with her, even as she stares directly at Katniss, yanking the dress all the way down. She sighs. Sends Haymitch a wink.

The elevator dings. She spins as the door opens, calling over her shoulder, “Thanks. Let’s do it again sometime!”

“Thank you !” Haymitch calls after, and then the doors close. “Johanna Mason, District Seven.”

“I hate her.” Katniss says immediately.

Peeta snorts, and Haymitch chuckles with him. And she wants to slap both of them upside the head and knock some sense into them.

“Sounds like someone’s jealous!” Peeta teases, and she sends him a look full of daggers. 

Perhaps she is, but she’ll never admit it to anyone. She tells herself she’s more bothered by the sheer audacity , and the childish responses she gets from both of them.

They finally get to their room, and Katniss is impressed by the size of it, it’s practically an entire house. The whole building is brand new, and Katniss almost finds it comical how over the top the Capitol has gone for the 75th games. Rather than spending money on the districts, they’ve just added to the already lavish lifestyle. 

“I believe this is my room,” Haymitch says, motioning towards a door, “And Effie’s,” he motions to another, “And that would be yours.” 

Katniss glances over to the set of large double doors, dark mahogany trimmed in gold.

“That’s…only three.” Peeta says.

Haymitch smiles at him. “Well, you two are engaged, are you not?”

Oh god .

Katniss sighs in annoyance, arm feeling tingly from being held up for too long. She glances out into their shared bedroom, where Peeta is lounging on the bed and skimming through TV channels. He’d told her she could have the bathroom first.

“Peeta.” She says reluctantly.

He looks up immediately. “Yeah?”

“Could you…help me get my hair out?”

He’s practically bouncing off the bed, coming up behind her to help. She watches him in the mirror, feeling stiff as he pulls pins and carefully untangles braids. 

Neither of them have said anything about the shared room. Usually Katniss wouldn’t be too fussy about it. It’s not like they haven’t shared a bed before. It’s just that they haven’t in a while. And things are awkward between them. But they can deal with that.

The problem is that she’s currently trying to hide a baby bump. So sharing the same space is going to be a task and a half.

He gives her a small smile when he’s done, and she quietly thanks him. 

“Of course.”

She opens their closet to find clothes for both of them hanging on the same racks. She huffs in annoyance as she sifts through pairs of pants in search of something that will work. She’s pretty sure the shirt she finds is actually meant for Peeta, but she needs something big enough that she won’t have to worry at all.

She struggles in the bathroom to yank down the zipper of her dress. She gets it down only to realize she can’t get the clasps. And so she’s reluctantly popping the door back open to request Peeta’s help, again . He nods, and tries to hide his smug smile as he undoes the clasps. Katniss clutches at the front of her dress, afraid it might leave her exposed.

“Thanks.” She says again.

There’s a mischievous grin on his lips, and she can tell there’s something he’d love to say, but then he catches her eyes in the mirror, and he falters. “No problem.” He settles on instead, quickly leaving and closing the door behind him.

Katniss changes, and then examines her reflection for longer than necessary, trying to make sure the bump isn’t noticeable. It’s not, and it really wouldn’t be. But she’s paranoid that it looks bigger than it actually is.

When she steps out, Peeta is half asleep on the bed, some ridiculous Capitol show making the most obnoxious noises on the TV. 

“Peeta.” She says, and he jolts awake, glancing over at her.

He looks her up and down. 

“The bathroom is yours.” She says nervously.

“Is that…one of my shirts?”

She glances down at the t-shirt that drapes over her, “I don’t know. All our clothes are mixed. I just grabbed something.” 

He smiles softly, and she can tell he wants to give her a compliment, but he withholds it.

Katniss hangs up her dress, and then pads out to the living room, where Haymitch is already sipping a glass of white liquor on the couch.

She drops down next to him, and he startles. He glances over her, an eyebrow cocked.

“Well that’s a look.” He says.

“So are you. When’s the last time you showered?” 

Haymitch rolls his eyes. “What crawled up your ass and died in the past twenty minutes? Don’t tell me you and Lover Boy are already at throws.” 

Katniss rolls her eyes, “We’re fine.”

Haymitch just hums, taking another swig. “Where is he anyways? We have things to talk about.”

“In the bathroom. He let me go first.”

Haymitch shakes his head, “You don’t deserve that boy.” 

“Would you learn to shut up?” 

And for once Haymitch does. They sit in silence until Peeta comes out and joins them, and then Haymitch starts his lecture.

With every tribute that comes up on the screen, Katniss feels her gut lurch. They’ve already spent the past month pouring over all the victors’ games, but now Haymitch is providing them with context that Katniss is realizing she really doesn’t want to know.

It makes her enemies human. And that means it’s going to be a lot harder to kill them when the time comes.

She takes a bite of a sandwich from the plate of snacks they’re offered (which Haymitch agrees to and immediately asks the Avox to bring more). And it tastes awful . And it makes her stomach jolt.

She tries to swallow it down. Tries to listen as Haymitch provides backstory on Mags Flanagan. Tries to ignore the heartburn, and the way her stomach twists as they watch more clips of the games; ones Haymitch has apparently deemed important. 

Until finally she’s had enough. She holds a hand over her mouth, and excuses herself.

“Since when did you get such a weak stomach?” Haymitch calls after her. 

She ignores him. 

She barely makes it to the toilet. Bile punching up her throat before she can sit down. Her sides contract, sour and bitter flooding her mouth as everything comes up. 

Peeta is right behind her. He says nothing as he gathers the hair out of her face. He starts to run a hand across her shoulders, slow and steady at her spine. Voice soft as he tries to comfort her. And it’s like yesterday on the train, all over again. Flooding back memories she tries not to think about. It makes her heart lurch from his kindness.

When she finally falls back he leaves, and she flushes the toilet, coughing as she grimaces. He returns shortly with a cup of water, and she gladly gulps it down, rinsing out her mouth. 

“Are you okay?” Peeta asks.

And she realizes this week is going to be difficult, if she keeps having morning sickness, and Peeta keeps being the caretaker and worrier that he always is.

She nods, “Just uh- overwhelming day.” She settles on. 

And he agrees, and doesn’t push it any further. She’s thankful.

- - - - -

“Good news,” Haymitch coming in has Peeta jumping up off the couch, “More than half the tributes want you as an ally.” 

“Well they saw her shoot.” Peeta motions towards her.

She had a good run in the archery center today. She hadn’t quite realized how well she’d done until the simulation ended, and half the victors were watching from the viewing room. 

“Well sweetheart, you have your pick of the litter.” Haymitch gives her a stern look. “So make your choice.”

And they’ve already been over this. And Katniss doesn’t think she should have to explain why her answer has continued to be “no allies”. But Haymitch keeps pressing it. And Peeta continues to take his side. And it feels like betrayal. Like Katniss is being teamed up on.

It shouldn’t be her fault that she doesn’t want her last few moments alive worrying about killing people she’s befriended, people she’s let herself care about. It makes her feel sick to her stomach. And she can’t understand why Peeta can’t get that through his thick skull. She knows Haymitch is going to push it, because that’s his job as their mentor, but the fact that Peeta doesn’t seem to consider the ramifications irks her. 

And just to appease them, the last couple days she’s gone out of her way to actually be friendly with the other victors. And she has an answer for them, and she already knows they aren’t going to like it.

“I want Wiress and Beetee.”

Peeta inhales a breath, “Johanna calls them ‘Nuts’ and ‘Volts’.”

“Well okay good,” Haymitch ignores Peeta’s snarky comment in its entirety, “Who else?”

“Mags.”

Peeta actually rolls his eyes, a scoff of utter annoyance and disbelief forcing its way past his lips. And it makes her angry. At least she’s trying . 

Haymitch takes a deep breath. And from the look on his face she can tell he empathizes with her; he understands her reluctance. And he understands her choices. But ultimately Haymitch knows that that’s not going to be good enough if either of them plan on surviving long.

Peeta makes no effort to hide his annoyance with her. He turns away from them, pacing the sitting room with a hand on his face. 

“You want the 80 year old woman?” He says with a laugh. And it’s an angry laugh.

Haymitch casts him a warning glance. 

“You told me to pick. That’s who I pick.” She feels frustration burning at her cheeks, and she almost wants Peeta to snap at her. She wants him to break; he should break. It’s almost infuriating how much patience he has with her, to deal with everything she’s thrown at him in the past year. He should be beyond furious with her.

His blue eyes boil. But he doesn’t let the steam loose. His jaw sets, and he stares at her for a few moments. And then he storms off towards their room. 

“I’ll tell them you’re still deciding,” Haymitch pats her arm, and quickly makes his escape.

It’s childish to follow after Peeta. It’s childish to confront him; to start the fight he’s so responsibly not starting. And yet she does it. She seethes on the couch for a few minutes. And then she gets up. 

He’s staring out their window, arms crossed over his chest, jaw still jumping. He does not acknowledge her entrance. And she almost admires his self control. 

But in this moment, Katniss wants the world to burn down with her. 

“Say it.” She barks. 

He bristles. And his hesitance makes her furious.

“Say it!”

“What do you want me to say, Katniss? Huh?” He spins.

And she feels satisfaction settle in her chest. Finally . 

There’s a fire in his eyes, and he’s tense, and there’s a vein that throbs at his temple.

“You want me to yell at you? Tell you you’re being ridiculous? Trying to get us both killed?” His voice is raising.

She’s seen him mad before. But never quite this, and never at her. And it feels a lot like satisfaction; she can’t let herself have good things for too long. Otherwise, she’s learned, they’ll come back to hurt her. So she watches as he unravels himself, and it feels a lot like the kind of safety she’s used to, the kind of safety she prefers. 

“God you’re exhausting .” He spins, a hand tugging at his hair. “And you’re doing it on purpose.” He spits it like venom, “Just- just fucking with me. Because you think it’s funny . You think this is a game . This isn’t a fucking game, Katniss. It isn’t funny.” And he’s shouting now, “You act like it’s nothing. Refuse to try and save yourself. Refuse to even work with me here- I’m trying to not get us killed, Katniss! It would be helpful if you actually tried that for once!”

And that sets her off; adds kindling to the flame, setting her ablaze. She is Prometheus, and she is her own rock, she is her own eagle. She sets fire because it makes her feel alive, and refuses to account for the consequences.

“Everything I do is to not get us killed, Peeta!” She snaps.

“Oh really ?” And she knows she’s made a mistake. “Then please do, explain to me, how the hell dragging me along on your little fake parade is saving anyone .”

And that hurts more than he probably means it to. Because the truth is, it’s done the opposite. She played with his heart, indulged him just to sell a good lie, to try and keep them safe. And instead she up and created another person just to throw into danger. She didn’t save anyone. She’s done the exact opposite.

“All I am to you is a tool .” He seethes, face red, “all you do is use me . For my kindness. My patience. My willingness to love you, unconditionally. I’m fucking tired of being used Katniss!” 

And she’s at a loss for words. She wanted to fight him. Wanted him to snap. And now that he has she’s realized she doesn’t know how to take it. And she doesn’t actually want to fight Peeta. And the admission- that he loves her- it hurts. She already knew it, but it hurts . Love terrifies her. 

This was never going to just be about her reluctance to choose allies. And she knew that. But maybe a part of her hoped that would be all of it.

“Is there even a heart in there? Do you even care about anyone other than yourself?” And now he’s taking low blows, because he’s hurt and angry.

Katniss knows he doesn’t really mean it. But she also knows that to an extent he does. She hurt him. And this is the reality she must now face; the one in which Peeta’s trust in her has collapsed, and she’s pushed him so far that now he’s trying to hurt her back. And that almost hurts more than his words. That she’s pushed a good decent man to the brink of no longer being “good and decent”. 

Peeta knows she’s not heartless. She volunteered to take her sister’s place. Went out of her way to save him and keep him alive in the games. Refused to kill him, refused to let the Capitol win over them. But she might as well be just as selfish as he claims. Because the truth is, she basically did all of that for herself. Volunteered so she didn’t have to deal with the death of her sister. Took care of him so she wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of never trying to save him. Didn’t kill him so she didn’t have to live with that either. Falls asleep in his arms so she doesn’t have to face the aftermath of her own nightmares. Slept with him so she didn’t have to fear what Snow might do to her family. 

She’s crying, and she doesn’t mean to. When she came into this, she wanted to be angry and mad and yell at him. And instead she’s in tears. 

He falters.

“No,” she whispers, wiping her tears. “Don’t stop. Say it.”

His anger just about fizzles from his face entirely. And it makes her more upset. That even when cross at her out of his mind, he still manages to care enough to stop when he realizes he’s pushed too far. He shouldn’t care. This would all be so much easier if he didn’t. And that’s the problem. 

He just shakes his head. Doesn’t apologize, because he shouldn’t. 

“I’m going to bed.” And he sounds absolutely exhausted as he says it, walking past her to grab a change of clothes and go to the bathroom. 

She almost blurts it out of her lips: I’m pregnant .

Just because she knows it will hurt him. But she doesn’t say anything. Bites her tongue, because maybe she should try to control herself for once. And she has no right to hurt him more than she already has. 

He slams the bathroom door shut behind him.

She wipes her tears. Angry with herself for ruining this. Whatever this was . And she’s angry that she caused this argument in the first place. She’s trembling with it, and it’s more than she can handle. 

She hears the shower kick on, and she pulls off her shirt, yanking open the dresser drawers for pajamas. She angrily gets dressed. Undoes her braid. Yanks fingers through her hair, because her brush is in the bathroom. Wipes scorching tears off her cheeks. Redoes her braid. And then curls up in their bed, facing the window so she doesn’t have to look at him when he comes out. 

She pretends to be asleep when he finally leaves the bathroom. He’s silent as he hops to the bed, too lazy to pull his prosthetic back on to make the short walk from bathroom to bed. And she can tell by the way he shuffles that he’s no longer angry, just hurt .  

He says nothing as he curls up away from her. Clicks the button to shut the blinds and turn off the lights. 

She’s not sure when she actually falls asleep. It seems like she lays in the dark forever, mind tumbling over too many thoughts. Regret, rage, guilt, grief. But she must have fallen asleep, because a hand whacking her in the back has her jolting awake.

Peeta is thrashing in the bed, whimpering. She sits up, hitting the light switch. His face is screwed up in pain. His breaths come rapidly. 

He’s having a nightmare.

“Peeta,” she gasps, reaching out to try and shake him awake.

A hand comes out to hit her away, and it nearly socks her directly in the stomach, instead hitting her in the ribs. She manages to catch the next hand that flies her way.

“Peeta!”

He tries to yank from her hold, a cry out of his lips. And he pulls so hard he nearly goes tumbling off the side of the bed. She catches him by the shoulders just as he starts to tip, and he’s startled awake.

His eyes are wild, chest heaving. He jolts from her touch, and she jumps back at the absolutely wild look in his eyes. 

“It’s a nightmare- Peeta it was a nightmare,” she says.

His eyes flicker around, taking in his surroundings.

“It wasn’t real.” She whispers, hesitantly brushing his arm. 

He jumps under her touch, but doesn’t pull away. Instead tries to take a deep breath, eyes un-glazing as he comes too.

“Breathe,” she soothes, “It’s okay.” 

Tears spring up, and they’re suddenly rolling down his red cheeks as he blinks. 

“I’m sorry,” his voice is hoarse, like he’s been screaming for hours. 

“It’s okay,” she settles on after a moment, curling her fingers with his and squeezing. 

He squeezes back.

“You’re alright,” She repeats, reaching out to brush his bangs from his sweaty forehead, “it was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real.”

His eyes close, and his breath finally starts to go back to normal. 

“Not real,” he whispers.

“Not real,” she repeats. 

He takes in a shuddering breath, and a cry leaves his lips, “I thought you died .”

And it hurts. To see the distraught look on his face as he says it. Like it’s his absolute worst nightmare. 

“I couldn’t stop it,” he cries. 

And he won’t ever be able to stop it. She only has a few more days to live. And then his nightmare will be real. There’s nothing he can do to stop the games. Nothing he can do to stop her from trying to save him. 

She hugs him. Buries her face against his shoulder. And he clutches her tight . Warm breath against her neck, heart still racing in his chest. She feels it against her own.  

“I’m here.” She whispers, “Still alive.”

He nods, squeezes her tighter. And she hurts . 

They stay clutched for a while. It’s the longest Katniss has let him hold her in months. And it almost feels like normal. Like they didn’t have an argument before bed. Like they aren’t being thrown in a death arena in a couple days. Like they do this all the time. Like she hasn’t already broken his heart twice.

Slowly, she slips to his side, ear to his chest. And he clutches at the wrist of the hand she keeps over his torso, a thumb jammed against her pulse. Finding solace in the soft thrumming. And his breathing finally starts to slow.

“This is real.” He whispers.

“This is real.” She repeats.

And perhaps she should clarify. That this is real. Unless he means this , whatever is happening between them. In which case, Katniss doesn’t know. But she doesn’t clarify.

He falls back asleep before she does. The grip on her wrist slips, but he still holds her close against him. And she can’t entirely complain. He’s warm, and she’s missed it. Guesses that maybe they’re allowed to have this, if just a little bit.

- - - - -

“How are we supposed to kill these people.” She whispers it quietly as she looks out across the victors sitting around them, waiting to do their evaluations.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Katniss.” 

Katniss watches as Finnick whispers quietly to Mags. She smiles at him, a hand coming up to brush his face. Johanna looks bored out of her mind, leaning backwards, teetering herself on the bench as she looks up at the ceiling. Wiress rocks next to Beetee, humming to herself. The morphlings are trembling. Chaff looks half drunk as he leans into Seeder. Cashmere and Gloss have already gone. 

Peeta grasps her hand. And she lets him. Squeezes him back. He runs a comforting thumb over her knuckles.

Slowly, everyone trickles out. Until it’s just the both of them. She stares at the cement floor. Clutches his hand like he might disappear at any moment.

The door opens, jaring her. Seeder gives them a small smile. The voice overhead calls “Peeta Mellark”. He releases her hand, and she already misses the comfort.

“Good luck.” She whispers, and he smiles. 

“You too.” 

And then it’s just her. She stares up at the ceiling. Finds a hand coming up to touch her stomach. She wants to cry. The reality of it all hits her so suddenly.

Tomorrow will be her last day before she loses everything. Before she has to say goodbye. And Peeta doesn’t know . 

She sucks up the tears, refusing to let them win.

Peeta takes forever. It makes her nervous. The room is deafeningly silent, with just her in it. Before there was at least the sound of breathing. Quiet shuffles. Whispers she didn’t care to hear.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when the speaker finally crackles to life.

“ District 12, Katniss Everdeen. Report for individual assessment .”

Peeta hasn’t returned yet. She feels dread in her stomach. 

She hesitantly rises. Makes her way to the door. 

Peeta runs almost smack into her when she opens the door, being hauled by a Peacekeeper. 

There’s a look of defiance on his paint covered face, jerking away from the Peacekeeper’s grip. It melts the moment he sees her. And he looks worried, like he has something to tell her. Like he’s guilty.

The door slams shut behind her. She walks in, slowly. And something feels wrong .

It’s on the floor. Paint. Everywhere. She cautiously steps closer. It’s beautiful white and blue flowers. A hauntingly peaceful face. A child .

She stares at it in shock, a hand coming up to cup her mouth as the tears break. 

It’s Rue. He painted Rue, in the bed of flowers she left her in. And it’s beautiful. And it hurts . 

“Miss Everdeen.”

And it fills her with rage . 

Peeta did this on purpose. He did it to upset her. But not out of malice, she knows, but out of defiance. A message. A protest. And she now knows her anger from yesterday was never meant for Peeta, it’s never been because of Peeta. 

“Miss Everdeen,” Plutarch repeats.

This is her anger.

She looks up at the gallery, seething.

“You have 10 minutes to present your chosen skill.” 

She knows what to do.

She grabs her bow. Only needs one arrow. Fires it across the room at a dummy. It lands right in the dip of its right eye. She disregards the bow entirely. Stalks across the room to yank the dummy off its stand. She drags it across the floor as she heads towards what is left of the paints. Grabs a rope on her way. Dips her fingers in the only paint that’s left: red . She wipes the letters across the white plastic chest. Quickly ties the rope into a noose. Loops it around the dummy’s head. Throws the rope up to drape across a steel ceiling beam. And then she pulls. Hoists the dummy up until it’s high off the ground. Ties the rope off to a table leg. 

And then she bows. Openly expresses her anger and defiance on her face. Plutarch smirks. The rest do not try to hide their disgust at the shot and hanging dummy that reads “ Seneca Crane ”.

Her and Peeta both score a 12. And Katniss knows exactly why they’ve both been given such high scores.

- - - - - 

“Would you do us the honor? Please, please.” Caesar motions her forward.

She looks out to the crowd. Spots Cinna, despite the glaring lights of the stage. He nods. 

She spins. The flames start at the bottom of the skirt. They jump higher and higher as she spins faster and faster, until she’s engulfed in fire. She stops. 

When she glances down she sees the dark blue, nearly black, feathers of the dress. And she knows what Cinna has done. As she raises her arms like he instructed her to, and the wings unfurl. 

The crowd erupts. She sees herself in the TVs mounted around the room. Fear makes her heart flutter.

Cinna has turned her into the symbol she’s seen reflected across the districts. The symbol for rebellion . 

“Oh! It has feathers! It’s like a bird it’s um- it’s um-“

“Like a mocking jay,” Katniss supplies.

“Yes!” 

Katniss barely hears the rest of what Ceasar says. She’s too busy pulling on a brave face, as she steps up to join the rest of the victors. 

Cinna has placed himself in trouble. This was a dangerous stunt for him to pull. And she almost feels betrayed. Snow forcing her into a wedding dress is one thing; she’s used to the Capitol controlling her. But for Cinna to seal the deal- officially place her in the symbol she’s come to represent- is something else. And she doesn’t know what to do about it.

The crowd cheers as Peeta steps on stage. His sleek black tuxedo, lined with hints of gold, looks good on him. 

Handsome , her brain unhelpfully supplies.

“Now Peeta. The Wedding, the marriage. Never to be?” 

Peeta hesitates. “Well. Actually we got married. In secret.”

Katniss can’t help the furrowing of her eyebrows, and she tries to hide her confusion with a small smile. Peeta is always one to put on a show for Panem, so she shouldn’t be surprised at this point.

“A secret wedding? Alright, do tell.”

“We want our love to be eternal.”

It takes everything in Katniss not to roll her eyes at the “awes” that erupt in the crowd.

“Ya know, Katniss and I. We’ve been luckier than most. I wouldn’t have any regrets at all…” and he pauses. “I-if it weren’t…” and he’s laying the acting on thick , “if it weren’t for…” he shakes his head.

“If it weren’t for… what what?” Caesar prompts.

Katniss tries to prepare herself for whatever bombshell Peeta is bound to drop. 

Nothing could prepare her for his next words.

“If it weren’t for the baby.”

Katniss’s stomach plummets. She gasps with the crowd. Dread sinking in her bones. 

The next few moments are a blur. There’s a roaring in her ears. She feels light headed as her face, covered in gaping horror, is reflected across the TVs. Her knees feel weak, like they might collapse under her at any moment.

Peeta is suddenly walking up to her. He hugs her, tight, and she clutches to him, afraid she might fall. He pulls away, and she grips his hand. Chaff next to her grabs her other hand. And she’s thankful for the extra support, even if she barely knows him.

The crowd is roaring almost as loud as the blood in her ears. Both her arms are being lifted up, and she looks up to see all of them, hand in hand, united, on the TVs. 

The room cuts to black. She finds herself clutching to Peeta, trembling as she’s led off stage. She barely recognizes Haymitch and Effie greeting them. Peeta guides her through the maze of halls, a hand at the small of her back. And it feels like fire, more scorching than the flames that consumed her dress. Guilt, shock, fear, an angry monster in her stomach. 

How does he know how does he know how does he know?

There’s only one way he knows.

Reality comes crashing back to her when Peeta finally drops her hand. 

They're in the elevator, heading up to their floor. 

Haymitch claps him on the back.

“Well, that was quite the bombshell you just dropped!” He chuckles, “That’ll have the Capital pansies squirming in their seats.”

Peeta smiles sheepishly, pulling off his white gloves and tugging at the golden bow tie around his neck. 

“I figured I might as well give it a shot.”

Haymitch shakes his head, “You never disappoint, kid.”

Effie is completely silent. Katniss is practically staring daggers into the back of her head. 

Why would Effie tell him ? She knows it would absolutely destroy him. So why would she say it? And why has Peeta not said anything until now ? All she can think is that he’s done it this way out of spite, just to get at her for not telling him herself. But Peeta isn’t the kind to be spiteful. It doesn’t make sense.

She blocks out their conversation; she can barely think straight. Her heart is still racing. Her knees are still weak. And she feels sick . 

She holds a hand up to her mouth. A sweat breaks out across her forehead. 

She doesn’t have time to interrogate Effie. The elevator dings. Peeta retakes her hand, but she’s pushing past all of them and rushing towards their door. She scans her thumb, and practically throws the door open as she bolts across the condo towards their bathroom. She’s flinging herself over the toilet just as her stomach upheaves everything. 

Peeta slowly trails in after her, and her stomach twists at the thought of confronting him. What if he’s known this whole time . How is she supposed to explain herself?

Her entire body is breaking out into a sweat, heat rushing over her skin. She can barely breathe. 

Peeta is not quick with his actions like he usually is. He slowly pours her a cup of water. And then crouches down next to her and waits for her to finish. Doesn’t reach out to comfort her. Doesn’t say anything. Just watches.

Suddenly she’s freezing, goosebumps rushing up her arms. She’s shaking as she pulls back from the bowl.

He doesn’t meet her eyes as he hands her the cup. She gulps it greedily, hands shaking so bad she nearly spills it on herself. 

“I’ll get you a blanket.” He says softly, black dress shoes squeaking against the floor as he turns to leave. 

She closes her eyes, clutching the cup as she curls up. He comes back with the throw blanket, and she quickly wraps it around herself, shivering against the tile floor.

Peeta doesn’t sit with her. He leans up against the sink counter. And she hates the distance. Because it means he knows . 

“How did you know.” She croaks after another sip of water. 

“I didn’t.”

She glances up at him, confused.

“I mean, I had my suspicions. You’ve been acting weird. Kinda looked like you’ve gained weight. And all the throwing up. But I wasn’t certain. Couldn’t really count the mood swings or tears, considering our situation.”

She swallows, looking down at the quartz tiles.

“But then I saw your face. After I said it.” He drops his head, staring down at his shoes. His jaw flexes. “And then I knew.”

She doesn’t know what to say. What to tell him. He’s taking this far smoother than she did. And it’s scary. She doesn’t know what that means. But it feels like anger. And she’s never seen him this kind of angry, where he’s just calm .

Silence. Katniss stares at the empty cup of water. Ignores the tear that slips down her cheek. 

“How far along are you?” He finally asks.

And she finds it odd that he asks. He should know. 

“Four months.” She whispers.

He covers his mouth with his hand, nose wedged in the webbing of his thumb. He rubs over his chin.

“It’s Gale’s. Isn’t it.” He says, more than asks, into his palm. His voice is hoarse. 

And that’s like a slap to the face.

Oh .

“ Peeta ,” she breathes.

He looks up at her. And there’s tears in his eyes. And she can’t tell if it’s heartbreak, that she might have chosen Gale over him, or if it’s fear that she didn’t. It could be both.

“I never-“ she doesn’t know how to say it, “Me and Gale never…” she can’t say it.

He slides down the sink cabinet, hands pushing up his face to run and tug at his hair.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispers, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“It’s mine.” He says, and his voice sounds broken. 

“Yes.”

He lets out a whimper, hands covering his face. 

And it’s horrible. This is exactly what she didn’t want. Was this moment, where Peeta’s forced to reconcile the fact that he’ll be losing two people. 

She doesn’t know how to comfort him. There isn’t any comforting this. Only agreeing how awful it is. 

He desperately tries to gather himself. He’s wiping his cheeks, his nose, clearing his throat, but the tears keep coming. 

“I’ve always wanted kids,” he tries to sound clear. But he’s not. He’s crying, and his voice squeaks.

“I know,” she says, and now she’s crying. Trying to wipe tears. 

He sniffles, knee bouncing on the floor. “How long have you known?” he asks.

“A month.” She whispers. 

Just a few days before the Quarter Quell was announced. Just enough time to try and wrap her head around it, to try and convince herself that maybe this could be okay. 

He blinks in confusion, eyebrows furrowing. He doesn’t need to get the question out; she already knows what he’s thinking.

“I’m not very regular. I thought-“ she’s not sure what she thought. The past four months have been so chaotic.

He swallows. Is still staring at the floor. 

“Would you have told me?”

She looks down at the tiles, shaking her head. “I didn’t- I didn’t want…this. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

His head tilts back to hit the sink cabinet, a hand fisting in his hair. He lets out a sound, something between a cough and a sob. 

“And if it- if it wasn’t for the Quell.”

She hesitates. “I would have had to tell you. Eventually.”

“But you wouldn’t have wanted to.” And it snaps from his lips, accusatory and angry.

She doesn’t answer that question. Because he already knows her answer. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, head coming back down. He wipes his tears. 

“Don’t apologize.”

“I’m yelling at you.”

“You aren’t. You’re just upset.”

He doesn’t say anything back to that. Just stares off at the wall and lets his tears fall. And Katniss hates the guilt that swarms her stomach, swirling and draining down the bowl but never stopping. She couldn’t regret that night any more than she does now. If it means not having to do this, with him, grieving over a baby they haven’t even lost yet, then she’d never have done it. It was stupid to begin with. 

The silence drones on. Thick and heavy. Painful. 

“Katniss,” he croaks finally, blue eyes pleading.

And she knows what he wants. What he needs. And she’d be cruel not to give it to him.

She stands, reaching out to take his hand. He lets her pull him to his feet. She drags them from the bathroom, taking off her heels and tossing the throw blanket back on the bed. When she turns back around his hands are hovering, so unsure of how to touch her.

“It’s okay.” She whispers. 

He crushes her in a hug. Tightly squeezing her close. And he breaks into her neck, a sob leaving his lips. And she can’t hold it together.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again. 

“Don’t-“ he cries, “don’t be sorry. Please.” He grabs her tighter, a wet nose against her collarbones.

She didn’t want this. Didn’t want him to know, but also didn’t want this . Being pregnant, having kids, raising a family. Peeta does want kids. He wants a big happy family. To be a father. And he knows how Katniss feels. So “I’m sorry”, like this is wrong , hurts. 

He doesn’t let go. He clings, arms tight. Like at any moment he could lose her. 

“Peeta,” she whispers. 

He sniffles. 

“Help me out of this dress.”

He pauses. Pulls back to look at her. There’s brief confusion in his blue eyes, a million emotions tumbling like a stormy sea.

“So you can see it.” She breathes. 

He takes a deep breath. Face relaxing as he pulls away. She turns, and he carefully undoes the claps and pulls down the zipper. It slides off relatively easy, just a few tugs and slipping off the shoulders, and then it’s a pool at the floor. When Katniss turns back he’s making a point of looking up at the ceiling, and she can’t help but smile at his chivalry. She shimmies off the elastic band that’s helping her stomach hold flat, holding onto him for balance as she yanks off her panty hoes, and then moves to find something in their closet. She doesn’t know how their announcement will affect dinner; they might not be called down for their usual feast, in which case she doesn’t need to dress nicely. She settles on a pair of stretched out leggings and a t-shirt, figuring she can always change if necessary later.

“You can look,” she breathes after she’s pulled them both on.

And he does. Eyes flickering over her. She slides a hand over her stomach, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He stares after her like a lost puppy, cheeks and nose red. His lip wobbles. And she knows he wants to say it; those three simple words. She can’t stand to hear it. Not now. He probably wouldn’t say them. 

“Come here.”

He hesitates. Takes a few tentative steps closer. She offers him a small smile, and he slowly drops to his knees in front of her, eyes pleading. 

 “You can touch.” She whispers.

His hands are shaking as they grace her thighs. She swallows. 

The last time his hands touched her like this was four months ago. And he was just as hesitant and careful then as he is now. And it’s almost jaring. But this is so different.

It’s just as intimate. Maybe more so, in a different kind of way. It’s soft, and she hasn’t allowed herself to let them have a moment like this. Not something so raw and personal. Where she shoves aside all her reservations, all the mixed up and confusing emotions Peeta invokes, and just, let’s this be. Because they need it.

His eyes look back up at her, wide blues as he asks again. She nods. 

His hands slide to her stomach. His mouth pops, jaw slack as he feels over her belly through the shirt. He blinks, sending fresh tears down his cheeks. She reaches out to catch his chin, wiping his tears and pulling him closer. He rests his forehead against her, hands carefully cradling.

It sends warmth across her shoulders, across her cheeks and down her spine. It’s delicate, fragile, and a part of her wants to run so far away from this. Because it’s scary, in this unknown way. Where she’s vulnerable, and it feels like she’s placing herself on display more than she ever has before. And it’s ridiculous, because Peeta has already seen every inch of her skin. There isn’t anything to hide from him at this point, but to run from the security that settles in her stomach at his grounding touch.

“Hi baby,” he whispers, and the tenderness makes a lump form in her throat.

She feels a flutter, and she gasps. 

“What?” He pulls back, hands slipping off.

She shakes her head. “N-nothing. It’s just moving.”

His eyes widen. “What does it feel like?”

She hums. “Like butterflies. I don’t usually notice them. Sometimes it kicks. It’s been doing that more this week,” She swallows, “more when you’re around.”

He looks awestruck. 

“Keep talking,” she says, reaching to pull his hands back. She drags his hand to the left side of her ripcage, just where it drops off. “He likes to kick here. On my ribs.”

Peeta blinks more tears, resting his forehead back against her. 

“Hi there,” he whispers, “it’s Peeta. Your dad.”

And she has to stop herself from pushing him away then. Shes been trying not to think about it like that- that she’s a mother now. It’s easier if she doesn’t.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Another flutter. This time a little stronger. 

“Keep going.” She whispers. 

He hums. “I promise,” he starts, and she’s taking in a big breath in preparation for what he’s bound to say, “to protect you. As best I can.”

A kick. It’s soft, but it’s there. Peeta releases something between a laugh and a sob, eyes fluttering closed as he leans farther in, nose nearly pressed to her bellybutton. And her heart absolutely aches . The lump in her throat swells as she fights back the tears burning at her eyes.  

“God look at you,” Peeta says breathlessly, “A little fighter.” 

And she can barely take the sheer warmth of Peeta’s voice as he says it. The affection, sickly sweet and delicate, met with another soft kick and a flutter, and more praises pressed against her. It’s overwhelming. Hot tears race down her cheeks.

This terrifies her. All of it. How easy Peeta makes her break apart, in ways she’s never felt before. It’s terror, at how hard it makes her heart race, and how full it makes her feel. She’s not used to this. It’s just so much, too much. She doesn’t know how to take it, how to let it be, how to give into it without losing herself. Without letting the thought of losing this break her down to nothing. 

It’s horrifying. That all this good could be gone in just a few days. The moment she steps into that arena, she’ll never get this back. And she wants to cherish it while she still can. Where it’s not for cameras, and she can take and give what she wants. But she doesn’t know how. And she just, can’t . 

“Peeta,” she cries, and he just hums. She runs fingers through his hair, and she doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to voice what she feels, is almost afraid to, because she doesn’t know what this is. 

He glides a hand around to the small of her back. Presses a kiss to her stomach. Whispers something so quietly she can’t hear him. And she’s not sure if she could even handle hearing what he has to say. She’s so fragile in this moment, just about anything might make her break.

“Hey kids,” Haymitch just about barrels straight through their door with zero warning.

Katniss jumps, and Peeta’s head comes flying off her stomach, hands sliding back to her knees.

Haymitch immediately pauses, eyes narrowing as his mouth opens. He looks over both of them, “What the hell did I just walk in on?” 

Peeta is immediately scrambling to his feet, hands brushing down his suit coat and wiping at his eyes, cheeks blazing red. Katniss is turning away to wipe her tears, a flush creeping down her neck.

Peeta, despite almost always having something to say, fumbles over an explanation. “Uh- we- we were-“ he clears his throat, “we were just- uh,”

“Maybe next time you should knock.” Katniss means for it to come off as firey and indignant, but her voice warbles over her tears, and it’s left sounding weak.

Haymitch is silent for a moment, tongue pressing into his cheek as he eyes them.

“God damn it,” he hisses, running a hand over his face. He turns, unable to even look at them. “You can’t be serious.”

Katniss swallows. She slips off the bed in search of a sweater. “I don’t want to go to dinner.” She says.

“Well good.” Haymitch grumbles, “Because I meant to come in here to tell you they called off the feast, after that stunt Peeta pulled.” He eyes them both again, “ Please tell me it was just a stunt.”

They’re both silent. And that’s all the answer Haymitch needs. 

He curses, turning to kick the wall. 

Katniss jumps at his outburst, pulling open Peeta’s drawers to grab him a shirt.  

“What the hell am I supposed to do with you two.” Haymitch grumbles, mostly to himself. “Scratch that- you three .” He points a particularly accusatory finger in their direction before softly hitting the wall with a fist, “ God .”

Peeta takes the shirt she offers, and he grabs himself a pair of sweats. 

“So we’re eating here.” Is all Katniss says, wrapping the sweater tighter around herself as Peeta escapes to the bathroom to change.

“Yes, Katniss.” Haymitch snaps, turning around to look at her angrily. “We’re eating here.” 

She just looks at him. And the frustrated expression fizzles from his face. 

“Come here,” he sighs tiredly.

And the way he opens up his arms, albeit slightly begrudgingly, makes the tears threaten to spill all over again. She steps forward, and he wraps her in a tight hug, pulling her face into his chest. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He whispers.

And she breaks. She takes in a shuddering breath, the tears slipping free, and she whines it into him like a child, “I’m so scared.”

He takes a deep breath. Squeezes her tighter. “I know.” 

And that’s really all there is to say. As she sheds tears against him and holds him close.

“Peeta’s?” He asks.

She nods. 

“Victory tour?”

Another nod. Haymitch sighs. 

Katniss pulls back, sucking up tears. “This doesn’t change anything,” she whispers.

He frowns, and his mouth pops open to argue, to try and say anything. But she cuts him off, “Peeta has to make it. Please . I can’t- I can’t have this baby without him. He has to make it.”

Haymitch says nothing. She pulls back, hands coming to squeeze at his arms, adamant. “Haymitch I’m serious . This doesn’t change anything . You promised me.”

“I know I did.” He pulls away, eyes flickering up as the bathroom door creaks open. 

Katniss looks over her shoulder, and Peeta is walking out, his suit folded over one arm.

“Dinner will be ready in 15. Better get down there now or Effie will throw a fit.” Haymitch just grumbles, stepping out before either of them can say anything.

The silence is overwhelming at dinner. But she doesn’t have the want, need, or energy to break it. Instead it’s just the light scratching of silverware on plates. The air feels heavy.  

Katniss isn’t very hungry. She pushes food around her plate. Peeta sits across from her. He doesn’t show very much interest either. And then there’s Effie, who looks paler than usual, like at any moment she might just burst into tears. Portia and Cinna are the only ones who seem to actually be eating.

“I’m going to need stronger whiskey if I have to listen to you all any longer.” Haymitch is the one to finally break the silence, slamming down his glass. It makes Katniss jump.

She would have guessed Effie to be the one to finally speak up, given she can’t ever do long silences. Or Peeta, even. Peeta always has something to say. Haymitch isn’t usually one to “disrupt the peace”. 

His attempt at rousing them all falls flat. Effie doesn’t even point out that none of them were talking. He grunts angrily, flicking hair out of his face as he grabs the entire bottle, disregarding his glass entirely as he flicks off the lid and takes a swig. Effie doesn’t say anything about his manners, either.

“The capital people are up in protest.” Haymitch grunts. “They want the games postponed.”

Katniss can’t help the scoff, “Snow would never allow it.” She grumbles, moving potatoes around her plate.

Haymitch seems to relax back into his chair. He disregards his food, opting to lean back and cradle the bottle of moonshine.

“No. He wouldn’t. And the Capitol people don’t know how to rebel against him, even if they wanted to.” He adds. And he seems to want to say more, but he doesn’t. 

“He’ll be angry.” Portia speaks up. And it catches Katniss’s attention. “You both must be very careful.” 

The warning is more than Portia says. Katniss has had a sneaking suspicion for a while now, if it wasn’t already made obvious by Snow’s previous threats, that he’s been out to get her. Because she and Peeta started something, whether they intended to or not. Snow has every intention of killing them in that arena, and tonight’s reaction to their news might have been the icing on the cake. Any more wrong steps, and Snow could act without any warning.

Peeta suddenly bolts up, chair screeching against the floor as it’s pushed back. He barely mumbles an “excuse me,” before wiping off his hands with his napkin, dropping it on his plate, and then leaving the table. Katniss watches him walk to their bedroom, door shutting behind him. 

There’s a moment of silence. And then Effie lets out a small cry. Katniss looks over to see her desperately dabbing away tears, face flushed red. Haymitch makes no remark.

She looks back down at her plate. She’s not really hungry anyways. She doesn’t say anything as she slowly rises from her chair. She silently follows after him. 

He’s sitting against the wall, looking out their window. The tears on his cheeks sparkle in the orange light of the sunset. She silently comes over, and he looks up at her as she pushes his bent up knees apart, scooting to sit between them, leaned back against his chest. Theres a moment as he lets her melt against him, before he’s wrapping arms around her, a hand hesitantly resting against her stomach.

They don’t speak. There’s not really anything to say. They sit, watching the sun set. Yellow, orange, pink, red, purple, blue.

She lets the tears trail down her cheeks. Letting herself slip into the safety of his embrace, against a beating heart. And she wishes this could all have been so much different. Wishes they had more time. To do what she isn’t sure, but just. To have more time . 

“I’m tired of playing this game,” he says quietly, vocal cords straining over tears. 

And she’s not sure which game he means. If it’s this game of limbo between the two of them. Or the game they play to maintain good face with the public, just puppets of the Capital. Or the one where they’re thrown into an arena to kill people.

“Me too.” She whispers. She’s tired of all of them.

He squeezes her tighter, face burying against her shoulder. He inhales. 

She eventually pulls them towards the bed, the floor hurting her back. He hesitates to lay down with her, and she has to coax him a little bit. Tell him that it’s okay. And it hurts that she’s done this to him, where he’s afraid to reach out and touch her. Touch his baby.

He rests an ear back to her stomach, hugging her belly. And she combs fingers through his hair, watching his eyelashes slowly flutter, until they’re brushing his cheeks, and he’s breathing soft. She’s come to know the rise and fall of his chest well enough to know that he’s slipped asleep.

She tries to let herself just soak in the good of this moment. Because it is good, it’s warm and serene  and makes her heart flutter. Where things are peaceful, and they’re both okay. And she knows she’s never going to get a moment like this ever again. So she tries to push away all her anxious thoughts of tomorrow. But she doesn’t know how to do that. So instead she continues to run fingers through his hair, and continues to worry. 

When the sun finally disappears all the way over the horizon, she gently shakes him awake. He startles, head jolting off her stomach with a blurry look in his eyes. He grumbles when he comes to, face plopping back against her, hugging her tighter. 

“We should get ready for bed.” She whispers, a sad smile on her lips. 

He sighs, and presses a kiss to her stomach before begrudgingly rolling off of her. He stretches as he stands up, and then offers her a hand, helping her up. 

They brush their teeth side by side at the sink. She washes off the makeup caked on her face. Peeta helps her get her hair down. His fingers gently pull out pins and hair ties, carefully unbraiding locks of hair. Eventually she just gives up trying to help him, instead just watching him in the mirror. Blue eyes finally meet hers when he’s done, and she whispers a small “thank you”. 

He returns the smile. “Are you taking a shower?” 

She shakes her head. Her prep team is going to hose her down tomorrow morning anyways, so there’s really no use. And the day's events lay heavy on her shoulders, and she’s tired.

So she doesn’t complain when he picks up her hairbrush and begins to gently brush through her waves. He’s far more gentle than Flavius, as he carefully brushes out hairspray and knots. She closes her eyes, and for a brief moment she can imagine her mother brushing out her hair before school, humming a song as she braids it back. And she misses her family. She misses her father, and the mother she had before he died. She misses Prim, and her goats, and even her dreadful cat.   

“Thank you,” he whispers, and she opens her eyes to see him.

She knows why he says it. Thanking her for letting him show her the affection he so desperately needs to, after finding out about their baby. But he shouldn’t be thanking her, because it’s the least she can do. And the list of terrible things she’s done to him will forever outweigh any acts of kindness she grants him. So he shouldn’t be thanking her.

“Don’t thank me.”

He frowns. Doesn’t say anything back immediately. Instead pushes all her hair over her left shoulder.

“The other night,” he starts, “When we fought.”

And she already hates where he might be taking this. Blue eyes meet hers in the mirror, and she feels guilty for whatever he’s about to say.

“I didn’t mean what I said.” 

She turns around to look at him, frowning.

“Yes you did.” She stares at his chest, unable to meet his eyes. “I did- I led you along too many times. Shouldn’t have in the first place. You should be upset with me.”

“You had to.” He whispers.

She shakes her head, “No, no I didn’t.”

He touches her arm, making her eyes snap up to his face. He looks sad. “Let me believe you did.”

She swallows. She supposes she can at least give him that; a white lie, so it hurts less. So she nods, curtly.

“But I still didn’t mean what I said, about you- you not having a heart. Or that you don’t care,” he brushes a hand over her cheek, tilting her chin up to look at him, “You care a lot, Katniss. So much. You are selfless, and you love so fiercely. I shouldn’t have said those things. And I’m sorry.”

She doesn’t know what to say to him. She feels her cheeks blush. She’s not used to being apologized to. Or complimented like that. 

“I’m sorry I pushed you to that point.” She whispers back. 

He smiles softly. And then wraps her in a hug. And she closes her eyes as she listens to his heart in his chest. 

“It’s alright,” he says, “neither of us are perfect. I think that argument was bound to happen.”

She hums. Perhaps it was. The past month has been so tense, and they were both already on such thin ice. They were bound to break through eventually.

“I’m tired.” He yawns, and she smiles as she pulls back to look at him.

They shuffle their way to bed. Peeta sits on the edge to take off his prosthetic, and Katniss tries to hang her dress up in the closet. 

Peeta falls back onto the bed when he’s done, opening up his arm, and she slides into his side, ear to his chest as he pulls her close. Their usual position. He places a hand at her belly, and she inhales against his shirt. Breathing in Peeta , and trying to savor these last few moments they have together.

She’s almost drifted off to sleep when he speaks up.

“Katniss,” he says softly, “Tomorrow,” 

She looks up at him. He swallows.

“Whatever happens, in that arena. I want you to know that- that this has all meant a lot to me. I'm glad- I’m glad I got to know you.”

And the words tumble out her lips, “I’m glad it’s you.”

He looks at her, and she realizes that sounds bad.

“I mean- I- I wouldn’t want to be in that arena with anyone else. I- I’m glad we have each other.” And she fumbles over the words, and she’s not entirely sure what she’s trying to say.

But Peeta seems to understand. He smiles, “We’re in this together.” His thumb brushes across her shoulder. “I’m glad it’s you, too.”

She smiles sheepishly. Feels light in her chest, despite the gravity of the situation. 

They fall asleep tangled. A heart beating steady in her ear. A hand curled protectively over her belly. Warm arms holding her tight against an even warmer body. And it’s a lot like safety. And she welcomes it. Because tonight might be the last time she has it.

She’s already too far off into sleep when he whispers in her hair. She feels the grumble in his chest as he speaks, but she doesn’t comprehend the words. But they sound like a promise. 

Chapter Text

He wakes with a jolt, eyes snapping open as he takes in a sharp breath. 

He’s in bed. Katniss is with him, curled up against his chest, peaceful as she sleeps. He relaxes, and takes a glance at the clock. It’s 6:48am. But the clock isn’t his. The digital numbers are larger than the clock he owns at home, and it only serves as a cruel reminder of where he is. He wishes he were home. He wants to go home. 

6:48am- that leaves him with 12 minutes. 12 minutes before he knows they’ll come to wake them up to start getting ready for the games.

His stomach lurches at that thought. God, the games . He hates the way it instantly kills his mood, the way the position they’re in is no longer comforting. 

He slips a hand between them to splay his palm over her tummy. It’s an awkward angle for his arm but it’s worth it. He closes his eyes, pushes his face back into Katniss’s dark locks, and breathes. Tries to soak in what little bit he has left of this moment before it will forever be ripped away from them. He breathes in her, squeezes her tighter, sucks up his tears. And tries to convince himself they’re anywhere but here. That all he has to focus on is the way she makes his heart melt in his chest. 

It works. Sort of. Not really.

After breakfast Effie hands them their gold pieces, as promised.

“The pendant we discussed,” she gently places it in his hand, and he stares down at the golden locket, swiping a thumb over the lightly engraved surface.

“Thank you, Effie.” He whispers, and she smiles sadly. 

He puts it around his neck, and she tries to blink back tears. She’s unsuccessful.

“Oh just- give me a hug.” She’s already reaching out for him, and he gladly accepts it. He crushes her close, and she cries against him. “I’m so sorry this happened,” she warbles.

“Me too.”

Effie is reluctant to let him go, and Peeta really isn’t complaining. A silly part of his mind says that if he forced Effie to stay, there would be no putting him in the games at all; they wouldn’t put a citizen of the Capital in. But Peeta really can’t doubt Snow’s cruelty, and it’s a ridiculous thought anyways.

Effie eventually lets go, and he does too. He’s whisked off to Portia to get ready, barely getting to say goodbye to Katniss. She gives him a kiss on the cheek, and he goes scarlet. But he’s positive it’s just out of pitty. That’s all Katniss ever gives him anymore, is pitty. He can’t ever decide if he’d prefer pitty over nothing.

They practically hose him down, scrubbing him clean like he’s absolutely filthy. Like there’s already too much blood on his hands. And it’s easy for him to imagine the soapy water swirling down the shower drain to be tinged with red. He lets himself entertain that horror for too long, and by the time they’re done he’s jarred by reality, nearly jumping out of his skin when Darius tugs at his arm. 

They don’t really speak, as Elysia shaves his face and Amara styles his hair. They’re usually bubbly and lively and talk his ear off till he’s beet red in the face from laughter, but today is no such day. Today’s the day he says goodbye. 

Portia puts him in a black and white jumpsuit. It’s thin and sleek, and she makes a comment about all the tributes having the same one, and something about the thin material must mean the arena is hot. Peeta is too lost in his thoughts to fully pay attention. He’s too busy trying to wrap his head around the fact that this is it.

This could be his last day. He’s been here before. Felt this same fear and consuming panic that comes with the uncomfortable numbness of trying to accept death. As he’s led down a dark corridor, where his fate is sealed. Haymitch is there waiting for him. 

Portia gives him a tight squeeze. He whispers a thank you, and finds himself tacking on an apology with it. 

“Don’t apologize, Peeta. You have nothing to apologize for.”

But he feels like there are many things to make amends for. Even if none of those things regard Portia. There’s mistakes he’s never fixed. Things he’s never gotten to say to too many people. And it’s too late. He’s desperately trying to grapple with his own death, but it keeps slipping through his hands like sand. Acceptance is hard when there’s still so much to live for, so much he still wants to do, a child he wants to care for. Acceptance is near impossible. And yet this is his fate.

He has to die. So Katniss can live. So his baby can live. He has two lives he has to save. And the hard-to-swallow truth is that he’s more than willing to die for both of them. In an instant, if that’s what it took. 

But that doesn’t mean it’s exactly easy.

Portia’s gone before he can fully say goodbye. Instead Haymitch claps him on the shoulder, and he turns around to see a weary smile on a tired face. There’s a silence between them.

“I’m scared.” He whispers, shattering it with the croak of his voice.

Haymitch scoffs, and he squeezes his shoulder. For once, he doesn’t tease him. “Don’t be giving me any tears. You know I don’t do tears.”

Peeta takes a big breath and swallows. He knows that’s not really true. He knows Katniss fell apart in his arms yesterday. Haymitch just doesn’t want to get emotional himself.

“Don’t lie, I saw your tears at breakfast this morning when they refused to hand you liquor.”

Haymitch scoffs, and he pats his shoulder again, “So still witty, despite being scared shitless. That’s a good start. Let’s keep it that way.” He starts to guide Peeta up the incline towards his platform, and Peeta’s heart nearly lurches at the thought of stepping in.

“Now I need you to listen to me, very carefully. You understand? Very carefully.” Haymitch fixes him with the most serious look he’s seen in a while, hand slipping off his arm. 

He nods. “Yes sir.”

He stops them, turning to him fully. “I need you to make sure she doesn’t get herself killed. Both of you, just stay alive . There’s others who want to help you. Let them.” And the way Haymitch says it, the way he seems to cut himself off, and the very stern look he gives him, seems to imply that he’s trying to convey something else. Like there’s a hidden message there. 

But Peeta isn’t following. 

“I’ll try.” He nods. And Haymitch seems to stare him down, as if looking into each other's eyes long enough will magically grant them the ability to communicate telepathically. 

Haymitch smiles, demeanor completely switching, and he places a hand on Peeta’s shoulder. “You best be going. It’s almost time.”

He takes a shuddering breath. He doesn’t want to go. Everything in his body screams at him to not step into that tube.

Peeta wants to give him a hug. Spend a few more moments before he must face his fate. Thank Haymitch for everything he’s ever done for them. Because he’s actually done a lot , and Peeta rarely tells him so.

He doesn’t get a chance to. Haymitch practically shoves him in the tube before he can move to embrace him, and the door is already closing as Haymitch bids him farewell with a nod and wave.

“See ya both on the other side, kid.”

“See ya,” Peeta responds out of habit, glancing down as the floor lurches under him and his heart starts to pick up out of sheer terror . 

And then Haymitch’s words hit him, and he’s confused . He looks up at him, but Haymitch simply just smiles and waves. It’s too late to ask him for clarification, what he means by that , because he’s already on his way up.

Blinding light makes him shield his eyes, but it’s coming from every direction. It’s overwhelming, all too much at once, because oh god this is it. The platform comes to a stop, and he squeezes his eyes closed, willing his body to get his breathing under control. He stamps down the panic best he can, shaking out his arms as he slowly waits for his eyes to adjust. And then his stomach drops.

Water .

The cornucopia is completely surrounded by water. Sunlight reflects off the ripples as it splashes against the rows of rock walls that split the lake into segments. He’s completely surrounded by water. 

He doesn’t know how to swim. He never learned, never had the need to. He could probably manage to stay afloat a little bit, enough to get to the rocks, but he doubts it with his prosthetic. 

He bites his lip, glancing around and once again fighting the panic. He tries to distract himself by taking in his other surroundings, like the thick jungle on all sides of them. And he already hates the steam rising above the treetops, because that means the jungle is probably hot . Their suits are beginning to make more sense. 

He also doesn’t see Katniss. She must be on the opposite side of the cornucopia. Most of the tributes are up.

He crouches down on his platform, eyeing the water. He can’t make out the bottom. Which is a problem. He’s not sure which is worse, staying here completely in the open until Katniss makes it over to get him, or possibly drowning. 

The thunk of the sky countdown begins, and his heart shoots up his throat. He swallows nervously, his heartbeat echoing in his ears as he tries to think.

Could he make the jump? Probably not, but it might be his best bet. 

The sound crashes around him, and everyone vaults off their platforms. Everyone but him, because he doesn’t know how to swim . 

He doesn’t get a chance to figure out what he wants to do, because suddenly a hand wrapping around his ankle is yanking him backwards. He gasps, glancing back to see the tribute from district five. Peeta doesn’t remember his name, and quite frankly he doesn’t care at the moment. 

A knife whizzes past his head, and he ducks, and it’s just enough to have him losing his balance, and the man is able to yank his legs out from under him. He grapples to hold onto the rocks, but they’re slippery, and the man is stronger than he looks. He tries to kick him away, but it’s a failed attempt. The man yanks him away from the platform, and suddenly he’s in open water. 

He thrashes to try and fight off his attacker and stay afloat, but he’s being pushed down. He gasps for air, but instead inhales salt water. He coughs it out, thrashing as his lungs scream and his heart pounds. He sucks in more water as he tries to expel the rest out, hands clawing at a pair of arms as he fights to get to the surface. He can’t even think, all he knows is the fire and panic in his chest and the need for air . And he’s losing momentum, his muscles scream as his head goes fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. 

Suddenly the grip on his shoulders disappears, and an arm loops under his. 

The world comes roaring back as he’s brought back to the surface, and he gasps for air, lungs screeching as he coughs up water. He sees the district five tribute, body floating in a growing plume of bloody water, before he manages to catch a glimpse of who has saved him.

“Duck!”

He’s pushed back under, and he hears something swoosh into the water next to him before he’s being yanked back up. He sputters for air once more, and this time he sees Seeder chucking a knife in Brutus’s direction. She misses, and Brutus dives into the water on the other side of the rocks.

Seeder grabs him and hauls him towards the rock wall, and he gratefully grips onto any semblance of land . 

“Stay here!” She shouts, before hauling herself out and over the rocks to dive back in after Brutus. 

Peeta trembles, grip slipping on the rocks as he heaves and coughs for air. He’s not sure how long he spends there, gasping for breath and hanging on for dear life, listening to the sounds of fighting all around him. But eventually he hears the padding of feet coming towards him, and he glances up to see Mags.

“Mags-“ he coughs, and she slowly bends down on the rocks, careful to keep her balance, as she offers him a hand.

“Mags found him! He’s over here!” 

He glances in the direction of the voice, and feels relief crash through him when he catches sight of her. 

“Peeta!” She shouts out to him.

He coughs, and the word “Katniss” rasps out his lips. 

Finnick gets to him and Mags first, and Mags scooches over to let Finnick help him out of the water. Peeta catches a glimpse at the golden bracelet around Finnicks wrist when he reaches out; the same one Effie gave to Haymitch. He doesn’t get time to process that, because he’s being hauled up to stand on weary feet. Finnick gently nudges him towards the shore.

“We gotta get out of here,” Finnick rushes to say, but Peeta is too busy glancing at Katniss over his shoulder, trying to make sure she’s okay, to hear him properly. 

Mags takes his hand and tugs, grabbing his attention. He swallows and coughs, following after her as she leads them all down the rock wall and to the shore. 

The moment they hit the beach Peeta feels relief, and Katniss crushes him in a hug before he can even get his arms around her.

“You scared me- I didn’t know where you were.” 

He breathes against her shoulder, “Sorry.”

“We need to get going,” Finnick urges them again, and Katniss eyes him when she pulls back. 

“I grabbed you a machete,” she speaks, reaching to pull it from her pack.

They step into the forest just as Katniss hands it over, and Peeta squeezes at the grip, testing the weight of it in his hand. It’s fairly light, but very sharp. 

Katniss places a hand on his to push the weapon away as she leans in. He glances at her, and his heart immediately picks up when she presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he stumbles out. She offers him a small smile, and steps forward to follow after Finnick and Mags.

They don’t make it very far in before they realize navigating this place is going to be hell. It’s incredibly dense, and the machete is making a lot more sense as Peeta takes the lead to slash their way through. It’s tiring, but he expected as much. 

Finnick brings up finding water and setting up camp, and they stop a few places to let Katniss climb trees for better vantage points. Peeta is very reluctant to let her, afraid she might fall and hurt herself or the baby. But his argument falls completely flat, because Katniss really can’t be stopped, so he begrudgingly lets it happen. He knows she’s a great climber, but he’s still nervous as he watches her climb higher and higher and higher until he’s certain the branches have to snap under her weight, but she keeps going . When she admits to not really being able to see anything, due to how thick the foliage is, he puts his foot down and says no more tree escapades. Katniss thankfully obliges. 

So they carry on, further up the slow incline of the annoyingly thick forest, just hoping they’ll come across water. The heat is already getting to them. Peeta’s more than certain he’s sweat at least a gallon, or what feels like it. The jumpsuits are obviously meant to be moisture-wicking, but between the humidity of the jungle and how much he’s sweating, he’s not sure it’s that effective. He’s losing momentum as he whacks through vines, stumbling over branches and trampling plants, definitely scaring off all the animals that Katniss might hope to catch, but food isn’t really the priority right now. 

He raises his machete to hack through more brush. He’s already on the downswing when Katniss cries out, and at that point it’s too late.

“PEETA NO!”

 - ~ -

She launches herself forward, falling to the ground to grasp at him. She shakes him.  

“Peeta?”

Oh god

“He’s not breathing!” She panics, fingers fumbling to find a pulse. She shakes him, “He’s not breathing !”

Finnick is suddenly shoving her aside, and she stumbles back. 

No

She immediately reaches for an arrow from her quiver, but pauses when she sees him…kissing Peeta? No he’s- he’s doing CPR.

She drops the bow, crawling forward as she grasps Peeta’s hand.

“Peeta,” tears are already in her eyes, her heart racing, “please wake up,”

She can’t lose him. Not like this. Not so quickly. Not ever .

Finnick keeps switching between chest compressions and mouth to mouth, occasionally stopping to check his pulse. It might only be a minute but it feels like an eternity. Each time Finnick picks back up Katniss feels her heart drop.

Suddenly she’s sobbing. She can’t help it. The tears pour, and she grips his hand tight, rocking as she begs him to wake up. 

“Please Peeta please , please wake up please .”

And then suddenly, he’s gasping for air, choked but there . 

“ Peeta ,” she grabs his face, trembling hands swiping over his hair, “oh god Peeta.”

He swallows, eyes flickering open to look at her. 

“Be careful,” he croaks, “there’s a force field up there.”

She laughs at the sheer absurdity of the comment. Here she is thinking she just lost him, and of course the first thing he says is a joke . 

And without thinking she kisses him. Leans down to capture his lips, mind nowhere else but the thought that “ oh thank god he’s alive” . 

“You were dead ,” she gasps when she pulls back, hands shaking as she swipes over his cheeks, “your heart stopped .”

He licks his lips, “It’s okay,” he breathes, “it’s working now.” 

She crushes him in a hug, burying her face in his shoulder, and is relieved to feel his chest taking in air. 

“I thought I lost you,” she cries, shaking.

“You didn’t,” he whispers, “I’m right here.”

They don’t find water. Finally they decide to just set up camp, because Peeta and Mags need rest. Finnick gathers large leaves to help keep them off the ground while they sleep, and Katniss sets off to go hunting and to search for more water. She’s not very successful. She still doesn’t come across any water, and traversing through the jungle without making much sound is difficult, not to mention the foliage getting in the way of her shots. Instead she settles on setting up a few traps, and just hopes she’s caught something by morning.

By the time she makes it back to camp Peeta is fast asleep. Finnick is sat next to Mags, weaving grasses into patterns. Katniss doesn’t bother asking what he’s working on, and instead takes a seat next to Peeta. 

She doesn’t realize how tired she is until she leans back against the fallen log behind them, exhaustion falling over her like a heavy blanket. She groans as she stretches out her legs, calves and feet aching. She almost feels light headed, and she’s not sure if that’s from being hot, not having enough water, or a million other things. 

A hand lands on her leg, and she glances down to see Peeta turning over, face just about even with her hip. 

“Catch anything?” He mumbles with a yawn.

She shakes her head, sighing. He hums, and automatically slips a hand up to her stomach. 

“How you feeling?” He asks.

“I should be asking you. You’re the one who almost drowned and then got electrocuted to death.” She huffs.

He snorts, “Sore. Really sore.” He taps a finger against her stomach. “And you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.” 

“Am not!”

“Are too. You sighed so loudly when you sat down you woke me up.”

She sputters. She really can’t get anything past him, can she?

She also realizes that this is the first time in a long time that they’ve playfully bickered like this. The past few months have been too serious and dire leading up to this moment, and they’ve been on such rocky footing. She’s not sure how much of this is just for the cameras, or how much of it is them trying to ease the tension of a very stressful situation. She doesn’t feel like she’s pretending, so she’s not entirely sure. 

“Fine, my legs hurt. Happy?”

His hand leaves her stomach, instead reaching to slip down her calf. “In here?” He asks, and he’s dead on.

“Yeah,” she sighs.

“What about baby?” He asks, thumb digging in along the side of her leg. 

She swallows. “Hungry.”

He chuckles softly, and her eyes slip closed when the cramp in her calf releases, sending tingles down her shin. Her foot curls and flexes, and Peeta grins in satisfaction, tugging at her other leg to bring it closer. 

“Since when did you become a masseuse?”

“Katniss I knead bread all day for a living.”

She snorts, head falling back as he rubs. They spend several moments in silence, and Katniss lets her eyes slip closed. It’s a steady beeping that draws closer that has them all looking towards the trees. It’s a parachute. 

Finnick is the first up to retrieve the parcel that lands in a bush. Katniss pushes herself to her feet to join him. He cracks open the box, and Katniss watches as he pulls out a piece of paper. 

“It says ‘drink up, H’,” he reads, pulling out a small contraption and staring at it. 

Katniss takes the note, glancing over it. “It’s from Haymitch.”

“Yes, I figured that's what ‘H’ stood for.” Finnick snarks, handing her the object. “Any clue what this is?”

It’s metal, and heavy. Katniss turns it in her fingers. There’s a valve, and she messes with the mechanism. It looks strikingly familiar, but Katniss can’t place what it is. “It…almost looks like a faucet.”

Finnick snorts, “Yeah, I’m sure they just have a sink laying around somewhere.”

Katniss ignores him, thumbing over a particularly sharp edge. She turns it over once more, and suddenly the fuzzy memory comes to her; one from years and years ago in the woods, when her father taught her how to tap maple trees for their sap.

“It’s a spile!” She gasps, “Mags- the spike I gave you earlier, I need it.” 

She still can’t place what the tool’s name is, but she distinctly remembers her father using something similar to it to drill holes in the trees so it was easier to hammer in the spiles.

Mags carefully pulls the weapon from her belt, handing it over with a smile. Katniss thanks her, and kicks through the leaves on the ground for a rock of some sort. She finds a good sized cobble, and then takes a seat next to one of the trees.

Finnick watches her as she starts to stab and hammer a hole into the bark.  “What are you doing?”

“The trees probably have water.”

“…yeah that totally makes sense.”

“Maple trees- they have sap. My dad used to collect it to make maple syrup, using a spile. Haymitch wants us to tap the trees for water.”

Finnick offers to help after that, but she waves him off. Very quickly liquid is dribbling from the hole, and hammering in the spile is far easier than it should be. She turns the valve, and water comes trickling out like a faucet, far faster than she expects. She bends to take a drink. It’s not very cold, but it’s water and she’s beyond thirsty. 

Finnick comes over with a large leaf, and Katniss moves to let him drink. He cups the leaf to let it gather water, and then carefully walks it over to Mags. Katniss finds another, and does the same to carry over to Peeta.

Peeta pushes himself up to sit, obviously sore. His hands cup hers as she holds it to his lips, blue eyes watching her as he drinks. 

“Thank you,” he sighs when he’s done, squeezing her hand.  

She smiles sheepishly, and then goes back for more. They all take turns drinking until the trickling starts to slow. Finnick borrows Peeta’s machete to chop down a few pieces of bamboo. He cuts notches and weaves a string, and suddenly they have a makeshift water bottle, that he fills up until the water stops. Katniss pulls the spile and tucks it in her jumpsuit for safe keeping. 

By the time they’re done the sun has set, and the sky lights up with the anthem. They all watch in silence as faces bloom in the sky. Peeta gasps when he sees Seeder. 

“She saved me from the district five tribute.” He whispers to Katniss. “He tried to drown me, at the very start.”

Katniss does not like the sound of that, to know that he was in trouble and she had no way of knowing. But she’s glad at least Seeder saved him. And she wishes she could have done the same for Seeder. She deserved so much more.

The sky goes dark, and they all sit in a mournful silence. Finally Finnick speaks up, with a shaking voice.

“I’ll take first watch. The rest of you should get some rest.” 

Katniss glances back at him. “That’s okay. I’ll stay awake.”

Finnick’s eyebrows furrow. “Katniss, you should really sleep. You need the rest.”

“I agree,” Peeta voices next to her, a hand swooping to rest on her stomach for what feels like the thirtieth time. As if she could ever forget. 

Katniss looks down at him, fixing him with a glare. She doesn’t trust Finnick. And she doesn’t want to. Peeta grasps one of her hands, pushing it to his chest, over where his heart is.

“Feel,” he whispers, “Still beating, because Finnick saved me. If he wanted us dead, he wouldn’t have done that. He’d already have tried to kill us.”

Katniss can’t help but want to complain that it’s possible Finnick only did that to lull them both into a false sense of security, just so it’s easier to betray and kill them later when they won’t be expecting it. 

“Fine,” Finnick speaks up, “whatever, suit yourself.” He simply shrugs, standing up to take position higher up on the hill they’ve settled against. 

Peeta grumbles when she makes move to find her own vantage point, gripping her hand hard.

“At least stay here. Please ?” He practically pouts, eyes pleading. 

She sighs, too tired to argue, and settles to sit back down next to him. He shifts to rest his head in her lap, keeping hold of her hand. She finds herself combing fingers through his hair out of habit, and he’s quickly asleep. 

In truth she’s exhausted. But the need to survive outweighs that heaviness. At least for a while. Long enough for her to watch storm clouds gather in the twinkling sky, and for lightning to strike a large dead tree located across the arena from them. She counts 12 times. It rouses Peeta, but she whispers him to go back to sleep, and he does. She glances back at Finnick, who looks just as confused as she feels. 

She doesn’t last much longer than that. She desperately tries to fight the slip of her eyelids, but she eventually loses. She’s fast asleep sooner than she realizes.

- - - - -

“Look, Katniss!” 

She turns, and Peeta is sitting against a familiar cave floor. There’s a pristine pale yellow blanket swaddled into his arms. A bright grin breaks his dirty face as he looks down at the bundle of joy, cooing and thumbing dirty fingers over a tiny face she can’t seem to see. His left leg is propped up under a nice fur jacket, something that looks like Effie’s. It’s wildly out of place in the dim cave, as is the blanket. But what catches her attention is his leg.

“Peeta!” She gasps, leaning down to examine him.

His calf and shin are ripped to shreds, muscle and skin hanging off the bone. Dripping blood across the pretty fur jacket. And yet Peeta looks completely unphased, absolutely awestruck by the being in his arms. 

“Peeta!” She shouts, grasping him by his jacket and shaking him, “Peeta what happened!”

This is wrong. It’s all so wrong. They escaped. They escaped . Her gut churns, fear racing up her spine like ice. 

“Look, Katniss. Our baby-“ his eyes meet hers, an ocean of love taking up the depths of blue. 

And his face pales. His smile never slips, but his face sags as the blood drains. 

“Peeta,” she gasps, “Peeta please no-“

Tears well up in her eyes, hands trembling as she twists around, desperate to find anything to make a tourniquet- anything to stop him from bleeding out. 

It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong, this is all so wrong.

She’s out of time. There’s a howl in the distance. Peeta is white as a sheet. 

“Katniss,” he croaks, the smile finally slipping. His eyes draining of color, coming out as blue tears down his cheeks, “you have to leave, Katniss. They’re coming.” 

“Peeta-“ she sobs, clutching him tight, “don’t leave me please- please Peeta-“

“Go, Katniss. Save our baby.” His face hollows, body withering down to skin stretched across tired bones as he uses the last of his energy to push the yellow bundle into her arms. 

It’s a warmth pressed against her chest. A second heartbeat fluttering through her rips, humming in her ears. Delicate, soft, vulnerable. 

It’s fear. Racing in the muscles of her legs as she’s suddenly vaulting through a pitch-black forest, yellow cradled close. Snarling a rage around her, snapping razor teeth at her heels. A moon soaked in blood cascading red around her, filtering into demons in every shadow of every bush and tree.

A cannon booms. 

Tears jolt in her eyes. She couldn’t save Peeta. She can’t ever save Peeta. How is she supposed to save a baby? 

Another cannon. And another. 

And they’re for her. And she knows it, because the thudding in her chest stops. It’s eerily quiet in her ears as the blood stops pumping. Only the gasps of her breath and the sound of her thrashing through the underbrush. 

She’s already dead. The baby is already dead; they both are. 

Lightning shatters the empty sky, and the cornucopia has never looked as ominous as it does now, flashing with light and cast in crimson. 

Howls come from every direction. Beasts ripping out into the clearing from everywhere at the same time she does. It feels like she’s running across the clearing for an eternity. Never able to get to safety. Always trying to escape an inescapable trap. 

She smacks into the metal exterior, a bang as her head spins. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t move fast enough as she tries to scramble up the side. She wants to toss the baby up so she can use her arms to climb, but she can’t. She can’t get up. 

Suddenly a hand grabs her arm, yanking her up the side just before beasts barrel into her. Before she can get her bearings, the yellow bundle is being ripped from her grasp. A dark figure soaked in blood standing over her.

“Katniss has a baby?” A sneering voice, shaken and dripping with fear.

A piercing cry fills the air. Her muscles jolt, but her heart is deathly still. 

“Cato-“ she gasps.

“You should know better than that, Katniss.” Cato is gripping the bundle with one hand, dangling it out over the edge menacingly. 

Her bow is gone. She has no weapons. She scrambles to her feet.

“Move and I drop it.” He warns.

“Cato please- please it’s just a baby-“

“No child is safe in Panem! You can’t escape Katniss!“

She sees the action before it happens. She dives forward, arms outstretched to catch the baby as it falls, crying and wailing. She simultaneously barrels into him, sending him slipping off the side into snapping jaws.

She clutches the yellow bundle close to her chest as she scrambles back from the edge. She trembles as she tries to soothe its cries. There is no warmth, no second heartbeat in her ribs. Nothing about this is delicate or soft. She rocks as Cato screams, being ripped limb from limb. She shuts her eyes closed, whispering “it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” into a blood soaked blanket. 

Cato’s cries fade. A cannon booms.

But the dogs don’t leave. The sun never comes. 

Dread sinks into her stomach. And she realizes what she’s being forced to do. 

“No,” she whimpers, clutching the baby close, “no no no no no-“

“Oh sweetheart,” a familiar drawl from behind her.

“Haymitch?” she gasps, spinning around to look for him.

He’s standing on the other side of the cornucopia, where the opening of the mouth dips up into the sky. He’s dressed in a crisp, cleanly pressed, light grey Capital suit, backlit red by the scarlet moon serving as a halo around his head. And it’s all wrong . His slacks are soaked in blood. And he clutches his stomach to try and hold in the intestines that are fighting to tumble out, crimson bubbling between his fingers.

“Haymitch!“ she shouts, shaking as she tries to get to her feet.

“Katniss!”

He sways across the cornucopia towards her as if drunk, “You should know better Katniss,” he says, “victors can’t ever escape the games.”

She frantically hands him the baby, and he holds it in one arm as she presses against his stomach, desperate to keep him together.

“Oh god- Haymitch-“ she tries to tug him down to sit, so she can try to help him. But he’s stock still.

“You can’t keep getting away with twisting the rules,” he sighs, “You have to play the game. You chose this. You should know better.”

And when she looks up at him, it’s President Snow. That devilishly innocent smile on his twisted face.

“Katniss!”

It happens so fast she barely sees it. He chucks the yellow blanket off the cornucopia. She screams, letting him go. She tries to scramble after it, desperate to catch it, but it’s like her body is being held back. She watches it arc through the air, landing in the mass of writhing beasts below with a blood curdling wail that shakes her down to the core. She watches as it’s ripped to pieces by flashing teeth, that high pitched crying rattling in her bones as she screams. 

“NOOO!”

She jolts up, her chest heaving. 

“Katniss!” An arm snakes around her. 

She immediately thrashes against the body that holds her, hands flying. She connects, but they don’t let go. There’s tears in her eyes and she can barely see; she’s running purely on terror and instinct. Panic laced through every fiber of every muscle. 

“Katniss! It’s a nightmare!” Hands catch her wrists, holding her back. She struggles to break against them, “It was a nightmare Katniss- it wasn’t real. It’s not real.” 

The words barely register in her head. She’s too busy trying to fight back, too busy sobbing over the image that keeps replaying in her head. The blood, the cries, the wails. She’s screaming. She needs to escape. Escape escape escape .

“Katniss look at me ,” she’s abruptly shaken by her arms, startling her.

She gasps, blinking. 

“Look at me Katniss, please ,” and she recognizes the voice as familiar. “It’s Peeta- I’m right here. It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real.”

She desperately blinks, chest heaving as she wails. One of the hands holding her wrists releases her, instead coming up to cup her cheek. It gently wipes her tears. It’s calloused. It’s warm. It’s familiar. 

“Peeta,” she gasps, melting into him with a sob.

“There you are,” he breathes in relief, strong arms wrapping around her and pulling her close. 

She shoves her face into his neck, gasping in his smell. Of sweat and boy and bread and Peeta . She trembles, clutching tightly at the fabric of his jumpsuit, hiccuping as she cries.

“Shhh,” he hushes her, “it’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s okay. It wasn’t real. Just a nightmare.”

She can’t stop shaking. He squeezes her tight. 

“Guys?” The voice has Katniss snapping to attention, sucking up her cries, shoulders bristling. 

She looks over at Finnick, and feels her stomach plummet when she realizes where she is. She wishes all of this could have been a nightmare.

Peeta’s eyebrows furrow at the mist slowly creeping towards them. Katniss watches as Finnick hesitantly reaches out. He lets out a cry, yanking back.

“Run!” He shouts, scrambling across the rocks to grab Mags, “the fog is poisonous!” 

Adrenaline snaps her into action. She reaches across Peeta to grab her bow, and he leans back to yank his machete from a log he left it in. They both jump up, and Katniss follows him as they tumble over the rocks and down the slope. 

The mist creeps up on them faster than expected. It starts pouring in from every direction. Peeta slips across a patch of mud as they turn, and Katniss just barely catches him by the arm and pulls him back to his feet to keep running. Somehow she loses sight of Finnick and Mags when she glances behind her. She doesn’t have time to shout out for them, because something catches her foot and she’s pitched forward into the ground. She barely catches herself, groaning as she lands wrong on her wrist. Peeta immediately skids to a stop, glancing back. 

“Katniss!” He shouts, and suddenly he’s at her side, trying to pull her up.

“I’m caught,” she gasps, yanking. 

Peeta reaches out to pull her foot from the root she’s tangled herself in. He cries out in pain, hissing as the fog creeps into them. He blocks her from the brunt of it, but it still sears welts across her skin. She claws her way up as soon as she’s free, yanking at his arm to get him moving. He howls, muscles seizing up as boils ripple across his hands and neck.

“Peeta come on!” She screams, and he trembles to his feet and staggers after her. 

Katniss hears Finnick howling to her right, and glances over to see him dropping Mags in pain as the smoke catches up to them. Mags just barely manages to hop back on and Finnick books it towards them as she and Peeta come stumbling down the slope. They manage to get a few yards of distance before Peeta is collapsing next to her.

“Peeta!” She shouts, reaching down to turn him over.

Finnick drops down with her, and Katniss watches in horror as Peeta seizes and shakes. 

“I can’t carry him,” she cries, looking up at Finnick. 

There’s a brief second, where they both make eye contact, and Katniss knows this is the end. There’s nothing they can do.

And then Mags is turning Finnicks face towards her. She presses a big kiss to his cheek, a hand squeezing his shoulder. And then she turns. 

“Mags? Mags. Mags !” Finnick calls after her as she walks directly into the mist.

Katniss grabs his arm to stop him from going after her. Katniss can’t look away at the shadow that curls into itself, a horrible cry of pain filling the trees as it trembles and collapses. 

Finnick wails, “MAGS!” 

Katniss yanks on his arm, “Finnick we have to go.” 

The cannon booms, and she feels it in her chest. He looks at her slack jawed, eyes already brimming with tears. 

“We have to get out of here. Help me get him up.” 

Katniss is already trying to haul Peeta to his feet, and Finnick finally snaps to, throwing an arm under Peeta’s shoulder. The three of them struggle through the tight trees, Peeta huffing and puffing in pain as he tries to keep up. The mist is catching up to them, and Katniss can already feel it hissing at her neck. 

None of them see the drop off coming. She slips first, and Peeta and Finnick come tumbling down the hill after her. Arrows fly from her quiver as she rolls. A branch wacks into her side, and she loses grip of her bow as the air is knocked out of her. She lands at the bottom with a heavy thud . Peeta and Finnick are close behind.

She gasps for air, clutching her stomach. She can’t rouse herself to her feet. Her body refuses. Instead she just watches as death rolls closer and closer. 

She doesn’t have time to process that this is the end. Not as the fog seemingly hits a wall, right in front of her, curling up towards the sky. And then it recedes, disappearing as if it never existed. 

She drops her head back, closing her eyes as she tries to breathe. Finnick coughs to her right. She hears Peeta’s struggled breathing to her left. She doesn’t want to move. 

The sound of trickling water makes her glance up. She almost laughs at the sight of the small pool next to them. They spent nearly all of yesterday searching, and it was only a sprint towards the beach and a tumble down a short cliff away. 

She’s reminded of how thirsty she is, and suddenly she has the strength to pull herself across the ground to its edge. She dips in her hands to cup some to her lips, but she doesn’t get much further past her wrists before she’s crying out. Pain laces across her skin, and then quickly dissipates. She gasps, rubbing at the back of her hand as the boils seep away into the water.

“The water,” she gasps, “the water helps.”

Peeta barely manages to claw his way over to her, dipping in a hand. She’s already sliding in, hissing as the boils steam away. Peeta follows after her. 

She has to help him when she’s done. His entire left side is covered, splayed across his back. She can feel them as she helps him rub them out. He cries out in pain, shaking as she hushes his cries. When they’re done they silently float on their backs, side by side in the small pool. The water is cool, and it feels amazing against her skin. This jungle is hot as hell.

“Are you okay?” He asks gruffly.

“Probably,” she whispers. “You?”

He grunts. “I’m alive.” He slips a hand to her stomach. “What about baby.”

Katniss closes her eyes. Feels her skin crawl when she recalls the nightmare Peeta woke her up from. 

“We should get Finnick.” Is all she says.

Finnick is in tears when they retrieve him. Katniss doesn’t know what to say to him. He probably hates them, because of how Mags sacrificed herself for them. Peeta doesn’t say anything either. They gently pull him to the water, carefully pushing him back. He recoils and screams, boils hissing. Katniss hadn’t quite realized how bad the mist had gotten him. 

He silently weeps as they start to rub him free of his welts, and Katniss feels pity for him. She knows what it’s like to lose a friend to this cruel arena. They all do.

“Peeta.” She whispers. “We need our weapons.”

Peeta doesn’t say a word. He slips away back up the hill, and Katniss takes a shaky breath as she continues to help Finnick rub out blisters. They’re both silent. Katniss can hear Peeta stomping around in search of their gear behind them; he’s never been very quiet in the woods. 

“I’m sorry about Mags.” Katniss finally manages to say. 

Finnick is quiet at first. And then softly, “She was never going to make it anyway.”

“I’m probably missing some arrows, but I found everything else,” Peeta interrupts them, quite loudly.

Katniss turns to look back at him. He’s looking down at the arrows in his hands, their small pack of  supplies and the bow slung over his shoulder and the machete and trident tucked under one of his arms. He’s completely unaware of the large monkey mutts sitting in the trees around them. 

“Peeta,” Katniss breathes, eyes scanning. Finnick slowly rises out of the water. “Walk over here. Very slowly.”

Peeta looks up at her, confusion on his face. The monkey directly to his right roars, and he goes stock still in the face of giant fangs.

The monkeys begin to hoot and howl, circling around them. Peeta inches towards them, and Katniss carefully pulls the bow off of him, quietly slipping the arrows back into her quiver. Finnick takes his trident. Katniss notches an arrow against the bow string, and they work themselves back to back, turning to face the beasts. 

A glinting to her right catches her eye. And she sees the cornucopia glistening in the rising sun. It’s not extremely far of a sprint. If they time it right they might make it.

“Head for the beach.” She whispers. 

Finnick takes the first step. And then all hell breaks loose.

She’s firing arrows at everything that comes flying towards her, wrist and side aching in response from her run through the woods. One barrels into her, sending her splashing into the pool and underwater. She pushes back the snapping jaws with her bow, fighting to get back to the surface. A hand yanks her up. A blade stabs the mutt, and she’s pushed towards the beach. 

“Run Katniss!” Peeta shouts, vaulting out ahead of her.

She bolts. They skid under a branch, and Katniss can almost hear the waves if she listens hard enough. 

Something flies into her, throwing her against a log. Peeta gets pitched forward, machete falling from his hand as he tries to catch his fall. Another monkey comes snapping at Katniss’s heels, and she tries to kick it away, glancing over just in time to see someone jumping out from the cover of the bushes to block the mutt flying towards Peeta.

Finnick stabs the mutt at Katniss’s feet, and Peeta gets the one mauling the person on the ground.

“Who is that?” Katniss gasps.

“It’s a morphling! Help me get her up!” 

Katniss grasps her by the arm, and Peeta practically hauls her up and over his shoulder like a giant sack of flour. She must not weigh all that much, because Peeta barely looks to be struggling as he takes off for the beach. Katniss stays in hot pursuit.

All three of them crash into the water, Finnick rolling out of the forest after them. The monkeys come to a screeching halt at the forest edge, hooting and howling as they lash out, but never stepping onto the sand. Finnick keeps his trident trained on them anyways, just to be safe.

“Hey,” Peeta’s voice is soft, and it has Katniss looking away from the tree line.

Peeta slowly lowers the morphing into the water, holding her head up to see the sky, “Look up,” he whispers, brushing hair out of her face, “look at the sky. It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“My favorite color is orange. But not bright orange. Orange like the sunset.” 

Katniss is silent, watching as Peeta soothes the morphling, talking about all the pretty colors in the clouds. And painting. Brushstrokes and shapes and shading. Life slowly slips from those fearful eyes, blood seeping into the water around them. But there’s a sense of peace on that dirty face. Katniss finds herself reaching out to wipe it from the woman’s forehead. Cleaning off her cheeks. Nose. Under her eyes. Taking a shuddering breath as color drains from her face, just like Peeta’s in her dream.

A cannon booms. Katniss feels it reverberate in her chest; they all do. They push her out into the water. They’re silent as she floats off. 

The monkeys have left. Finnick is walking down the beach. Peeta stays in the water. Katniss grabs his hand. He squeezes. 

“She sacrificed herself for me and I didn’t even know her name.” He whispers.

“You think she sacrificed herself?” Katniss looks at him.

He swallows. “That’s what it looked like.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Katniss breathes, eyes trained on his face.

First Seeder. Then Finnick. Then Mags. Now a morphling? People keep going out of their way, making huge sacrifices, just to save Peeta. Katniss doesn’t know what that means. If somehow Haymitch has kept to his word, and he’s gone above and beyond to convince people to keep Peeta alive at all costs, because Peeta is good and he deserves to live. But convincing someone to put their life on the line, to sacrifice themselves , just for a promise? Because Haymitch said so? The only thing Katniss can come up with is that they see it too. They understand, how special Peeta is. That he needs to make it out of this, because he needs to, he deserves it more than anyone here. That it’s worth it. 

But it still doesn’t make sense. People aren’t good like that. People don’t act with kindness unless they have something to gain. People don’t do that , unless they’re Peeta.

The sound of whirling blades has them both looking up. They stand in silence as a carrier comes down and retrieves the floating body.

Finnick catches them some fish. Katniss’s stomach growls at the proposition of food. She already feels light headed from the lack of sustenance, and it’s only been a day. 

Katniss watches him as he filets the fish, well practiced hands efficiently cutting flesh from bone in single slices. Scooping out guts with the end of a sharp knife, and tossing them into the sand.

Katniss has to look away, then, because it reminds her of Cato. And Haymitch. And the Baby.

“You okay?” Peeta asks, noticing her face going sour.

“Do you remember Haymitch’s games.” She whispers, staring out at the water instead.

It’s not a question. Because of course Peeta does; he’s poured himself over every single victor's tapes over and over again ever since the Quarter Quell was announced. They’ve both seen Haymitch’s game. Watched it together, late one night in Peeta’s living room. It was a silent agreement when Peeta had brought it up; they needed to watch it, but Haymitch shouldn’t be present. It felt forbidden. Sacred. And yet it gave them the best indication of what to possibly expect in the Quarter Quell. 

The ending is still harrowing. A young Haymitch, a child , stumbling fearfully through the woods, desperate to escape death. Hands clutching at his belly, all that’s holding his insides in , a blood soaked trail behind him. And then the axe, narrowly missing his head. Hitting the force field, and bouncing back to thunk into a young girl's skull. 

“Yeah.” He breathes. And he seems to understand exactly what she means, because he’s flinching as Finnick guts another fish. 

“He was in my dream.” She whispers. “Like that.”

Peeta is quiet for a moment. 

“You said his name.”

She looks up at him.

“You were crying, and shaking, and I was trying to wake you up. But you wouldn’t.” He looks down at his legs, picking at a loose thread, “That was probably one of the worst you’ve had in a while.”

It’s not. He just hasn’t been around to see them. And he probably knows that. But he doesn’t say it. 

“Bone apple teeth, lovebirds,” Finnick interrupts, walking over with the filets on a large leaf, a cheeky grin on his lips, “lunch is served.”

“Bone apple what ?” Peeta looks up at him incredulously. 

Finnick shrugs, “You’ve never heard that before? Annie says it all the time. I think it’s an old saying. Like before the dark ages or something.” He settles down to sit with them, laying the leaf out between them.

Peeta just shrugs, reaching out to grab one without hesitation. Katniss falters.

A moment ago she was hungry. But suddenly she can’t fathom putting raw fish in her mouth. She’s never really been a picky eater; when you grow up starving you’re used to taking whatever you can get. So her reluctance feels foreign. But her stomach screams no . 

“Eat, Katniss.” Peeta prompts her softly, picking up a filet and handing it to her.  

She stares down at it. “I…I don’t think I can.” She breathes. 

And suddenly the smell of fish is overwhelming, nausea rumbling in her stomach. 

“Try, please?” Peeta pleads, far softer than she deserves. “You need to eat. For you and-“

Before he can even finish his sentence Katniss is bolting up to puke into the bushes. She drops the filet, stomach jolting. Nothing comes out but a little water and stomach acid, but her body continues to heave anyways. 

Peeta is immediately at her side, pulling her braid back and gathering loose strands. Just like he’s done the past week. A warm hand brushing over her shoulders. 

She’s crying. Suddenly everything is so incredibly overwhelming, forcing down on her from every angle, and she can’t stop the tears that race down her cheeks. Body shaking as she cries, still leaned over into the edge of the forest. It feels like her throat is closing in, and she’s gasping for air, body going tingly. There’s a sharp pang in her chest, and she desperately gasps for air, trembling hands gripping through the sand. 

“Katniss? Are you okay?” Peeta asks.

She shakes, and she can’t breathe, and oh god she can’t breathe . 

“Katniss,” Peeta is grabbing her by the hips to pull her away from the forest edge, tilting to try and see her face.

She clutches at him as he reaches out, barely able to get the words out through struggling sobs. “Can't- breathe-“

Finnick is suddenly hovering over both of them, and she manages to glance over at him.

“Breathe, Katniss. In through your nose, out your mouth.”

She’s shaking too bad to tell him she can’t . 

Peeta sits and pulls her against him, face covered in worry.

“Pinch her nose and cover her mouth,” Finnick sighs, crouching down with them.

“What?”

“She’s having a panic attack. We have to restart her breathing,” Finnick states, as if any of that makes sense. “Pinch your nose Katniss.”

She can’t. She’s shaking too hard to be able to. Suddenly, Peeta does for her. She tries to whack his hands away, but he holds her tight, and she’s forced to gasp through his fingers at her mouth. Finally he lets go, and she takes in a big gulp of air.

“There we go, breathe Katniss. Big breaths,” Finnick coaxes, and Peeta rubs over her arms. 

She tires, chest shaking and limbs trembling as her heart races. It feels like being chased, like running for her own life. Peeta presses kisses to the top of her head, whispering softly into her hair. She doesn’t really hear what he says, but whatever it is it helps calm her, and suddenly she’s laying limp in his arms. There’s a moment of silence. Finnick seems to relax, checking their surroundings. And then suddenly the overwhelming feeling just comes tumbling out of her lips.

“I’m tired,” she cries, “I’m so tired,” and she is. Exhaustion weighs on her bones; it has for weeks. “My back hurts. My side hurts. My head hurts. My feet hurt. My wrist hurts. My stomach hurts. Everything hurts Peeta.”

She’s like a child, listing every single complaint she can think of. Throwing a temper tantrum because she doesn’t have what she wants. This is so unlike her. Katniss doesn’t complain, not like this. And yet she can’t stop it. The tears flow and they’re absolutely uncontrollable. Her throat closes up and hurts from the tears.

He runs a thumb across her cheek, “Stomach hurts because you’re hungry? Or nauseous? Or stomach hurts as in the baby?”

And she doesn’t know. She can’t tell. She’s just upset . “I don’t know,” she whines.

“Okay. That’s okay.” Peeta stands up. “How about we get you some water first?” He suggests gently.

She nods into his leg, and he shifts to reach for their bag. She grips him tight.

“No,” she whimpers. Peeta is safe. She needs safe . 

“I need to get you water Katniss. I’m not going far.”

She doesn’t let go. She can’t. 

“I’ll get it,” Finnick sighs. 

“Thank you,” Peeta breathes.

Suddenly Katniss feels guilty. “I’m sorry,” she gasps, “I’m so sorry- please -“

Peeta drops back down to hold her, frowning as he brushes hair from her face. He’s so gentle, and kind , and it makes her cry harder . 

“For what?” He asks, tucking hair behind her ear.

“I’m complaining,” she huffs, “We- we’re all tired- a-and I’m just complaining. I can’t stop crying-“

“It’s panic and the hormones, darling.” Finnick calls over. “Honestly I’m impressed you’ve lasted this long without freaking out yet.”

He’s suddenly handing Peeta a bamboo stalk; he’d remade a water bottle after losing the last one in all the chaos of fog and monkeys. Peeta holds it to Katniss’s lips, and she basically chugs it. Breaking out into another bout of tears as soon as it’s all gone. 

“I want to go home ,” she’s crying, “I don’t want to kill people,” her nose runs uncontrollably as she breaks, “I don’t want to die.”

She’d told herself that she had accepted it. That she’d already come to terms with the fact that one way or another, this arena was going to be the end of her. And up until this point she’s been able to keep that up. She’s been able to keep pushing on, like she always does. Because she has no other choice.

But that’s a lie. She’s not ready to die. She doesn’t want to die. And this is all just so much, and she snaps. She can’t do this anymore. And she can’t stop any of it. She’s tired of having no control. She’s tired of being forced to pretend. She’s tired of being told what to do, what to say, what to wear. She’s tired of the illusion of choice. She’s tired of never feeling safe. 

She wants it to stop. All of this. She wants to go home. She wants to hug her mother and sister. She wants to curl up on her couch. She wants to go hunting in the woods with Gale. She wants to eat cheese buns and watch Peeta paint. She wants to have their baby and never have to fear losing it. She wants the games to never exist. She wants to be safe , finally safe . She wants to have control .

But none of that is possible. So instead she cries. Fisting handfuls of sand. Trembling as Peeta holds more water to her lips. She ceases just long enough for another chug, and then she’s back to gasping for air.

Peeta hushes her. Pulling her face into the crook of his neck. A hand tracing patterns up her arm.

“I want to go home too,” he breathes softly, patting her hair, “I want to go home and build a nursery. Paint animals on the wall. Bicker over names. Bake you so many cheese buns and watch you get big and fat.” he presses a kiss to her temple, a hand sliding to her stomach.

And he’s back to playing their game. Putting on their show, where they’re happy and in love and live in a perfect little bubble of paradise. And Katniss is sick of it .

But it’s necessary. Because Peeta has to remind people that Katniss doesn’t really mean what she says; it’s the “baby brain” that’s denouncing the games, not her. 

“Me too,” she barely squeaks, because something in the back of brain tells her she needs to.

He presses another kiss to her temple, and then he squeezes her tighter. They rock, slowly, and Katniss’s tears slowly dry up. Until she’s laying against him absolutely exhausted.

Smoke fills her nose, and she glances over to see Finnick cooking the remaining filets over a small fire. 

Peeta presses a kiss to her hair. “How about this,” he whispers, “I’ll rebraid your hair as you eat, so it’s out of your face. And then we can address all those places you hurt. And then we can take a little nap. Okay?” 

She nods numbly against his collar. 

Peeta hums, shifting to pull her towards the fire. She leans into him as they sit across from Finnick, who silently hands Katniss a filet.

“This better?” He asks.

She nods, pulling meat away from scales. It’s good. And her stomach allows it, finally. She doesn’t quite realize how quickly she’s eating. Peeta hands her another. And then another. And then suddenly there’s one filet left, and she pauses. 

“Wait-“ she starts, “I ate both of yours.”

Peeta is already shaking his head. “It’s okay-“

“I can go catch more fish, Katniss. There’s plenty. Eat.” Finnick assures her, pushing the last one her way. 

Katniss flushes. She feels guilty. 

“Don’t.” She whispers.

Finnick raises an eyebrow. “Don’t what?”

She sets her jaw. “Don’t- don’t go out of your way to do things for me just because I’m pregnant.”

And that’s really only part of it; this entire time, Finnick has been so incredibly kind and caring. And Katniss doesn’t trust that. The only person’s kindness she can trust is Peeta’s, because Peeta is just disgustingly sweet. And it’s only going to hurt more later, when she has to kill Finnick. Or when Finnick kills her.

Finnick looks at her blankly for a moment. And then a smile quirks at his lips.

“Ya know,” he shifts to get on his feet, “I was going to say ‘sometimes it’s not always about you , Katniss’,” he picks up his trident, “But it actually kind of is. So yes, I’ll be catching us more fish.”

He waltzes off, leaving both of them perplexed.

“This guy’s weird.” Peeta says after a moment.

Katniss scoffs. “I think we’re all probably a little weird.”

Peeta sighs. And Katniss feels his fingers fiddling with her hair band. “I said I was going to braid your hair and then I never did.”

“You don’t have to.” She whispers, watching as Finnick sifts through the sand till he finds the fish guts from earlier.

Peeta tugs the hairband off. Thick fingers comb through her hair, unraveling the waves. “I think we’d all appreciate if it wasn’t in your face the next time you puke, so you don’t smell like vomit all day.” 

“Says the guy who smells like greasy pizza and ass sweat.”

Peeta scoffs, nudging her shoulder. “Yeah well in case you haven’t noticed, this place is hot as hell and they aren’t exactly dropping deodorant from the skies, are they?” 

Katniss giggles, head tilting back as Peeta scratches at her scalp. She watches as Finnick tosses the fish guts into the water, trident posed and ready to spear.

“You don’t smell so hot either, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta grumbles, fingers beginning to section off her hair.

“You’re doing from the top?” She asks, watching as Finnick catches a fish.

He hums.

“I didn’t teach you that.” 

“Prim did.” He says softly. 

Katniss blinks. She hadn’t realized they spend time together. 

“You aren’t the most open of books.” Peeta says, “and she’s clever. Sold me on a little deal.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” He hums, “said she’d teach me about herbs and first aid and stuff if I taught her how to bake and paint. Told me it would be useful for the Quarter Quell, if I knew about first aid stuff. And she offered to spill your secrets. But she didn’t spill much. She’s almost as stubborn as you are.”

Katniss smiles softly. “What did she teach you.”

Peeta hums, fingers slipping through Katniss’s hair as he grabs more sections to braid in. “Taught me how to make a more effective tourniquet. Also told me about salt helping keep wounds clean or something. Or like, preventing infection. And something about pollucies or something and this purple flower. I can’t remember it’s name.” He pauses, “Said mint helps with indigestion and upset stomach. And White willow bark can help with pain. Probably won’t be able to find any of that in here, though.”

Katniss hums. “Probably not.”

Finnick catches another fish. Katniss watches him kill it and then chuck it onto the beach with the first. 

“Willow is a pretty name.” Peeta breathes softly.

It catches Katniss off guard. She turns to look back at him. He’s almost reached the end of her braid. She catches his eyes, just briefly.

“Sorry.” He whispers, blue eyes flickering back down to her hair.

Katniss swallows. Turns back around. She hasn’t even allowed herself to think of names. Since the moment she’s known, she’s known the Quarter Quell would never allow for a future. So a name was out of the question.

“It is.” She says softly. 

Peeta kisses her shoulder. Ties off the end of her braid with the hairband, and then stands up to stretch. 

She gazes out at the water and along the beach. They haven’t done the best job at keeping an eye out for other victors; they should probably be more careful. She hates being out in the open, but the forest doesn’t seem any safer. 

Finnick walks over with three more fish, and he guts and filets them faster than he did the previous three. Katniss keeps her eyes on the beach. Doesn’t take his offers of any more fish. She’s had enough, and she’s already feeling guilty about her outburst from earlier.

Peeta eats next to her. 

A scream opposite of the cornucopia makes them all look up. Katniss gasps as a giant wave comes crashing through the trees. There’s more screams. A cannon booms. They all get up, ready to run. Water roars as it crashes into the lake, but it stops up against invisible walls, keeping between the rock barriers that cut the lake into sections. 

They’re all silent as they watch the water recede. They hesitantly settle back to the sand, watching as another hovercraft comes by to pick up a body. 

“I wonder who.” Peeta breathes. 

Katniss doesn’t want to know. She wants to not care, about any of these people. Because that makes it easier. 

Peeta finishes his fish, and then he’s brushing a hand across her shoulders.

“How’s the tummy?” He asks.

In truth she hurts just about everywhere. Her stomach feels squeamish, but it’s not quite nausea, but more just nerves and not wanting to be stuck here.

“It’s okay.” She says. 

Peeta hums. “Which side did you say hurt?” He asks, a thumb gently pushing along the edge of her shoulder blade. 

It's her left side. Right wrist. Right ankle. Could be worse, she guesses. It could be her left wrist. Which would make shooting much harder. 

“Left.” She whispers. “I think I sprained my wrist and ankle a tiny bit when I fell in the forest.” She says softly, not wanting Finnick to hear her.

Peeta’s hands are delicate as he prods at her side. All of it is sore, but his fingers push over one rib and it has her flinching. He tuts. His hand slides along the rib to her back, a knuckle pressing against the side of her spine. There’s a knot there, and it nearly steals her breath as he carefully digs in. She slowly melts into his hands as they carefully and delicately work out the tension she holds in her back, all the way down to her hips. He finally smooths his plams over her shoulders, and she falls back against his chest. He places a kiss to her temple, and then her cheek, and she allows it. It feels nice.

“Thank you,” she whispers, and he just hums, leaning to place more kisses against her face. 

They watch Finnick as he weaves more grass, probably more out of boredom than an actual need to make anything.

“How about you take a nap, and me and Finnick will keep watch,” Peeta offers, “I’ll stay right here, so no nightmares.” He rubs a hand up her arm.

And she is tired. The sheer panic from earlier has left her feeling absolutely drained, and her eyes feel heavy. That and Peeta feels comfortable. And she trusts him. So she does, slowly fade off into sleep. 

When she wakes up the sun is low in the sky, nearly setting. She decides to make more traps, since she lost track of the previous ones. Peeta is reluctant to let her wander off by herself, but he allows it. She’s back before the anthem plays, and they all settle in at the forest's edge, just under the canopy of the jungle but still out on the sand. There’s not many people who died today. Only three. Mags is one of them, and Finnick sniffles. 

“I can take first watch.” She whispers, starting to push herself to stand. 

Peeta grabs her wrist. “Katniss, just- sleep.”

“I already took a nap, I’ll be okay.”

“Katniss,” he sounds exasperated, and his hand clutching her wrist drops onto her thigh, “just- sleep .” He reaches out, slipping to brush her stomach, eyes fluttering up to meet hers, “ Please .”

“Peeta-“

“Sleep, Katniss!” He orders, and there’s a fire in his eyes that tells her he’ll fight her if that’s what it takes.

Peeta almost never orders her to do anything. He only ever asks and pleads. 

So she listens, for once. Because she is exhausted, even with the nap she took. She keeps the arrow quiver on, setting the bow down on his left side as she slides in on his right. He pulls her close with his arm, and she places a hand over his heart, comforted by the thumping. 

She looks up at the sky, through the overhanging branches. It’s full of stars, but the great big moon that hangs suspended over them seems to take up all her attention.

“Cinna told me a story about the moon,” she whispers, and then her heart sinks .

Oh god Cinna . She hasn’t been able to think about that at all until just now. She feels her throat close up with tears. 

“Yeah?” He asks, and his hand rubs at her back. “Tell me about it.”

She swallows the lump in her throat, and tries not to think about what happened right before the games started.

“He said…the ancient people,” and Katniss realizes there’s a lot of ancient people, “The ones…from a really long time ago. I don’t remember their name.”

Peeta’s hand runs up her back, “That’s okay.” He whispers.

Katniss takes a deep breath. Pushes on, because this feels important. Cinna had told her this like it was holy. 

“They had gods.” She whispers, and these names she does remember, “and there were two gods, that were twins. Apollo and Artemis. Apollo- he was- he was light, and truth, and music and poetry and healing. He was the sun.” And she wants to tack on a ‘like you’, because those are things that remind her of Peeta, of brightness and happiness and good things . But Cinna hadn’t said that, only implied it. “Artemis was…she was the hunt. Wilderness, and animals. Protector of children. And the moon.”

The hand at her back lightly traces intricate patterns. And it’s soothing. And she finds herself forging on.

“She always carried a bow, and silver arrows. Rode a golden chariot, pulled by deer. She was…she was smart. Strong. Brave. Fierce.”

“Sounds like you,” Peeta says it fondly, more light-hearted than actually serious, but it makes her choke up.

That’s what Cinna had said. Had told her she could have the power of gods, if she wanted to. That she could halt armies with the wind. Could shoot down evil with silver arrows. Protect thousands of children, with just the love of her heart. Live, and find peace amongst the woods where she grew up.

She’s not sure if she believes him. She’s nothing like Artemis. She’s not brave, or strong, or special at all. She’s scared ; has no idea what she’s doing, and has no idea how to protect anyone . She isn’t capable of the things everyone seems to think she is. The only thing she’s good at is pretending, and there’s times where she’s bad at even that.

The sob breaks through, and it barely gets out her lips, “That’s what he said,” and she squeezes him tight, “But I’m not, Peeta. I’m none of those things.”

He holds her tight, and a hand comes up to cup her face, tugging up her chin to look at him.

“Katniss,” he breathes, and she can barely look at him, “Don’t say that. You are all of those. You are the bravest, strongest person I know,” he swipes at her cheek with his thumb, “You are fierce, in everything you do. You do everything with so much- so much passion . I’ve never seen you give up. You are all those things, and more.” 

He says it with so much fondness. And it makes her chest ache. He means it, believes all of it; isn’t just saying it for the cameras. But Peeta has almost always thought the best of her, even when she’s wronged him. 

She just cries. “I’m scared ,” she blubbers, as if that explains everything.

He frowns, and then crushes her in a tight hug. 

“Me too,” he whispers against her hair.

She cries against his collar, face wedged into his neck as she tries to muffle her cries. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Katniss.” He says, placing a kiss to her head, rubbing over her shoulder and hushing her.

“They killed Cinna,” she gasps against his ear.

He squeezes her tightly. 

“Right before they sent me up. They just- they killed him, right in front of me.” She can’t help the sob that leaves her lips, and he quickly hushes her, pulling her up for a kiss to cut off her cries.

She’s a whimpering mess against his mouth, and she can’t try to play their game for the cameras even if she wanted to. Peeta knows this, as he rubs her spine and cups her cheek to wipe her tears, hushing against her lips as she falls apart with grief. She’s well aware she needs to be quiet if she doesn’t want to draw unwanted attention to themselves. So she buries her face into his chest, shoulders shuddering as she sucks up the sound of each heaving sob against him. Peeta just clutches her tight and lets her cry. There’s nothing he can do, nothing he can say to make any of this any better, and they both know it.

“Breathe, Katniss.” He whispers after a while, when she starts to lose control of her emotions. “Now isn’t the time.” 

And she knows it isn’t. Now isn’t the time to grieve Cinna, when they’re stuck in an arena fighting for their lives, and especially at night when it would be so much harder for them to spot someone creeping up. But there’s also no “after the quarter quell”, when she’d be allowed to. And for once in her life she wants the opportunity to be sad. She wants to be able to be mad at the Capital, at Snow, and not have to hide it. She wants to be able to curse and scream and fight back without whatever wrath those she cares about might face as a result of her selfish actions. 

But Peeta’s right; she can’t. And crying about it right now isn’t going to do anyone any good. And she’s already done so much crying today already. So she sits up. Quickly wipes her eyes and nose with a few swipes of her sleeves. And sets her jaw, mouth clamped shut so she has to breathe through her nose. 

Peeta’s hand rubs her thigh, a sympathetic smile on his lips. She takes a moment to shove it all aside. Compartmentalizing and ignoring things is something she’s gotten scarily good at in the past year. It always comes back to bite her, in the form of flashbacks and nightmares, but in her waking moments she can usually find some sort of resolve; something about letting the primitive part of her brain take over, where she doesn’t have to think, but instead just act . Fight flight or freeze, but preferably not the last.

Peeta pulls her back in close to his side, her cheek resting back against his shoulder, a hand over his heart. The beach isn’t as hot as the jungle, but its still warm, and Peeta is even warmer, but something about his warmth is comforting. It always has been, ever since the cave in their first games. Wrapped up against him is safe. And she’s too tired to fight that fight today, not now. She feels herself slipping asleep faster than expected. And the world goes dark.

- - - - -

When she wakes, Peeta is nowhere to be found. It’s light outside, and through the trees sheltering her from above, she can see the sky is orange. They let her sleep through the entire night. 

“ Peeta ?” She hisses, grabbing her bow and pulling at her quiver for an arrow, automatically notching it against the string.

She hears a laugh down on the shore, and scrambles across the sand to peek down the beach. 

She relaxes when she sees him and Finnick in the lake. It looks like he’s trying to teach Peeta how to fish. She glances around the beach for anyone else, and then carefully makes her way towards them, returning her arrow to its quiver.

“Well good morning sleeping beauty! Had a good rest?” Finnick calls once he sees her. 

She offers a smile, and Peeta beams at her when he turns.

“Look, Katniss! I caught a fish!” He holds one up. It’s just bigger than his hand, but it’s still something.

Finnick chuckles, taking the fish from Peeta to start gutting it. Peeta practically bounces towards her, grabbing one of her hands and tugging her along to walk with him on the beach. They walk through the water that slowly laps up onto the sand, and Peeta kicks through it in search of shells. He finds a few clams, and gathers them as they slowly make their way around the cornucopia. Katniss keeps watch of the forest. She’s surprised they haven’t run into any more tributes yet. Especially since they haven’t been the most careful when it comes to staying quiet and hidden.

They pause as the sun finally raises past the trees, and Peeta watches the sky, squeezing at Katniss’s hand. She’s not focused on the sky.

In the early morning light, Katniss can see just a shadow of stubble scuffing his upper lip and chin, blond glinting in the orange rays. And it catches her attention more than it should. She can’t really remember him ever growing it out. He’s always kept himself clean shaven. In fact, the more she thinks about it, the more she can’t remember him ever having a five o’clock shadow in their games last year.

She wants to reach out. She finds herself doing it. Taking his chin. Rubbing a thumb over the sprouting hair. 

“You have stubble.” She whispers.

“Yeah. That happens when you don’t shave for a while.” Peeta gives her a curious look.

Katniss frowns. And it dawns on her that they’ve gotten older. They aren’t kids anymore. They haven’t been kids for years now, but it’s startling to see that it’s been more than just psychological changes that have affected them since the last time they were thrown into an arena. 

“I guess so.” She whispers.

He catches her wrist, placing a kiss to her fingers. And it feels more intimate than it should be. Strikes her as an odd choice to consciously make just to appease a few cameras; Peeta does it unconsciously. And that scares her.

It scares her more that she doesn’t hate it.

Peeta wedges open a clam with his knife, offering it to Katniss before chucking it back. He’s been eating while Finnick cooks their fish. Just the thought of eating the clams makes her stomach churn, and she continues to wave him off. He starts to crack open another.

“Hah!” He exclaims, and Katniss glances over to see him fish out a black iridescent pearl. He smiles, rolling it in his fingers, and then he hands it out to her, “For you.”

It rolls into her hand, and she thumbs over the slightly warped shape. “Thank you,” she says sincerely.

It’s pretty. And it feels like a token of something promising. 

She looks up, and nearly drops it when she reaches for an arrow, “Someone else is here.”

Finnick glances over, and they watch as three red soaked bodies stumble out onto the beach. 

“Johanna,” Finnick breathes, and suddenly he’s running out towards them, shouting, “Johanna!”

“Finnick?” 

Katniss watches them embrace, and Peeta sighs.

“I guess we have more allies,” he says, and then follows after Finnick.

Katniss swallows the lump in her throat, and puts back the arrow she’d drawn. She tucks Peeta’s pearl into her jumpsuit, next to her heart to keep it safe. And then joins them.

Johanna is raving about blood rain, and Wiress is babbling “tik tok” over and over. Before Katniss can ask what’s wrong with her Johanna is attacking her, screaming at her to shut up. Katniss jumps, shoving Johanna away.

“Leave her alone!”

Finnick immediately drags Johanna away before she can retaliate, and Peeta grasps at Katniss’s arms to hold her back.

“I got them for you !” Johanna shouts, shoving Finnick off of her.

“For me? What does that mean?”

Peeta shakes his head, “Just let it be,” he grumbles, stepping away to help Wiress back to her feet. 

Katniss decides to help Wiress clean off the blood, pulling her into the water. She side-eyes Johanna as Wiress babbles. She’s never particularly liked the district 7 tribute, but now she’s far less fond.

“Tik tok! Tik tok!” Wiress exclaims in excitement, pointing to the cornucopia.

Katniss glances over. “Tik tok?” She repeats, and Wiress nods enthusiastically, saying it again.

And then suddenly it clicks.

“A clock ,” she breathes, glancing at the arena. “It’s a clock- Wiress you genius!”

Twenty minutes later they’re all heading towards the cornucopia, discussing the arena layout. Lightning strikes the tree at 12. Then there’s fog, monkey mutts, blood rain, and a wave. Peeta is sketching out a diagram in the dark sand of the cornucopia when Katniss realizes Wiress has stopped singing. She glances up to see Gloss slitting her throat.

She draws and fires the arrow in a blink of an eye, hitting him right in the chest. Both of them fall back into the water, and two cannons boom around them.

She’s pushed out of the way as Johanna chucks an axe at Cashmere, and Finnick fights off Brutus. Katniss tries but fails to shoot Enobaria, who goes running around the side of the cornucopia, Brutus following after her. Katniss takes off after both of them, Johanna in hot pursuit. 

And then all of a sudden the ground shakes. She falls, and Johanna barely catches her, both of them splayed on the ground as the central island starts to turn underneath them. Katniss clutches at the rocks, but the spinning is quickly becoming too fast, and it hurts . Gear and weapons come flying out of the mouth of the cornucopia, and the water roars all around them as it just keeps spinning . Her grip is slipping. Johanna tries to grab her before she goes flying off, but misses her hand.

Pain is the first thing she feels, as she whacks directly into one of the rock walls, fire racing up her ribs. And then she’s plunged into cold water and darkness. She’s stunned as she sinks, head reeling from the momentum and crash. 

She doesn’t realize she’s being hauled up until suddenly she recognizes the screaming of her lungs. She gasps when she breaks to the surface, and her ribs complain. Finnick is dragging her to the rocks. Peeta pulls her out of the water, hands slipping over her face as she coughs.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He’s panicking.

She’s really not, but she nods yes anyways. He helps her to her feet and ushers her towards the shore. She just about collapses to the sand with a gasp. Peeta sits with her, worrying over her. She tries to focus on just breathing . 

The others try to gather what’s left of the supplies at the cornucopia, and Finnick hands her new arrows when he returns back to the beach, since she lost hers in the water. She barely gets out a thank you before a shrill scream from the forest interrupts them. 

“ Katniss !” 

She immediately sits up, side and back on fire as fear fills her veins. 

“Prim?” She calls, scrambling to her feet when her sister calls out to her again. 

“ Katniss! Help me! ”

She’s running into the woods against everyone’s complaints, including her own body’s. 

“It’s not real Katniss!” Finnick calls after her, before someone is screaming for him too, and he runs in with her.

And then it’s her mother, calling for her. It’s Gale. All of them, yelling at her for help.

It’s birds. Jabberjays, hundreds of them everywhere at once. Swooping down to scream at her. 

“They’re jabber jays!” She yells to Finnick, “they aren’t real!”

“Jabberjays copy, Katniss!”

Which makes her blood run cold. A bird swoops low enough and pecks at her, and she tries to bat it away. They all start to attack. Her and Finnick run. She sees Peeta and the rest in the forest, and runs towards him. His mouth is moving, but she can’t hear him over the sheer amount of screams and cries for help that come pecking and clawing at her.

And then it’s the sound of her nightmares, as she slams against the force field that keeps her separated from him. He pounds on it, calling for her, but she can’t hear him. All she can hear is the  hairsplitting wails of a newborn baby, and she loses it. She crumbles to a ball on the forest floor, sobbing as she rocks. The pecking and screeching wails continue, and she desperately tries to cover her ears, screaming to try and keep them out. The torment seems to last forever and ever, and she screams and screams until her voice is gone, and all she can do is cry.

When his hand finally reaches across her back she flinches away, eyes wild as she looks at him. He scoops her up in a massive hug, and she falls apart in his arms, hiccuping sobs as she trembles and shakes. She wants to hold him, but she’s shaking too terribly to even try. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you. It’s not real. It’s not real. You’re safe. I’m here. I’ve got you,” he repeats into her hair, rocking.

It takes him a while to talk her down, long enough to get her to her feet for them to regroup. The ten o’clock wave hits once again, and an hour later Beetee is coming up with a plan to electrocute the beach using the tree. Katniss barely pays attention. She’s too shaken, trying to forget the wails. Peeta keeps hold of her hand as they all figure out a timeline. 

Eventually they decide they just need to wait. Katniss tries to make herself useful, and checks her traps from earlier. Johanna comes with her, despite Katniss’s complaints. They don’t speak, thankfully. Instead Johanna takes the large rabbit Katniss hands her, and Katniss finds a squirrel and manages to shoot it despite still being shaky and rattled from earlier. They make it back to camp, and Finnick restarts the fire. 

Katniss doesn’t have the stomach to skin and gut the rabbit and squirrel like she usually would, and instead Johanna and Finnick take over. Katniss loses her appetite completely, and the smell of cooking flesh has her barfing into the woods all over again. Peeta rubs her back and hands her water in a bamboo cup. He coaxes her to eat afterwards, and she does, reluctantly. It helps a little bit.

They sprawl under the shade of the trees on the beach and wait for nightfall. Katniss feels like she’s in a daze as the afternoon stretches on, and an anxious feeling starts to manifest itself in her stomach. She pulls Peeta farther down the beach, and they settle in a distance away from the group. Out of boredom Peeta begins to re-braid her hair. And the gut feeling is gnawing at her.  

She licks her lips. “I think we need to go.” 

He pauses. “This plan is going to work, Katniss.” He says it as if there is no discussion to be had.

“I know,” she whispers, and he picks back up. “But once the careers are dead we both know what happens next.” She swallows, “I don’t want to be the one that shoots first.”

He’s silent for a moment. “What if they don’t want to either? What if none of them want to shoot first?”

Katniss admires his optimism, and his willingness to see the best in people. But at times like this it feels like foolishness.

“We might still end up dead.”

“Well maybe not. It worked for us last time.”

“They won’t make that mistake again. You know and I know there’s only one person walking out of here. And it has to be one of us.”

Peeta is quiet, finishing the end of her braid. He shifts to sit next to her. 

“The careers are still out there. We stick with these guys until midnight, and then…if we hear a cannon, we go.”

She chews on the inside of her lip, glancing at Johanna and Beetee from over Peeta’s shoulder. He’s right, that it might be their best chance. But she still feels squeamish. She nods anyway.

Peeta takes a breath, and they watch the lake in silence. She thumbs over her mockingjay pin, watching as the sun starts to dip below the horizon. 

“Katniss, I don’t know…I don’t know what kind of  deals you made with Haymitch, but he made me promises too.” Peeta speaks up, and she glances over at him to watch his jaw tense. He pulls off his necklace.

“If you die.” His voice cracks slightly, “And I live.” He looks up at her, Adam’s apple bobbing, “I’d have nothing. Nobody else that I care about.” 

“Peeta,” it leaves her lips softly.

“It’s different for you. Your family needs you.” He cracks open the pendant, gently handing it to her, hand wiping his face.

Katniss’s heart hurts when she sees her mother, Prim, and Gale, small photos of them framed in gold. And she misses them. And she wants to go home .

“You have to live.” Peeta says softly, and it makes Katniss’s heart absolutely ache , with the way he says it. Like he’s already accepted the fact that he has to die. “For them. For the baby.”

Katniss’s voice is shaky when she looks up at him, jarring against the tenderness of his confession, “What about you?”

Peeta frowns, a slight shake to his head, “Nobody needs me.” He smiles softly, as if trying to tell her that it’s okay . 

It’s not okay. She frowns. It twists the pain in her chest just all that much more. And a tear slips down her cheek. 

“I do.” She croaks, “I need you.”

His eyelashes flutter as he looks over her face.

The cameras aren’t on her mind. She doesn’t kiss him for the story. She doesn’t kiss him for the sympathy. She doesn’t kiss him to try and save them and everyone they care about. She kisses him because her heart says so. 

Callused hands come up to cradle her jaw, and he leans in, pressing back. And it makes her chest feel sore, a desperate need fluttering beneath her ribcage. Warmth rushes down her spine, blooming beneath her sternum, and trickling into her hands. She grabs one of his wrists as she presses closer.

It’s a simmering heat against her mouth. Careful and tender, and nothing like they’ve ever shared before. Not full of desperation surged by terror, like in the cave. Not rushed like that night on the train, forced on by some form of necessity and fear, and a desire she was too scared to admit. Or over the top for the cameras capturing their engagement, to try and sell what she now knows isn’t entirely a lie. It’s a declaration. This moment is for them, and no one else. She wants it, and she wants him to know, that she means it. 

She holds him tightly when they break apart, foreheads pressed as he breathes in her air. And his eyes sparkle like they did the first time he felt the baby kick; mesmerized and awestruck. 

“I can’t live without you Peeta,” she says, and her voice warbles, “I can’t make it out of here.”

And it’s not that she can’t . It’s that she makes it out, and she won’t be the same person. Katniss Everdeen will be gone. So much had changed after her first games, but she still had herself. She can’t make it out of this, not without Peeta, with a baby she never wanted that will always remind her of him, and having to kill people who were sold a lie of safety. She can’t.

“You can, Katniss. You have to.” He whispers, thumbs sliding over her cheeks, swiping away tears she hadn’t realized she was crying. “For your family, for the baby.”

“I can’t do this without you,” she cries.

“Katniss, I would have nothing . You are everything I have, you and this baby. I would walk out of here with nothing . I can’t-“ he chokes up, and she’s seen the look in his eyes before, the one full of so much affection and desperation, the one that leaves her without a doubt in the world that he loves her more than he knows what to do with, “You have to , Katniss.”

And it hurts, so much. Because until this moment, Katniss didn’t mean much. She’s kissed him with lying lips for so long, pretended and played with his heart more than she can bear to think about. And yet through all of it he’s still loved her. Unconditionally. Even when she didn’t care, even when she started to, even when she was too scared to admit it. Even now, where her mind still fails to conjure up the words for what this is, this overwhelming feeling in her chest. She’s been all he’s really had. And he’s loved her regardless. 

She shakes her head, “I can’t .”

He pecks her lips, a hand brushing over her head. He gathers her in a hug, pulling her tight against his chest. Her thigh is dragged across his lap as they embrace. He presses another kiss to her shoulder. And his lips brush against the skin of her neck as he whispers.

“Was that one real?”

And she nearly sobs, a choke leaving her lips against his shoulder. That she’s done this to him. Hurt him so many times he can’t tell when she really means it. That he just keeps letting her. Like he’d never actually stop her, if she kept going back and forth with him.

“Yes,” she croaks, less quietly against him. 

And maybe that’s worse. Maybe it’s more cruel, this way, that she’s finally realizing what he means to her. That she’s trying to figure out how to let herself feel it. That she gives him hope. That he finally has what he’s always wanted. Surely that’s worse, when he comes out of this alive.

He squeezes her tighter, breath hitching in his chest. Presses the softest kiss against her neck, that has her body buzzing at the tenderness of it.

“Hey lovebirds!” Johanna is shouting at them from down the beach. 

Peeta releases her, starting to pull back, but Katniss isn’t ready to let him go. She hangs on.

“Katniss,” he breathes a wet chuckle, and a hand lands on the thigh that’s across his lap.

The light is low, only as dark as it gets when the sun has completely dipped over the horizon; they’re all being watched, after all. And suddenly she feels cold. Or at least, she’s trembling. And she doesn’t want to let him go. 

“Katniss,” and it’s almost a hiss, “ Really ?”, said as if she should be ashamed, as if she’s done something scandalous.

She’s not sure what he means. She pulls away to look at him, confused. His hand pushes at her thigh, Adam’s apple bobbing, and his eyes flicker down at her. Peeta freezes. His hand shakes across her as he slips to the inside of her thigh, brushing way too close, and she jerks away at the touch; what the hell is he thinking ? 

“Katniss?” He asks, and his voice cracks when he says it. 

And she sees it, darkness brushed across his fingertips. And she’s suddenly aware of it. The pain in her lower back that she’s been ignoring, chalking up to just exhaustion and her usual aches and pains. She feels it. The warmth between her legs, that isn’t sweat, or her suit being wet from sea water or the damp sand.

“Oh god Katniss -“ his hand trembles as he reaches out again, pushing her thigh back as he shifts away. 

Johanna shouts at them again. “Hey! We need to go!”

Peeta turns around, blood smudged on his hand. And Katniss feels numb. Light headed as she stares at him.

“Katniss-“ he calls over to them, and he’s lost for words, “She’s-“ he looks back at her, eyes wide. 

Finnick is over in an instant. Johanna and Beetee follow. 

“I don’t-“ Peeta is jabbering, “oh God,”

Finnick drops down next to them. Catches Peeta’s wrist to look at his hand. 

“Is that-“ Finnick doesn’t finish his sentence, eyes flickering over both of them in search of a cause. He pauses when he lands between Katniss’s legs.

Peeta pulls away, palms flattening over her stomach. 

“Katniss,” he cries, and she doesn’t know what to say.

It’s not light, like there sometimes is during pregnancy. It’s not normal . It’s too much. Too quickly.

Finnick is asking her to lay down. She doesn’t really have a choice. Peeta is pushing her back, leaning over to press an ear against her stomach as he feels across her.

“ Please -“ he whimpers, and she knows what he’s hoping for.

“Are you in pain?” Finnick asks, hands suddenly unsure of how to touch and comfort either of them.

She guesses she is. In a lot of pain. Has been for a while, but hasn’t really noticed it until right now, as her lower stomach aches. All of her aches. She nods.

“Where? Are you cramping?” 

“I- everywhere,” she mumbles. Her hands are shaking.

All of Katniss’s knowledge, everything that she’s ever learned from her mother being a midwife, is flushing out of her head, instead replaced with fear.

She didn’t want a baby. She didn’t want kids. Barely let herself process that she was pregnant, that a whole entire being has been growing inside of her. Hasn’t considered names, or let her mind wander to the fact that she’s a mother . From almost the moment she found out, she knew there was no chance it would ever survive. Because she wasn’t going to survive.

Except, suddenly, the thought of losing it is terrifying . She’s paralyzed by fear, staring blankly at the sky.

Peeta’s murmuring against her stomach, gasping pleas and pleas and pleas into her as he rubs, trying to get a response. Anything . Katniss hurts too much to feel a flutter even if she wanted to.

“There hasn’t been a cannon.” 

They all pause to look at Johanna. 

She frowns, “What? There hasn’t.”

“Do you…do you think they would?” Finnick wonders aloud.

And Katniss closes her eyes, trying to force out their voices as they all debate the possibility. She hates the image that creates; the picture of a baby, wispy blond hair and blue eyes, projected up in the sky. The anthem . 

“Stop!” she snaps, and they all go quiet.

She takes a deep breath. Tries to think of plausible explanations for this, that don’t revolve around her losing the baby. 

She can’t. Her throat closes up, and she tries to fight down the panic.

This isn’t how this was supposed to happen. This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

The 10 o'clock wave rushes in, and they all watch as it swells and crashes through the jungle in its section. 

“We need to go. Right now.” Beetee speaks up, voice suddenly urgent.

Peeta’s face twists up, a tear slipping down his cheek. “What? No, are you crazy?”

“Peeta-“ Finnick starts.

“Katniss is- she’s- no !” 

“Oh shut up ,” Johanna snaps, “we’re running out of time. The faster we get there the better.”

Peeta starts to complain again, but Katniss squeezes his shoulder, and he glances back at her.

This isn’t how this was supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to be compromised after they completed their plan. This complicates everything . 

She shifts to sit up, and Peeta looks worried, eyes pleading with her not to do this. But they have to. Katniss doesn’t want to find out what happens if they refuse to come with. 

She puts on his pendant, and then Peeta scrambles to his feet to help her up. She sets her jaw, and then starts around the lake towards the tree. The rest follow, and Peeta stays close, constantly asking her if she’s okay. She’s not, and she won’t be, but he asks anyway. She makes it around the lake before she has to pause. She wants to push through it, like she has been all day, but the reality is she knows she shouldn’t. Peeta makes her hop on his back, and she lets him carry her piggy back through the jungle. She wraps her arms around him and holds on tight, breathing in his sweat as they hike up the hill.

When he finally sets her down she’s lightheaded. His lower back is smeared, and Katniss is becoming more concerned with the amount of blood. The others immediately set to work wrapping the wire around the tree, and Peeta collapses next to her, teary eyed. He swipes away the sweat at her forehead, and gives her the last of their water.

As time goes on, it slowly starts to dawn on her.

This is the end. This is how she dies, from blood loss. Not from an injury, but from a foolish choice she made months ago. She did this to herself. 

“If this doesn’t end well,” she whispers, “You need to leave me.” 

“No,” he breathes.

“I’m bleeding out, Peeta. More than I should be. One of us has to make it. You have to.”

He says nothing, only clutches her tight and shakes his head.

“Peeta,” Finnick says, and Peeta releases her to look up at him. “Go with Johanna to take the wire to the beach.”

“What?” He hisses, “No, you go. I’m not leaving Katniss.”

“I need someone to protect me, and Johanna shouldn’t go alone if we want this to work. If you stay here you’ll only be distracted.” Beetee explains.

Peeta argues, but Katniss squeezes his hand, pulling it to her lips to press a kiss at his fingers, just like he had done to her this morning. He pauses to look at her.

“Go, Peeta.”

He’s in tears, and she is too. He leans down to kiss her forehead. 

“I’m coming back for you,” he whispers.

“Don’t.”

“I can’t leave you.”

And it hurts. She wishes he would. All she’s ever been to him is a thorn in his side, a complication he’s had to deal with. She wishes he would stop being selfish and for once save himself.

She doesn’t say anything. Johanna complains about them needing to hurry up, and he reluctantly goes. And Katniss feels a strange, melancholic sort of calm wash over her as she watches him disappear in the forest. Yesterday she feared death. Right now she feels too exhausted to fear it at all. Instead she’s washed over by an acceptance, that no matter what she does, this is her end.

She stares up at the sky, and runs a hand over the pendant. And can’t help but feel like Peeta forgot one person to include in the collection: himself. 

Finnick and Beetee are whispering to each other, and she knows they’re probably conspiring against her. She slowly pushes herself to sit, pulling off her bow and tugging at an arrow. She notches it against the string as Finnick makes his way towards her.

“Katniss,” he breathes as he crouches down, eyeing the arrow warily. “Do you trust me?”

She snorts, “Absolutely not.”

He frowns, but musters up a smile. “Really? Even after all we’ve been through?”

Truthfully, Finnick has been nothing but kind and caring and supportive this entire time. He’s gone out of his way to take care of both her and Peeta, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t grateful. But she’s not as optimistic as Peeta is. She can’t let herself believe Finnick has good intentions, because she’s learned from a very young age that she’s never truly safe. No one can really be trusted completely. 

Peeta is an exception, of course. 

“Don’t take it personally.” She grumbles. 

He sighs, and movement catches her eye. She glances behind him to see Beetee winding the wire around a stick, and then staking it into the ground. She doesn’t think too much of it until suddenly he’s severing the cable.

“What- what are you doing?” She lurches, and Finnick grabs her by the arms and pushes her back down to sit.

“Katniss I need you to trust me, please.”

“Well I don’t !” She tries to push him off with what little energy she has. 

He hushes her, “Stop- calm down or you’ll bleed out faster.”

Which maybe he’s right, but she’s worried about whatever Beetee is doing . 

Suddenly there’s a shout in the woods, and Finnick’s head pops up. Katniss tries to shove him away, and he quickly pins her against the ground. 

“Alright- slight change of plans. I’m so sorry, Katniss.” Suddenly he’s ripping out a knife, and before her sluggish brain can think to stop him he’s cutting at her forearm. 

By the time she retaliates he’s off of her and grabbing his trident. She pulls on the string of her bow, but it hurts, and she misses the arrow she tries to fire at him. He slips through the trees before she can try to notch another.

Suddenly there’s an explosion, and she watches as Beetee goes flying back, collapsing to the ground. She pauses. There’s a cannon boom. And it launches her to her feet. She stumbles as she makes it towards him, collapsing down to touch him. She finds a pulse in his neck, and feels her blood run cold. That means it was someone else.

Then she sees the spear he’s crafted. A piece of metal connected on the end by the wire that’s been wrapped around it. And the rippling force field.

The sky starts to rumble. And she looks up to see clouds beginning to circle. 

The idea manifests itself faster than it should, given her current state. It’s absolutely genius. She's not sure if it will even work, or if it’s what Beetee was even intending, but she’s lost too much blood to consciously debate it in her head. All she can think of is force fields and Haymitch and electricity as she unwinds the wire from the spear and begins to wind it back around an arrow. 

The sky crackles, and she can nearly feel the electricity in the air as she notches it.

“Katniss!”

She pauses. She glances up, and Peeta is standing at the edge of the clearing, looking absolutely terrified. His arm is bleeding, just like hers.

“Run,” she says. 

“Katniss don’t- get away from there!”

She glances up at the clouds. A fake angry sky. She pulls back the bow string, her arms trembling from the pain. She grits her teeth, blocking out Peeta as he screams at her to stop.

Lightning breaks the facade, and she lets her fingers slip. The wire snaps at her bow as it flies. Blissful silence, for a split second. Just the twang as the wire sails towards the sky.

And then it’s a great big flash, and it consumes her in a blast of roaring heat, launching her to oblivion. 

Everything goes black.

Chapter Text

A dark, rippling abyss. Bleak. Pain, in places she can’t quite feel. 

Her mind moves sluggishly, gradually wrapping around existence. Her thoughts start as voidless, inconspicuous shapes, hazy and graspless. 

Until she registers the dull, bruising ache of her body, rising up like boiling water. A groan chugging through her own lips makes her startle, and her thoughts snap like rubber bands, churning against the dark sea of her mind. 

Distantly, a nagging. Steady. In pulses. It takes her moments to process the input as sound . A distant beep that starts to rattle her head.

And she’s slammed with the notion that oh god - she’s alive . 

It’s an ache across her ribs, blazing at her right forearm, and between her hips. She feels like solid lead, completely immovable. But she feels . 

She’s alive . And she feels like death. She should be dead . It’s anger, to wake up to an existence like this, before any kind of relief. There is no relief in the way she feels. 

Slowly she registers the beating of her heart. The far off beeping gradually gets closer. And the smell, of sterile . She lays frozen, fighting to get her eyes open, the world slowly coming back to her. 

She finally cracks her eyelids, struggling to force them open. Her vision swirls as she tries to see.

She’s propped up in a bed. Tucked under thin white blankets. The walls are white. So is the ceiling, and the floors. Doctor is all her mind produces. 

Her vision is hazy, and her head rolls on her shoulders when she tries to move. She catches sight of her right arm, right where she hurts , and there’s a massive bandage.

What happened ?

Her head lulls, and she puffs out air, eyes shuttering as she tries to piece together a strand of thoughts. 

And then, very suddenly, her last few memories come to her. And terror immediately has her jolting, like her entire body had just been tossed into freezing water.

She launches forward to sit up, gasping as pain punches air from her lungs. She fights for full consciousness, hands trembling as she grips the sheets.  

She’s in an all white room. Hooked up to several monitors, in a sterile white gown. Clearly in a hospital. 

She doesn’t even bother thinking the question ‘ where am I’ , because she remembers the hovercraft. She’s in the Capital. Instead her first thought is ‘ where is Peeta’ , followed up by ‘ I need to escape’ . 

She’s glancing around the hospital room for anything that could be used as a weapon. Her vision shutters as she moves. The beeping on the monitor is picking up speed. She catches sight of the IV in her arm, and she quickly rips it out. To her disappointment it’s just a catheter. She pushes her thumb just above the injection site to stop herself from bleeding as she looks for anything else. That’s when she catches sight of the cart on her left. There’s a suture kit and a syringe.

She takes a big breath before shifting to throw her legs over the side of the bed. She grits at the pain that sears in her stomach, and she notices the brace on her left ankle. She remembers lightly spraining it, but she didn’t think it was enough to warrant wrapping it. 

Standing up is a shock to her entire system. All her muscles screech at her to stop . Pain laces down her thighs and up her spine, and her head pounds . She staggers forward as her vision sways, and she crashes into the cart, sending it clattering away from her and bumping into the wall. She curses and stumbles, reaching out to grab onto it to try and ground herself. She catches the edge, arms trembling as she tries to support herself. The beeping on the monitor is racing. She takes a shuddering breath, and tugs at her gown to find stickers across her chest. She rips them off, and the beeping turns to a singular tone. She grips the syringe in a shaking hand, and turns towards the door just as someone comes bursting in.

“Miss Everdeen?” The voice is worried, and unfamiliar. 

It’s a nurse. Her gut briefly lurches at the prospect of what she knows she has to do, and she realizes this feels too much like a nightmare. Then again, everything lately has felt like a nightmare.

She launches herself forward, despite the complaints of every muscle in her body. The adrenaline that races through her surges the arm that swings, stabbing the syringe towards an open neck. The nurse balks and stumbles back. Katniss reaches for their hair, fighting off the arms that try to block her assault. She slams their head back into the concrete wall, and the arms go slack. She slams again, and again , and the nurse slumps to the floor. 

Her own vision sways as she stumbles past the body and through the door.

“Hey!” A shout from her left has her glancing down the hall. A person is rushing towards her. 

She runs. Her muscles scream, but terror surges her on. She scrambles around a corner, nearly running right into two more people. She scrambles to turn back.

“Grab her!” 

“She attacked Thisbe! I need assistance down here!”

She barely registers the shouts that echo down the corridors. Her own ragged breath and the roar in her ears is all she hears as she runs down the opposite hall, away from the people after her. 

“Miss Everdeen, stop !” 

Every turn she takes is a struggle, the wrap on her foot slipping across the cold tile floor. This place is like a maze , and she’s very lost. She’s quickly winded as she rounds yet another corner. She smacks straight into a solid chest, and they both tumble to the floor. The people chasing her catch up before she can get to her feet.

Hands squeeze around her arms, and she thrashes.

“ Stop ! You’re hurting yourself!”

She can’t stop. She either fights, or faces whatever terrible fate President Snow has for her. So she struggles against them. 

“Katniss, stop ! We’re trying to help you!”

She’s in tears. A stabbing pain lands in the slope of  her shoulder, and she tries to jerk away as she’s pinned to the floor. Her vision gets worse. She tries to fight it, but her body goes slack, and her eyelids grow heavy. 

No, no no no

“Peeta-“ she barely gets it through her lips before everything goes crashing to black. 

- - - - -

She comes to slowly. Until she processes that god awful beeping. And then she’s startling to consciousness, heart rocketing. She jerks up, pain punching through her abdomen once again. The jaring clang of the cuffs keeping her hands tied down make her ears ring.  

“Well look who’s awake!” A familiar drawl comes from her left, and her vision shudders as she looks over to see Haymitch reclined in a chair at her bedside.

Her mouth opens to say something, anything, but her tongue feels dry and thick.

“You and a syringe against the Capital, huh?” He grins, “That was quite the stunt you pulled there, sweetheart. Gave that poor nurse quite the concussion.”

Katniss is positively confused . She wants to feel relief, but this is all still so unsettling. Why is Haymitch here ? Where is ‘ here’ ? 

She licks her lips, a croak leaving her throat when she tries to speak. Haymitch leans forward with a cup of water, propped to her lips. She hesitates.

“What, you think I’d drug you or something?” Haymitch scoffs, “Would have a looong time ago. Now drink.”

So she sips, and realizes just how thirsty she is. She downs the entire cup in a few gulps. 

“We aren’t in the Capital.” He supplies for her when he pulls back, and she feels herself relax, but only slightly, “We’re in 13, Katniss.” He says, and she watches his face get very serious.

“What?” She rasps, confused, and thinking feels like trying to walk through molasses, “13? The- the 13th District is gone.”

Haymitch nods his head and leans back. “Yeah well, that’s what the Capital wanted you to believe. They’ve been here ever since the beginning, still rebellious as ever.”

She squeezes her eyes closed, and her head throbs. 

“We couldn’t tell you or the boy, because you were being watched too closely. But we had plans to get you both out. Over half the tributes were in on it.” He explains, “You are the face of the rebellion, Katniss. And it’s started.”

She takes a shaky breath. She just woke up from whatever drug induced sleep she’s been in, and her brain still feels like it’s full of cotton. Haymitch gives her a moment, leaving with the cup. 

So…this was all planned? She supposes that makes sense. With how the others kept throwing themselves into danger for her and Peeta. And she feels a trickle of guilt; how many people died just to protect them? Mags, Wiress, the morphling. Katniss doesn’t know how many others. Oh god .

Haymitch returns with a full cup, this time with a straw. He pulls a tray out in front of her and sets it down. She grimaces as she leans forward to take another sip.  

“Who…who knew?”

Haymitch takes a deep breath. “Finnick and Mags. Seeder and Chaff. Beetee and Wiress. The morphlings. Johanna and Blight. Cecilia and Woof. Plutarch wanted to include Gloss and Cashmere, but the rest of us weren’t sure enough of where they stood. Same with Brutus and Enobaria.”

“Wait- Plutarch ?” That’s really the only name she hears.

“Yes, Plutarch. He’s the one who’s been in contact with 13. He’s mainly the one who’s put this all together. Quite the double agent, if you ask me.”

Katniss has to stare up at the ceiling. Plutarch , the game master , was the one who started this all? She closes her eyes, tongue softly clicking against the roof of her mouth as she swallows. She should have so many questions and concerns and feelings in this moment, but her head hurts .

“Katniss,” Haymitch shifts in his seat, “We got you out.”

Her head lulls over on her shoulders as she fixes him with a confused look, because obviously . And then it starts to click.

“Where’s Peeta?” She whispers, dread lacing her stomach.

“He’s here- we got him out too. Just barely. Johanna got his tracker out so the Capital wasn’t able to locate him as easily.” 

Katniss takes a breath. 

“We got Beetee out too. He’s in recovery. But we didn’t get Finnick, or Johanna, or Enobaria. The Capital also got Annie and the rest of the remaining tributes from the other districts.”

Katniss’s mouth pops open in horror, but Haymitch keeps going, because apparently there’s more , “Riots immediately broke out across the districts as soon as you fired that arrow. The Capital was quick to swoop in and try and quell them. They uh-“ he clears his throat, and Katniss is terrified by how serious he’s being. He rubs a hand across his neck, leaning forward to lean his elbows against his knees as he looks at the floor. “They bombed 12.”

Haymitch watches her tentatively, gray eyes sympathetic. The words take a moment to process in her head. Bombed…bombed how ? What does that even mean ? 

“Gale got your family out in time,” he continues, before Katniss can wrap her mind around a single question, “He saved hundreds. All the survivors have been transported here. We’re still in the process of counting who’s made it, but your family and the Hawthorns are safe.” 

Suddenly she’s shaking. A tear slips down her cheek, and she stares at her lap.

Survivors. So. People didn’t make it.

“They bombed the market first.” He says softly, “It’s gone. So is the Hob, and most of the Seam. Peeta’s family didn’t survive.”

Oh .

She doesn’t know what to say. There’s nothing to say to that. Haymitch sits in silence as tears pour down Katniss’s cheeks. She fists the bedsheets, anger and guilt and a million emotions she doesn’t have the energy to name rumbling through her veins. 

“I need to see him,” she whispers, finally. Because she does, need to. 

Haymitch doesn’t say anything. He just nods, and then gets up from the chair, and slips through the door. 

The hospital room is deathly quiet. The only sound is the beeping of the heart rate monitor, and she hates it. And she’s left to just her sluggish thoughts. And that’s it . 

The dread and guilt creep up over her shoulders, and her stomach drops as she takes it all in. This is all her fault . She’s the one who defied the Capital. She’s the one who started this. She’s the one who shot that arrow. She’s the reason her district is dead. The reason Peeta’s family is dead. This is her fault . 

She chokes out a sob, and tries to cover her mouth, but she’s still strapped to the bed. And a twisted part of her brain thinks that maybe that’s a good thing, because that means she can’t hurt more people. 

The door creaks open, and her head snaps up to see a nurse opening the door, and then she catches sight of him. Peeta stands in her doorway, staring at her. He hesitates for a brief moment. He looks absolutely exhausted, and like he’s been crying, and her heart hurts . 

“Peeta-“ her voice cracks, and he comes rushing forward to crush her in a hug. 

She reaches to clutch him back, but the hand cuffs stop her. She can’t even complain that he’s crushing her ribs, or that it hurts. Because she needs him. 

“I’m so sorry,” she babbles over tears, and he pulls back to wipe them away.

“Don’t be, Katniss. Don’t be sorry. Don’t say that.” And he’s in tears himself.

She can’t find words. She cries, and he pushes the tray back to crawl into the bed with her, arms looping around her and hugging her tight. She tucks her face into his neck and sobs, and he shudders against her. 

She wants this to be a nightmare. She doesn’t want any of this to be true. It makes things so much worse . 

“I did this-“ she gasps eventually.

“No- the Capital did this. Snow did this.” 

She shakes her head, gasping for air as she cries harder into his embrace. “I killed them-“

“ No ,” he says sternly, moving back to take her face in both his hands. “You didn’t . Don’t say that.”

She shakes her head, biting down on her lip. And she can’t argue with him. He can say what he wants to, but deep down she knows she caused this. 

He presses a kiss to her forehead, and she closes her eyes, and wishes they could be anywhere but here. 

The moment is quickly interrupted when the door swings back open. They both jump, and Katniss sees a nurse and a doctor step in. Peeta shifts to remove himself from her bed, but she just manages to catch his wrist.

“ Stay ,” she breathes as she looks at him.

He swallows, “I’m not going anywhere,” he continues to shift.

“No- stay here .” She insists. She’s not ready to lose his touch. She’s afraid of what will happen when it’s gone. 

“Hello, Miss Everdeen. I’m glad to see you’re finally awake.” The voice interrupts their whispering.

Peeta gives her a sad smile, and continues to scooch off the bed. He keeps hold of her hand. And it’s not exactly what she wanted, but it’s better than nothing. 

“Peeta,” the doctor nods in his direction, and he gives a small smile. “I’m Dr. Althea,” she introduces herself.

Katniss eyes the nurse that followed her in. She looks fairly unhappy to be here. And Katniss is reminded of the nurse she attacked, and she wants to say something. Ask if they’re okay. Tell the nurse that she’s sorry. But she doesn’t know where to begin to ask.  

“Has Peeta or Haymitch filled you in on everything yet?” She asks.

Katniss looks at Peeta. She only knows what Haymitch told her. She hopes that was everything.

“Uh- we hadn’t got there, yet, no.” He looks down, and the doctor hums.

Katniss feels nervous.

“Right. Well. When they picked you up from the arena, you were in pretty bad shape. You sustained major burns from the explosion on your back. Also a cut on your arm, where Finnick removed the tracker. You also have some minor sprains in your wrist and ankle, and bruised your ribs.” She takes a seat on the end of Katniss’s bed, and Katniss pulls her knees up to her chest, “And the miscarriage.”

Oh . 

Peeta takes a drag of breath, and Katniss feels her eyes burning with tears all over again. She’d completely forgotten about that . 

Dr. Althea takes on a softer tone, “You were losing a lot of blood when they retrieved you. They immediately had to take you in for an emergency cesarean on the hovercraft to try and stop it. The miscarriage, and I think in addition to all the times you go thrown around, caused a tear in the uterine lining, and one of the arteries. They were able to temporarily patch it until you arrived, where I went in and got everything put back together.”

Katniss squeezes Peeta’s hand tighter. 

“How- how long have I been out?” She whispers.

“Three days. We weren’t sure when you would wake up. You hit your head pretty bad in the explosion, and suffered a decent concussion.” 

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. She guesses that explains the migraine and fuzziness. 

There’s a lot of questions she wants to ask. But she’s also not sure if Peeta wants to hear them. Or if she can handle knowing the answers herself. But she wants to know .

“How…how long had-“ she chokes on her own words. “Had- the baby been…” and she can’t finish it.

“We don’t really know.” Dr. Althea sighs, seemingly knowing what she’s trying to ask, “They didn’t really have the supplies to check that when they got him out. But my guess is that you getting flung against the rocks and into the water in the Quell was the final blow. If not your tumble down the hill on the second day. Probably a combination of the two, with the addition of all the adrenaline and stress and anxiety. Outlook was probably going to be grim, regardless of what happened. You were going through a lot, and that would have affected him anyways.”

Him . So, a boy.

“It was a boy?” She whispers.

“Yes. A baby boy. Half a pound, at 20 weeks.”

Peeta sniffles, and Katniss frowns when she sees the tears he’s desperately trying to wipe away. And it hurts. She squeezes his hand, hard. And he squeezes back, leaning in to press a kiss to her knuckles. It nearly makes her cry. 

“I’m very sorry, for your loss.” She says softly, and Katniss can tell she at least seems genuine when she says it. That she does mean it, at least to an extent.

Katniss isn’t sure how to feel about it. She didn’t want children. She didn’t want to be pregnant. And she expected to die anyways, so a future with a child didn’t seem plausible. But this, living but losing a baby—even one she didn’t want—is…hard to process. 

“You ripped your stitches back open when you tried to escape earlier. We had to sedate you. I hope you understand why.”

She nods, and catches the nurse, who’s stayed completely silent, looking at her.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, “How- how are they?“

The doctor shifts uncomfortably. “She’ll be okay.” Is what she settles on, and it makes Katniss uneasy.

Peeta squeezes her hand, and she bites her lip. 

“We just came to do some tests, to check up on your vitals and stuff. And also to introduce ourselves, and fill you in on everything that happened.”

Katniss swallows and nods. 

Peeta remains at her side as they poke and prod and take blood. The nurse asks her several stupid questions, like “what’s your name” or “where are you from”, and “where are you now”. She answers them, and Peeta squeezes her hand.

They finish up, and the nurse moves to grab the door. Katniss shifts. 

“Wait-“ they both look back, and she glances down at her hands. “Can I…be released?” She asks meekly. 

The nurse sends the doctor a glance, and Dr. Althea bites at her lip. 

“I can ask,” is what she settles on, and Katniss is pretty sure that means no. 

Peeta’s head comes off it’s resting place against the side-bars of her bed to look back at them. He seems about ready to complain, on her behalf. But Katniss squeezes his hand, silently pleading with him to just let it go. She doesn’t have the energy to watch him get more upset. 

He frowns when he looks back at her, and the door closes behind them as they leave. 

She doesn’t know what to say to him. She’s not sure if there really is anything to say. And she really hates that they keep finding themselves in these kinds of situations, where things are terrible, and there’s just nothing either of them can do about it.

She swallows, and has to look away from him to try and hide the tears that come welling up in her eyes. She’s not sure what exactly they’re from. If it’s greif, fear, anxiety, pain, or just overall being overwhelmed. But they spill down her cheeks and she can’t stop them. 

Peeta presses a kiss against her fingers, and she desperately needs more of it. 

“Peeta,” she croaks. 

He perks up, and the words wobble out of her lips. 

“Come here?” 

He crawls back into the bed with her without question, shifting to curl into her side. He pulls the blanket up over them, and tucks her head into his chest, pressing a kiss to her hair. And she cries, and weeps, and can’t stop herself. He just clutches her tight, and she knows by the way his chest moves with shaky breath that he’s also in tears. 

“Stay with me?” She whispers against his collar. 

“Always,” he responds, and gently squeezes. 

She falls asleep with him curled around her, feeding her warmth and shielding her from the world.

- - - - -

She’s roused awake by a hand gently shaking her shoulder, a “ Katniss, wake up ,” whispered in her ear. 

Peeta is the first thing she recognizes when her eyes crack open, and she feels relief wash over her.

He stayed . 

She leans her forehead against him, and just grunts as he speaks, unwilling to pay attention. She’s tired.

Until he starts to pull away, and she panics. She looks at him, startled as he starts to move.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he assures, and Katniss is shaking her head, because it’s not okay. 

“Where- stop-“ she croaks, sitting up despite her muscles screaming at her not to, handcuffs clanking harshly against the bed rails when she tries to reach for him. 

He’s already slithered his way out, and suddenly she is aware of the random man in the room with them, and she feels her heart jolt. Where is Peeta going and why is he leaving her with this stranger? 

“Peeta!” She yelps when he steps away, and he comes forward to grasp her hand. She holds him tightly and pulls him as close as she can with her limited mobility. “Where are you going?” The words rush out of her lips as she eyes the man over his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Katniss. It’s just a psychologist. He’s just here to do an evaluation.”

She would know what that means, but her mind is not focused there at all. All she cares about is keeping Peeta here, where she’ll feel safe.

“It’s okay, you’ll be okay. I’m just going to give you guys a moment, alright?”

“ No ,” she grips him tight . 

“Katniss-“ he complains, and she feels tears pushing forward. “I have to go. I promise, it will be okay.”

But this is not okay. 

“I’m just here to talk with you, Katniss. President Coin wants you evaluated before we can remove your restraints and let you see your family. She just wants to make sure everyone will be safe.” The man steps closer, with a sympathetic smile on his face.

And Katniss doesn’t know who that is, and quite frankly she doesn’t care. 

“President Coin is the lady in charge of 13,” Peeta explains, “I’ll only be gone for a little bit, and then they’ll let you see your mother and Prim.”

She does want to see her family. The last time she saw them she was pretty sure it was going to be her last. And she never even got to say goodbye; Peacekeeper Thread took her away before she could.

She’s reluctant, but she realizes that maybe it will be okay.

“I’m Dr. Anderson,” the man introduces himself, a warm smile on his face. Katniss can’t really shake the hand he extends towards her, and he must realize his mistake because he cracks an embarrassed grin and shoves the hand into his pocket, “Right- sorry.” 

Peeta slips through her grip, and she frowns as she watches him go. “I’ll be back! I promise!”

And then it’s just her and Dr. Anderson.

He asks her a few vague questions. Asks what her interest are. What she does in her free time. Which makes her choke up, because it only reminds her that she isn’t home, and that home is gone . And then they get harder. Like where she thought she was, when she woke up the first time. 

He doesn’t ask her why she did what she did; doesn’t ask why her first response was to escape by any means necessary, even if it meant killing someone else. Instead he just nods, like he understands. And Katniss hopes he does.

“Can you tell me what you remember last? Before you woke up here?” He asks carefully.

She bites at her lip, staring at the white wall in front of her. 

She does remember. She remembers the blood. The pain. The fear. The numbness of dying. Peeta begging her not to fire that arrow, and her doing it anyways. The explosion. And now everything after. Her district is in ruins because of what she did. She caused this. This is her fault. She should have known better.

“Katniss,” he breathes, “I don’t ask these questions to upset you. I’m just trying to figure out where you are mentally. A lot of things have been thrown at you in a very short amount of time, and I don’t expect you know how to think about it or how to express how you feel. Today isn’t the day to start trying to process everything that has happened. We’ll work to unpack and process all of that later, but right now I just want to establish that it’s safe for you to see your family.”

Because she’s dangerous, is what he doesn’t say. Because she destroys things, hurts and ruins people.

She balls her hands into fists, looking away from him to try and hide her tears.

She takes a shaky breath. “When is Peeta coming back?”

“As soon as we finish here.”

“And when is that.”

“When I finish my questions.”

She huffs. “An explosion.” She whispers, hoping that’s all he needs.

“An explosion, okay. Where was this explosion?”

“In the Quarter Quell arena.”

“That’s right. Good. Can you tell me why there was an explosion?”

She swallows, and she wants to be done here. 

“Because I shot the forcefield. With my arrow.”

He doesn’t say anything immediately, as if waiting for her to say more. But she doesn’t. 

“That’s right. Do you remember anything else? Before you woke up here?”

She shakes her head.

“That’s okay. Were you told what happened?”

She nods. 

“Good. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

She immediately shakes her head no. She doesn't want to talk about this anymore. 

“That's completely okay. I understand this is very hard. That’s why I want to take things slow, right now.” He shifts in his chair, and she glances at him from the corner of her eye.

“Just a few more questions.” He says, “Can you tell me how you are feeling right now?”

She blinks. That’s a big question.

“It’s okay to not know. Understanding emotions are hard, and you’ve gone through a lot. Would it help if I listed some? And you can tell me if that sounds about right?”

She takes a big breath. And nods.

“Great. Overwhelmed?”

She nods. He writes that down. And then continues. He goes down a long list: sad, upset, angry, anxious, scared. Most of which she is. Anxious, scared, upset. 

“Numb.” She whispers, before he can suggest another.

He pauses for a moment. “Numb, how?”

She sends him a look. He should know better than to think she’d have any clue how to describe “numb”.

And he nods, chuckling. “Right, okay. Numb as in not sure how to feel, or numb as in invincible or unbothered?”

“Unsure.” She whispers. 

“And how do you feel, knowing that? Does it scare you? Or are you okay with it?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay too. Sometimes numb is all we have the energy for. Sometimes it’s okay to not be able to feel anything. Not knowing how to feel isn’t a bad thing. It just means you need time to process and figure out how to feel. There isn’t really a right or wrong. And that’s something we’ll work on.” 

She bites at her lip. 

He shifts in his seat again, flipping to another page. “Alright, just a few more. And we can be done here.”

“And then I can see Peeta?”

“And your family.”

Right. Her family. She should be excited to see her mother and sister. She’s missed them, and seeing them is all she’s wanted for the past few weeks. But suddenly she’s scared. 

“Do you want to see your family Katniss?”

Her mouth pops open to say yes, because that’s what she should say. And she does . But she’s scared.

She’s done an awful thing. The more she’s forced to think about it the more she realizes just how awful it really is. And she’s not sure how her family or anyone she cares about might feel about what she did. What if they’re angry? Not to mention she’s a monster . She doesn’t feel stable. She’s not sure if she wants them to see her like this.

“They aren’t upset with you, Katniss. No one blames you for what happened at 12. That was all President Snow’s doing.”

She nods, because that’s what she’s supposed to do in response to a statement like that. Is understanding, and agreement. Because what Dr. Anderson says is logical. But her current thought process isn’t very logical.

“I think it would be very good for you to see your family. But if you don’t want to, we can wait.” 

“I- I do.” She says.

He smiles. “Okay.” He takes a sip of his water. “Do you feel safe here?”

She blinks. That’s a near impossible question. Katniss doesn’t feel safe anywhere, and she doesn’t like safe. Safe isn’t real. And she barely knows what here is, to know whether safety is even a possibility. 

“No.” She says.

“Okay. Do you know why?”

“Safety doesn’t exist.” She whispers.

He pauses, and looks up at her with a frown. “Have you ever felt safe, Katniss?”

And she ponders that. Maybe she did, when she was really little. Before she understood the horrors of the world. Before her dad passed. Maybe she’s felt a piece of it when Peeta’s held her. 

“I don’t know” is what she settles on. 

He frowns, but nods, “Right. Okay.” He clicks his pen for a few seconds. And then continues his scribbles. “Do you feel secure here? As in, nothing terrible will happen here?”

She scoffs. “Well I’m here, aren’t I?”

His pen stops, and he’s silent for a moment. She hates the look on his face. The way he tilts his head as he inspects her.

 “Katniss, you are not terrible.”

“I tried to kill that nurse.”

“You thought you were in danger. You were doing what you needed to to survive.”

“I hurt someone. I hurt a lot of people.”

“And you feel bad about it.”

“Guilt doesn’t erase what I've done.”

“No, but it means you didn’t do those things out of malice.” He fires back, and she doesn’t have an immediate response. “Just because you did a bad thing, or something bad happened as a result of something you did, does not mean you are bad.”

His logic hurts. Maybe he’s right, but what she knows is that she’s done bad things. And she doesn’t feel good about them. So it’s hard to understand how she couldn’t be bad, when she feels so terrible. 

“You do not want to harm others. True?”

She bites her lip. And nods.

“Do you feel the urge to intentionally harm yourself?”

And that’s not a thought she’s considered yet. So she doesn’t know. Maybe she does want to. 

“I don’t know.” She whispers. And then feels her cheeks burn with embarrassment, because maybe that’s a far more raw admission than she’s used to giving. 

“Would you tell someone if you did feel the need to?”

She can’t look at him. “Probably not.”

“I appreciate the honesty. You understand you should say something, if you did, right?” 

She nods.

He smiles sadly, and then he starts to flip through his notes. He sighs. “I believe that's all I need from you. I’ll tell Peeta he can come back in. I think it’s best if someone you know is with you at all times. Probably best for both of you. And then I’ll see about getting those cuffs off, and bringing your family up. They’ll be very happy to see you.”

She swallows, and nods. Dr. Anderson leaves, and then Peeta comes in shortly after. She doesn’t know what to say him. She feels like she might cry again. But she’s tired of crying. So instead she just closes her eyes, and squeezes his hand tight when he offers it. 

“Effie’s here.” Peeta whispers.

Katniss’s head lifts up to look at him. “She’s with the rebellion?”

Peeta sort of grimaces. “Well…yes, I guess. Right now she’s claiming she’s been kidnapped. Which I mean, I guess is true. But I don’t think she’s as troubled with helping us as she’s claiming to be. I think deep down she knows the rebellion is necessary.”

Katniss licks her lips. Knowing Effie is safe does make her feel better. That’s one less person she’s killed.

 “How do you feel about all of this?”

Peeta takes a big breath. Shifts to sit on the bed with her. 

“Awful.” He whispers.

She bites down on her lip. 

“I mean- the rebellion is needed. I’m glad we’re fighting back. Snow needs to be stopped. The games need to stop.” He rubs his thumb over her knuckles, “But it’s also a lot. A lot has happened in the past few days. Our district is gone. Our baby is gone. My family is gone-“ he chokes up, and he looks like he’s in pain. 

“I’m so sorry,” she cries, because all of that is her fault.

He shakes his head. “Don’t- don’t do that. Don’t take the blame for all of this.” 

But she has to. Because she did this to them.

He takes a deep breath, squeezing her hand. He opens his mouth to say something else, but suddenly a nurse is coming into the room. Peeta’s hand slips from hers, and she feels like she’s lost him all over again.

“Your family is coming up to visit. Coin says you’re only allowed to be free if you agree to be sedated.” 

Peeta argues first. “Seriously? Katniss isn’t going to hurt anyone. Just let her go.”

“How sedated?” Katniss asks. 

Peeta’s head snaps towards her, and he looks scandalized. Understandably, and Katniss is shocked by her own willingness.

“Not enough to knock you out. Just to make you really relaxed.” He says.

“Okay.”

“Katniss!”

“It’s fine.” She says. Because a part of her thinks maybe it would be best. Quell the monster inside of her, the one she doesn’t want her family to see.

Peeta looks horrified, and Katniss can’t meet his eyes as the nurse messes with her IV. 

“That’s enough.” Peeta growls, before the nurse finishes the syringe. The nurse ignores him, and Peeta looks pissed.

The nurse reattaches the IV and checks her vitals. Very quickly Katniss feels like she’s melting into the hospital bed, mind slipping into a soft fog. The stress of the past few hours seems to slip off her shoulders. Finally the cuffs are removed, and she rubs at her wrists. The nurse leaves, and Peeta still looks upset. She reaches out to him, and he sighs, leaning in to hug her. She grips his shirt tight, and feels relief. 

Prim is the first in the doorway. She rushes into the room, arms wide. And Katniss is overjoyed, shooting up to meet her, despite the pain. Prim practically barrels into her, nearly shoving Peeta off in the process. Katniss reaches to grab him before he can go far, squeezing his hand tight.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Prim cries. 

Their mother leans in to join the hug, tears on her cheeks as she squeezes them both. 

“I missed you,” is all Katniss’s brain seems to be able to come up with. There’s so much more to say, and yet none of it comes to her lips. 

Prim presses a kiss to her cheek, swiping away both their tears. 

“I have so much to tell you.” Prim whispers. “So much has happened.”

Katniss’s mouth pops open to speak, but the words are non-existent. Instead she just swallows and nods. 

“They sedated her.” Peeta speaks softly, looking awkward, like he shouldn’t still be here.

Her mother nods. She takes Katniss’s face in her hands, swiping over the burns and minor cuts. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” She whispers. 

Katniss hums in agreement, leaning into her mother’s touch.

The relief is so great she feels like she’s floating. She’s so glad they’re both safe. If either of them were ever hurt she’s not sure what she would do. Probably die.

Prim crushes Peeta in a big hug, whispering a “thank you for keeping her safe” against his chest, and he hugs her back. Her mother reaches across the bed to squeeze his other hand, and he looks like he’s about to be in tears himself.

They sit and talk. They refrain from talking about 12. Instead Prim regales Katniss with all the details of district 13. About their history, what a day looks like here, how kind but organized everyone is. What they’ve been up to while she’s been out. How there aren’t any people Prim’s age, but she’s still made friends with the nurses. Katniss listens and takes it all in as her mother gently rebraids her hair, adding comments here and there. Prim assures her that she’ll like everyone’s work ethic here. Katniss is glad to hear the rebellion is strong. 

But most importantly, Prim assures her that they’re safe. She goes on and on about how secure and safe and protected she feels here. Which does make Katniss feel much better. She doesn’t have the mind to think maybe her sister was encouraged to convince her that they would all be okay here.

Peeta is mostly silent, and Katniss suspects he’s had a slightly different experience here than her family. But she doesn’t push it right now. She doesn’t want to. 

They visit for several hours, and for a while Katniss is able to forget everything going on and the tragedy surrounding them. It hangs heavy in the air, but the sedatives, or whatever mood boosters they’ve given her, make it hard for her to worry much.

Katniss wouldn’t usually like the idea of being drugged, of being placed out of control, but at a time like this it feels like a relief. And she thinks maybe she’s needed a moment of escape. She hasn’t been able to relax since her father died.

 Eventually they leave, promising to visit her later, and then it’s just her and Peeta again. He looks tired. She tugs at his arm, and carefully shifts herself over in bed to make him more room. He sighs, and then crawls back in with her. He passes out sooner than she does, lightly snoring against her shoulder. She pets through his hair, and hopes that they’ll all be okay.

Another nurse comes in to check on them, rechecking vitals. They do another cognitive test, and apply some more burn cream. Peeta stays clocked out, even as they redress his arm and apply ointment to his burns. Katniss wonders how much sleep he’s gotten this past week, sweeping a thumb over the dark circles under his eyes. His eyelashes flutter at her touch, and he curls up tighter into her. The nurses leave them alone, and Katniss thinks she might fall asleep herself.

Until Gale is suddenly in the doorway. He’s looking at them with a look Katniss can’t quite read. Something like relief and pity, but also a strange sort of sadness.

“Gale,” Katniss breathes, shifting to try and sit up.

“Don’t, Katnip.” He shakes his head, waving at her to stay down.

Peeta wakes up next to her with a start, head snapping around the room, and for a second she can see in his eyes that he’s back in the arena. His shoulders relax when he recognizes the hospital room, but he looks put off by Gale’s presence. 

“Gale.” He nods, shifting to get off the bed. Katniss quickly reaches to grab his arm, inadvertently turning away from Gale’s outstretched arms. 

And suddenly there’s a tension in the room Katniss wasn't expecting. She’s stuck between keeping Peeta at her side and returning her best friend’s hug. And everyone seems to know it. 

Gale’s arms fall, and instead he takes a hesitant seat next to her. 

“I’ll be out in the hallway.” Peeta says, slipping through her grasp before she can make a decision.

“Peeta-“

“It’s okay. I’m just next door.”

And it’s not that she can’t be alone with Gale. That’s completely fine. It’s the fact that she realizes she doesn’t know how to be without Peeta. 

Leaving her alone with a stranger was one thing. Of course she didn’t want Peeta to leave. But being alone with someone she’s known all her childhood, and still feeling lost without him, is something else entirely.  

“It’s alright Katnip. It’s just me.” Gale smiles sadly. 

And she doesn’t know how to fix this. How to mend this sudden rift between them, this thing she hadn’t meant to create. And she doesn’t know how to explain it to him, because she doesn’t understand it herself. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks instead. 

“Awful.” She’s honest.

He scoffs. “Yeah I bet. You took quite a beating.” He smiles sadly, hand slipping up the bed rails to hang over towards her. She cautiously grabs it. And then she squeezes, hard.

Gale squeezes back. Seems to be holding something back. Katniss doesn’t know what to say to him. Everything there is to say feels so heavy, and she doesn’t want to think about it all right now. 

“I can’t…” she whispers, “I can’t talk about all of it right now.” 

And Gale seems to understand that. He nods, swallowing. Tries to muster up a smile on his face. 

“Have you had any good news today?”

“Not really.” She sighs.

Gale swipes a thumb over her knuckles. “You’ve inspired quite a few people. District 8 and 11 have fully joined the rebellion.”

And she’s not sure that’s something she wants to hear right now. All that means is there’s more people throwing themselves under fire. Because of her. More dead, because of her. 

She swallows, shaking her head “I don’t want to talk about that- please.” 

Gale’s mouth pops open, eyebrows furrowing, “Katniss we have to fight against him-“

“I know that , Gale. I just- I’ve thought enough about death today.”

His face relaxes, “I’m sorry.” 

She says nothing.

And there’s really not much to say. Any of their usual topics revolve around 12, the rebellion, or whatever their relationship is now. And none of those are topics Katniss can handle right now. 

So instead they sit in silence. Listening to her heart rate monitor slowly beep. 

“Thank you.” She whispers. She doesn’t tell him enough. 

He looks up at her. “For…what?”

She meets his grey eyes, and she feels like crying. “For everything.” 

He frowns. He reaches out to sweep a hand over her head, thumb swiping at her salty cheeks. His hands are nothing like Peeta’s, fingers calloused and sure. 

“You say that as if I wouldn’t have done it anyways.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

He smiles softly. “I know.”

They sit in silence for a few more moments. Gale rests his head on the bed rail, hand sliding to rub at her shoulder. She nearly falls asleep, but another nurse comes in to take more vitals. Gale seems to take that as his cue to leave, and he promises he’ll watch after her family for her, like he always does.

She drifts off after a while. Faintly recognizes Peeta’s lips pressing a kiss to her cheek, something reassuring whispered in her ear. And then she’s lost to more nightmares.

- - - - -

She spends months in the hospital. What starts out as her being kept for physical injuries turns into her being kept for mental concerns. She gets sick of the four white walls. She gets sick of herself.

She grows unresponsive. She wallows in grief so strong it renders her unmovable. 

Her home is gone. Her people are gone. Her baby is gone. All because of her. 

They send Peeta to district 12 to shoot propos. He comes back inconsolable. Sits at her bedside and sobs, and all she can do is cry with him. 

They spend nights curled in the same hospital bed, even though Peeta’s been released weeks ago. She can’t let go of him. And yet she’s terrified that he hates her. She hates herself. Hates everything she’s done and everything she stands for. People keep coming in calling her a hero, but she feels nothing of the sort.

And then slowly Peeta stops staying with her every day. And she gets worse. He hates her. She hates her. And she doesn’t want to exist. 

Prim takes his place. Her sister pampers her. Coaxes her to eat. Braids her hair. Paints her nails. Helps her to the bathroom. Occasionally bathes her, saving her from the nurses who scrub her raw. Prim tells her endless stories, even if Katniss never gives any indication that she’s listening. She loves her sister, but Prim can only do so much.

Dr. Anderson tries desperately to pull her out of her funk. To help her cope and come to terms with what she’s done. But for every session she can’t even hear the man. He sounds like bumbling white noise as he speaks, and all she sees is nightmares even while she’s awake. 

She stops eating. They have to force her. She stops talking completely. Peeta pleads with her to come back to him. She doesn’t know how to do that. 

Until one day they claw her from her hospital bed and sit her in a wheelchair. Peeta and Gale are both there in the elevator with her. She’s wheeled past fighter jets and hovercraft. People look at her wide eyed as they go past. 

The light is blinding. She holds a hand up to cover her eyes, flinching against the warmth that greets her. Arms scoop under her, lifting her out of the wheelchair. Her eyes slowly adjust as she’s carried. And then finally she sees green.

She takes a deep breath. It’s fresh air. 

“You want to try and walk?” Gale says softly, stopping to pause their walk up the hill.

She glances up to see grey eyes looking down at her, bright blue sky behind him. 

“The grass is nice, Katniss.” Peeta says.

She looks over. Golden curls glisten in the sun, and he offers her a beaming smile. He has a picnic basket. 

She nods, tentatively. Gale carefully sets her down. Her legs feel weak beneath her, and Gale holds tightly at her arms until she gets her balance.

The grass is nice. Soft and green and cool between her toes. And the air is so crisp. She stares up at the blue blue sky, scattered with puffy bright white clouds. 

She spots a hawk swooping down low into the trees up the hill, something large and dark hanging from its beak. Its head swivels to rest golden eyes upon her when it lands, and she recognizes its catch as a crow . It's a very odd prey item for a hawk, and she can’t help but feel like it’s a metaphor. 

“I made cheese buns,” Peeta says softly, pulling her from her thoughts. 

He walks farther up the hill, glancing back at her, expecting her to follow. She does. Slowly takes a few steps, Gale hovering to make sure she doesn’t fall. Peeta takes a seat at the edge of the forest, opening the basket and pulling out a blanket. Gale helps him flatten it out on the grass, and they both take a seat. 

For a moment, Katniss is convinced she’s dreaming. The sight of them laying out a picnic, together , is completely backwards of everything she knows. What has she missed?

“Sit, Katniss. Come eat.” Gale waves her over, patting the spot across from him and Peeta. 

She does, reluctantly. Stunned by the two of them working together as Peeta makes her a sandwich and Gale puts together the rest of her plate. He hands it to her with a smile. She just stares. They don’t push her to eat. 

She picks at her food. Nibbles. Peeta and Gale are quiet as they dig into the basket. 

The only sound is leaves and grass swaying in the breeze, the distant chatter of song birds and rodents. She looks up at the sky and watches the clouds. Breathes in non-filtered oxygen. Can smell the grass and pollen. Can feel the breeze in her hair. And it drags her out of her head. Lifts the weight off her shoulders and chest. She breathes , for what feels like the first time in months. And for once her head is empty of self hatred and loathing. 

“It’s a beautiful day today. We should have taken you out here sooner.” Peeta remarks quietly.

Gale hums, “Yeah well I had to pull several strings to convince Coin to allow this.”

She swallows, and finds words coming to her lips for the first time in weeks. She hesitates, but lets it slip. Because she has to try . 

“Thank you.” She whispers, staring at the strawberries on her plate. 

They both look up at her, shocked expressions on their faces. Peeta recovers faster, smiling softly in her direction. And seeing him smile is like a glimmer of hope. She hasn’t seen him smile in so long. Not a real smile. She feels herself flush.

Gale draws her attention. “How are you feeling, Katnip?”

She swallows. Sets down her plate. Shrugs. “I feel better. Out here.”

“Good. Good, that’s good.”

It goes back to silence. Gale and Peeta eventually lay back on the blanket and cloud gaze, nibbling on cheese buns. They don’t really talk. Not that Katniss expects them to.

“Join us Katnip.” Gale pats the space between them after a while.

Peeta scoots over to give her more room. She gently sets down her plate. Moves to lay down between them and stare up at the sky. 

After a while Peeta points to a cloud. “Look. It’s a swan.” 

She smiles, softly. She sees it, wings outstretched.

The sun is warm on her skin. And in this moment, between Gale and Peeta, she feels something close to safe.

Gale eventually sits up. He rips a cheese bun in half, offers Katniss part of it. She stares. Is reminded of that day in the woods, years ago, where they shared a bread roll at their favorite hunting spot. Before all of this came tumbling down around them. 

She takes it. Nibbles. 

“Katniss.” Peeta says, and he sounds reluctant. 

She swallows. 

“We need to talk.” Gale whispers.

Peeta sits up, and can’t seem to meet Katniss’s eyes. 

“The rebellion is happening, Katniss.” Gale says, and he sounds soft.

She should have expected this. Of course Gale would bring it up. Gale is angry, has been for a while. He wants change. They all do, but Gale is always there spurring it on, shoving his hand in the pot, stubborn in his resolve. Gale carries Prometheus’s torch. He sets others ablaze. Ares, to a fault.

She closes her eyes. She doesn’t want to hear him berate her for not stepping forward and taking action.

“People are angry, Katniss.” Peeta sounds grave when he says it, and it catches her attention.

Her eyes snap open to look at him. He stares at the picnic blanket, and he looks nothing like she’s seen him before.

“The Capitol has wronged people. For too long, Katniss. And people are angry. They’re furious. District 12 and 13 and 11; they’re angry. So are 8 and 7 and 5.” Hardened blue eyes meet hers. “ I’m angry, Katniss.”

She doesn’t expect that from him. Not from cool, calm, collected Peeta. She doesn’t expect the fire in his eyes. That’s something she’s used to seeing in Gale. But not Peeta. And it hits her, hard .  

“People want to fight, Katniss. People are fighting. And they aren’t fighting because of you. They’re fighting for themselves . They’re fighting because they’re angry .” Gale explains. And the hardened look from him is familiar, something Katniss has seen before.

But she’s never seen it on Peeta. Not like this. She’s had glimpses. When he held death berries in his hands, ready to chuck them back with her. When he volunteered for Haymitch. When she pushed him over the edge before the quarter quell. At the lake, when he told her she needed to live . 

She can’t look away. It’s like watching a forest fire. He is immovable. Unforgiving. Angry . 

A part of her tells her she’s the reason. That she caused this.

“This isn’t because of you Katniss. This has been a long time coming. People have been angry for a long time. You were just the spark that finally set things into motion. You have to stop blaming yourself.” Gale continues. 

Peeta’s face gets softer, and he reaches to grasp her hand. This is the Peeta Katniss recognizes.

“Katniss this is far bigger than all of us.” He squeezes, “But we need you. Your mother and sister need you. The rebellion needs you. I need you.”

She takes a shaky breath. 

Oh .

At dinner they wheel her down to the cafeteria. She recognizes faces. Faces from 12. Sat next to faces she doesn’t recognize. Faces from 13. 

Slowly, the room falls silent, as eyes land on her. And she braces herself for the worst.

It takes one person. Posy Hawthorne stands, from across the cafeteria. Kisses three fingers. Whistles. And the room follows, like a wave. 

Katniss isn’t sure what she expected. In her head she’d imagine they’d look at her with disdain. With hatred and furry for what she’s done to them. 

But they don’t. They look stoic. Brave. Proud . They look united.

“They’re angry, Katniss. They’re angry at the Capitol. And you give them hope.” Peeta whispers in her ear.

It sends a shiver down her spine.

This is much bigger than her.

- - - - -

The concrete floors are cold against her bare feet. Her mind barely registers where she’s going. This half-awake sprint has become muscle memory over the past week. 

Her knuckles rasp against a door. She trembles, choking back sobs. She knocks again, and the door opens a second later.

“Katniss?”

She breaks. She tumbles into his room, and he catches her as she falls. He hushes her sobs, squeezing her tight. Whispers reassurances into her hair as he pulls her towards his bed. She curls into his lap as he calms her cries. 

“It’s okay Katniss. I’m here. We’re safe. We’re okay.”

Thirty minutes later and she’s back asleep in his arms, ear to his chest as she listens to his heart. And she sleeps soundly the rest of the night. Just like every night, for the past week. 

Eventually they skip the nightmares. She finds herself crawling into bed with him at night. At first her mother and sister and Gale are worried; especially Gale. So is Boggs, and then Plutarch and Coin when they find out. They are chastised, and it goes far enough that they’re sat down to discuss having “safe relations”. Which horrifies both of them. 

“She has nightmares- I have nightmares. We- they go away, when we’re together. That’s it. Nothing more.” Peeta explains.

They get a mix of suspicion and sympathy. They’re told to be careful. Both of them leave the meeting with cherry cheeks. They barely touch for the next few days. That quickly ends when she wakes with a start one night. A palm instantly on her back to soothe away the tears. 

It becomes their norm. Slowly, Katniss moves into his living quarters. Gradual enough that neither of them really recognize it’s happening. But enough that by the end of the next month she no longer finds herself walking down the hall to grab something from her room. Neither of them mention it. It just happens, silently. 

- - - - -

Katniss hates the idea of becoming yet another pawn in a political game of chess. Controlled and touted around like a symbol for someone else’s gain. But Peeta, with the help of a grouchy sober Haymitch, eventually convinces her to meet and talk with Coin.

“The woman is scared of you, Katniss. You and Peeta hold more sway in Panem than she does.” Haymitch grumbles, sitting on Peeta’s bed. He looks out of place without a drink in his hand. “You have leverage. Coin can claim she doesn’t need you, that she can win this war without the mockingjay, but the reality is she can’t. And she knows it.”

Katniss scoffs.

“No, he’s right.” Peeta says, catching her gaze. “People would rally behind us, Katniss. I’ve seen it.”

“But even still, you have to play it safe. You can only push the woman so far. Too much, and I wouldn’t put it past her to frame a scandal that has herself coming out on top.” 

“You think she’d do that?” Peeta frowns.

“That woman would easily make a martyr out of either of you. She really only needs one of you.” Haymitch snorts, “In fact, I’m surprised at how much she’s pushed for Katniss to get off her ass and film.” 

“Neither of us are dying.” Katniss practically growls.

Haymitch throws his hands up, “Didn't say you were, sweetheart. Though it is good to know you’re no longer trying to kick the bucket.” 

Katniss hadn’t even realized that’s what she meant. 

“I have to stop refusing to help unless Katniss agrees.” Peeta sighs under his breath.

Haymitch nods. “You both have to present a united front. She has to know she can’t get away with having just one of you.”

There's silence. And it goes unspoken; they all know they can only put off helping the rebellion for so long. The more they wait, the farther behind they’ll get in the war, and the less likely they are to win. And they need to win. Snow and the games have to end. 

Sometimes you have to pick your battles. Sometimes, in diplomacy, you have to go along with what your allies ask of you.

“What about the others?” Katniss asks.

Johanna, Finnick, and Annie have flooded the Capitol’s broadcasts with pleas to end the war; calling Katniss and Peeta and 13 monsters for going against Panem. And Coin and the rest of district 13 have condemned them as traitors.

Katniss may not be Johanna Mason’s number one fan, or anything close to it, but the spitfire she knew from the Quarter Quell is nothing like the woman she sees on the TVs. In no world could she ever see Johanna Mason supporting the Capitol. And Haymitch agrees. And Haymitch is one of few people Katniss trusts.

Haymitch grins. “I’m sure you two can figure something out.” 

Sometimes, your allies have to go along with what you ask of them . 

- - - - -

Coin begrudgingly agrees to Katniss and Peeta’s terms. And Katniss is dead set on ensuring Coin keeps her word. After her first official meeting with the woman, Katniss doesn’t trust her any farther than she could throw her. 

Katniss also discovers that she is comically bad at making propos. Even with Peeta there to help, she feels stiff and awkward and hates the way Effie fawns over her. Haymitch is the one to come up with the idea of sending them out to the actual field. Peeta pushes back, saying Katniss isn’t ready for that. And stubborn as ever, Katniss demands she is. 

They visit a hospital in District 8. It’s devastating, seeing people, children , torn to shreds by Capitol bombs, suffering and battling to hold on to life. It’s exactly the opposite of what Katniss wants; is more people dying for her . The awe in everyone’s eyes as they pass sends shivers down her spine. People look at them as if they’re heroes, when in reality Katniss feels nothing of the sort. She feels the opposite. 

“Katniss Everdeen?”

They both turn to see a young girl, face covered in blood.

“What are you doing here?”

She pauses. Voice weak as she starts. “I came- I came to see you.” Peeta squeezes her hand.

“What about the baby?” 

She turns to see a woman. Feels her stomach drop. The baby .

“We lost it.” Peeta breathes. 

“Are you here to fight with us?”

With us. Not for us. With us. And she’s reminded of what Gale told her, a month or so ago. That people aren’t fighting for her. They’re fighting with her. That they want to fight, for themselves .

“I am,” she swallows, “I will.” 

Peeta nods, “We will always fight with you.”

The boy presses three fingers to his lips. And lifts them up. And slowly, all around them, everyone does the same. And it makes her breath catch, at the impact they have. And it resparks that long fizzled flame in her chest. The one that wanted freedom, the one that had hope. 

Shortly afterward the hospital and the rest of district eight are bombed. Her and Peeta and Gale barely make it out. She shoots down a few bombers with some of the explosive tipped arrows Beetee made her. 

It makes her furious to see the make-shift hospital reduced to flames and rubble. It ignites a different fire. One of anger . And if she burns, the Capitol sure as hell will burn with her.

- - - - - 

Mid interview with Caesar Flickerman, Johanna seems to snap out of some sort of trance.

“Bombs- Katniss they’re going to bomb 13-“ And the transmission cuts off. 

Shortly after the entire district goes on lockdown. Everyone is sent to the bunkers. Katniss holds onto Prim as the ceiling above and ground below rattles with each explosion, like Posideon’s thrown a tantrum. But this is not the gods. 

Peeta squeezes her hand, whispering into her ear that it’s okay. She tries to believe him. 

By morning the bombs have finally stopped. By the next day they are all sent back to their quarters. Katniss is pulled into several meetings to discuss maneuvers. It feels like white noise. Peeta’s hand is steady in hers, her tether to reality. 

One late night the opportunity finally arises. The capitol’s electrical supply is cut short by a rebellion in district 5 that shuts off the dam. Gale and Boggs lead the mission, and they all wait in bated silence, listening to the coms as the rescue takes place. Beetee hacks into the Capitol’s transmissions and keeps the propo footage running on repeat. It takes hours. Peeta drifts off on her shoulder as she waits, strung with nerves. By early morning they finally return, as dawn cracks the horizon. 

There’s no casualties. Everyone makes it back in one piece. Johanna and Finnick look half the people they used to be, worse than ghosts. Annie does not speak, at all. It takes weeks for all of them to break out of whatever brainwashing the capital did to them. Weeks for them to start acting anything close to “normal”. Johanna bounces back slightly faster, but Katniss is pretty sure it’s out of pure spite, stubbornness, and denial of everything that happened to her. 

Coin also keeps to her word. None of them are treated as traitors for publicly supporting the Capitol cause on television. It’s also made pretty clear pretty quickly that none of them had any control over what they were saying anyways. They are forgiven, and the rebellion moves on. Katniss is dragged into more conference rooms, and out to film more propos with Peeta. She actually starts to get good at them.

By the end of the summer Finnick and Annie are married. There’s a huge reception. The entire district celebrates. Katniss is forced to pull on a golden dress, and Peeta whisks her away to the dance floor, and she falls into step as they move. Steps practiced for dances in the Capitol. It feels stiff, because it’s all they know how to do. Until the night wears on, and it begins to feel loose. Gale takes her for a few songs, and Peeta twirls Prim around, both of them giggling and laughing, and it pulls a smile on Katniss’s face as she watches. When she makes it back to him he looks happy and free, and he spins and twirls her like she could never get dizzy. 

It gives her hope that something good might still come out of all of this. For one night, the world doesn’t feel so heavy and bloody. For one night, Katniss can imagine something better.

Chapter Text

“Katniss- Katniss wake up- it’s just a nightmare-“

She startles, eyes snapping open. The room is dimly lit with an orange glow. She’s in a bed. Hands are at her back and arm, and she jolts when she sees his face. She quickly scrambles across the bed away from him, curling into the corner. He has her trapped.

“I’m sorry-“ she gasps, desperately trying to get air into her lungs. Her chest is heaving.

“It’s okay- you’re okay.” He says, reaching out to touch her.

She flinches away from his hand, apologies tumbling out of her lips as she cries and begs him to stop.

“Katniss-“ he breathes, and she curls tighter into her ball as he slides to sit in front of her. “Katniss, it's okay. It’s Peeta. I'm not going to hurt you. You’re safe.”

She trembles as the tears fall, eyeing him like at any moment he might strike out at her. He tries to reach out again.

“Please- please don’t- I’m so sorry-“ She turns away from him, flattening herself against the wall as much as possible, panic making her heart race.

He wavers, dark blue eyes flickering over her. “Katniss, it was just a dream. It wasn’t real. You’re in 13, you’re safe here. I’d never hurt you. Please- let me help you.”

She doesn’t process his words. She shakes her head, shielding herself with her legs and arms. He’s angry with her. Furious. As he should be. And she doesn’t want to fight him, she doesn’t want to hurt him any more than she already has.

“Katniss please, it’s Peeta .”

She lets out a sob, “I know,” she adjusts against the wall, trying to creep towards the end of the bed to try and escape. 

He looks conflicted. Worry creasing his face. “What did I do? What happened in your dream?”

“You’re mad-“ she gasps, “you’re angry. Please- I’m sorry- please- leave me alone-“

“Katniss I’m not mad.”

“Don’t- please- I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Did I hurt you?” 

She sobs. She can practically still feel the sting against her cheek. The way she can’t find air from the blow to her stomach. 

“Please- I’m sorry- I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Katniss did I hurt you?” He says more sternly.

She nods frantically, begging him to stay away. 

A tear falls down his cheek, mouth popping open in shock. She shakes and trembles against the wall, too afraid to keep her eyes off of him. He’s silent, staring at the bedcovers between them. And then he turns, bending over to grab something off the floor. She recoils in suspense for what he has for her. But instead he gets off the bed after fiddling. 

She watches as he moves across the room, flicking on a second lamp. He opens a door to another room, and disappears inside. She scoots along the wall, afraid what will happen if he leaves her sight. She watches him rummage through a drawer, and she feels her stomach drop. He’s getting something. Something dangerous , her mind supplies. He flicks on a sink. She can’t see what it is. But then he turns around, flicking the light off and closing the door behind him. She scrambles back against the wall as he comes closer.

“Drink.” He says, unable to meet her face as he hands out a cup of water.

She eyes him wearily. He carefully places the cup among the twisted bedsheets when she refuses to take it, and then he leaves to sit on a small couch, staring at the floor. She grabs the cup. And drinks. It’s cool. And she’s thirsty. She downs it quickly, and her panic induced brain finally starts to comprehend her surroundings.

She’s in 13. In Peeta’s living quarters. Where she has been for months, during the rebellion. 

Oh . 

Her hand shakes as she holds the cup. She tries to get her breathing under control. 

A nightmare. A very very bad nightmare. Peeta still can’t look at her. And the guilt wells up her throat in a painful lump, pushing burning tears back to her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out, covering her mouth as she lets out a sob. 

Peeta says nothing. 

She tries to stop her crying. She wants him to come back. She wants him to hug her. Assure her it’s okay. That he’d never touch her like that. That he’d never hurt her. That he isn’t mad or furious or upset or angry with her. But she’s not sure if the last could ever be true. Peeta might have the reserve to hold back from taking out his anger on her, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t resent her for everything she’s done and caused him. She’s ruined his life. Taken away everything he’s had. Dragged his heart through the mud numerous times. Forced him to take care of her, despite everything.

She’s let herself push these thoughts to the back of her mind the past month or so, too busy with the rebellion to let them consume her. But in this moment they take back over.

“You hate me.” She whispers.

He shakes his head. “No.”

She licks her lips. “Yes.”

He runs a hand through his hair, finally looking up at her. “Are you back?”

She swallows, and nods. 

He sighs, and stands up from the couch to come sit on the bed. He faces the opposite wall, away from her, so all she sees is his back.

She wants to hug him. But she can’t imagine he actually wants anything to do with her. She’s a monster. All she ever does is hurt him. 

“Why do you stay?” She asks, voice hoarse.

He glances back at her, eyes looking over her. 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

She swallows, looking down at her knees that are still curled to her chest. 

“Because all I’ve ever done is hurt you.” She whispers. “You should hate me. I’m a monster.”

He turns around, a frown on his face. “You are not a monster. Don’t ever say that.”

She chokes over the words. “Yes I am.” She swallows over the lump in her throat, “I killed our baby. I killed your parents. I destroyed our home.”

“Stop it. Don’t say that.” 

She looks up at him with tears in her eyes. “But it’s true.”

Suddenly he’s scooching across the bed towards her, hesitating as he reaches for one of her hands. She doesn’t close the gap. She shouldn’t. He doesn’t actually want anything to do with her.

“It’s not true. You can’t control a miscarriage, Katniss. And you can’t control Snow. Neither of those things were your fault. We’ve been over this before.”

The tears slip down her cheeks, hot and scorching. 

“But they happened because of me.”

He sighs. “Katniss. I don’t blame you. Please believe me.”

She looks up at him, at the blue eyes that seem so sincere. 

“I do. I blame myself.” She whispers, “How can you not hate me, Peeta? For everything I’ve done. I hate me.”

He takes her face, cupping her cheeks in his hands. It’s sudden, but his hands are gentle, if not solid against her. He looks like he’s desperately searching for words. Like he’s running out of time. His mouth pops open, and tears gather in his eyes.

She waits. Waits for him to say whatever it is he so desperately needs to say. But there’s nothing for him to say. There’s no refuting her own self hatred. 

His hands fall from her face, and a tear slips down his cheek. And once again she’s hurt him. That’s all she ever does, is make Peeta cry. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

He shakes his head, wiping his tear. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I’ve upset you. Again.”

He huffs, hand hitting the bed as he looks up at her abruptly. She jumps. “Katniss- when are you going to understand that it’s not you I’m upset with, but this entire situation? The positions we’ve been placed in our whole lives? The ones that leave us with just- just- this . That forces us to make choices that hurt each other. You can’t control that. That’s not you. That’s the world we live in. That’s what upsets me. That’s what I hate, that’s what I blame. The people who placed us here, and gave us so few options.”

She blinks. Trying to comprehend all of that . 

“Katniss I can’t hate you. At the end of the day you’re you . Brave, despite how fucking terrifying all of this is. Selfless, in the most annoyingly stubborn way, in that you care for and put those you love before yourself, at your own detriment. In the way you stand up for those who need help. How fiercely you love people. You try your hardest to do what’s right, even if it’s more difficult. And I can’t hate you for that. For being you, when I know all you mean is good.”

She looks at him, and can’t believe what he says. Because he’s the one who is brave. He’s the one who is selfless, to a fault. He’s the one who helps others, regardless of who they are. He’s the one full of love. He’s the one who always tries to do what’s right. Peeta is the sun, he is Apollo. He’s hope, he’s light, health, beauty, and purity. He’s bright and intelligent and just the epitome of goodness. Katniss is nothing like that. 

“Please tell me you see that? How incredible you are.”

She looks down, and swallows. Shakes her head. “Peeta you’re describing yourself.”

He scoffs. “Well I’m glad you think so, but no one said we can’t both be those things.”

“I’m nothing like you.”

He huffs, “It's not a competition, Katniss.”

And it’s not. But he can’t say things like that, as if they’re anywhere near the same level. 

“No.” She whispers. 

“You don’t believe me.” He states.

She bites at her cheek. 

“Katniss, when have I ever lied to you?”

He hasn’t. Not ever. Not that she can ever remember. Perhaps there’s things he’s left unsaid, things he hasn’t told her. But when he does speak, it’s always the truth.

“Never.” She whispers, sheepishly.

“Do you trust me?”

She does, to an extent. Trusts him as far as he’ll lay his life on the line for her and those she cares about. But if it came down to him leaving her, she can’t trust he would. He’s loyal to a fault. 

“Then please, believe me.”

She’s quiet. She can’t. She doesn’t doubt that maybe he sees her that way, but she can’t imagine why he would. Other than the fact that he’s Peeta, and he sees the best in almost everyone. 

“Do I have to prove it to you?” He whispers after a moment, breaking the silence.

She looks up at him, and he almost looks nervous.

“Prove what?”

His hand comes up to cup her cheek, brushing under her eyes, swiping over olive skin.

“That I don’t hate you.” He whispers. “Show you why you’re more than you think you are.”

She licks her lips, watching him as he leans in closer. 

“Prove it how,” she says softly, less a question than it is a statement.

His eyes flicker down to her lips, and he swipes his thumb across the corner. It makes her breath catch, ever so slightly.

“Only if you let me,” he breathes. 

Her heart jumps in her chest. 

“Why would you want to kiss me?” she dares to ask. And perhaps that’s a ridiculous question, one she already knows the answer to.

He flushes, licking his lips as his thumb falters against her skin. He glances over her face. 

“Because I love you.” 

She shudders as she takes in a breath. He’s never said it. Not directly, not like that. He’s alluded to it, mentioned it in passing. She’s seen the fierce look in his eyes many times; the one she’s only been able to recognize because it’s the same one her parents held for each other. He’s said it in front of cameras, to sell their lie, but never outright, never to mean it.

But for Peeta it’s never been a lie. And quite frankly, it doesn’t feel like one anymore. Not as he looks at her like she’s all that exists in this world. Like he’d lay everything in his life down just to hear her say it back.

But she doesn’t know what this is. She doesn’t know what the feeling in her chest is, or the compulsion that pushes her forward to kiss him. Maybe it is love. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s a need for comfort, and someone to care for her. Whatever it is, it’s foreign, and she’s been ignoring it for a while now. And she’s probably going to keep ignoring it. Because trying to wrap her head around the flutter of her heart and the warmth in her chest as he pulls her close and deepens the kiss is too scary and complex to figure out.

It steals away her breath, the way he molds against her, nose against her cheek as his tongue grazes her top lip. It’s soft, and delicate, and he’s never kissed her like this. Like he’s desperate for her to understand he means it. In the way his hands tremble, and he slowly moves against her. Like at any moment he could lose her. Like this is the last time he’ll get to kiss her, and he’s trying to savor every second he can before this is gone.

She slowly reaches to thread a hand through his hair, and he slips a hand up her side. Hooking around her to pull her close. She slides into his lap, warm breath flooding over her cheeks and chin as he kisses her with everything he has. And she tries to meet him. Hanging onto his shoulders, keeping him close.

It’s not for cameras. It’s not for anyone else. No one else is here to see it. This is for them, and only them. And Katniss feels terrified at this development. Because oh god , she wants this, so badly. For him to love her like this. To care and kiss her like she’s the only thing on this planet. To not be upset with her, to not hate her, to not blame her. 

And it’s different. It’s new. 

It’s not the first time they’ve been alone. It’s not the first time she’s poured all she’s had into a kiss before. But never together. And this means something else. 

“Stay with me. Please?” He breaks away to gasp against her cheek.

And she’s in tears, all over again. Because this is all so much. Peeta kisses them away. His lips flutter across her cheeks. And she grips him tight, because she doesn’t want him to go anywhere, even if it means she finally has to face whatever this is between them. 

Her breath shudders. “Always.”

- - - - -

“Alright, Katniss. When you answer a question make sure you look into the camera. We’ll start in three…two…one…” Cressida points at Plutarch, signaling they’re recording.

“Hello Katniss,” Plutarch smiles, “We’ve just heard from the other victors, like Finnick O’dair and Beetee Latier, about the terrible things President  Snow has done to them over the years since they won their games. As I understand it, you also have your own experiences?”

She takes a second to respond. Cressida exaggerates a head nod behind the camera, and she nods, nervously picking at the padding on her thigh. 

They’ve been interviewing everyone all day. And Katniss can’t help but realize that her story is far less tragic than most. She’s been lucky. She made it out fairly unscathed, with Peeta. Snow has only ever threatened her family’s life, but he’s never acted. The things she’s had to do feel exponentially small in comparison to everyone else.

“Tell me about it.” Plutarch states.

And she blinks. Staring dumbly at him. 

“I…I don’t know,” she whispers, looking up at Cressida. 

“It okay. Just keep going. We’ll stay rolling.” She waves them on.

Plutarch smiles, “Tell me about district 12, Katniss.”

Which is a broad question. And her mind blanks. Her knee begins to bounce.

“It’s in ruins now, is it not?”

Oh . 

“Yes.” She nods, looking down at her lap. “Snow bombed it to pieces. District 12 is gone.”

“And why did he do that?”

She freezes up. She doesn’t want to talk about that. 

“It’s okay, Katniss,” Plutarch says softly, as if he actually cares, “It’s not your fault. Tell us what happened.”

Her knee picks back up it’s bouncing. “I shot the force field.”

“What did you expect to happen?”

She bites her lip. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking very clearly at the time.”

“Because you were miscarrying the baby, right?”

She takes a shuddering breath. Glances over towards the sound booth, where the others have been sitting in and listening. She looks for Peeta. He sends a sympathetic smile towards her. 

“Because Snow forced you into the arena while you were pregnant. That’s a little cruel, don’t you think?”

She shifts in her seat. “Yeah well the games are cruel.”

Plutarch grins. “Indeed they are.”

She wants to be done. She looks towards Cressida. She only gives her a thumbs up.

“Tell me, Katniss, about the baby.”

She blinks back tears. She didn’t expect this to be so difficult. 

“What about the baby.”

“Well, why were you pregnant?”

She looks up at him, eyebrows furrowing. Is he seriously asking her to explain the birds and the bees to him? For their propo footage?

He chuckles, “Not- no, that’s not what I’m asking. Sorry. Let me rephrase: were you and Peeta trying to get pregnant?”

She shakes her head.

“Why not?”

“Why would I want to bring a child into a world where they might be thrown into a death arena,” she spits bluntly. 

He nods, “That’s a fair point. Losing children is hard, as I’m sure you know, and the games are a tragic way to go.” He agrees, “But did you want children with Peeta?”

She pauses. Suddenly this has gotten far too personal.

Does she want children with Peeta ?

She doesn’t want children, period. But if she had them…Peeta would make a great father. He would take good care of them. If she had to choose…she guesses she would prefer Peeta.

“I’m only asking, because as I know it, Snow forced you two together, did he not?”

Her mouth pops open. Oh .

“He did.” She whispers.

“Tell me about that.”

And she doesn’t know where to begin. Because very quickly she realizes anything she says isn’t entirely true. It wasn’t actually awful. Not how Plutarch wants her to say it was. And looking back Katniss only regrets not making up her mind sooner. She wishes she could have just let it happen, and not have fought against it so much, not have gone back and forth pretending with him, breaking his heart. Because Peeta didn’t deserve that. And pretending to like Peeta isn’t difficult. And she’s not sure she is pretending anymore. 

The way she’d kissed him last night wasn’t pretend. That was real. In what way she still isn’t sure, but it was real . At least, she hopes it was. She wants it to be.

“I want to be done.” She whispers.

“Just a little more, Katniss. Tell them about you and Peeta.” Cressida urges her.

“No.” She says, and she gets out of the chair. 

“Katniss-“ Plutarch starts.

“No!” She shouts, spinning around to snap at him. “You want me to say it was awful! It was not awful!”

Plutarch pauses. “No?”

“No!” She huffs, “Peeta is nice, and he is kind, and Snow forcing us together is not the punishment you all want it to be.”

“But you didn’t want to. He still forced you. He threatened to kill your family if you didn’t make it believable. So you tried to make it believable. You got married. You got pregnant. He forced you to do that. And then he killed your baby and bombed your district to pieces.”

And she doesn’t know how to counter that. She’s at a loss for words. 

It wasn’t like that , she wants to say. Except it was like that. It was exactly like that.

“I’m done.” She says, and storms out of the set room. 

No one follows her. She wanders down the maze like corridors, passing people as she walks. No one bothers her. She’s suddenly at Peeta’s door. And she doesn’t remember walking this direction. And she doesn’t remember starting to cry.  

“Miss Everdeen,” a voice calls to her from down the hall, and she looks up to see Boggs coming her direction. 

She quickly opens the door and slips inside, shutting it before he can get to her.

And then she falls apart. The tears slip down her cheeks, and she gasps for air as she stumbles towards the bathroom. She collapses to the tile floor, hiccuping.

How much of this was Snow? How much of what she has with Peeta is real? If every single thing she’s done is because Snow’s forced her to make these kinds of decisions, how can she be sure this actually means anything? How much of her life isn’t actually hers? 

There’s a knock on the door, and she gasps up air, shutting off her cries.

“Go away,” she tries to sound strong, but it comes out croaky.

“It’s me.” He says.

She immediately reaches for the door handle, pulling it open as she stands up. She tackles him in a hug before he can even move, and he stumbles a few steps back from the sudden weight thrown his way.

“Hey,” Peeta breathes, hands landing on her sides.

She hiccups a sob into his shoulder, crushing him tight.  

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, a hand rubbing at her back.

“No,” she whimpers.

He squeezes her, and starts to lead her towards the couch. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He whispers into her hair as he pulls them down to sit.

She curls up into his lap, clutching at his sweatshirt like her life depends on it. He hushes her cries, slowly rubbing circles at her back, another hand combing through her hair. She slowly calms down, her breathing getting deeper as his chest gradually rises and falls against her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers after a while.

“Don’t be.” 

She reaches to wipe her tears, and Peeta shifts under her to look at her better. He offers her a sad smile when she meets his eyes. 

“Your eyes look more green when you cry.” He says softly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

The words come tumbling out of her lips unprompted. “Is this real?”

He blinks, surprised by the abrupt topic change, and then looks at her carefully. “Is what real?”

And what is a good question. She doesn’t know what this is, the thing between them. Doesn’t know how to name her own feelings, let alone what’s going on between them.

“If you’re asking if you’re dreaming, then no. This is all real.”

She shakes her head “No, not- not that.” But she does appreciate the clarification. 

She eyes his hoodie strings, and pulls absently at one. She’s not sure how to phrase what she’s saying.

“How about we get you out of your armor uniform?” Peeta suggests.

She frowns. “I thought they wanted to interview you.”

“I told them they had enough. Said that we’re both done for the day.”

She hums. He shifts to get off the couch, and she reluctantly lets him. 

“I’m sure that made Coin very happy.” She huffs. 

He chuckles. “I think that woman needs to learn that she doesn’t get everything she wants.” He pulls a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from his dresser, setting it on the coffee table. “Need help?”

She nods, shifting to pull at the armor straps. He takes the plates when she hands them over, setting them on the table. He helps her with the zipper. She has to stand in order to get the sleeves off. It’s a whole ordeal, and by the time she’s topless, left in just a sports bra, they’re both huffing. Peeta’s eyes wander, and suddenly he’s reaching out to brush over the burn scars that creep up over her shoulders. 

“I don’t know how much of this was my choice.” She whispers. 

His blue eyes flicker to meet hers. 

“I don’t know how much of this is me, and how much of it was Snow.”

His hand slips down her arm to grab her hand.

“Snow isn’t here.” He whispers. “You don’t have to do anything for him.”

And he’s right. But Plutarch’s gotten into her head, and she’s scared. 

“Let’s get your pants off.” He says softly, leaving her to think as he helps yank them down her ankles. 

She’s still thinking as he folds up the suit, setting it on top of his dresser. He turns and she’s still in her underwear. 

“What if this isn’t real.” She whispers.

He frowns. “What do you mean?” He finally picks up the shirt, eyes fluttering over her.

She bites over her lip, flicking her fingers against her nails. He unfolds the shirt and pushes her head through the hole. She pushes her arms through. 

“What if I never wanted this.” She mumbles, and it scares her.

He pauses. Glances at the floor. And then he makes his way to the couch, sitting down.

“Do you?” He says carefully, “want this, I mean.”

And she realizes they’re speaking in vague terms again, because she still doesn’t know what this is, and Peeta doesn’t seem to either.

“Us,” she supplies, finally. Because maybe that’s enough. “I…I do. Want us.”

He blinks, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“Then I don’t think it matters, Katniss. Whether you still would have wanted us with the games or not. Right now is right now, that’s what we have to live in.”

She frowns. “But I don’t want this to be Snow’s doing.”

“Then don’t let it be.” He says, leaning forward to grab the sweats. He hands them out to her. 

She can’t be bothered to put them on. She steps around the coffee table and drops down in his lap. He pauses. Drops the pants, and then runs a hand over her shoulders as she leans into him.

“How do I do that?” She asks.

He hums, somewhat amused. “Well. Snow didn’t force you to not put on pants and sit in my lap, did he?” 

She stares off at the wall. “No.”

“Right. So that was your choice. A bold one, too.”

“Do you want me to put on your pants Peeta.” She pulls back to look at him.

He grins, “No. But I do want to kiss you.” 

She flushes. 

“But no one’s forcing you to do that either.” He tacks on. 

She rolls her eyes, and pecks his lips. 

He hums, “See? Also your choice. Not Snow. He can’t control us anymore. I won’t let him.”

She smiles, softly. Appreciates his determination to protect them. 

“So. This is real.” She whispers. 

“This as in us?” He clarifies.

She nods. 

“As long as you want it to be.”

She bites her lip. “I do.”

He grins, ear to ear. “Then we’re real.”

At dinner he holds her hand. Never letting her go as Boggs leads them down to the cafeteria. She laces their fingers, and squeezes. He only lets go as they grab their food trays, placing a kiss to the top of her head before they sit down at their usual table.

“Ew,” Johanna gags, “In front of everyone? Really?”

Finnick rolls his eyes. “Ignore her, she’s just salty that she has to watch all four of us.” 

“Yeah well at least you and Annie can fucking acknowledge you like each other. These two assholes have Swiss cheese for brains.”

“It’s so wonderful to see you again too, Johanna,” Peeta grins. 

“I like Swiss cheese,” Annie speaks up.

“Yeah, I bet you do, you nut-job.”

Finnick slugs her in the shoulder, and she cackles loudly. 

“You better shut up Mason, I know all about your mommy issues now.”

“Do I look like I fucking care?”

“ Language ,” Effie huffs as she takes a seat.

Johanna rolls her eyes. Haymitch settles into the seat next to Katniss, eyeing her plate. 

“Trade you,” he says, offering her his pickle for her biscuit. She sighs, handing it over.

“Peeta, they should really let you into the kitchen. The bread here is terrible.” Effie whines.

“Everything here is terrible.” Haymitch chuckles.

“Where’s Beetee?” Katniss asks.

“Working on something probably.” Finnick says, shoving mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“He said something about a force field.” Annie speaks up softly.

“A force field would be nice. That bomb shelter smelled awful.” Haymitch grumbles.

“Do you ever stop complaining?” Johanna grumbles.

“Do you ?” Haymitch shoots back.

Johanna grins, snagging Katniss’s biscuit off his plate. She takes a bite before he can snatch it back. 

“You all act like children.” Prim speaks up, and Katniss leans to look past Peeta.

“When did you arrive?” Katniss asks.

“I’ve been here since you guys sat down.”

“Oh. I didn’t see you.”

“Yeah, you were too busy giving bread boy heart eyes.” She says, elbowing Peeta.

Katniss goes red, and Peeta chuckles. Leave it to her sister to always embarrass her.

“Where’s mom?” 

“She made a friend. Her name is Tanya.” 

“Oh. Okay.”

They fall quite after that, everyone eating. That is until Johanna shatters the silence.

“That was quite the show you two put on during propos. If I didn’t know any better I would’ve figured you’re both actually fucking.”

Peeta chokes on the bite of apple he takes, and Haymitch laughs out loud. Katniss goes bright red, and Prim slaps Peeta on the back to help him cough it up. 

“Oh. So you guys are fucking.”

“Johanna, would you please learn to shut the hell up?” Katniss snaps.

She grins. “Anything for Katniss Everdeen, my savior.”

“You make me regret making a deal with Coin.” She snarks. She doesn’t actually mean it- she is glad they saved Johanna. But that doesn’t mean Johanna doesn’t drive her insane.

“Awe, did I push a button? Is little Peeta not performing? Is someone grumpy?” She pouts in mock sympathy, “I’m sure I could fix that.”

Katniss jolts from her seat. Haymitch grabs her around the waist and yanks her back before she can smack Johanna, who just howls with laughter.

“Alright alright, I think that’s enough,” Haymitch says, slapping a hand over Katniss’s mouth before she can scream profanities over the table. “Perhaps we should keep these twos’ sex life out of the dinner table discussion, sound good?”

“I do not have performance issues,” Peeta grumbles.

“That’s something someone with performance issues would say.”

“Jesus Johanna, now you’re starting to piss me off too.” Finnick grumbles.

“What, are you also having performance issues?”

“Finnick doesn’t,” Annie says absentmindedly, smiling innocently as she pushes her food around, humming to herself.

Johanna is silent for a second, and then scoffs. “She’s actually insane.”

“I think we’re all a little crazy here.” Haymitch notes.

“I’m not,” Prim says.

“You may just be the exception, sweetheart.” He nods.

“How’s sober life going for you Haymitch?” Prim smiles.

“God, aren’t you just an annoying little ray of sunshine,” he says sweetly, mouth pursed as he shakes his head. He rolls his eyes when he drops the sarcastic act.

“So it’s going well,” Peeta translates for her. 

Katniss loses track of the conversation after that, mind wandering to other places. Peeta places a hand on her thigh under the table, squeezing as he laughs. It briefly pulls her back into conversation, but she keeps drifting in and out. His hand slowly works it’s way higher, fingers slipping to graze the inside of her thigh, and gently tugging her leg closer. It makes her breath catch, and he eyes her briefly, looking far too smug. 

When dinner is over Boggs escorts them back to Peeta’s room. Katniss is tired, leaning into him as they walk. Katniss is nearly asleep against him as Peeta says goodnight to Boggs. The door shuts quietly, and then hands are slipping to her waist, lips pressing kisses across her cheeks. 

“We should probably shower.” Peeta whispers.

Katniss hums, swaying into him. Warm water sounds nice, but she’s also too tired to take a shower right now. Peeta rubs at her arms to try and rouse her awake, guiding her towards the bathroom. 

The shower is turned on, and a fresh pair of clothes are placed on the corner of the sink. She yawns and Peeta sighs as he’s forced to help her undress for the second time today. Not that he’s actually complaining: Katniss is sure he loves this. And maybe that’s partially why she lets him.

He places a kiss on her cheek before he leaves, and she finishes undressing. The water wakes her up, and she ends up taking a fast shower. She dries off and gets dressed, and curls up into bed next to Peeta, who is reluctant to leave. He combs fingers through her wet hair, and she can tell there’s something he wants to say, but he stays quiet. 

He eventually pries himself from the bed, and she listens as he turns on the water and hops in the shower. 

She was tired moments ago, but suddenly she’s wide awake and left to her thoughts. And all she can think about is everything that happened today. More specifically, the other victor’s stories, and Snow . 

She barely registers that Peeta’s out of the shower until he’s pulling back the bedsheets to sit. She jumps briefly, and he gives her a curious look. She ignores it, and instead turns towards him while he removes the prosthetic, and then he’s sliding in next to her. She scoots up next to him to rest a hand against his chest like she does every night. They’re silent as they settle in. 

And it occurs to her what she has to do. In order to stop this, for Panem and herself. And it’s dangerous, and she’d have to do it alone and in secret, because Coin would never let her on the front lines. She’s already had one too many close calls.

She’s not sure if she can tell Peeta. She needs him to stay, where it’s safe. So that if things go wrong, the rebellion isn’t completely lost. And she can’t lose Peeta. If he knows her plan he’ll come with, regardless of what she tells him.

“You’re thinking.” He whispers eventually, breaking the silence. “It’s loud.”

“Sorry.” She breathes.

“What are you thinking about?” He rubs her shoulder.

She bites over her lip. Decides perhaps he can know, a little bit. He deserves to know.

“I have to kill Snow.” 

- - - - -

She wakes up before him the next morning. She lays in bed for a while, just staring at his peaceful face. Brushing over stubble. Pressing soft kisses to  his cheeks, and trying to commit this moment to memory. Because it could be their last. She leaves the Pearl he gave her in the quarter quell on their nightstand, as a token for him. But she takes the pendant, wishing there was a picture of him in there, too. And she can’t help but feel like this is the third time she’s done this to him. And she knows it’s going to hurt, but she has to do this. 

She keeps her head down low as she sneaks onto the supply jet. Stashes away in the cargo hold, and closes her eyes as she clutches the gold pendant in her hand as they take off. 

She’s quickly recognized when she leaves the plane after their arrival. She tries to stay hidden and keep her head down, but soon there’s a crowd of people staring at her in shock. It’s like walking into the hospital in district 8 all over again.

And then suddenly she’s running into Boggs and Gale. 

“So I heard we’re doing a secret ops mission here.” Gale falls in line beside her as Boggs leads them. 

“How did you guys know where I was.” 

“Someone in the surveillance room caught you on camera boarding the supply jet after it had already left. Also Peeta was losing his mind.” 

“Is he mad?” She asks quietly.

“You’ll have to ask him when he gets here.” 

“ What ?” She stops them, “Peeta is coming ?”

“Well yeah. You two are like a package deal at this point Katniss. Did you seriously not think he’d nag Coin until she let him come?”

She groans. “I specifically didn’t tell him so he wouldn’t come and get himself killed.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe the rest of us would prefer it if you didn’t get yourself killed?” 

She rolls her eyes, and keeps walking. “I have to do this, Gale.”

“Yeah, but a heads up would have been nice.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and then softly, “I don’t want to be the cause for anyone else’s death.” 

There was a point where she’d let herself become compliant with an idea that people were fighting with her. But too many people have died for that. And she can’t handle it any more. Not when she knows there’s a way to stop it. 

“Katnip, when the hell are you going to realize that people aren’t dying because of you, but because of Snow? People are dying because they have to fight for a better life. That’s not because of you. You’re the one who’s giving them hope.”

“Death isn’t hope.”

“Are you even listening to me?” Gale grabs her shoulder, pulling her to stop. “This is not your fault Katniss. It’s Snow’s.”

She meets his grey eyes, and he looks frustrated. 

“Which is why I have to kill him.” She grumbles, “So he doesn’t hurt anyone else I care about.” 

They have a special crew. Cressida and the rest of the propo team are also there, just when Katniss thought she might finally escape. So is Finnick. 

“How on earth did Coin let you get free?”

Finnick sends her a gleaming smile. “I told her it would be good for the footage.”

“And Annie?”

His face drops. He doesn’t have a chance to find a response, because suddenly a woman is interrupting them.

Lieutenant Jackson gives them the run down; the mission, the timeline, the desired route. Secretly, Katniss is slightly relieved that she has backup. She’s never really been a team player, and it will definitely be harder to get to Snow with more people trailing her, but having people there to ensure she gets to Snow is something she can’t really complain about. Especially when she learns that there was no way she would have made it through the city anyways with the amount of traps that line the streets. 

Peeta meets up with them shortly after they set out. He crushes her in a tight hug, and then absolutely lays into her. She’s never seen him so angry. 

“What the hell were you thinking!” 

He doesn’t really give her a chance to explain herself, too busy shouting. Jackson eventually yells at him to quit it. And he falls silent. But she can tell he’s still furious.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, squeezing one of his hands as they walk. 

He glances at her from the corner of his eye. He squeezes her hand back. And she knows she’s not forgiven. But for now it will have to do, because they’re walking into uncharted territory.

- - - - -

Boggs steps on a pod, shortly after Leegs 2 dies. Katniss watches as his legs are blown off. He transfers the Holo’s controls over to her. The last thing he tells her is to not trust the others, and to make sure she kills Snow.

It rattles the group, as they storm up a building to escape the black tar that kills Mitchell. Jackson fights with Katniss for the Holo, but she refuses to give it up.

Things move too fast for her to process their deaths. It’s not until several hours later, when they’re all crammed in the sewer trying to get some rest, that it hits her while she’s on watch. She lets the tears fall, thinking she’s the only one awake. Peeta takes her by surprise when he grasps her hand and kisses the tear off her cheek. And she hates how it feels like they’ve been here before.

That moment doesn’t last long either. They’re stormed with mutts. They crash through the tunnels. They lose Messalla, Jaskson, Leeg 1, Castor, and Homes. Suddenly it’s just her, Finnick, and Peeta holding off the hoard as Gale shoves Pollux and Cressida up the ladder to the Transfer. And it’s sickening, really, how well the three of them fight together when back to back. Because they’ve done this before . 

Finnick fights off the mutts as Katniss scrambles up the ladder. She tries to fire arrows down to cover him as he tries to make it up. 

It happens so quickly. He’s ripped off the ladder. It reminds her of Cato. The wails. The blood. The gore, as Finnick is ripped to pieces, the sewer water running red.

She tells the Holo to self destruct. She tosses it down the hole. Whispers a “ I’m so sorry ”, and slams the manhole cover closed.

- - - - -

“ No !” Peeta growls.

“Peeta we have to-“

“I’m coming with you.”

“No.”

“ Yes .” He grips her hand, squeezing tight. “ I can come with. I can help. I can be a distraction-“

“ No . Peeta you have to stay with Tigris and Cressida. If something happens-“ she swallows, “If something happens, you need to be here. You need to lead the rebellion.”

“I won’t. I can’t .”

“Yes you can.”

Blue eyes flicker between hers. And his voice falls quiet as he pleads. “You can’t leave me. Not again. I can’t lose you too.”

She takes a shaky breath. Reaches up to cup his face and meet his eyes.

“Peeta. I have to do this.” 

A tear slips down his cheek. He shakes his head. “ No .”

She hates this. She really does. How many times is she going to have to do this to him? Peeta doesn’t deserve this. 

But he can’t come.

“ Stay with me .” He begs, hands gripping the sides of her jacket hard. 

She swallows down her own tears. She can’t let him convince her. 

“I’ll make it back to you. I always do.” She whispers.

Which is true. Every time she’s done this to him, she’s found her way back eventually. 

“Please Katniss- please don’t do this. You’re all I have left.” He cries.

And that does make her cry. Because it’s true. He said it in the quarter quell, that she’s all he has left. But this time it’s actually true. There is no baby. There is no 12. There is no bakery, with a seemingly happy Mellark family. Her hands shake as she runs a hand over his hair. 

“You have Haymitch. And Effie. And my mother, and Prim. They’re your family now.”

He shakes his head, violently. “They need you too. I need you.” His hand fishes the pendant out from under her gear, squeezing it in his hand. “I need you, Katniss.”

“If you’re leaving you need to leave soon. People are already gathering.” Cressida interrupts.

Katniss wipes her tears. Tries to pry herself from Peeta. 

“ No ,” he whimpers, holding on tight.

Gale places a hand on Peeta’s shoulder. Peeta doesn’t even bother to wipe his tears as he looks at him. 

“I’ll keep her safe.” He whispers. “I promise.”

Katniss watches Peeta stare up at him. 

“I’ll kill you-“

“I’d kill myself before you could even get to me.” Gale smiles sadly. 

Peeta stares at him for a moment longer.

“We have to do this Peeta. And you have to stay here. For Katniss. For Panem.”

Peeta swallows. Wipes his tears. And then he nods, and releases her. Because he knows they’re right.

Tigris pulls out large coats to help disguise them. Peeta watches her as they get ready with a look on his face that she can’t handle.

Cressida tells them which route to take. Katniss nods, and tries to steel her nerves, fingers brushing over the nock of her bow. 

“Please, please be careful. If things get bad please- please worry about yourself and-“ Peeta starts babbling as she stands near the door, about to leave.

She hushes him, pulling him in for a hug. He squeezes her tight, as if he may never hold her again. 

“If anything happens,” he starts, voice cracking, “I want you to know that I lo-“

“Don’t.” She whispers, pulling back to hold a finger to his lips, cutting him off. “Don’t say it.”

He looks hurt. But she can’t handle hearing him say it. Not now. Not before she’s about to do arguably the most important thing of her life. 

Instead she kisses him. Captures his lips and squeezes him tight. Tries to make sure he understands. 

“I’ll make it back to you. I always do.” She whispers as she slips through his hold, following Gale out the door. 

And she doesn’t let herself look back.

- - - -

The peace keepers ahead are pulling off hats and hoods. Her and Gale turn back at the exact same time. And then turn back around when they see more peace keepers coming up the crowd behind them. Katniss’s breath catches. She reaches to squeeze Gale’s hand, eyes sweeping for an exit.

There isn’t one.

Her heart pounds in her chest. Gale lets go of her to reach for the gun in his pocket. 

The hand that lands on her shoulder is heavy. Before it can turn her around the building to their left explodes. 

Everyone drops to the ground. 

“ Rebels !” 

Katniss looks back to see rebel troops coming up from behind, firing at the peacekeepers. 

Children are screaming. There’s another explosion. 

Gale hauls her back to her feet, dragging her towards the mansion. They duck for cover behind a barrier. Gale rips a gun from a peacekeeper as Katniss pulls her bow off her shoulder and down her body to avoid removing her coat. They keep running. 

She’s running. Her heart is pounding in her ears. She can hear her labored breaths.

They turn to duck behind an armored vehicle. It explodes, and Gale goes flying the opposite direction. 

It takes her only seconds to gather her bearings, but when she does she sees Gale being pulled away by peacekeepers. 

She scrambles to her feet, picking up her bow and pulling an arrow from her boot. She notches and pulls, attempting to aim through the flames.

“Shoot!” Gale yells, “Shoot me!”

She falters. And she can’t . She can’t will herself to shoot Gale. Not Gale .

An explosion behind her sends her tumbling forwards, and she ducks behind the truck. 

She’s in the middle of an eerily familiar rubbled out street.

Peeta was right. Peeta warned them. Peeta said it was a trap. He was right. And now she’s lost Gale.

She stares at the Capitol people running towards the mansion gates. She closes her eyes. Takes a deep breath. 

She promised Peeta she’d come back.

But she promised herself this too.

She picks herself back up, tucking her bow under her cloak. She runs towards the gates, pushing through the mass of people. Suddenly the mob comes to a halt. She climbs up the side of another armored vehicle to see what’s happening.

And there's a baby cradle. Oak, stained with a darker varnish. It's well made. Pristine. Slowly, rocking. Back and forth. Back and forth. A pale yellow blanket, swaddled up.

The peacekeepers are taking the children. She watches as children are handed over the gate, screaming and crying. 

She frowns when she hears the cries. Soft, like a baby that’s been left to cry for so long they start to fall asleep.  

A roaring from above. She looks up. It’s a Capitol hovercraft, Panem’s insignia in white on its belly.

A hovercraft goes zipping above her head, and she crouches, looking up as it flies past. 

Parachutes. Silver parachutes, twinkling as they float down. The screaming calms. Blink-blink-blink, as people reach up to grab them. Katniss watches in confusion, hair on the back of her neck rising.

It drops a bomb far off behind her.

The explosions throw her off the truck. 

The ground shakes so hard with each blast that it nearly sends her to her feet.

The world is dust and smoke. Muffled, as she slowly pushes herself up. People are running past her. She looks on in horror, stumbling to her feet, as the screams of the world come crashing back.

“ Medic !” A man wails, a limp child in his arms.

The cries raise to hairsplitting wails, high-pitched and incessant. The cradle rocks faster and faster.

She stumbles forward. And feels her heart slam into her throat when she catches sight of blonde pigtails and a red cross across a back.

“Prim?” 

She speeds up. 

“Primrose!”

Her sister stands, turning to look at her, confusion written across her face. 

“ Prim !” She yells.

What is her sister doing here? She shouldn’t be here-

Suddenly the world explodes into fire, and she goes flying.

Chapter Text

He scoops the pallet knife into orange. Drags in white. A tiny bit of blue. Mixes it on his pallet. Adds a little red. He looks up at the portrait of Prim. He’s nearly done, just doing the finishing touches. 

In an hour he will have to go upstairs and drag Katniss out of bed for lunch. She’ll sit at the table and stare blankly at what Greasy Sae has made for them. Peeta will coax her to eat, just like he’s done for the past two months. Then he’ll drag her to the couch, and read her a chapter from the book he’s been reading her this week. He’ll try to coax her to play a game with him, or go for a walk, or check in on Haymitch, or go hunting, or just dance in the living room. He’s never successful. Katniss is mostly catatonic. Has been since they finally got back to 12. The only time she isn’t is when she’s screaming in her sleep and jolting him awake at night.

But that will be in an hour. Right now he’s painting. Right now he’s trying to make Prim come back to life. 

He’s decided this is what he’s going to do now. Is pay tribute to those they’ve lost. Starting with Prim. Then Finnick. Wiress. Chaff, Seeder, Maggs. Rue, Thresh, Cato. If he’s ambitious enough, perhaps he’ll make a painting for every tribute they’ve lost, from all the games. Which would be a lot of portraits. But it feels worth it. 

Katniss doesn’t know about his painting. He’s not sure if it would upset her more than she already is. But he’s making it for her. He’ll show it to her, eventually. When the time feels right. That time probably isn’t now.

Right now, he’s adding shine to Prim’s blue eyes. Adding more detail to her golden blonde hair. He has her laying in a field of primroses, of all colors. Pink, purple, orange, red; all with pretty yellow centers. It’s tedious, painting that many leaves and petals, but it’s worth it. 

He gets lost in painting, only realizing what time it is when his stomach growls loudly and his hand is starting to shake. He sighs, and decides the rest can wait. He cleans his brushes and sets his paints to the side. Green and orange are smeared on his fingers. They always are. 

He reheats food, and then goes upstairs to grab Katniss. He’s surprised to find that she’s not in their room. His heart drops immediately.

“Katniss?” He calls, slamming into their bathroom. 

He’s temporarily relieved to find she’s not in there, trying something neither of them have tried in a month. 

He’s stupid. He should have been watching her. She just- she gave no indication that she would for weeks now and- and he let his guard down. He still has razors and pills and knives locked away or hidden but Katniss is smart , she easily could have-

She jumps slightly when he barreles into Prim’s bedroom, chest heaving. 

He pauses. She is sitting on the bed, facing away from him. She’s holding Buttercup, who purrs in her arms.

“Katniss,” he breathes, trying to sound like he’s not alarmed that she’s left their bed of her own volition for the first time in weeks.

She gives no indication that she hears him. Not that he expects anything different.

He carefully comes up, eyes raking over her for any cuts or blood. He doesn’t see any. He crouches down, hands slipping to her knees, finding spacy gray eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“Katniss,” he says gently.

Still nothing. 

He swallows. 

“Katniss, can I see your arms? Please?” He pulls softly, just enough to check her wrists. 

They’re completely fine. 

He sighs in relief, and takes a seat next to her in bed. 

“Sorry I didn’t bring you down for lunch. I got carried away painting.”

Still nothing. As always.

They sit in silence. He stares at the wall. Pretty pink floral wallpaper. A dusty dresser, scattered with a few tiny trinkets. A rabbit’s foot. A necklace. Dried flowers.

He hasn’t touched this room. The first time he tried cleaning up Katniss went berserk screaming at him. So he never goes in here.

Katniss’s stomach growls, and he sighs, standing up.

“How ‘bout we go eat lunch? And then I’ll read to you, or we can go for a walk?” Still nothing. He reaches to swipe tears off her cheeks. Her eyes close. “And then take a bath, before dinner.”

He sighs. Shifts to pick her up. Buttercup jumps off of her and hisses at him. He gives the cat a sympathetic smile.

Carrying Katniss down the stairs with only one good leg is not easy, but at this point he’s gotten pretty used to it. That, and she’s gotten lighter. Which he doesn’t like to think about.

He sets her down on a stool at the kitchen island. Slides a ham and cheese sandwich her way. She stares at it blankly.

He’s found that sometimes it’s easier if he doesn’t pressure her. She’s more likely to take a few bites if he just eats and talks to fill the space, rather than stare at her and coax her to eat. 

“Haymitch told me he’s thinking of getting geese.” He remarks. He’s already told her about this, but there’s not much else to talk about. And he’s not sure she even hears him half the time. “I keep telling him he’s crazy but he’s kind of insistent.”

Katniss picks at a corner of the bread. 

“Do you remember in elementary school, when our class raised ducklings?” He smiles, “I remember you singing to them.” He looks down at his plate, “We were so young back then.”

He’s not sure what else to say. Usually Peeta’s great at talking. Talking is easy. But when you’re the only one talking for months, suddenly talking isn’t that easy anymore.

They finish lunch. He tries to take her for a walk. It’s starting to warm up outside, spring peaking around the corner. He wraps her in a jacket, and coaxes her out the door. But he can’t get her any farther. Instead she just stands and stares towards town. At the rubble that never seems to go away. 

So instead they go back inside. And Peeta reads to her. Her head rests against his shoulder. And it’s nice. So he reads her a second chapter. Greasy Sae comes by to make dinner, and Peeta sends her a smile. 

“Bath time.” He sighs, shifting to pull Katniss off the couch. 

He carries her back up the stairs. Sets her down by the toilet, and gets the water started. He grabs her fresh clothes. When he comes back she’s still standing staring at the toilet.

“Katniss.”

And suddenly he wants to cry. The tears punch their way forward. He tries to hold them back, but they come anyway.

He’s not sure how much longer he can do this. He knows she’s grieving. He knows being here, at home, is easier for her than being in a hospital somewhere. He knows because they tried it. He knows he has to be patient. But sometimes doing this is hard. Some days it’s not as bad. Other days she’s completely catatonic. Sometimes it feels like taking care of Haymitch would be easier. Because at least he talks. At least Peeta can force him to do things.

But he loves her. So much. And he can’t imagine not doing this. He can’t imagine a world without her in it. He is Orpheus, desperately playing the lyre, wishing for his love to return. Except, Katniss is the one who sings. She is his lyre. But if this is what it takes, then this is what he’ll do. But that doesn’t mean it’s any easier.

He tries to suck up his cries, blinking back the tears. 

He sets her clothes on the sink. Walks over to brush a hand over her shoulders. 

“Katniss please .”

She’s slow. Hands sliding to her hips. He turns away, like he always does. Instead he feels the water. It’s warm, so he puts in the plug. 

“Bubble bath?” He asks, voice breaking as he tries to not cry. 

She doesn’t answer him. She never answers him. 

It appears today is going to be one of those days, where he’ll have to help her. So bubble bath it is, because he wants to give her privacy. 

He pours in the soap. Watches bubbles foam. 

He glances back at her, to see if she’s ready. Gray eyes meet his. And for the first time in a while he feels like she actually sees him. A tear slips down his cheek, and he tries to wipe it away before she sees it. But she does. Eyes moving slowly across his face. Taking him in.

“Hey.” He whispers, voice shaky, “There you are.” 

She gives him the faintest smile. Or maybe he’s imagining it, he’s not sure. But it makes him beam.

He helps her strip down, eyes averted to the ceiling as he helps her sink into the tub. The bubbles come up far enough to hide everything. 

He shuts off the water. Grabs a cup to wet her hair. Slowly massages shampoo against her scalp. Gently rinses. Adds conditioner, making sure to get her ends. He hums as he hands her a sponge, trying to catch her eyes again. She’s spaced out. But she cleans. Like she always does.

He rinses her hair, and pulls the plug to drain the tub. She curls into herself, and he makes sure to look away, like always. When the water is gone he turns on the shower head. He pulls it off the wall so it doesn’t spray her in the eyes, and then reaches for one of her elbows to try and pull her to her feet. She’s halfway up when she slips, and he immediately lets go of the shower head to try and catch her. Water goes spraying across the bathroom as he reaches for her. He catches her just before she smacks her head into the lip of the tub. But in his attempt to catch her he stepped into a slippery tub with poor footing and a prosthetic that easily slips across wet porcelain. And very quickly he’s falling.

He lands awkwardly against the side of the tub, and Katniss tries to stop him, but he’s too heavy and still manages to smack face first. 

Immediately there’s pain, spiking sharp up his nose and across his cheekbone and forehead. Tears are immediate and involuntary. He groans.

Hands pull at his face, and he’s met with a worried expression. He can barely see through the tears, but Katniss is hard to miss. 

They sit there for a few seconds. He’s nearly soaking wet. His face hurts, and Katniss looks spooked beyond belief.

And suddenly he’s laughing. 

Sae comes bursting in. “Oh my lord!”

And he can’t stop laughing.

“What happened?” 

He tries to sit up, hand jumping away when he realizes he’s pressing against Katniss’s bare skin . He flushes, suddenly embarrassed at the predicament they’ve been caught in. His giggles turn to nervous chuckles. 

Sae helps him out of the tub, spinning him to sit on the toilet. He quickly looks away when he realizes he’s looking directly at Katniss, who stares back, completely in the nude. 

Don’t think about boobs and ass Peeta, not at a time like this , you idiot.

“Peeta,” Sae prompts him again. 

“I- Katniss slipped and I tried to catch her, but then I slipped and smacked my face against the tub.”

Sae snorts. “That sounds about right for you two.”

She turns back around to help Katniss rinse off and get out of the shower. She wraps her in a towel to dry her off, and then helps her get dressed. Peeta gently prods at his nose, wincing.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you broke it. Expect a bad black eye tomorrow.” Sae says from over her shoulder. She guides Katniss into the bedroom. 

“Come downstairs and I’ll take a better look at you in the kitchen.”

He lets out an “ok”, and follows them into the bedroom. He starts looking for a change of clothes, but Katniss lingers in their doorway despite Sae trying to get her downstairs. She finally gives up, just waving at him. 

“I’m okay Katniss. Just a good bonk to the face. Thanks for trying to catch me.”

She’s silent. He peels off his shirt in exchange for a different one. Tugs off his pants, and glances back at her before he strips off his boxers. She just stares at him. He huffs, and turns away to drop his drawers. He quickly pulls on new, followed by sweats that he’s sure need washed, but he can’t be bothered at the moment. 

He combs a hand through his hair, and turns back around to see her still staring. Which is a little off putting, considering it’s been weeks since she’s looked at him for this long. 

Her hair is a tangled mess. He picks up a hair tie and hairbrush off the dresser. 

“How about I braid your hair while you eat?” He whispers, pecking a kiss to her forehead. “Hold,” he offers them, and she tentatively takes them. 

He scoops her back up, and ignores the twinge in his hip as he goes down the stairs; his tumble in the tub isn’t doing him any more favors. 

Sae says his nose doesn’t feel broken, but Peeta has a hard time believing it. He’s starting to get a nasty headache. 

He brushes out Katniss’s hair as she nibbles at a bread roll. Sae sits across from them and talks and talks and talks. She doesn’t usually stay this long. It’s nice to not be the only one talking.

By the time he’s done with Katniss’s hair she’s eaten half the bowl of stew and a good chunk of the bread roll. It’s the most she’s probably eaten in one sitting in a while. Peeta doesn’t say anything. 

Sae offers to clean up the kitchen while Peeta presses a bag of frozen peas to his face. Katniss sits leaned into him on the couch. The clash of pots and pans jars his head, spiking pain through his skull over and over. He nearly growls at Sae to keep it down, but instead he decides he’s just going to bed. Katniss reaches for him when he stands up, a hand clasping his wrist. It makes him pause and look back. She looks worried. 

“I think it’s bedtime, Kat.” He sighs, “My head hurts.”

She stands up. He doesn’t have to carry her up the stairs. Instead she follows, still holding his wrist. 

“Night Sae,” he calls, “Thanks for cleaning up.”

“Of course!” She calls back chirpily.

Katniss curls up against him in bed when he plops down, nearly laying on top of him. She doesn’t cuddle that much anymore. Only after nightmares. 

And he feels a flicker of hope, at the breath against his neck as he drifts off. That maybe she’s finally healing. 

Two days later and he looks like he got the shit beat out of him, with two dark purple eyes. And Katniss goes back to being catatonic. They go back to him carrying her up and down the stairs, and watching her stare at food without taking a single bite. 

And finally, on the third night, he breaks. They’re in bed. And he knows she’s still awake by the way she breathes. And the tears just come pouring.

“Katniss,” he cries. Reaches to cup her face. He can’t see her in the dark, but he can picture her blank expression. 

“Come back to me, please .” He whimpers, “You promised you’d always come back to me.” 

He knows they’ve been through a lot. He knows she’s struggling to come to terms with it. He knows she doesn’t know how to crawl herself out of the hole she’s dug. He knows there’s only so much he can do to help. They are Sisyphus, and this is their boulder, bound by eternal suffering, for cheating death too many times. But he needs her, and they need to get past this.

“I miss you,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against hers, “I need you back. Please come back. Please try. I’m trying to help but you have to help yourself. You have to try . You have to come back to me. Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you again.”

The tears are hot on his cheeks. He can’t stop them. He sobs into her shoulder, because this is all he has left. She’s all he has left. And like always, just like life and death, she’s slipping through his fingers like sand. That’s all she ever seems to do, is come and go. The first and second time he could blame her. The rest he can’t. And he hates how out of control he is. And he hates how before all of this, he finally had her. Really, actually, for real had her, as his. 

“Stay with me, Katniss. Please .”

Her hand inches across his chest, mouth parting to breathe across his ear. He catches her hand, and her fingers lace in his. He pulls back to face her.

“A-always,” it comes hoarse and faint from her lips, the first word she’s spoken in weeks. 

And it makes his heart hurt . He kisses her. Kisses her like she’s all he has left. Because she is . He doesn’t care if it hurts to press his nose against her cheek. He kisses her anyways. And she presses into him. Clutches at his shoulder, and holds him close.

“Come back to me.” He breathes against her when he breaks away.

He doesn’t expect her to respond. Not again. But she surprises him.

“Don’t know how.” 

He kisses her cheek. 

“Let me help you. Just- try.”

She hums. And he could cry in relief. 

The next morning he wakes up resolute. A plan in mind. He’s tired of trying, but he can be a stubborn man. And if last night showed him anything, it’s that Katniss wants to come back. She just needs help getting there.

He yanks back the covers and showers her in kisses. Across her shoulders, across her stomach, down to her hips. Pecks her cheeks and nose and eyebrows. 

“We’re going out today.” He whispers, pecking her lips, as if she’d respond.

She blinks blearily at him, like she’s still trying to gather her surroundings. 

He pushes himself off the bed to hop towards the bathroom. He pees like a racehorse, and then hops back into the bedroom to dig through their dresser for clothes. He peels off his shorts and pulls on a pair of jeans before realizing he should have pulled his leg on before the pants. He’s too excited to care. He pulls on a flannel from the closet, and then sits down on the bed to finagle his prosthetic on. He manages, and then scoops her up to set her by the toilet. 

“Go pee!” He chirps, “I’m gonna go grab food!”

He flings the door open and just about runs down the stairs. He rustles through the closet by the front door for Katniss’s hunting jacket and a pair of gloves. He finds the boots she always wears when she goes hunting somewhere in the back. He drags them out. He finds himself a decent coat, and pulls on a pair of boots. He drags out a satchel from deep in the closet, and throws a few food items in it, like apples and jerky and bread rolls. He adds half a block of cheese, just for the hell of it.

He swings by Katniss’s mother’s old bathroom to grab her meds. He keeps them there because he knows that’s the one place she doesn’t go anymore. Not after her mother refused to come back to 12, not after she practically abandoned her daughter. Their therapist says they’re supposed to be mood boosters and help with depression, but quite honestly Peeta has gone a few days forgetting to give them to her and he hasn’t seen a single difference. But he figures it’s worth a shot anyways. He shoves the pill in his pocket and rushes upstairs. 

He’s relieved to see Katniss on the toilet when he comes back. 

“Did you pee?” He asks, grabbing the cup he always keeps on their bathroom counter and filling it with water from the sink. 

She gives no indication of a response. Instead he fishes the pill out of his pocket.

“Say ah.”

She doesn’t even look at him. 

He lifts her chin to meet her glassed out eyes that seem to look right through him. He gives a sympathetic smile. Leans down to peck her cheek. And then tugs on her lower lip. She finally opens, and he shoves the pill in her mouth, holding the glass to her lips. She swallows, thankfully.

He helps pull her to her feet. She pulls her undies up on her own. He urges her to drink the rest of the glass. She takes a few more sips. He waits till she finishes the whole thing. Which takes a while. But he’s a patient man today. Today he can wait. Today he’s trying to start over.

He pulls her back into the bedroom, letting her sit on the bed as he fishes for clothes. He pulls out a pair of pants and a long sleeve shirt for her. He hands them to her, but she just stares. So instead he sets them down, and pulls off her shirt. He pulls the other over her head, staring pointedly at her face and not her chest. 

“Arms, Katniss.”

She’s sluggish, but she does as he asks. He pulls her up to stand, and helps her into her pants. He zips her up and does the button, ignoring how the pants hang loose on her hips, ignoring how she’s been withering away in front of him despite his very best efforts. Instead he playfully smacks her hip, sending her a cheeky grin and tugging her towards the door. 

She doesn’t budge. 

He pauses. Stares back at her. She looks wilted.

“Katniss. You have to let me help you. You have to work with me.”

He pulls again. Instead she sits back down on the bed. He huffs.

“Katniss I’m serious. I will drag you across the floor and down the stairs if I have to. I am not picking you up. We are getting out of this goddamn house today if it’s the last thing we do, and you are going to walk .”

He pulls her back to her feet. Pulls both her hands with him as he heads towards the door, and she stumbles forwards. Perhaps he’s being harsh, but this feels necessary. 

She makes it all the way to the stairs, and then grabs onto the railing and stops dead in her tracks.

She hasn’t gone down the stairs herself in a while. He sighs, and relents. He scoops her up and carries her down. He drops her when they reach the living room, and then he pulls her towards the front door. He makes her sit on the bench, and pulls on her jacket. She looks stiff with it on her shoulders, but he ignores her sudden attitude. He pulls the boots over, and begins to unlace them. He takes her ankle to push her foot in, and she yanks away. 

He looks up at her, shocked. She stares at him, wide eyed. 

“Katniss, we're going for a walk. You need your boots.”

She just stares. He grabs her foot again. She yanks away again. He huffs. 

“Katniss, I’m trying to teach you how to live again. Would you please let me?”

There’s less resistance when he tries it one more time. She still kind of fights him, but he manages to get both shoes on. He pulls the gloves on her fingers, and throws on his coat. He slings the satchel of food over his shoulder, and pulls her up to stand. He steps to open the door, but pauses when he sees her bow. 

It hangs, untouched, from its hook by the door, along with her quiver of arrows.

He picks it up. Katniss’s hand yanks from his, and he glances back to look at her stumbling away. 

Maybe this is too much too fast. Maybe he needs to back track. 

He stares down at the bow. 

No. No, she needs this.

He pulls her quiver from the hook, and slings in over his shoulder, along with the bow. She doesn’t have to touch it, but it’s coming with them. Because this is normal. This is who Katniss Everdeen is.

He grabs her hand and fights against her pulling as he drags her towards the door. Finally he gives up. He pulls the bow off his shoulder, and instead picks her up and throws her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. He grabs the bow, and then they’re off.

Katniss fights him a little bit at first. Mostly as he’s walking through the doorway. But then she just lets it be for a while.

He marches them towards the dilapidated fence. Eventually sets her down when his back complains too much. She stares like she’s never seen the woods before. Like she hasn’t gone through this fence a million times.

He carefully steps through a hole left from the bombings, tries not to think about the charred remains of his family, and beckons her to follow him. And thankfully she does. 

He leads the way. He doesn’t know where they’re going. Quite frankly he’s lost. Which is kind of the point.

He digs through the bag and pulls out a bread roll. He hands it to her. She just stares. He eats an apple. Picks out the seeds and shoves them in his pocket. Thinks maybe they could start an orchard, if they wanted to be ambitious. 

But ambitious is far beyond where they are right now. Right now he’s trampling through the woods, with Katniss moving so quietly behind him he has to keep checking that she’s still there.

Finally he stops to sit when they come across a big boulder. She stares at him for a moment. Looks around them. And then takes a seat next to him. 

“So uh. I just realized I forgot to leave Sae a note telling her that we were going for a walk. I hope she doesn’t have the whole town looking for us.” He says, digging through the satchel for the cheese. “Also I brought cheese. I don’t know why.”

He offers it to her as if she’d actually grab it. When she doesn’t he takes a bite right out of the block. His mother would scream if she saw him now.

She nibbles on her roll. Peeta closes his eyes and listens to the birds chirp. Katniss can probably pinpoint which bird song belongs to which bird. Can probably tell him what each of the trees around them are. 

“Is that a tulip tree?” He asks, pointing to the one above them.

She actually looks. He doesn’t expect an answer. It doesn’t seem she’s going to anyways. But after a long beat of silence, she finally says: “Sassafras.”

He grins. “Really? You sure? That looks like a tulip tree to me.”

He doesn’t even know what a tulip tree looks like.

“No.” She whispers. “It’s sassafras.”

He’s beaming, just delighted to hear her voice, even if it is weary and worn and nothing like the Katniss he knows. It’s progress, at the very least.

“How do you know?”

Silence. And then she stands up. She reaches up and snaps off a tiny branch. She sits back down.

“The leaves.” She whispers. And then shoves the branch in his face. “Smell.”

He jerks back to avoid nearly being poked in the eye. He gives it a sniff. Doesn’t get anything.

She pulls it away, and instead snaps a piece off the branch. She hands him the small piece. “Smell.”

He does. And he does smell it. It almost reminds him of his parents' bakery. Of a certain candy his father would make them when it was nearing winter.

“Oh.”

“Sassafras.” She whispers, picking off the leaves. 

They sit in silence. She leans into him after a while. He reaches to grab her hand. She lets him lace their fingers.

“I don’t know how to get out of here.” He whispers after a moment.

She stands up, still holding his hand. And she leads him out of the forest. 

The next day he drags her out to the woods again. This time he doesn’t have to throw her over his shoulder. This time he manages to shove the bow in her hand, once they’re deep in the woods. She stares at it like she’s never seen anything like it ever before. 

“Catch me a squirrel.” He says, grinning.

She looks up at him. And then she hands it back, shaking her head. He decides that's probably progress.

The day after that it rains. Which means no walk to the forest. Instead he drags her and a bowl of pasta across the courtyard to visit Haymitch.

The man is passed out on his couch. The place smells like rat piss. He grabs two glasses of water from the kitchen. He chucks the first in Haymitch’s face, and sets the second in front of him on the coffee table. Haymitch yowls and curses him to high heaven, but Peeta ignores him. Instead he gathers up the empty liquor bottles scattered around the living room and tosses them in the trash. He flicks on the TV, and then goes back to the kitchen to heat up the pasta. He has to wash a few bowls and silverware, since most things are dirty, and he doesn’t even trust Haymitch’s “clean” dishes. He hears Haymitch say something to Katniss. And to his surprise, he hears her make what had to have been a witty remark by the way Haymitch laughs.

He sets Haymitch’s bowl in front of him, and hands Katniss hers. He scoots in next to her on the love seat, pulling one of her legs to drape across his lap. 

“Ugh, keep the PDA to a minimum please.” Haymitch groans.

Peeta pecks Katniss on the cheek just to make him roll his eyes.

By the next week he doesn’t have to drag Katniss out of bed. She pulls herself up and walks down the stairs without him forcing her. She starts to eat more. He continues to accompany her on walks. She holds her bow by herself now. 

He makes a pie, to celebrate. He doesn’t tell Katniss why he makes it. Just adds extra sugar and cinnamon, because he knows she can’t resist it. Katniss sheepishly eats two whole slices in one sitting. He tries to hide his grin. He’s not very successful.

Another week goes by, and he wakes up alone in their bed. He panics, bolting up to check the bathroom. He hobbles on one leg across the hall to Prim’s room. She’s not there either. He’s never pulled his leg on so fast. He nearly trips down the stairs, yelling for her.

He finds her in his studio. She sits at his stool, staring at the portrait on his easel. Tears down her face.

“Katniss?”

She looks up at him. 

He’s cautious as he walks in. Unsure if he’ll spook her or not. He wasn’t planning on showing her yet.  

“Katniss…”

She wipes her tears. “You painted her.”

He licks his lips. “I did, yeah. I finished her a couple weeks ago. I- I wasn’t sure if I should show you yet-“

“Thank you.” She whispers.

He pauses. 

“For everything, I mean. And for this.” She clarifies, lip wobbling as she stares.

He sighs. Steps over to touch her shoulder. He leans down to press a kiss to her head. 

“She’s gorgeous.” Her voice warbles.

He hums, “Just like her sister.” 

She stares at the painting for a long time. As if she’s trying to commit her sister’s face to memory.

“She looks happy.”

He did that on purpose. Prim always had such a nice smile. He wanted to capture her kind and healing nature as best he could. He’s glad Katniss seems to approve. 

“I’m sure she is. Happy.”

“You think so?”

He smiles. Leans down to kiss her head a second time. “I do.”

He was never very religious. He knows Katniss wasn’t either. It’s hard to believe in a god when you’ve lived the life they have. But he likes to imagine that if there is an afterlife, Prim lives in it. And she’s happy there. Lives there with her father, and Peeta’s brothers, and Finnick and Rue and everybody else they’ve lost. They’d all be happy. Because that’s what Peeta has to tell himself.

“I was thinking of painting Finnick too. And Maggs. And Wiress- all of them. Everyone we’ve lost. Like- like a collection.”

Suddenly Katniss jolts up. He starts to back track.

“Or- or not. Yeah no that’s a bad idea I shouldn’t- Katniss what- what are you-“ he follows her across the house to the study, confused as she starts rummaging through the desk and some of the shelves.

“The plant book.” She grunts as she yanks at another stubborn drawer.

The plant book ? 

And then he remembers. The family book that he helped Katniss on all those years ago, shortly after their first games. Before they were whisked away on the Victory tour, and their lives took a turn. Before he decided he hated Katniss Everdeen’s guts. 

“Oh. Uh. Okay. What about the plant book?” 

“We could make it like a book. Like the plant book. A memory book.”

Oh .

He smiles. “Yeah that- that sounds like a great idea.”

That quickly takes them down a whole new path. For weeks, they work on the book. It becomes a pastime project in the afternoons, after they’ve eaten lunch. Katniss jots down memories of the people they’ve lost. Good things. Things that make them both smile. Peeta adds pictures and drawings and sketches where he can. Adds his own fond memories. 

They add a page for the baby. And they both are quickly confronted with the fact that they never gave him a name. And there aren’t any fond memories. Not for Peeta. He still closes his eyes and sometimes sees a tiny bloody body, no bigger than his hand, being ripped from Katniss as she bled out on the hovercraft. Still sees a motionless face swaddled in a blanket far too big for him.

They write down the night before the quarter quell. It’s not the best memory. It still hurts. But they both can agree that for a moment, that night was okay. For a moment, they could find some peace. 

They name him Rowan. 

Katniss picks out a place in the forest, an area to honor their lost family. Later, she’ll tell Peeta that the existing two boulders nearby are supposed to represent her father and Gale’s. Until then, Peeta plants primroses next to the rock Katniss picks out for Prim. They dig up a rowan sapling and replant it next to the smaller cobble they place beside Prim’s. 

When they’re done, taking a seat to admire their work, it finally dawns on Peeta that his family has no real resting place. He finds himself stuck on it; he still grieves for them, but it’s always been an angry, guilty , kind of grief. Angry because he can’t decide if he still hates his mother, and can’t decide if he still feels betrayed by the way his brothers and father seemingly cast him aside during the worst moments of his life. Katniss takes his fidgeting fingers, and places a kiss to his cheek. 

Katniss makes the choice for him. She drags over another cobble, and Peeta helps. He leaves it at just the stones. Maybe in time he’ll be able to forgive them. In time he’ll adorn their makeshift graves with gifts. But for now this is enough.

They visit at least once a week. And Katniss doesn’t seem as burdened by the grief, as time goes on. She starts to heal. She starts to come back to him, gradually. Finally . 

Some days are far better than others. Some days all she can manage is to lay in bed and cry. But crying is better than being motionless. Peeta would much rather tears than absolutely nothing. He continues to pull her out of bed on those days. Drags her outside for a walk. 

For a few days they help Haymitch set up a pen for the geese he finally decides to get. They tease him about it, but in the end they’re just happy to see Haymitch doing something other than drinking himself to death. 

They mention the memory book to him. For the first time in a while the man looks thoughtful. And then mentions that he has a few additions he could make. He starts to come over to help with the book, a few nights a week. He talks about the tributes he taught before them. He finds pictures. Peeta helps add them to the book. 

Katniss starts hunting again. She brings home all kinds of game. Greasy Sae stops coming by. 

They receive letters from Annie. Peeta reads out the updates as Katniss makes dinner and Haymitch nurses a red wine.  He makes sure to write back. Sends her congratulations on the baby. Even if it makes a pit open up in his stomach thinking about it. 

They watch the news, as President Paylor makes new laws and relief reforms. Apparently aid is being sent to 12, to help with the ruins. Haymitch makes a remark somewhere along the lines of “as if that will ever happen”. But to their surprise, a week later, help does show up. Not much gets done, but it’s progress, even if it’s slow.

Suddenly 5 months have passed since the rebellion ended, and Katniss is almost back to her old self. Or something similar. Too much has happened to really go back. Peeta knows he can’t be the same person he was a year ago. So he doesn’t expect Katniss to be either. But it’s still nice to see her look and act like more than just a zombie. 

He stares up at the clouds as she picks at dandelions, weaving them into a crown. She places it on his chest when she’s done, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. 

“You remind me of dandelions.” 

He hums. “Oh?”

She smiles, but doesn’t elaborate. 

Peeta captures one of her hands. “We should start a garden.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

She tilts her head as she looks down at him. “A garden?”

He sweeps an arm across the grass, “Yeah. I mean, look at all this room we have in this backyard. Might as well put it to use.”

Her mouth quirks. “What would we grow?”

He hums, and tugs her down to lay with him. She flops down in the grass, shoulder pressed against his. 

“Anything you want. Tomatoes. Potatoes. Carrots. Cabbage. Strawberries. Blueberries. Flowers. Anything.”

“That would be a lot of work.”

“Yeah, but we have the time.”

She’s quiet. And then softly, “Yeah. We do.”

And they do. Peeta plants the apple seeds in his pocket from March. They grow cabbage and carrots and corn and onions and tomatoes and green beans and potatoes and strawberries and blueberries and grapes. It’s a lot of work, and most of the bushes don’t grow enough to bare a lot of fruit, but it’s fun. And Katniss looks happy. And that makes him happy. 

By the first whispers of fall, they drag Haymitch over for another dinner. Haymitch does seem mildly impressed with their harvest. He sits on the couch and flips through channels as Peeta and Katniss cook. Peeta spins her around in the kitchen as he bakes rolls, smearing her nose with flour. She laughs, and the sound makes his heart sing. And he knows he could spend the rest of his life just like this . Could die happily, just like this. 

- - - - -

It’s the middle of winter when it finally happens. As Boreas and Khione sweep up a raging blizzard. Over a year since the rebellion ended.

It’s freezing outside. Snow continues to pile high at their front door. Frost creeping up their windows. Wind howling at the side of the house. They’ve been stuck inside for a week because of the storm, and it doesn’t give any signs of letting up any time soon. 

It’s freezing outside, and the house is somewhat cold, despite the fire blazing near constantly in the living room and the thermostat set to high. It’s cold despite the layers of quilts and blankets they keep piled on their bed and on the couch. 

It’s freezing outside, and yet Katniss feels like a furnace. Her fingers itch for an arrow and bowstring. Her mind craves something other than being trapped in these walls. And her body…her body burns for something else, as if Aphrodite herself has bewitched her soul. 

She watches his shoulders shift as he reloads logs into the fireplace. And it’s something in the way his body moves that has her feeling flustered. Something in the way his soft hands slip across her knees to pull her closer as he settles back into the couch. 

She’s been thinking about it for days now, and it feels like it’s eating her alive. Any time he touches her waist, or curls up next to her in bed. Any time he peels off his clothes to change. Any time his lips land on her skin in innocent kisses. 

She wants more. And she’s never wanted more. Not like this. Not ever. And she’s had it once, and knows it’s exactly what more is. 

It’s the middle of winter when it happens. It’s late, Nyx and Erebos blanketing the world. He’s in bed, slipping asleep. She places the candle on their dresser, and doesn’t bother to turn out the dim bedside lamp. She pulls back the covers. He hums, shifting to make room for her. She crawls over, and swings a leg across his hips to straddle him. His eyes snap open, looking up at her in the dim flickering light. 

“Katniss,” he breathes.

She slips a hand under the hem of his shirt, dragging it up as she feels up his chest. He looks startled, almost scared. The last time they did this was almost three years ago, on a train to district 7. It wasn’t real then. It’s real now.

“I want to.” She whispers. 

He looks at her face. Eyes flickering to check if she’s sure. 

“Really?”

“Yes.” She whispers. 

He takes a shuddering breath, hands slipping up her bare thighs. He swallows, “You’re sure-“

“Yes,” she huffs, feeling impatient. She’s been holding back for days. She moves against him. 

He bites down on his lip, hand squeezing at her thigh. “Katniss…” he breathes, and when he opens his eyes he looks unsure. “Katniss we don’t…we don’t have to. Please don’t- do this just because…” and he can’t seem to finish it. 

Realization dawns on her, and she feels horrified at his conclusion. And she needs him to understand that she doesn’t want this to be anything like it was last time. She doesn’t want him to think this is just another one of her games. That tomorrow she won’t want anything to do with him. He needs to know that she doesn’t want to hurt him. 

She takes his face, and she feels like she might cry. “Peeta,” she whispers, “This is- I mean it, this time. No more games. No more cameras. I want this. I want you. For real. This is real, to me.”

There’s a tender smile on his lips, a look in his eyes she can’t entirely read. He sits up to look at her closely, softly pushing hair behind her ear. He rubs a thumb across her shoulder, blue eyes finally flickering up to hers. 

“You mean it?” He asks it softly, a tentative hand slipping up the back of her shirt to splay a palm across her spine. 

“Always.”

His eyes inspect hers, flickering across her face. And then he leans in to press a kiss to her lips.

“I love you.” He whispers.

And she finds the words nearly tumbling from her own lips. She just barely catches them from falling out. And it scares her. Is that what this is? This feeling she has, the one he gives her? Love?

The realization scares her. And like always, she suddenly wants to run. To escape. Because she doesn’t know how to feel. Doesn’t know how to accept what he gives her. 

But then she takes a deep breath. And she realizes that maybe it’s time for her to stop running. And the first step might be accepting what she’s ignored for a long time.

“I love you too.” She whispers.

Peeta’s eyes blow wide, and he looks shocked. It almost hurts that he's so surprised. 

“Really?”

She swallows down her fear. Decides to be brave. “Yes.”

He kisses her. Kisses her like she’s his everything. He smiles and laughs, holding her face and peppering her cheeks with more kisses. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of you saying that.” He’s in tears. Giggling as he crushes her in a hug, scattering kisses across her shoulders. 

She takes it in, and his reaction makes it so much easier to say it again.  

“I love you, Peeta.” 

And it feels right . 

He lets out something between a whine and laugh, forehead knocking against hers as he beams. Hands slip up her arms and down her back and everywhere he can touch. He captures her lips and kisses her like he’s dying tomorrow. Clutches her tight and drinks her in every way he can. Desperate and greedy and head over heels in love. His fingers tremble against her skin, delicate, like he’s afraid she’ll change her mind if he pushes too far.

“I want you.” She breathes, kissing his cheek.

He pulls back, eyes searching her face. 

“Katniss we don’t have to- this is enough- you don’t have to prove it-“

“I want to.” She cuts him off, and bucks her hips across him as reassurance.

He looks at her, eyes shocked.

And suddenly she feels guilty as the thought occurs to her. “U-unless you don’t want to- we don’t have to-“

“No no no I-“ he stops himself, licking his lips, “I really want to. I just- wasn’t expecting this. At all.”

She flushes, biting at the inside of her cheek. And tries to be bold. 

“Then prove it.”

His eyes go dark, and he smirks. And she sees a glint of the old Peeta; the one who’s overly flirtatious and unabashed. The one who hasn’t seen war or had his heart shattered. The one that’s able to slip innuendos even while he’s stuck in a river with a festering leg wound. 

“Careful,” he warns, “Don’t tempt me.” 

“Maybe I want to.” She smiles, rolling her hips again. 

He groans, shifting to pull off his t-shirt. “That’s a dangerous game to play.”

“I’ve played worse games.” 

He grins, leaning in to ghost over her lips. “So have I,” he breathes, and then kisses her. 

***

He’s hot and eager, and she can tell he’s been wanting this just as much as she has. Hands grip and squeeze at her thighs, and he hums against her lips as she rolls her hips. He scatters kisses across her cheeks, hand slipping under her shirt to slide across her stomach. 

“This okay?” He asks as a thumb brushes the underside of her breast. It catches her breath, heart starting to race. And she nods her head. 

He’s gentle, but uses just enough force to make her hum. Thumb swiping over her nipple, hand on her hip pulling her to keep grinding. She lets her neck fall open, letting him suck kisses to her skin as he feels her. 

She feels like she’s on fire. She wants him so bad she feels embarrassed, hot between her legs. 

It’s far from the first time he’s seen her naked. And Katniss isn’t usually one to care. But this time her stomach flips inside out when he asks to remove her shirt, because this time it’s different . She nods, and he’s gentle as he does so, blue eyes sparkling as he takes her in. He leans to press a kiss to her shoulder, whispering a “you’re gorgeous” to her skin before slipping kisses across her. 

He treats her body like his canvas. He litters her in kisses, mouth heavy in places that make her head spin. Drawing blood to the surface to form pinks and purples that will linger for days. She tries to keep up their rhythm as he sucks in her nipple, spoiling her as a hand slides to grip her hip and keep her going. 

He’s hard beneath her, and she’s flustered, nearly overwhelmed with how carnally she wants him. 

He pulls off to press a kiss to her lips, hands slipping up to rub at her back. 

“You want to keep going?” He whispers, nuzzling kisses to her jaw. 

“Yes.” She gasps.

A finger hooks at her underwear. “Then these need to come off.”

She lifts up almost immediately, and he tugs them down her ass. There’s an awkward amount of shuffling required to get them completely off, and once it’s over Katniss feels incredibly exposed. Peeta slides hands up her sides, eyeing her in her entirety. 

“Fuck- you’re hot.” He curses, hands squeezing at her skin, and she blushes. He leans in to peck her cheek. 

She doesn’t give him much time to admire her. She reaches to slip a finger under the waistband of his boxers. He grins as she tugs. 

“Peeta-“

“Yes,” he doesn’t even let her finish, shifting to help her get them off. It’s another awkward shuffle, but she’s too busy watching him bob against his stomach to care. 

She swallows, and he kisses her cheek. 

“Can I touch you?” He asks, hand slipping along the inside of her thigh. 

She swallows. Nods, and shifts on his lap to give him room. His thumb brushes just left of her entrance, and she shudders. He presses a kiss to her cheek, whispering “I got you. It’s okay” against her jaw. 

She licks her lips as he slips through her. He hums, makes a comment about how wet she is, and slips his thumb through her lips again. She watches him drawback to lick his thumb clean, blue eyes trained on her. And it makes her entire body ignite.

“Peeta-“ she gasps.

He smirks, thick fingers reaching to slide against her again. Teasing at her entrance, circling slick around her. She huffs, annoyed with him. He grins. 

He finally slips in his middle finger, and it’s both foreign and delightful. It takes her a moment to figure out if she hates it or not. Peeta slowly slips it out, slowly back in. She shifts towards him, arms looping around his neck. He kisses her cheek. 

“More?” He asks, as if he can read her mind.

She hides her blush in his neck, nodding as she shifts on his lap. He brushes his thumb against her, teasing a second finger before slipping it in with the first.

It’s definitely more. And she thinks she might like more. As he slowly pumps, other hand rubbing at her back. She starts to rock into his hand, and she gasps when she grinds into his palm.

“That-“ she breathes, “That’s good.” 

He tries it again, doesn’t quite get it. In the process curls his fingers, and the stretch has her moaning. 

“Like that?”

“Yes that- keep doing that.”

She rocks into his hand as he gradually pumps, and very quickly she can’t get enough of the feeling. His fingers are thick and they rub against her well, and each time his palm presses into her it makes her croon. She’s quickly a bucking mess, but it’s not enough. She needs more.

She acts before her mind is made up. She pushes him to lay back, and he hits the bed with an “oof”, fingers slipping free. She shifts to straddle him, hips grinding against him. 

“Woah- Pretty eager there, sweetheart.” He huffs.

That stops her in her tracks, eyes meeting his as she comes to a halt. 

“Haymitch calls me sweetheart. Don’t ever call me that while we’re having sex.”

He scoffs, cheeks burning red as he sputters “F-Fair enough.”

She regathers herself, glancing down at him. And it’s the first time she’s allowed herself to really admire Peeta. And he does look good. Blonde curls wispy on his forehead, blue eyes looking at her like she holds the world, like she takes up the moon. Skin that she knows is scattered with freckles like stars in the night sky. Thick arms and a thick chest. She rubs her hands over what used to be washboard abs, but he’s put on a little weight since the Revolution, and there’s been no need for him to work out like they might go to war at any moment. And a part of her finds that thought comforting. The world is safer now, and Peeta’s body is evidence of it. They don’t have to starve anymore, and they don’t have to constantly look over their shoulder. If anything, the slight chub to his belly makes him just that much more attractive. 

“You like what you see?” He smirks, sending her a cocky wink. 

She flushes, face burning. She shifts her hips over him instead, and the smirk gets wiped off his face as she rubs against him. He’s hard and hot and she’s never needed him like she needs him now. 

“Peeta,” she whispers, reaching down to touch him. He curses as she softly pumps him.

“God Katniss- you’re heavenly.”

She lifts her hips, but he stops her before she can even resituate. She lets him go, and he shifts under her, pulling at their bedside drawer. He reaches in, feeling around until he finds it. The silver packet glints in the candle light, and she watches him carefully rip it open with his teeth. 

“What is that?”

He flushes, eyes meeting hers in the dim light.

“Uh- it’s…the things they gave us in 13. When you basically moved in with me.”

Katniss blinks. “Oh.”

That . She forgot about that. 

“…Yeah.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence.

“You…you want me to use it, right?” He asks cautiously.

She nods immediately. “Yes- yes please.”

They do not need a repeat of last time. Katniss doesn’t even want to think about children at a time like this. So she watches him as he rolls the rubber ring down himself, biting her lip as her face flushes red. And she finally starts to realize what they’re doing. 

“Ok. You ready?”

“I- I think I need a second.” She whispers.

He nods. “Okay. That’s- that’s okay.”

She takes a breath. And it finally hits her what they’re doing here. Suddenly she feels sheepish. She wants this, but the confidence that got her to this point is waning. Peeta seems to see it, too.

“Katniss, we can stop.”

“I don’t…” she pauses, “I don’t want to.”

He pauses. “We can take a break. We can go slow.”

She takes a deep breath. “What does that mean?”

“Means I just kiss you for a while, until you’re ready.” He smiles softly against her lips, hands rubbing at her arms. 

She nods. “Okay.”

“Can I lay you down?” He asks. 

She shakes her head. She wants it like this. Not like the train.

He smiles, a soft “ok”, and then he kisses her. It’s softer than his first one. It’s delicate and tender and feels like his usual kisses. The ones that mean “I love you”.

And it makes her feel safe. In his arms, in his lap, in their bed, she is safe. Everything in this room is sacred, for them and only them, and she’s safe. Peeta is here to love her, in any way he can. Because he wants to. And there’s nothing else for them to worry about. Not now, not in this moment.

For a long time Katniss has fought against the feeling. There’s been times where she’s let herself lean into it. But there’s also been times where the fear of letting go creeps back up to bite her again. And this is one of those times where it feels like she actually has a choice, between letting it rule over her, or letting it go. And she wants to let go. 

So she does. She takes a deep breath. Brushes a thumb over his shoulder to get his attention, and meets his soft blue eyes as he looks at her like she’s his entire world. She kisses his cheek, and then pushes him to lay back down. He watches her as she hovers, and she appreciates the way he lets her take the control she needs, appreciates it more than he probably knows. 

She doesn’t give herself time to reconsider. She just does. Sinks down on him. And her shoulders relax as he easily glides in; a delicious stretch. The way he fills her feels better than it should. Feels better than it had last time. He presses a little too much against her cervix, and there’s a slight discomfort, but the rest feels good . The way his skin presses into her as she bottoms out. The way he licks his lips like he wants to devour her, eyes skimming across her.

She experimentally grinds her hips. And it feels good , pressing herself into his skin. She does it again. And again. Bucks herself against him as he keeps her full, dragging ever so slightly inside her. And it makes her head spin. It feels so much better than it should. She leans forward, hands at his shoulders as she rocks.

“Fuck Katniss- that’s hot.” He mumbles, “That’s really hot.” He squeezes at her thighs. 

The gasp slips her lips without warning, pleasure between her legs right where she wants it. He grips at her hips, gently tugging up on her ass. He slowly guides her to lift off of him and drop back down. It’s not as good, but the sounds that escape Peeta’s lips keeps her going. She slowly starts to bounce, the drag of him against her hot as she speeds up. He keeps a firm grasp on her hips and ass, tugging her along. 

“Fuck- Katniss- Fuck - that feels so good- keep-keep going- fuck -“ he stumbles out.

She does. Drops and drops, watching him fall apart beneath her as her thighs burn. And she’s addicted to the way his face twists and the cries that leave his lips.

“I’m gonna- fuck - fuck Katniss I’m gonna- slow down-”

But she doesn’t want to. She wants to watch him break. Her thighs are shaking, but adrenaline spurs her on. She bucks her hips as she drops, and that seems to do it for him. He crashes, crying out, hands gripping hard at her thighs. He throbs inside of her, face going blissful. She slows down, going back to grinding against him. And it feels even better than before, the way her lips bump and drag along his pelvic bone. Suddenly he starts to squirm, hands grasping at her.

“Fuck- Katniss- fuck - too much.”

She pauses. “You want me to stop?”

He shakes his head, “No- no no- keep- I wanna watch you.”

So she picks back up. He squirms beneath her, fingers curling into the sheets. He whimpers, hips jerking under her as she grinds against him. And it’s hot.

“F-fuck- that-“ he can barely get words out of his lips, “feel good, d-darling?”

She hums, speeding up as she gets closer, chasing after the pleasure. He squirms and gasps, hips jumping under her, and it only adds. Very quickly she’s reaching a hand down to press against herself, shaking as it hits her. 

The room is filled with gasps for air as they stop, desperate to catch their breath. She realizes she’s covered in sweat, and she desperately needs a drink of water. 

He speaks first.

“That was so incredibly hot.”

***

She flushes more than she already is, pulling off of him to flop down beside him. Her thighs feel like liquid. He turns to press a kiss to her cheek.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

She scoffs, still trying to catch her breath. 

“Want water?” He asks.

“ Please .” 

He rolls to the edge of the bed, bending down to put his prosthetic back on. She watches him peel off the rubber, tossing it in the trash by their dresser. He doesn’t even bother throwing on clothes, just waltzes through the door. 

She stares at the flickering flame of the candle she sat on their dresser. Prometheus battling to be let free. She listens to his footfalls on the stairs until she can’t hear him anymore. And then she closes her eyes.

Which is a mistake.

Her body feels like it’s thrumming. Her heart is racing. And the room smells musty, and she’s hot. And the rush of endorphins feels far too close to a different kind of feeling.

Like running for her life in an arena. Or ducking for cover behind shrapnel while under heavy gunfire. Or sprinting through a dark subway system. 

And suddenly it’s harder to breathe. And she feels vulnerable, bare to the world with legs that feel like pudding. 

“Katniss?” 

Her eyes snap back open, panic lacing her veins. Peeta sets the glass down on the nightstand, sitting down on the bed and scooping her up in his arms. She gasps against his chest, trembling. 

“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.” 

She clutches him tight, and he rubs her back, coaxing her to take deep breaths. She tries. He rocks them, humming softly as he pulls her off her cliff. She relaxes into his hold, and suddenly she’s exhausted. 

He shifts, and she squeezes him. He presses the glass to her lips.

“Drink.” 

She sips. And it feels good down her throat. He presses a kiss to her head as she finishes the cup. He sets it back down on the nightstand.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He whispers softly, fingers combing through her hair.

“I closed my eyes.”

He hums. Waits for her to explain more. When she doesn’t he pushes further. “Was it something I did?”

“No,” she breathes immediately. “I just- everything felt…” and she doesn’t know how to say it, doesn’t know how to make him understand.

“Like being scared.” Is all she can settle on. “Like…war.” 

He’s quiet. “Which part?”

“After.” 

He’s silent. Swirls circles on her side. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Yeah I guess it does.” 

He seems to think for a moment, and then he takes a breath and presses a kiss to her head.

“Next time I’ll stay. Till after goes away.” He presses another kiss. “So it doesn’t feel like war.” 

She hums in approval, absentmindedly lacing their fingers together.  

“We need to shower.” He breathes.

She lets loose a sound that’s somewhere between a huff and a groan, too tired to signal her full displeasure.

He chuckles, “I know, I know. I’m tired too, but we’ll sleep better. I’ll help you.”

She doesn’t really get a choice, as he scoops her up and carries her to the bathroom. She’s placed on the toilet, and he slips back to grab them fresh clothes. She pees, and then shakily stands up to step towards the shower. He comes back in just in time to catch her arm before she loses her balance and crashes into the tub.

He has a slight grin on his face that she can’t help but sour at. He chuckles at her displeased look, and sets their clothes down on the sink to help her into the tub. 

“Don’t worry,” he smiles at her as he takes a seat on his stool, “Next time I won’t make you do all the work.” 

She leans into the wall, turning away to hide her flush, but he catches it anyways. He laughs as he pulls off his prosthetic.

It’s been at least half a year since they’ve showered like this. Since Peeta has had to drag her into the bathroom to clean her, gentle hands scrubbing shampoo against her scalp. 

Except this time he’s in with her. And this time he’s not as shy as he scrubs a loofah across her shoulders. And this time she feels alive. This time a warm body presses into hers, hands slipping across her skin, unashamed to touch her. This time a pair of lips press against hers. This time she returns the favor. Scrubs shampoo through wet blonde hair. Stares into blue eyes as they look up at her like she holds the moon. 

She helps him back out of the shower, and towels him dry and helps him get dressed. It feels nice to be the one taking care of him, and she realizes she doesn’t often do the things for him that he does for her. She makes a mental note to try and do that more often. 

He insists on grabbing a snack, claiming she needs some sugar after all of that . He ignores her pleas to put his leg back on, and instead hops towards the stairs and slides down the banister. He’s mastered the art of landing on one foot without falling, but it still scares her every time. She complains as she follows him down to the kitchen, but he just sends her a beaming smile as he flicks on the lights and yanks open the fridge. She tries to help him, but he waves her off, telling her she’s done enough. 

They eat danishes at the island, the oven clock reading 11:52. Wind still howls outside, but she feels anything but cold. She watches him devour a second slice, and that warmth from before returns; the same one that gives her butterflies and almost feels like it hurts . 

And she’s sure that this is love. She’d said it before, but she wasn’t completely certain. But as she looks at Peeta, a smile on his face, she’s never been more certain about something in her life. And it dawns on her that she’s felt this feeling for a long time. For years, even. And it feels sort of silly that it took her this long to realize it.

“What?” He asks, a quizzical look on his face.

“I do love you.” She whispers. “I have, for a long time.”

He beams. Leans in to peck her lips. “I love you too.”

She helps him up the stairs. They curl up in the sheets, and she places a hand over his heart. And she falls asleep warm and content, and nothing like the weather outside.

- - - - -

Years pass. The garden grows, as if Demeter herself kissed the backyard. Slowly, a town rises from the district 12 rubble.

Katniss’s grief dwindles. She tries to wrap her mind around a different world. But she slips back in old ways. Peeta does too. But they manage together. 

She’s the one to ask the question, or rather, makes the suggestion. Which surprises both of them. He’s deep in a portrait of Seeder, and she sits on a wooden chair behind him, raptured by his brush strokes. She’s struck with an overwhelming feeling of bliss, and a desire to spend the rest of her days just like this, with Peeta at her side. So it leaves unfiltered from her lips.

“Peeta.”

He hums, the barest indication that he’s actually heard her.

“We should get married.”

He pauses. Sits back from his canvas. Turns around to look at her, eyebrows raised. She’s just as shocked at the words, but in no world would she take them back. 

“You mean it?”

And she realizes she does. She does want to marry Peeta. She does want this to be their forever. So she nods. “Yes.”

They toast in late August, on a random rainy day. He bakes the bread. She stokes the fire. She can’t help the tears that spring up as she whispers her vows. He kisses the tears off her cheeks. 

“Stay with me.” She whispers.

“Always.” He breathes.

They open the front door. Have a small picnic in the doorway while watching the rain come down. She looks at him and can’t imagine her heart feeling any more full in her chest.

Chapter Text

He only ever really asks it once. It’s the beginning of winter, Boreas creeping across the land and shifting the winds. It’s like he already knows the answer, in the way he tries to shower her in goodies the morning of. Cinnamon buns in bed, followed by him dipping between her legs to make her croon. Tracing patterns into her stomach as he tries to preface the conversation.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“But can you promise to think about it? Like, really consider it?”

“…Okay?”

He takes a deep breath. And he looks nervous, almost like he’s trying to brace himself. 

“I’ve been…thinking.” He whispers.

“That’s dangerous.”

His mouth quirks slightly, but it does little to lift the sudden tension in the room.

“We’re married now.” He says softly.

“We are.” Have been for a while , she would add, but she’s starting to feel nervous with how apprehensive he looks. 

He reaches to lace their fingers. She lets him.

“The war is over. We’re safe.” 

She closes her eyes, and is afraid of where this is heading.

“And I…we have a beautiful house. And a garden. And three empty bedrooms.”

She takes a deep breath.

“Please Katniss,” he whispers, “I want- we could .”

She shakes her head. 

There’s one thing she’ll never heal from. She’s certain it’s the one thing she’ll never be able to come to terms with. Not after Prim, not after Rue. Not after Rowan. 

“I can’t Peeta.”

He clearly bites down on his tongue to stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t. He takes a second. “You said you’d think about it.” He points out softly.

“I have. My answer is no.” 

He blinks. Stares at her stomach. Looks positively crushed . His fingers tap at her hip as he licks his lips.

“Yeah.” He says gruffly, “Yeah. Okay.”

And she feels herself tense. And the want to run is strong. She feels awful for doing this to him, and she doesn’t want to stay around to see the aftermath of her own destruction.

He wipes his nose against his arm, blinking. 

“Yeah I guess I uh. Probably can’t either.” 

He doesn’t lie to her. Or at the very least not often. But it’s clear when he does, and this is no exception. 

He rests his cheek between the dips of her ribs, below her sternum; takes a shaky breath.

She closes her eyes. Because she can’t stand to see him cry.

“I just-“ his voice breaks, and she realizes it’s been a while since he’s had a voice crack, “I want to move on. I don’t want to be scared any more. I’m tired of being scared. The world- it’s better. We made it better. I just…” and he doesn’t say more.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers. Because she feels sorry. 

She doesn’t relate to moving on. She doesn’t relate to the possibility of not being scared anymore. That’s never been a possibility. It’s hard to imagine it ever could be. It’s all Katniss knows.

They don’t talk after that. Peeta goes a few weeks where he doesn’t speak to her as often. She doesn’t think he means to withhold sex from her, but he does. She tries to start things, but he doesn’t let it go very far; looks genuinely sorry when he tells her that he just can’t . And she feels like she maybe deserves that. Because she’s hurting him by saying no. But she also- she just can’t say yes. 

“Please, Katniss,” he whispers late one night. 

And he cries. Begging against her stomach. And it hurts to see him like this. It hurts to say no. But the idea of children, of losing more people, hurts even more.

“I’m not mad, Katniss. I’m just. Trying to come to terms with this.” He whispers late on another night, as he sits on the edge of their bed and stares into the dark. She runs a hand up his back. Whispers for him to come back to her. 

And so he does. Like always. 

Three months later and she’s tried to forget about it. It still hangs there, like a fishing hook caught on skin, too painful to rip away without careful extraction; an extraction she can’t seem to achieve.

It’s early morning, Eos languid with the sun. The breath from her lungs puffs out in fog, frost still crystalised across every surface, the remnants of last snowfall swept across the ground. She stares across the small lake. Watches for the first signs of life under the ice, as Persephone beckons for Zephyrus. 

Movement catches her eye. She glances up, fingers steadying the arrow against her bowstring. She watches a doe stride out of the trees across the small inlet. Her breath stills, and she pulls her bow up to aim. 

Snowflakes, lazily drifting from the sky. A distant bird call- quail . A soft biting breeze. 

Morning light peaks through the clouds, cascading across the far side of the lake, and casting the doe in gold. Katniss releases an easy breath as she draws back. Her heart steadies. And then brown eyes lock on her. And Katniss’s breath catches. Her fingers nearly release. But then more movement catches her eye.

It’s a fawn. No- two. The doe’s tail sways, ear flicking as she examines Katniss from across the inlet. As if she’s not bothered, turning to look at her babies.

Katniss lowers the bow. There’s a third. Three fawns, legs still wobbling like they were born just last night. Big black noses and spotted white flanks. 

The mother doe walks up to the water. Ears flicking as her fawns try to suckle. 

And then something else comes from the trees. And Katniss barely registers it- it’s pure white. Like snow .

A fourth, tiny, fawn. Four fawns. 

Katniss has never seen so many, let alone a completely white deer. She glances around, sure there has to be another doe nearby. But it’s just the one. The one that pays her absolutely no mind, as it lets its babies suckle, a pink tongue rasping at the ice. Katniss shifts, and the doe glances up to watch her, but she doesn’t run. Just grazes near the ground for any possible remaining grass. 

And Katniss is dumbfounded. Four fawns. And a completely unbothered mother. As if Katniss and her bow, who hunts in these woods near daily, poses no danger. As if deer aren’t frequently on the menu. As if deer don’t live in fear.

She sits and watches them, feeling like her life is flipped upside down. The world is scary. And yet this doe has four fawns. Is actively feeding them, practically showing them off like a prize, while Katniss watches, as if Katniss isn’t here. As if this is the safest place on earth.

And maybe it is. Katniss has always considered it one of her safer places. A place that feels like hers. 

One she wishes she could show more people. Like- like children of her own. Like her father showed her. 

And that hurts. Pierces her heart like a spear. The idea of children, and her father, and a family tradition, and children . 

She told Peeta no. And she meant no. But now…staring at this doe and her fawns…it feels different. Like a sign that maybe the world is safer. That maybe fear shouldn’t control her. 

Three months ago Peeta said he didn’t want to be scared anymore. Said he wanted to move on. And Katniss hadn’t understood then. She couldn’t understand. But right now, in this very moment, as she’s hit with a nostalgia that just about sweeps her off her feet with a sudden yearning to have someone to share it with, she gets it. 

She’s terrified of losing anymore people she loves. Her heart feels so scarred, from the amount of times she’s been broken. At times she’s not sure if there’s much left of it to take in another person to care about.

But she doesn’t want to be scared anymore. She’s tired of looking over her shoulder. She’s tired of being on edge. She wants to look forward. She wants to live . She wants to be able to thrive in the world they worked so hard to create. She knows she deserves that.

She knows she’d always told herself she didn’t want children. It was just too risky, and she couldn’t fathom putting anyone through everything she’s been through. And she thought it was true. But she’s realized it’s not .

The tears come pouring uncontrollably. The realization hurts . So sudden, so quickly ruining her resolve and everything she thought she understood. She sucks in a breath. And she cries.

She does want children. She wants a giggling baby. She wants to house beating hearts. Teach them to hunt. Teach them to read the stars. Teach them to be thankful for the bread their father bakes them every morning. Teach them they have a future of love and freedom ahead of them. She wants to be able to put something forth into the world she’s worked so hard to make. She wants to prove she did it. And she wants to give people she loves a better life than her own. 

She wants children. To care for and raise and watch grow. She has for a while, and she told herself she didn’t, because she was scared. But she does . The miscarriage in the Quarter Quell showed her that. 

She cries, and watches the fawns bounce and stagger. The white one steps out on the lake and slips, bleating. Its mother grunts, and the fawn scrambles back to her side, positioning itself directly between her front legs. The others continue to take turns nursing.

The doe watches her as she finally gets up to leave, tucking her arrow back in her quiver and wiping her nose on the sleeve of her coat. She gets lost in her thoughts as she slips through the woods. Feet taking her home. She loses track of where she is until she’s suddenly opening the door of her house, the warmth nearly rushing over her.

She blinks, tears cold on her cheeks. 

“Hey,” Peeta pauses whatever he’s doing at the kitchen island to come over and meet her by the front door. “What’s wrong?” He asks, warm hands cupping her cheeks.

She’s speechless. Just stares up at him slack-jawed, tears welling up in her eyes. He takes her quiver and bow and sets them aside, unzipping her coat and pulling it off her shoulders to hang on the coat rack by the door. He presses a kiss to her freezing nose as he pulls off her hat and gloves, thumbs coming back up to swipe away her tears as a whimper crackles out her throat. 

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here.” He pulls her close, hugging her tight. 

She clings to him, hard. Nose pressed to his chest. He smells like sugar and fresh dough, faintly of cinnamon and vanilla. 

He pulls her into the kitchen, and lifts her up to sit on the countertop. He offers her a glass of water, and she drinks, wiping her tears. 

“Wanna tell me what’s up?” He asks softly, filling the kettle with water.

She licks at her teeth, blinking down at her knees. 

“Prim.” She supplies faintly. Which isn’t a complete lie; Prim is on her mind, because she is thinking about losing more loved ones.

He hums. Pecks her cheek. “I just put cinnamon rolls in the oven. I’ll make you a cup of tea. And then we’ll cuddle on the couch by the fire. Sound good?”

She nods, and watches him turn on the stove to boil the water. He pulls out a tea packet, and then slides between her legs and showers kisses across her face. It makes her tummy feel warm and fuzzy, and she nearly cries again at how soft and fragile this moment feels. He dotes over her, talks to her so sweetly, and she can’t help but think about how good of a father he would be. 

She thinks about it for a week. Contemplates it. Tries not to let the terror of it eat her alive. Tries to think about the positives. The good outcomes. The ones that make her heart swell like crazy when she thinks about them. And slowly, she comes around to the idea of actually wanting it. 

Frost is crystallized at the edges of the kitchen windows, and she knows it’s cold outside. But the rising sun that peaks through, casting Peeta and the kitchen in orange, and the crackling hearth in the living room, make her feel warm. 

She tugs the thick cardigan tighter around herself, adjusting in the dining chair as she soaks in the quiet serenity. Peeta yawns and stretches, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He sends her a smile when he glances over and catches her staring. She returns it.

He fumbles with a bag of flour and a baking pan, and she realizes she wants this forever. This warmth, and safety, and love . Of just existing, where they can both just be . And she is tired of being scared.

The thought is scary. Of a third pair of tinier feet pattering in the kitchen, tugging at Peeta’s sweats as he mixes yeast and flour into a batter for crumpets. It’s scary, but it also feels so much warmer. And she wants it. Of little giggles, and curly blond hair. A tired father pulling up a little kid to sit on the counter as he bakes. Watching as he helps them pour batter into a pan, and pointing over at her. A little body streaking across the kitchen to crash a hug around her legs. 

She wants it with him, so desperately. More of this. Someone to share it with.

“Peeta,” she says quietly. 

He hums, and the sun is setting his blond hair to fire as he stands in its rays, mixing up dough. 

Her mouth feels dry, and she tries to form the words on her tongue, but she isn’t sure how to say them.

He turns to look at her when she doesn’t answer, a hand rubbing at his eye and smearing flour across his cheek and nose as he drawls out a “yeah?” to prompt her further.

And the words tumble out.

“I want children.” She whispers.

Peeta’s blue eyes bolt wide, and he loses grip on the bag of sugar he just grabbed. He scrambles to catch it, but ultimately it hits the ground with a thud and spills sugar across the floorboards. He glances between his mess and her, mouth popping open to try and find something to say.

“You-you what?”

She feels herself flush, “I want children.”

He gapes, eyes flickering over her. “You- you want-“

She nods. He blinks down at the sugar spilled on the floor. 

“Seriously?”

She swallows, and she’s made up her mind. “Yes.”

He lets out something between a laugh and a sob, hands pressing out against the counter top as he looks at her. She gets up from her chair, and a tear slips down his cheek as she comes up to hug him. He crushes her close, a cry stumbling from his mouth as he takes in the news.

And it makes her hurt, to see just how moved he is by this. To see the pure joy and relief drenching his features when she pulls back to look at him. And it’s almost guilt, that it’s taken her this long to figure it out. That she’s kept him from this form of happiness for so long. Peeta deserves to be happy.

“You’re serious?” His hands come up to cup her cheeks, eyes flickering over her face.

“Yes.” She nods, and seeing him in tears almost has her crying too.

He kisses her. It’s chaste, and it’s not as soft as he probably intends it to be, because he’s still reeling in shock. He peppers kisses across her cheek, a wet giggle leaving his lips, and he holds her tight. 

Suddenly arms are wrapping around her waist, and she’s being hoisted up and spun in circles. It makes her yelp at first, but Peeta’s laughter is absolutely infectious as he spins them around, beaming a great big smile up at her. And she can’t help but giggle along. 

She’s unintentionally set down in the pile of sugar, completely dizzy. It takes them both a moment to catch their bearings, and this time she’s the one to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss.

And this one is much more. She wants him to know, just how much he means to her. He needs to know she loves him, so much more than she can voice or show. Gingerly clasping against his lips, not out of hesitancy but out of tender care. Affection, in the way she presses against him, a hand sliding up to grip his shirt across his shoulders. 

Hands slide to her sides, and then over her ass and to the back of her thighs. She’s suddenly being hoisted up and placed on the island countertop, knees pushed open to welcome a body between them as he presses closer. A hand slips to her hip, gliding under her t-shirt. His finger softly grazes the skin above her waistband, and he breaks away to breathe.

“What made you change your mind?” He whispers, blue eyes flickering across her face.

She takes a steady breath and reaches out to squeeze his hand. “I just…I want to move on.” She smiles softly, taking in his features as they soften sympathetically, “and I- I want someone to share this with,” she squeezes his hand again, “mornings like this, where everything is- is perfect.”

Katniss isn’t one to be sentimental. She’s learned to not let herself care about certain things, because she’s bound to lose them. But she wants to care. 

He pecks her cheek, leaning in to whisper against her ear, “I think every moment with you is perfect,” and places another kiss at her temple.

She smiles, leaning into him as his arms loop around her. 

She leans forward to peck a lingering kiss to his lips. He doesn’t let her go very far. He squeezes her thighs and pulls her across the counter to be closer. He captures her lips in a real kiss, hands sliding up to slip against the skin along her waistband again. 

She loops her arms around his shoulders. And his hands slowly start to hike her shirt higher. She loops her legs around his hips, and he startles.

“Katniss-“ he says breathlessly against her, “We don’t have to-“

“It’s okay,” she whispers, “I want to.”

Blue eyes bore into hers for a few moments, trying to determine how sure she is. And then he dives in.

He yanks her even closer, until they’re flush against each other. He pulls her leg around his hip, leaning in closer to kiss her harder. She holds on by his shoulders, a hand tangling in his blond waves. He snakes a hand back up her shirt, this time hiking it up high as he feels across her ribs. He breaks away to press kisses against her jaw, mouth heavy against her skin. Her eyes flutter close, and one of his hands slips between them to touch her inner thigh, grazing so close to where she wants him but not quite enough . The hand under her shirt slides against the underside of her breast, but doesn’t push any further. 

He pulls off her neck to come up to her ear. 

“Can I take you to bed?” He asks softly, pressing another kiss to her cheek.

“ Please ,” she whispers.

He chuckles, but obliges. He hoists her up off the counter, and she wraps her legs around his waist, clutching at his shoulders as he carries her up the stairs. 

He gently lays her down on their unmade bed, but hesitates to join her, instead lingering back to stare at her for a moment. 

“What?” she asks.

He smiles, and then comes up to peck her lips.

“Nothing,” he says softly, reaching to brush hair out of her face, “just admiring you.”

She flushes. “I don’t deserve you.”

It’s a notion she’s tried hard over the past few years to stop thinking. Because Peeta has told her countless times that she does . And she’s slowly learned that she’s allowed to have good things. But this moment is just a shocking reminder of how lovely Peeta is. He doesn’t ever have to say it, how much he loves her. It’s said in every single way he touches her, every single time he looks at her, everything he does for her. Like being patient, and waiting years for her to come around to something he wants so desperately. 

He frowns, head tilting as he looks at her curiously. “Don’t say that. You deserve just as much as I do.”

She smiles sadly, reaching out to brush flour off his cheek. He still has some on the bridge of his nose, but she thinks that can stay, because it’s kind of cute. Which reminds her of the spilled sugar down stairs.

“What about the sugar?” She asks suddenly. 

He looks at her, briefly puzzled before he remembers too. “It can wait,” he says, leaning down to peck her nose, “Right now, I just wanna think about you.”

She flushes, a smile pulling at her lips. 

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” He hums, nestling between her legs as he leans in. 

She automatically loops her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in closer. He slips a hand back under her shirt, a warm palm flattening against her stomach as he captures her lips. It blooms a warmth in her chest, rushing heat down her spine when he slips his thumb under the waistband of her sweats, thumbing over the top of her underwear. She hums, hands sliding down his back, fingers curling back into his hair. 

He pulls away to press a sloppy kiss to her cheek, breath hot as he gasps against her ear.

***

“Off?” He tugs gently at her sweats.

“Yeah,” she breathes, hips tilting to allow him room.

He yanks her underwear down with the sweats, causing her to gasp. He grins against her neck, hand sliding across her bare thigh as he pecks the skin under her ear. 

Her stomach flips as soft hands inch closer, but he swoops up to splay across her lower stomach instead. 

“ Peeta ,” she huffs.

He chuckles, lips grazing her collar bone as he shifts to help the pants completely off her. It’s an awkward shuffle, but it’s been done a hundred times before. Katniss tugs at his shirt in retaliation as soon as her pants and underwear are gone. He helps her claw it off of him, and her hands slide around his ribs to draw him closer. He dips before she can pull him back up for a kiss, lips planting on her nipple from over her shirt. He slides a hand underneath, cupping her. She hums, hand tangling in his hair as he draws her shirt over her breasts to kiss across her chest. He lays a sloppy kiss across her left nipple, sucking briefly as his right hand flicks across her other. She arches into the touch, breathless.

Peeta is eager. He moves on quickly, sucking marks against her ribs and then her stomach. Her insides flip when he grips at her thighs, blue eyes hungry when he looks up at her. 

Her legs fall open as he works his way lower. A warm mouth laps across her stomach, down against her hip as his hands slip closer. She runs a hand through his hair, preparing to grip hard. He shudders hot breath over her, hands rubbing up and down her thighs as she anticipates.

“ Peeta ,” she huffs, tugging lightly at his hair.

He lets out a groan, and then finally, his warm mouth is on her. 

Heat races between her legs. His hands massage at her thighs as he works, lapping and sucking and oh so gingerly pressing. He’s warm, and wet, and the way his chin nudges against her, and the way hot breath huffs out of his nose across her as he gasps for air, is all so overwhelming. Lips clasping against her labia, tongue brushing along as he sucks and kneads. She grips his hair and tugs him closer, legs automatically looping around his head and caging him in. He dips in his tongue, his nose pressing into her and teeth grazing as he reaches. She bucks against him, a gasp leaving her lips when he brushes her perfectly. He grunts softly, a hand squeezing at her hip to keep her still. He drags his tongue roughly against her a few times, until pulling back to suck a thumb into his mouth.  The look he sends her drives her crazy, head thrown back against the mattress. When he dips back down he clasps over her clit, and she shutters at the thumb that graces her opening. Her legs squeeze around his head as he sucks. 

“ Peeta -“ she shudders when he slips in his thumb, just tugging and playing with her entrance as he sucks and laps against her clit. 

He lets out a soft chuckle against her when she bucks again, back arching off the bed. 

“ Fuck -“ she gasps when he drags and presses the pad of his thumb up towards his tongue. 

He wastes no time in switching to a pair of fingers, shifting to pump them at the angle he knows she likes. She’s quickly squirming, back arching harder, hips bucking against his mouth and fingers as she chases after the pleasure that he draws out of her. 

He’s become far too good at this, and it’s quite frankly embarrassing how quickly he undoes her. She wants to hate it, how easily he’s come to know every little thing about her. Where to touch her, how to touch her, how hard and how soft. How to tease her and leave her hanging on. How to make her finally unravel. But she simply can’t, because it just feels too good. And she really shouldn’t be complaining anyways.

He presses hard, right where she needs it, tongue smashed against her clit, and she breaks quicker than she expects herself to. It hits her fast and hard, seizing up her legs and stomach, causing her to jerk against him. He grips a hand hard at her hip to try and keep her steady, trying to keep the pressure right where she needs it. It knocks air out from her lungs and she gasps desperately for breath, pleasure rocking like steady waves through her. 

He removes his fingers, tongue lapping against her as she clamps down and leaks. His hands gently push at her legs, prying them open and then smoothing out across her stomach. When he finally pulls off there’s a smug grin on his lips, and she’s too out of breath to care. 

“Feel good?” He asks as he presses a kiss to her stomach, and then leans forward to place another against her cheek.

She nods, releasing a satisfied hum. His hand glides up her side, thumb flicking over her nipple once more as he shifts. He eyes her for a moment, and she watches his blue eyes flicker across her as he thinks.

“Whatcha thinking?”

He smiles, other hand sliding over her. “Thinkin you’re gorgeous. All laid out for me.”

She flushes, and reaches to grasp his hands, threading their fingers together. He squeezes, smile brilliant on his lips as he leans forward to kiss her. She tries to ignore the salty taste of her in his mouth. Instead she loops arms around him to tug at his pants. He breaks away to help her tug them over his ass and shimmy them off his legs. They’re flicked to the floor along with his boxers, and she watches him bob against his stomach. And the desire to be full overwhelms her. 

*****

“You sure about this?” He asks, face suddenly serious.

She licks her lips as she looks up at him, and finds herself hesitating. But she nods. 

His eyebrows furrow at her hesitance. “Katniss, I need you to be certain. I can’t- we can’t do this unless you’re certain.”

She swallows, and the fear she’s been battling ever since the thought of children ever crossed her mind comes rushing back. She tries to fight it down, but it makes her breath hitch, and Peeta catches it.

He smooths a hand under her cheek, cupping her face as he looks at her. And it’s sympathy, pooled in those eyes. It’s reassurance, that it’s okay if her answer is no. But it’s also guilt, and it’s disappointment, and she hates it . 

“I’m scared,” she breathes before he can try and tell her that it’s okay. Because it’s not. She shouldn’t be allowed to play with him like this. She’s gone back and forth with him too many times already. 

He combs fingers through her hair, and says something she’s not expecting. “Me too.”

Her eyebrows furrow, “You- what? Why?”  

He smiles softly, blue eyes flickering over her face, but ultimately unable to meet hers.

“Children are scary, Katniss.” He chuckles softly, “Even without- without the games, and the Revolution, and just- the world we’ve lived in. Children are…a lot.”

And now she feels doubt. Was she wrong? He’s always been so vocal about how much he wants children. Why is he suddenly hesitant? She thought he wanted this. That’s a major reason why she’s worked herself over this obstacle, just so she could make him happy. Because he deserves to be happy.

“I do want kids, Katniss,” he breathes, seemingly reading her mind, “I always have. And I’d be glad. But you’re right. Children are scary. They’re a lot of work. And I-“ suddenly he chokes up. “I don’t know- sometimes-“

She grabs the hand he has on her cheek, intertwining their fingers to reassure him. 

“My mother was not a good person, Katniss.” He swallows, and his eyes seem to shift, “She- you know what she did. And I- I just don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to ever turn into that.”

She frowns, “Peeta, you would never, ever turn into that.” Finally his blue eyes meet her’s. “You couldn’t. You’re too… you .”

He smiles softly, and presses a kiss to their hands. She reaches to pull him into a hug, and he shifts so as to not lay all his weight on top of her and crush her. 

“I don’t think there’s a single ounce of that in you.” She says, “You’re too kind. And caring. And you- you’re so good at solving problems. You’re so good at staying calm, and keeping your temper. You could never turn into that. And I wouldn’t let you.”

And it’s a promise. She knows it is. And she means it. 

He breathes against her shoulder, and places a light kiss as he says “thank you.” They lay still for a few moments until he speaks again.

“Katniss,” he whispers, “I need you to be certain that you want this. I can’t- I can’t do this unless you’re completely sure. It’s okay to be scared, but I need- I need you to be sure .”

She takes a big breath. He pulls back to look at her, and his eyes look especially blue as he watches her. 

“I need you to want this, as much as I do. I need you to want this, and not just because I want it. I need you to want this for you . And I need you to be 100% certain.”

She brushes his cheek. Gingerly, sweeps the pad of her thumb under his eye. Over his eyebrow, and then down over his lips.

Earlier he’d asked what had made her change her mind, and she’d told him some of it. But she realizes that if they’re really going to do this, he really needs to understand .

“A week ago,” she whispers, “I saw a doe in the forest.”

His face barely scrunches, but he’s patient, and he lets her continue.

“I was out by the lake. Where my father used to take me.” She’d taken him out there a few summers ago, and finally managed to explain the importance of it last spring. So he understands, she hopes. “I was going to shoot her and bring her home. And then…I saw she had fawns.”

He shifts to lay next to her, realizing this story might be long. 

“At first I thought she had three. But then I realized there were four. And the smallest- it was completely white. Like snow.”

Peeta squeezes her hand at the name. 

“She looked at me. At my bow and my arrow, and then just…stepped forward for a drink. And let the fawns nurse. As if I wasn’t there. As if- as if she had better things to do than be scared.”

Peeta is tracing soft patterns across her chest, up between her breasts and back down like he’s icing a cake. 

“Seeing that deer. It made me wonder how things can just…live, when their whole life is spent running away. And yet they do. They live, and they have babies, and they raise their young, and they keep going.”

He switches his tracing to pipe icing along the dips of her ribs. 

And a part of her feels scared to admit it to him. She’s come a long way from holding her thoughts inside of her, a long way from pushing him away and blocking others out. But opening up is still scary. And she has to remind herself that this is Peeta , and that he would never ever judge her. That it’s okay to tell him. That this is something he needs to know.

“But I’m not running anymore. I don’t have to. But I'm still terrified. I'm still looking over my shoulder, waiting for something bad to happen. But it’s not going to. Because we’re safe.” She takes a deep breath, “Three months ago, you said you were tired of being scared.” She whispers, and his chin juts up as he shifts to look at her, blue eyes meeting hers. “And I realized I am too. I don’t want to be scared, anymore. I’m tired of living in fear. I just- I want to live . I want everything we’ve done to have a purpose. I want someone to grow up and live in a world that’s better than the one we grew up in. I want to make sure- I want to make sure someone has it better. And that we did it. We- we made it.”

He shifts, hand leaving her ribs to cup her cheek. “We did, Katniss. We made the world a better place.”

“I know- I know we say that- but I just- I need to see it. I have to- I have to know , that everything we’ve done was worth it.”

She fought and lost so much to make the world better and safer. She should have the right to live in it. She should be able to be happy about it, feel like it was all worth it, despite everything she lost.

And maybe that’s how she heals. How she finds solace, in everything she’s done. Everything she’s done was for other people. But this- this is something for her . And it’s her decision, not someone else telling her. It’s her turn to take control.

He nods, and she knows he does understand. 

“And I want-“ suddenly she feels like she might cry, “I want what my father had. I want kids, Peeta. I want to raise them, with you. Braid their hair, sing them songs. Take them out to the lake, and teach them how to shoot and swim. I want to watch you teach them how to paint, and how to bake, and how to be caring and kind. And I want- I want to tell them about Finnick, and Wiress, and Cinna and Rue. And I want Prim to have been proud of me.” And the tears do fall. 

Peeta shifts to prop himself up, leaning in to kiss the tears off her cheeks, “She is, Katniss. She’s so proud.”

Prim would have wanted a niece or nephew. Prim would have wanted to see her happy, like this. Her father would have wanted her to move on, and make a good life. One where she can be free, one where she lives . And Katniss is fairly certain that this is her freedom, that this is living; being able to choose .

Peeta swipes away her tears, and she tries her best to swallow them down, because she isn’t finished.

“I want kids, Peeta. For you, and for myself. I want them, so so much. And I don’t want to be scared anymore, but I am .” 

He frowns.

She takes a big breath, because what she’s about to say is difficult. They’re words she wouldn’t dare admit two years ago, or possibly even 6 months ago. It’s a level of self awareness that almost scares her, one that she wouldn’t have been capable of years ago. But he needs to hear it, and he needs to know. Because this is important to her. 

“Three months ago, you pleaded with me. And I need you to keep doing that. I need you to be certain that this is what we want. Because I know I’m going to have times where I let the fear get the best of me, where I let it stand in my way and I‘ll let it make me have doubts. And I need you to fight me. I need you to tell me it’s okay. I need you to remind me that this is what I want. Because it is what I want.”

He looks conflicted, a frown deepening across his lips. “Katniss- I can’t make this decision for you. I can’t .”

“You aren’t,” she breathes, reaching out to brush his cheek, “I’ve made the decision, Peeta. This is what I want. But I just- I need you to help me.” He takes a shaky breath, and suddenly she’s afraid that she’s accidentally convinced him that this is a bad idea. “Please,” she pleads, “I promise, I’m certain. I need- I need you to understand . Fear is all I’ve known, since the age of 5. And I need-“ god, does she need , “I just need this one last thing from you. I know you’ve already given me so much and there’s no way I can even begin to repay you-“

“You don’t have to repay me, Katniss-“ he tries to cut her off, but she keeps going.

“But this is just the last thing. I just need you to help me. Help me learn, to not be scared.”

And the truth is he already has. For the longest time she couldn’t wrap her mind around letting him get close, because she didn’t know how to handle the possibility of losing him. But stopping herself from not caring about Peeta is next to impossible. So instead he worked his way into her heart, and she’s had to figure out how to let herself fall into the safety he provides.

His forehead presses into her’s and he takes a deep breath. “You’re certain. Just- scared.”

“Yes,” she breathes, clutching at his arms. 

He places a kiss on her nose. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

He smiles, “Okay.”

She hugs him, and he grips her tight. She kisses his cheek, and his neck, and anywhere she can reach. He hums, softly giggling against her shoulder. She flutters across his skin, a million “thank you”s scattered like freckles on his face.  She slips a hand down to squeeze at his ass, and the giggle turns to a groan. 

“Pretty eager there honey,” he chuckles darkly against her hair, shifting back over her to rest between her thighs.

She hums, licking her lips and gripping tighter, “Can you blame me?”  

He grins, a hand slipping to grip her side, pulling her closer. “Guess not.” And he leans in to kiss her, softer than she can handle at a moment like this.

***

She wraps her legs around him, and pushes at his shoulders to flip them over. He blinks up at her in surprise as she straddles his thighs. She pulls off her shirt and cardigan and his blue eyes drink in the sight, as if he hasn’t laid eyes on her hundreds of times at this point. She tosses them to the floor with the rest of their clothes, gaze falling down on him. 

She frowns playfully, reaching to brush a finger along him. “You got soft on me.”

He swallows, “Sorry,” he breathes, and reaches to fix it for her, but she catches his wrist.

His eyes meet hers, and she shifts forward to rock over him. His eyebrows shoot up, and she licks at his fingers as she traps him against his stomach.

“Katniss-“ his breath stutters, and she sucks in the tip of his index. He tastes faintly of sugar and flour. “ Fuck -“

She grinds her hips, and it feels far better than it should, to just be rubbing up against him like this. To feel him harden beneath her. He squeezes at her thigh, blue eyes closing as she hums around his finger, bucking against his tip. He takes a big breath, and she glances down to watch him peak out beneath her hips.

“Katniss-“ he breathes, and she reaches down to slip a thumb against his tip. He groans, and she hums in response. 

“Can we- flip?” He asks softly.

She pops off his fingers. 

“I mean- this is fine- this works-“ he scrambles to say, “I-I know you like to be on top and in charge and that- fuck that’s great, but I-“ his breath hitches when she drags across him again, and his cheeks flush red, “I kinda- wanted to stay how we were.”

She freezes. “Like on the train.” 

His eyes bolt up to hers. 

She’s specifically avoided letting him fuck her like that. Because it feels superficial. In her mind she’s come to associate it with their first time, years ago on the victory tour, when she didn’t mean any of it. That time was out of pure desperation and fear. And she doesn’t ever want it to be like that, ever again. Peeta means more to her than that.

She watches as he puts that together in his head. He’s never explicitly asked, and never really gave any indication that he noticed she’s avoided it. So he must not have thought about it like she has. 

“ Oh ,” he breathes, and suddenly she feels guilty, “We don’t- we don’t have to-“

“It’s okay,” she stops him, and he swallows. She leans down to press a kiss against his lips, and he runs his hand in her hair. “It’s probably better if we make it mean something else,” she whispers against his lips.

“You sure?” He asks.

She nods, and goes as far as to roll over onto her back for him. He watches her carefully as he turns, eyes flickering over her as he settles over her. She slips her legs to hook around his waist, just to solidify the decision. He slips a hand up her stomach. 

“You’re absolutely certain- certain you want this?” He asks.

She takes a deep breath, and offers him a smile. “Yes.”

He leans forward to capture her lips, a hand coming up to thumb over her nipple. “I like it like this,” he breathes against her cheek, “because I get to see you. Get to press against you. Feel all of you, at once. Kiss you. Anywhere I want. While I fill you up.”

She flushes. His dirty talk is barely that, but it’s enough . And she does want to be full. Just the idea makes her toes curl. And she wants him to hurry up . 

He wraps a hand around himself, slipping himself through her lips. And she hums, legs squeezing at his sides. He chuckles at her impatience. 

“Let me savor this, honey.” He presses a kiss to her cheek, “I wanna commit this moment to memory.”

She flushes, and that’s almost worse than his dirty talk. When he’s soft, and genuine. He grins at her face, and presses a kiss to her other cheek. 

He slowly sinks in, and she almost feels relief at the way he stretches her. It’s a feeling she’s gotten used to, the way his thickness pushes against her just enough to hit the right places. The slight discomfort when he presses against her cervix, just slightly , in order to meet her flush. He pauses when his hips meet hers, sprinkling soft kisses across her face. 

“I love you,” he whispers against her skin, and she sighs.

She lets her thighs squeeze around him, pelvis tilting to take him in even more. She runs a hand down his back, and the words slip her lips.

“I love you,” she says it back.

She doesn’t say it often. Has probably only said it a handful of times. Because saying it is hard, when you’ve lost so many people you used to say it to. And she’s never been one to say it often anyways. But now feels special, and she does, truely , love him. With everything she has in her heart.

He smiles wide against her skin, and he pecks her lips. Scattering more kisses across her cheeks, and it nearly has her giggling with how giddy he is at the words. And she thinks maybe she should make an effort to say it more. 

He leans to sit back on his feet, admiring her with a smile. He runs hands over her thighs and drinks in the sight of her olive skin. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers. 

She flushes. 

“So lucky to have you,” he breathes, and he leans back down to press a kiss over her heart, hands slipping up her sides.

He braces an elbow against the mattress and latches onto her breast, hips shifting against her. She hums, eyes slipping closed as he slowly starts to roll his hips, running a hand through his hair.

“God- you feel good,” he huffs, gasping against her nipple. 

She smiles softly, completely content as he rocks. He’s gentle. Slower than their usual, more focused on the way his mouth melts against her skin. Around her nipples, up the slope of her breasts, along her collarbone and up her neck. The bed springs complain only slightly. 

“Fuck-“ he breathes, a hand shifting to grab at her thigh. 

His pace slowly starts to pick up. He huffs gasps against her shoulder, rolling and rocking. His  cheeks go beet red when she swears, and leans his forehead against hers as he giggles. He captures her lips and keeps going, moaning against her as her legs squeeze around him. 

He scatters kisses across her face, briefly pulling back just to watch himself slip into her. That seems to do it for him. He groans, leaning back up to kiss her as his hips snap. Swearing between the praises he gasps against her as he unravels, hips jerking as he spills. She holds him tight as he crumbles, legs holding him close to keep him flush. It’s warm, as he slowly falls to panting breath. 

“I love you,” he breathes finally, lifting his head enough to look at her. 

She smiles, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I love you.”

*****

- - - - -

It was several years before she got her first period again. After the miscarriage. Long enough that she sort of forgot about it. 

The blood had frightened her so bad she’d screamed for him. And he panicked just as much as she did, eyes as wide as saucers at the red that stained her underwear. It took her several tearful moments before it occurred to her that it was just period blood. 

Peeta still dragged her to the hospital anyways. Where it was confirmed. No baby. No miscarriage. No torn arteries. Just normal, uterus things. 

They laid in bed for hours afterwards. Silently reliving that terrifying moment in the Quarter Quell. And Katniss had been sure she would never have children. For many reasons, but most importantly, because she never wanted to relive that moment in the arena ever again.

Since then she’d gotten used to it again. Of her random mostly unpredictable cycles. 

Except this time it’s different. When she wakes up, finally walks herself over to the bathroom for her morning pee, and is greeted with a mess. 

It’s different, because her and Peeta have actually been trying. For almost a month now. And she didn’t expect this, at all. She wasn’t planning to expect this for at least another eight months.

It scares her. She panics. Grips the windowsill as her mind crawls back to years and years ago, stuck in that arena. It’s cruel, the way her head twists so hard she can feel the gritty wet sand of the beach between her fingers and toes. Can feel Peeta’s hands against her, can feel his own panic, despite him not being here.

She curls up in bed afterwards. In the tightest ball she can, facing the wall as she silently cries. She didn’t expect this. It only took one time before. She’d figured it would be easy. She didn’t think she’d have to face this. Didn’t think she’d have to tell Peeta they’d failed.

Eventually he comes upstairs. The bed dips behind her as he sits, leaning over her to look down at her. He presses a kiss against her shoulder.

“I made cinnamon buns. They’re fresh out of the oven.” He whispers.

She hums.

“It’s almost noon.” He adds softly. “It’s been rainy all day.”

She blinks, another tear slipping her cheek. He shifts.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, pulling at her to see her face. She flips onto her back, and the gray light from their window hits her. He frowns when he sees her puffy eyes and red nose, hands coming up to cup her face and swipe away her tears.

“I got my period.” She hiccups.

His thumbs pause against her cheeks. It takes him a moment to process that. And then his face falls. He takes a big breath. 

“Oh.” Is all that leaves his lips, and he glances off.

She cries, quietly, grasping hard at one of his hands. 

“It scared me.” She whimpers. 

And he knows what that means. Katniss doesn’t say that, not unless it’s bad.

He frowns, looking back down at her. He swipes a hand over her head, pushing back stray hair. “Why didn’t you…say something?”

She sniffles, “I didn’t want to upset you.” 

He tilts his head, teeth worrying over his lip. And suddenly he’s tearing up too.

“Oh.”

She holds his hand tight. He doesn’t really squeeze back, only faintly. Glancing out the window as he cries. 

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay,” except he doesn’t seem okay with this, “At least we tried, Katniss. You let us try.”

She wipes at her eyes, shifting to curl up against him, nose against his right knee. She clutches at his leg, and he softly rubs at her side. But he doesn’t move to comfort her anymore than this.

“Maybe we should get some food in you.” He says softly after a long moment, wiping his own tears. She agrees sheepishly, and he leads her down stairs. She mumbles more apologies, but he lets them hang open in the air.

She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she’s stuffing her face full of cinnamon buns. Peeta just sits across the table and watches her, looking sad.

“Are you mad?” She whispers after a while, when they’re on the couch and he’s barely touched her.

He shakes his head. “Just trying to accept this.”

She frowns. “Accept what?”

He looks at her, and he seems hurt. “Well you…you made it sound like you were relieved, or something. That you weren’t pregnant.” 

She quickly sits up. “What?”

He frowns, “You said you were scared. You said- you said you didn’t say anything because you didn’t want to upset me. I thought- I thought you were crying out of relief. And you kept saying you were sorry, like you’d changed your mind.” 

She shakes her head, “Peeta- Peeta no- I meant this morning scared me, when I saw the blood. It- I had a panic attack. And I didn’t call for you because I didn’t want to upset you.”

His expression changes completely. 

“Why would- why would you think that? What made you think that’s what I meant?”

He glances down. “I guess I just…I figured you wouldn’t want to keep trying. Because…because you said I’d need to keep assuring you so I just- I assumed, you wouldn’t want to keep trying.”

She sighs, scooting across the couch to crush him in a hug. “I do want to keep trying, Peeta. I do really want kids. That’s why I kept saying sorry. Because I- I know you really want them too, and it didn’t work, and I feel awful.”

“Don’t,” he whispers, pulling back to look at her. “Don’t feel bad. This isn’t your fault.”

She frowns. Kisses his cheek. He squeezes her, tight. She clamors to curl up in his lap, and he brushes a hand up and down her back as she melts against him. They sit in silence for a moment, and Peeta is crying again. She knows it’s out of relief, in the way he smiles and his shoulders relax as she kisses the tears off his cheeks. 

“You know, assuming makes an ass out of you and me.” She whispers eventually.

He snorts. “Right- okay. I get it. I was stupid.”

“Yeah, you were.”

He presses his forehead against hers, pecking her nose. She closes her eyes, letting out a heavy breath.

“How’s your cramps?” He asks softly.

“Awful.” She admits. 

He frowns. “Well how about we try to fix that.”

“Okay.” 

Two months later and it happens again. Peeta’s at the sink brushing his teeth, turning around to look at her on the toilet when she cries out. He’s immediately in front of her, hands on her knees and shoulders as he hushes her gasps of air. 

This time the blood in the water makes her think of Finnick. She trembles as her head replays his screams, arms locking up against her chest as she shakes.

“It’s okay,” Peeta breathes, “We’re safe, Katniss. We’re safe.”

The first thing she says to him when she calms down from her attack is that she does want to keep trying. He smiles softly, and places a kiss on her forehead. 

- - - - -

Katniss can feel it. She knows, in the way she suddenly finds herself passed out on the couch at odd hours of the day. Long enough for Peeta to make a full sketch of her one day. Long enough for him to make them lunch on another. She knows in the way her breasts hurt. She can’t stand to wear a bra, and any time Peeta pulls her close for a cuddle she has to fend him off if he turns greedy. She knows in the way she’s suddenly nauseous, and the light spotting and cramps she has every morning. She recognizes all of it, and this time she knows what it means. 

She knows, but she doesn’t say anything. Not right away. She suspects Peeta has his suspicions. He seems to have a glowing smile on his face anytime she looks at him, and he keeps a hand resting on her tummy any chance he gets.

She waits until she gets her hands on a test. And it’s positive, exactly like she expected it to be.

She rushes down the stairs, calling for him. He’s in his room, painting. She practically throws the door open, the smell of paint hitting her hard. She startles him, but he quickly melts into a smile when he sees her. She sneezes and coughs at the smell, pinching her nose as her face sours. 

“Well hello.”

The overwhelming smell temporarily makes her forget what she came down here for, and she’s quickly struck with the realization that she doesn’t usually come in here unless he invites her. It’s currently a mess, as it usually is, but today it’s especially chaotic. There’s half finished pieces scattered around, paint and brushes cluttered across his desks. Her gaze gets stuck on a messy canvas, smeared with blacks, deep blues, and clashing reds. A terrible nightmare that he’s brought to reality. She feels nauseous. 

He catches where she’s looking, and he quickly gets up to cover it with a tarp. 

“Sorry- I know you don’t like those.” He scrambles out as she simultaneously apologizes for barging in.

He chuckles, turning around to come up and hug her. 

“It’s alright. I would have closed the door if I was working on a surprise.” He pecks her forehead.

She starts to pull away “Sorry I- the smell .”

He follows her, closing the door behind them as she backs up into the living room. She leans against the recliner, taking a big breath as she tries to quell her stomach.

“You feeling okay?” He asks, worried.

She nods, “Just nauseous.”

He licks his lips, reaching to brush her arm. “Been nauseous a lot lately.” He points out softly.

She smiles, remembering what she came down here for in the first place.

“Yeah,” she straightens up, “because I’m pregnant.”

He pauses, eyes wide as he looks at her. “Seriously?” He breathes. 

She nods. “The test’s upstairs.”

He laughs out a cry, a smile cracking his face. He stumbles forward, crushing her in a tight hug. She barely gets her arms around him to return it when he’s picking her up and spinning them in circles. She squeals as he laughs, coming back with tears when he sets her down. 

“I love you,” he breathes, pecking her lips. 

“I love you too,” she whispers.

He falls apart in tears, hands slipping to her stomach. She walks them to the couch before he can collapse to his feet, pulling him down to sit. He clamors to hold her, face against her stomach as he clutches her, tears racing his cheeks. 

It almost scares her how familiar this is to that night before the quarter quell. But it’s not. This time Peeta’s tears are happy. This time, this is a good thing. This time, when he whispers promises into her skin, they both know he’ll have a chance to actually keep them. 

This time, it’s not the end. It’s just the beginning.

Chapter Text

They don’t tell anyone. For around three months they say nothing, because they don’t want to lose it. And Katniss knows the moment people know, there’s going to be cameras at her front door. And she tried to escape that a long time ago. 

They tell Haymitch first. Because he’s the obvious first choice, and he can keep a secret. Not that there’s really anyone for Haymitch to tell anyways.

They walk over to his house and rouse him out of a drunken stupor. Peeta starts cleaning up the mess around his living room as Katniss forces him to chug water. 

“What do you want?” He grumbles angrily.

“We’re inviting you to dinner. So get dressed.”

Peeta stays over to help him, while Katniss heads back over to finish cooking. She’s setting the ham on the table when they come in, Haymitch grumbling about something. Peeta just laughs and slaps him on the back, pushing him into a dining chair. 

“You look nice,” she gives him a rare compliment. 

Peeta clearly forced him in the shower for a hose down and made him brush his teeth. He’s in a tie, as if this is something formal.

“Yeah, bread boy has me in tip-top shape. What the fuck did I miss?”

Katniss smiles, glancing at Peeta, who makes an exaggerated face that lets her know Haymitch has been anything but cooperative.

“Not much. We just wanted to have a nice dinner.” Katniss says, as Peeta helps her finish setting the table. “And you needed to get out of that house.”

He doesn’t really argue, because they all know it’s true. He’s depressed, and despite all their efforts over the years to try and get Haymitch to live a semi-normal life, it’s been mostly in vain. He falls back each time, and Katniss can’t really blame him. Sometimes they let him slip farther than they should, because there’s only so much they can stand. 

“This is quite the feast. Where’s the wine?”

“No alcohol tonight.” Peeta chirps, setting a cheese bun in front of him as he takes a seat.

Haymitch scoffs. They all dig in. Conversation is stale, as there’s not much to talk about besides their main announcement.

“Town is looking great. Have you been?” Peeta asks.

Haymitch shrugs. “Went down a few weeks ago. The market looks like nothing ever happened.”

“They’ve started building new houses.” Katniss adds.

Progress has been incredibly slow, but after six years things are finally looking normal. Sometimes better than before. 

Haymitch pulls extra ham on his plate, and then demands to know why he’s really there. 

Peeta glances at her, and she nods. 

“We’re expecting.”

Haymitch pauses mid bite. He blinks. Pulls the fork out of his mouth. 

“You’re what ?”

“Katniss is pregnant. We think maybe 14 weeks.”

He’s silent. Really seems to think about that, as he chews his ham. 

“Oh.”

And there’s not much else said on the matter. They eat dinner. It’s good. And then Katniss walks him home as Peeta cleans up.

He pauses at his steps, obviously mulling over a question.

“What is it?” She sighs.

He looks at her, slate gray eyes flickering across her face. 

“Well I thought you didn’t want kids.”

She smiles softly. She expected this. And Haymitch is allowed to know the truth. Because he needs to hear it too, for himself.

“We’re in a different world now. And I’m tired of being scared. I want to move on.”

He stares off at the ground behind her, tongue in cheek. The leaves are starting to turn colors as fall approaches. Katniss supposes it’s pretty time of year. 

Haymitch smacks his lips after a moment, finally looking back at her with a nod. “Good.” Is all he says, and she can tell he wants to say more but doesn’t quite know how.

He pats her on the shoulder, offering her a genuine smile. “I’m proud of you two.” He says, “even when I’m sober.” 

“Thanks, Haymitch.”

He nods, and then wanders up his steps to his house. She waves, and he salutes her off. 

That night Peeta curls up behind her, pressing scorching kisses along her shoulder and up her neck, and she sighs as she melts into him. 

Two days later Haymitch shows up on their doorstep. He shouts outside their door, evidently unable to knock, as he’s learned is necessary from past experiences. Katniss comes down to get the door, but Peeta’s already letting him in.

“Mornin’ kids,” he chirps, setting down about seven liquor bottles on their dining table.

They look at him in horror. 

“I’ll need help with the rest, but that’s the worst of it for now.” He says, as if any of it makes sense. “You,” he points to Katniss. “This is for the kid.”

He holds out a white blanket. Katniss steps forward to take it, feeling over the well loved fabric as she looks at him.

“It uh…was my sister’s.” Haymitch mentions, jaw jumping, because the pain clearly still hurts. “Want you to have it. It’s too small for me anyway.”

Katniss frowns, “Haymitch-“ 

He waves her off, shrugging off the somberness as he turns to Peeta.

“I need you to hide this all for me. And don’t just throw it away. Can’t be throwing away good liquor.” 

Peeta looks at him, curiously. “And…why would I do that? I’d rather not wake up in the middle of the night to you strangling me over this.”

Haymitch scoffs. “No promises that won’t happen.” 

When neither of them say anything he begrudgingly continues. “I uh. Figured, if you both are strong enough to move on then maybe uh, I should be too. That and it’s best if I’m sober if that little shit’s gonna be running around.” 

Peeta is the first to respond. Laying a hand on Haymitch’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you,” he says.

Haymitch chuckles, “Well don’t celebrate yet. I might change my mind in an hour.” 

- - - - -

By late September the first leaves have started to fall. The air is finally starting to cool enough to need a sweater. Peeta has been busy picking and harvesting from the garden while it’s still producing, and has started work on preparing all of it for winter. Katniss has tried to help as much as he will let her.

He finally takes a seat on the lounge chair next to hers. She shifts to pour him a glass of lemonade, enjoying the last whispers of Summer. He sends her a wink in thanks, and takes a swig as he wipes sweat from his brow. They stare out at the remnants of their garden for several quiet breaths. The sun is starting to dip below the tree line in the distance, the sky beginning to go gold.

“Think the tomatoes and apple trees will probably keep going for a while. I’m pretty sure the strawberries are officially done.” He notes.

She nods, admiring the woods that look like one of Peeta’s paintings. There’s another beat of silence. 

“Katniss. I have a question.” 

She hums, thinking the lemonade needs more sugar. She’s had a crazy sweet tooth as of late. 

“You can say no. I would understand. But I was thinking, and I thought…Prim’s room would make a good nursery.” He says it softly, gently. 

She pauses mid sip. Her first instinct is to frown and scowl. To tell him off for even suggesting they touch Prim’s room. Almost 6 years after the rebellion, and Katniss has left it the same since. 

Her mouth pops open, ready to scold him, and then she pauses. And she realizes that…maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Turning Prim's room into the nursery makes sense; it’s the closest room to theirs, just across the hall. And maybe…maybe this is exactly what Prim would have wanted. For Katniss to not dwell so heavily in the past. To keep moving on, like she has been. To grow and heal. And more importantly, Prim would probably be delighted that her room would be a nursery. It’s the closest Prim could get to the baby. 

Peeta starts to apologize, and Katniss is confused until she realizes that she’s crying. She stops him mid-ramble.

“That would be great, Peeta. It’s- that’s a great idea. Yes.” 

He looks at her for a moment. And then he smiles softly. He leans forward off the rocking chair to kiss a tear off her cheek. 

“I’ve already been thinking of themes for the nursery.”

“Oh?” She smiles, wiping her other tears.

Yes, this would be what Prim wanted . And it’s time Katniss does move on. No, this isn’t letting Prim go ; this is her way of still including her sister, even after she’s gone. Yes . 

“Mhm,” Peeta hums, sipping more lemonade and gazing over their garden. “I was thinking I could paint the sky on the walls and ceiling. A pretty sunset. And flowers, a meadow of flowers. It would be a big mural. Maybe I’d only do one wall.” 

Katniss smiles. “And a lake. With a willow tree.” She whispers.

He looks back at her, pausing to watch her. He smiles softly. “Yeah. I could add a lake, and a willow tree.” 

Katniss feels like her heart is melting.

Peeta starts work on the nursery fairly quickly. Going through Prim’s things is hard for Katniss. She has to pause many times when tears overtake her as she comes across trinkets of her sister’s. Prim never had much— none of them did— but the few things she did have hit Katniss hard when she finds them, kicking up both fond and sad memories. Peeta tells her that they don’t have to do this- they can choose the other guest bedroom. Katniss tells him it’s fine. As hard as it is to move Prim’s stuff and change her room, Katniss grows more and more sure of the decision as they go on. 

They find new spots for Prim’s things. They find space to store the mattress and the bed frame. They take down the wallpaper, and Peeta begins sketching out the mural for the north wall. They happen to find a nice soft peachy-orange wall paint for the other walls the next time they stop by the market, as if it was meant to be. 

Haymitch wanders over the next day to find them painting. His visits have become more and more frequent as he’s tried to kick his addiction. He claims he’s just bored, but Katniss knows the truth; he needs someone or something to take his mind off of drinking. He’s usually irritable and cranky because of it, and sometimes the two of them bicker like badgers, but Peeta’s always there to help smooth things over. Peeta’s only had to kick him out twice.

“Ever paint a wall, Haymitch?” Peeta grins.

“Can’t say I have.” He takes a look at their set up.

“Care to join us?” Katniss offers; she’s in a good mood today and feels willing to put up with his often sour attitude.

“Ain’t got nothing better to do,” he drawls with a sigh. “How does one wield this thing?” He asks, picking up a roller.

They spend all afternoon painting the walls. It’s tedious around the baseboards and the window. Katniss makes a few mistakes that Peeta claims he can easily fix up later. Haymitch remarks that it merely “adds character and charm”. He also keeps adding “character and charm” to Katniss’ overalls any chance he gets, just to rile her up. Peeta laughs and starts doing the same. Somewhere along the way they each get paint on their faces. It’s a fun afternoon.

Peeta continues his sketch for the mural, and starts laying down base colors. He quickly realizes he’ll need more paint, and sends in an order from the capital. While they wait he seemingly decides to pick up carpentry with the random pieces of wood and tools he collects from trading some cakes and pies at the market.

“Surely that’s not how this works.” Haymitch huffs, pointing at the measuring tape. “If you cut off this piece the leg will be too long.”

“Since when do you know how to count? That doesn’t even make sense.” Peeta scoffs.

“I went to school!” Haymitch huffs. “And my pa knew a thing or two about making stuff.”

“I thought you said your dad was a drunk who ditched your family.” Katniss shoots from the couch, where she’s busying herself with trying to crochet a blanket. Key word, "trying".

“Low blow, Kat.” Haymitch growls. “But yes, he was that too. All I’m saying is, this is in my blood. I know what I’m doing. Cut that piece and this crib will rock like the earth is quaking. Your kiddo will live on an incline.” 

That gives Katniss not so pleasant flashbacks of a nightmare from years ago. She rapidly blinks to try and wash it away.

“Fine! If you know so much about crib building, why don’t you build the damn thing?” Peeta huffs.

Haymitch leans back to flick his dark ratty hair out his face, rolling his eyes. “ Well ,” he starts with some sass, “I didn’t say I’d build it for you . Just that I would help.”

They bicker a little bit longer, before finally deciding on where to make a cut. Katniss messes up several of her stitches watching them saw the board. 

“Lordy, this is so much work.” Haymitch pauses, huffing for air as he hands Peeta the saw handle to finish the cut. “Why don’t you two just buy one? Be a lot cheaper. This is gonna take donkey’s years.”

“Can’t buy one.” Katniss sighs. “Moment we order anything suspicious from the Capital, camera crews will be flocking over here.”

“Fair enough. Why not ask someone in town to make one? Surely somebody has better tools for this than a hand saw.” 

“Same reason.” Peeta grunts. 

Haymitch frowns. “Yee of so little faith. Think people in town aren’t already speculating? Katniss is already starting to show. Doubt they’d say much of anything if you told them to keep their mouths shut. No one here wants the capital up in our business anymore than they have to be.” 

Peeta throws a hand up, “That’s what I said! Tell her.”

Katniss rolls her eyes. “I never said Peeta had to make a crib. He decided this for himself.” 

Peeta doesn’t have a response to that. He’s too busy working.

The crib becomes Haymitch’s project, with Peeta’s help. Katniss watches them work as the days roll by. The paints arrive, and Peeta returns his progress on the mural upstairs, leaving Haymitch mostly in charge of the crib. That leaves just the two of them to talk, when Katniss isn’t out hunting in the woods or browsing the market to trade her catches. And they argue less and less. Haymitch starts to return to what Katniss can only assume is his normal self. He’s a little quieter, and far sharper to an almost scary degree. But he also seems a lot more content than before. He’s definitely still had a few slip ups here and there, where Katniss has caught him with alcohol on his breath and a slight sway to his step. He always looks guilty. She can’t ever be mad at him like Peeta gets. 

On a sober day, Haymitch arrives with a tiny ratty teddy bear. He pauses and fiddles with it for a moment before he says anything to her. 

“This was my brother’s.” He swallows. And then he sets it on the kitchen counter next to Katniss as she tries to make a sandwich that will satisfy her raging taste buds. “I want you guys to have it.” He says softly.

She pauses, and looks at him. This isn’t the first, nor the second time, that he’s brought something of sentimental value for the baby. But the other times Katniss is pretty sure he was at least tipsy. She can tell by the clarity in his eyes that this was a completely sober decision. And it seems to have unsettled him slightly. 

“Are you…sure?” She asks gently.

He swallows again, and nods. And then tries to produce a smile. “As long as that little booger doesn’t tear it up, yeah.” 

Katniss returns the smile. “Thank you, Haymitch.” 

He gives a curt nod, and then turns to go. 

“Wait.” Katniss says. 

When he turns back she feels like there’s a lump in her throat. She’s not entirely sure why she stopped him. But she realizes she wants to say it to him, that he probably needs to hear it. To know that she understands what it’s like to lose a sibling, someone close to you. Knows how hard it would be to gift their belongings to someone else. To give away what little physical evidence you still have of their existence, what still exists to show that they loved and were loved.

This time she’s the one to swallow before she speaks. “I’m…I’m proud of you, Haymitch.” She says softly. 

It feels strange giving her mentor praise, especially when their usual dynamic is always teasing one another and poking at tender spots in each other's armor. Not to try and crack the other, but as a— what Katniss now realizes isn’t so healthy— way to show each other where they still need to toughen up. And as a twisted act of solidarity, that they both can acknowledge that they know the other still has wounds and hurts. It’s an understanding of sorts. An odd one, but it works for them. They’re never sincere like this. When it’s serious it’s always deadpan and to the point, more of a salt coating than a sugar one, making it sting a little more— as if they’re only playing it up— that way it’s easier to brush off and pretend it doesn’t hurt that much. It’s what they’ve always done. And Katniss feels like she might be breaking it. 

She says the rest anyways. 

“I- I think they would be proud of you too. I know- I know this means a lot-“

“I’m gonna stop you right there sweetheart.” He holds up a hand. “Just- that’s enough.” 

It’s a quite brisk brush off, almost rude in the way he nearly snaps it. But Katniss knows the reality is that being sincere with him hurts a little too much to handle, and that’s why he reacts this way. 

And then he surprises her. He decides to break their usual dance as well.

He steps forward and crushes her in a tight hug. He smells like smoke and sawdust and dirt. But it’s Haymitch. She hugs back, acutely aware that the last time they did this was over six years ago, just before the quell. She’d been the one in tears then. 

“Thank you.” He says quietly into the top of her hair, voice both soft and gruff in the same breath. 

When he pulls back he does his best to hide the tear, making to wipe it like his eye was itchy. She doesn’t point it out. 

“Outta go finish that crib Peeta started. Make me a sandwich too, would ya? I’m starving.” He quips like their moment never happened.

She rolls her eyes. 

He slips into the dining room, and Katniss can’t help the smile on her lips as she eyes the well-loved teddy bear. And she’s struck with an overwhelming feeling in her chest. Something a lot like warmth and hope, something like love. If Haymitch, of all people, can move on and start to heal, surely they all can. 

- - - - -

The first time it happens it scares her. She’s in bed with Peeta on a lazy morning. He’s mumbling and pressing kisses against her stomach, soft hands on her hips. And then she feels the harsh flutter, and the kick to her ribs, and she just about loses her mind.

It brings back the worst memories of being stuck in the Quarter quell. Of poisonous fog and monkey mutts and death , and a heavy hand laid across her stomach.

She startles Peeta with her crying. She shakes and cries and she can’t breathe for a moment. It’s overwhelming, and the baby kicks more. 

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” And the fear in his voice makes it so much worse. It reminds her of a sandy beach and blood and Peeta pleading for the baby to move . 

Peeta is frantic and worried, and it takes Katniss several moments to calm down enough to explain what just happened. Peeta understands immediately, blue eyes flickering with pain and grief. And then he’s full of watery smiles. He hugs her tight in his arms and rocks, hushing against her head as she cries, clutching her belly. He spends the next twenty minutes telling her it’s okay. That they’re okay, and they’re safe, and everything is fine. It’s clear he’s trying to convince them both.

After the fear passes, it becomes a celebration. It’s wet, squeaky giggles and Peeta beams a bright smile, kissing her cheeks and raining praise from his lips.

The next time the baby kicks it’s happy tears and excitement. Peeta feels her belly and smiles wide, cheeks flushed as a tear slips down his cheek. 

Katniss gets bigger, and she starts to lose sight of her feet. It feels like one day she wakes up and suddenly it looks like she’s absolutely popped. She feels tired and clumsy and has the craziest of cravings, and her usual hunts in the woods are getting more difficult. She swears she sounds like Peeta marching through the brush, but that’s probably an exaggeration. All she knows is she scares off more prey than usual. 

Peeta spoilers her. He whisks her onto the couch when she comes back, peppering kisses to her cheeks and atop her bump, and then settles in to give her a foot rub, smiling up at her like he’s won the stars. At night he offers to rub her back, which she almost never turns down. Not to mention he keeps taking her random cravings in stride. 

Despite this, Katniss decides she hates it. The cuddling is nice, but the coddling is a little too much at times. Not to mention the need to frequently pee, and struggling to sleep all the way through the night, and the weird dreams, and the need for a nap in order to get all the way through the day. In short, it’s not bad, but it’s also inconvenient. 

The strangest part is how differently it’s been from the first time she was pregnant. Perhaps she never noticed how tired she was because all she knew was exhaustion. After so many years she’s finally learned what it feels like to not be tired every day. So now it feels stark in contrast. Maybe it’s because for a long time she didn’t know she was pregnant, and all the symptoms were mostly ignored, whereas now they’re plain as day. Whatever the reason- she decides she hates it. 

Well- except for the part where Peeta kisses her stomach and coos at the baby and falls asleep with his ear to her belly. That part is pretty good. 

She won’t admit it though.

- - - - -

It’s a quiet afternoon when Peeta broaches the subject. Katniss is once again trying to teach herself to crochet, and Peeta’s hands are covered in paint from working on the mural. He settles onto the couch next to her, and she can tell by his posture alone that he has something to say.

“Out with it.” She sighs, undoing and redoing a stitch.

He smiles slightly. “Demanding today, are we?”

Katniss playfully kicks his good leg. He humfs, and then falls silent again. She lets him think.

“Katniss. How far do you think you are now? Eighteen, or twenty weeks?” 

Katniss swallows. She nods. “Sounds about right.” She whispers softly. 

Peeta places a hand on her thigh, thumb swiping over her skin, the fabric of her shorts riding up slightly. 

“I think…maybe we should tell people.”

Katniss pauses her crocheting. She looks over at him. He has an unsure expression on his face.

“Tell who ?”

“Our other friends. Annie, Johanna, Beetee. Effie.” 

Katniss snorts. “I’m not sure Effie can keep her mouth shut.”

Peeta smiles. “No, probably not. We might have to resort to blackmail. I’m sure Haymitch has something on her.” 

That makes Katniss laugh. It’s an absurd idea. Peeta smiles along, and then falls quiet again for a few breaths. Katniss picks her crocheting back up. She gets a few more stitches in, debating it in her head. 

It’s not an entirely bad idea. Maybe this is something they should celebrate, rather than mourn. Having a new child should be a good thing. It shouldn’t be overshadowed with fear, because the games don’t exist anymore. 

Telling their friends would be nice. In fact, maybe inviting them over would be even better. She hasn't seen any of them in person in a very long time. She’s not always one for social gatherings, but this time…it sounds like it could be nice. 

“And your mother.” Peeta whispers.

Katniss looks up at him. He looks sincere. 

“I’m sure she’d love to know, Katniss.” 

Katniss’s mouth pops open. She’s not sure what she’s going to say, or how she wants to feel about that. She and her mother haven’t really spoken at all since the end of the war. The most correspondence they’ve had has been through Annie. 

Katniss wants to think her mother would be delighted. That she would be excited. Maybe proud? If that’s not too much to ask. That maybe this would make her want to be a part of Katniss’s life again. That maybe she’d make a better grandmother than she did a mother. That she could be more present, return back to the person Katniss knew before her father died, before Prim died. Maybe Katniss could finally get the last of her family back. 

But then there’s that awful fear that maybe her mother won’t care at all. That it won’t do anything. That she’ll abandon her all over again. And even worse , she’ll abandon Katniss’s baby. She doesn’t want her child to ever know the feeling of losing someone like that. Whether it be to death, or grief. Both are too painful. No one should know what this agonizingly hollow feeling feels like. 

Peeta reaches to brush a thumb over her cheek. “I know what you’re thinking, Katniss. But…you have to give her a chance. She might surprise us. And we’ll never know, if we don’t try.”

She knows he has a point. And yet she can’t shake the sudden anger that fizzles up in her chest. She hates that there are tears suddenly in her eyes. She tries to stamp down the feeling before it becomes too much. Peeta slips his arm around her shoulders and pulls her in tight, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She takes a shaky breath to steady herself.

“I- I don’t know.” She whispers.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to have this figured out right now.” 

She nods against his chest. 

It’s a few days later that she makes up her mind. In the spirit of being hopeful, and wanting to move on, she decides she does want to tell her mother. That's the first person she wants to know, before they tell anyone else. 

And yet she can’t work up the courage to do it herself. The fear of possible rejection makes her nauseous. 

Instead Peeta offers to call her. Katniss agrees. And she can’t even find it in herself to be present for the call. She laces up her boots, and slings her quiver over her shoulder. 

“I’ll be back at dusk.” She says hoarsely, fighting tears. 

Peeta has a pitying look on his face that she hates. He nods, and tells her to please be careful. 

She’s nervous. She stomps through the woods, mind too frazzled to think about actually hunting. She spooks a weasel, who in turn makes enough ruckus in the underbrush that it scares her. She finds herself at their makeshift graveyard. She pauses at her father’s boulder. She didn’t mean to come here; her feet just carried her over. 

She takes a seat on the forest floor in front of the lined up cobbles. The rowan bush is growing well. It makes her heart swell up with thick feelings and sticky emotions that have her choking out a sob. 

She wants her mother here. The truth is she’s scared. Peeta makes it so easy to be happy and carefree. But when she’s honest with herself, she’s not sure if she actually can do this. If she can make a good mother. If she can actually raise decent children. She doesn't want her child to suffer like she did. She doesn’t want them to grieve, to starve, to fight for a grim survival. She knows the world is different now, but sometimes she’s afraid it’s still too scarred to handle something as delicate as this. That maybe she’s too scarred for something like this. That maybe this safety that she’s finally found is still just an illusion. That maybe they’ll never actually be safe. 

“I wish you were still here, dad.” She wobbles out her lips.

Her father was always so level headed. He’d know exactly what to tell her.

The wind blows, fluttering her hair in her face. She hears a mockingjay start to sing in the trees. The rest of the woods feel silent.

Katniss doesn’t think much about the afterlife. She’s never dwelled on the idea of heaven or hell. The idea is sometimes a comfort, to think maybe the people she’s lost aren’t gone forever. She used to believe more when she was little. It’s gotten harder as she’s gotten older, and seen all the horrors of this world. But if there is one, she hopes her father and Prim are together, and happy. She hopes they’re taking good care of Rowan. She hopes Finnick is up there too, smiling down at his son. She hopes all of them are. Rue, Cinna, Wiress, Mags, Boggs, Chaff and Seeder. She hopes all the people who have met a tragic end in the games, or as a result of them, are living happy and peacefully. She has to tell herself that they are; otherwise it hurts too much. 

She finds a cluster of goldenrod still holding on despite the cooling October weather. She picks several strands to place at each makeshift headstone. She pauses at the boulder for Gale’s father. 

If she’s going to try and forgive her mother, to move past their before, maybe it’s time she tries to forgive some other people too. She imagines that’s what Prim would want her to do. That’s what moving on and healing would really be, is granting forgiveness. 

She’s not sure she can forgive Gale. But maybe she should try. 

When she returns back to the house she feels nervous. Her walk through the woods has left her feeling emotionally exhausted. There's a looming sense of dread as she walks up the porch steps, and her throat feels tight like she might cry again. She’s afraid Peeta doesn’t have good news.

Maybe she’s a coward. She could tell her mother herself. What kind of person is afraid to talk to their mother ? 

He's in the kitchen cooking when she walks in. She freezes in the entryway, teeth clenched tight as she tries to prepare herself. Peeta pauses when he notices her. He flashes a smile, but she’s not sure if it’s meant to make her feel better.

“Hey honey.” He greets softly. 

The tears fall anyways. Katniss tries to blink them back. She feels like she might crumble. He’s in front of her in the blink of an eye, pulling off her quiver and taking her bow. He grabs her cheeks and presses a kiss to her lips, and then wraps her in a big hug. 

It’s good news. Peeta tells her. She cries in relief, hands reaching to grip hard at his shirt as she falls apart in his arms.

It’s really good news. Five days later there’s a knock on their front door. When Katniss opens it, she’s crushed in a tight hug before she can even process her mother’s face. 

“I’m here. It’s okay.” Is the first thing Mrs. Everdeen says. 

Katniss wasn’t expecting to cry, but she does. In her mothers arms, she unravels. And her mother just hushs her cries, and holds her tight.  

Her mother takes up her old bedroom downstairs. She’s brought several suitcases. She’s apparently collected many belongings in the past six years. Peeta gives Katniss a look, but looks amused. It’s clear Katniss’s mother is planning to stay for a while. 

And stay she does. Katniss struggles with it at first. She has moments where she’s beyond glad to see her, and then others where she still feels anger over her mother’s absence. She understands it; 12 is a graveyard full of painful memories. She really can’t blame her mother for wanting to move on and try to put this all behind her. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, that Katniss was abandoned. She finds that most of the time she can’t stand her mother’s presence. A part of her is furious that it took this, took her getting pregnant, for her mother to finally come back into her life. Like her mother doesn’t really care at all, and is only here because maybe Peeta begged her to be. Because why wouldn’t she have come sooner, if she actually cared?

A rational part of Katniss’s mind tells her that she never asked her mother to come back. That maybe it’s not fair to be that angry at her. 

But Katniss has never been the best at thinking rationally. 

So she’s short with her. A lot of their interactions are quick and clipped, met with a  buzzing undercurrent of tension and anger. Katniss snaps at her a few times. But her mother says nothing. Instead she turns around and walks away, and that almost makes Katniss more furious. That’s all her mother is good at, is walking away, and leaving Katniss behind.

Peeta gives Katniss several shameful glares when she gets a little too snippy. Katniss feels guilty. Sometimes. 

She also barely recognizes the woman. She seems far more confident than she used to be. She actually smiles, and it doesn’t look like it hurts. It makes Katniss feel conflicted; on one hand, she’s happy to see her mother seems to have healed from their rough past, and put the crushing weight of death behind her. But on the other, she did it all when Katniss wasn’t present. As if Katniss might have been the problem. 

Peeta assures her that’s not the case. He says he thinks her mother might be putting up a show.

And she is. Katniss catches the first crack just a week later when her mother wanders into the spare bedroom and finds the painting of Prim hung upon the wall in a pretty oak frame. Katniss had Peeta move it for this exact reason; she didn’t want her mother to see it and freak out. 

She freezes up. Tears race down her cheeks, a shaky hand coming up to cover her lips. 

“Peeta made it.” Katniss whispers softly. 

Her mother jumps, startled. She spins around, and Katniss gets a view of the woman she remembers; the one that clams up and becomes a shell of herself when faced with grief. 

It makes Katniss scared. As conflicted as she is by her mother’s presence, the last thing she wants is her mother to leave again. She can’t handle that.

But then her mother surprises her. She actually smiles. It’s a sad smile, but there’s a glint in her eyes that says it’s not all grief. She glances back up at the picture.

“It’s gorgeous- she’s- she’s gorgeous, Katniss.” Her mother beams. 

And Katniss finds her heart melting a little bit in her chest. And she’s reminded that they’ve gone through the same grief. They both know what it’s like to miss Prim. And Katniss really didn’t deal with it great either; Peeta can attest to those first six months.

She tells herself she’s going to try harder to forgive her, then. That her mother doesn’t deserve Katniss’s temper. She’s here now, and trying to make up for time she’s lost. She’s here now . 

She steps up and takes her mother’s hand. She squeezes. 

“She is.” She agrees.

And then her mother says something that makes Katniss cry too.

“I like to think she’d be proud of us. For trying to heal.” She whispers.

Katniss can’t stop the tears then. “Yeah, yeah I hope she is.” 

Her mother crushes her in a hug. 

- - - - -

It’s nearing late November when the others finally come to visit. Effie arrives first, several hours early, lugging an absolute train car of stuff up the front steps. She squeals when she sees Katniss, looking absolutely elated . 

They didn’t tell Effie why she was coming. They didn’t want to risk her spewing it before she got here. So it’s a complete surprise when Effie sees the baby bump. 

Effie’s hands shake as she jumps in excitement. “Oh my- oh my! Katniss ! This is- oh my gosh- if I’d known I would have brought more gifts- oh Katniss ! You’re having a baby !”

Katniss doesn’t intend to cry when she sees Effie. She had no intentions of it happening. But she’s been so weepy lately. It just happens. The tears burst forward, and she clutches the woman tight. 

It’s such a stark contrast from the last time she had this sort of news for Effie. The last time it was devastating. The last time, when Effie made the realization, it was full of terror and remorse, and not the happy kind of tears. This time is a complete one-eighty, and Katniss couldn’t be happier about it.

“Oh- oh darling! I know I’m pretty but there’s no reason to cry over it!” Effie pats her back. “Also, this is designer silk, so no tears on the blouse please.”

Katniss chokes out a laugh, pulling back to look at her. Her hair is a blazing purple poof on her head, crazy long eyelashes perched on her eyelids, accompanied with electric yellow eyeliner and purple lipstick. Effie huffs, her own eyes watering.

“Oh you have me crying now too, look at you!” Her voice wobbles, a finger gently sweeping under her eye.

“It’s good to see you, Effie.” Katniss beams.

And then Effie sees Peeta behind Katniss, and she shrieks, pushing past her to gather him in a hug. Her heels clack against the floor as she hurries. It makes Katniss laugh.

Haymitch rolls his eyes as he comes in, several suitcases in hand.

“She’s- is she staying here?” Katniss asks.

“Oh no, sweetheart. My guest room has already exploded with glitter. These are the gifts .” 

Katniss’s eyes bug out of her head. Effie brought gifts ? This many gifts? Katniss doesn’t want to know what she would have brought if she had known about the baby. 

Beetee and Annie show up an hour later with Lucas. Annie crushes Katniss in a hug, and Katniss is overwhelmed with how much Lucas looks just like his father. He’s practically his spitting image, smile and dazzling blues eyes and all. He makes a funny face when he greets Katniss, and it’s a mannerism she’s seen on Finnick's face. It takes her breath away.

“It is good to see you again, Katniss. This is very happy news.” Beetee smiles as he gives her a hug, and she’s forced to pull her attention away from the little boy.

They settle into the living room. The house is loud, louder than it’s been in years. Her mother shoves Peeta out of the kitchen, taking over the cooking. There's a lot of laughter and catching up. It’s overwhelming, actually. But Katniss is happy. 

Several hours later there’s another knock on the door. Katniss is talking to Beetee about their garden, and it slips from her mind who else they’re expecting. 

Peeta opens up the door, and chatter in the room dies down. Katniss stands up to see who it is. She freezes.

Somehow he’s gotten taller, shoulders even wider. He’s put on weight. He has a beard. His unsure gray eyes settle on Katniss, and she feels like she can’t breathe. 

Johanna is suddenly shoving him to the side, waltzing in through the door, a large bottle of wine in hand. 

“We’ve arrived! Let the party start!” She shouts.

Katniss is still in shock at Gale's presence. She looks at Peeta, who has a guilty look on his face. 

Katniss hadn’t invited him. Peeta had mentioned it once. And she had seriously thought, for a very brief second, about doing it. But ultimately said no. She didn’t want this happy day to be ruined by whatever he might have brought to the mix. 

And yet here he is, anyways. 

Peeta shakes the traitor's hand. Gale steps inside. He has a bouquet of daffodils, which Katniss notes primarily for being wildly out of season. Peeta grabs a vase. 

Katniss is still shocked to see him. Too shocked to really feel anything. Johanna knocks into her, tearing away her gaze and getting her attention.

“Leave that mouth hangin’ open any longer and you’ll catch flies, mockingjay.” She teases. “Nice job on the baby by the way. Took you two long enough.”

It’s brash. And despite that, Katniss is still glad to see her. She’s also still too distracted that Gale is here to properly give her a full reaction. 

Finally Gale is in front of her, looking sheepish and guilty.

“Uh, hey, Katniss.” His eyes flicker down at her stomach, clearly trying to hide his surprise. “Uh…congrats.”

All she can do is swallow and nod. He nods too, and then glances around. 

Johanna groans. “You two are really killing the vibe in here.”

And Katniss realizes she doesn’t want to do this with him, let alone do it here. She doesn't, but they’re going to have to. The metaphorical elephant-in-the-room is just too big to ignore. 

“Maybe, we should go for a walk.” Gale suggests quietly.

Katniss takes that. As much as she doesn’t want to speak to him, or be alone with him, right now that’s their best option. Before she blows up on him in front of her friends and family.

She doesn’t say anything. She moves towards the closet by the front door and digs out her boots and a coat. She doesn’t bother tying up the laces, just pulls them on and shoves her arms through the sleeves of her jacket. Gale follows behind her like a shadow as she flings the door open and starts to stomp out.

“Katniss!” Peeta calls.

She spins, jaw clenched. And then she pauses. Peeta is holding out her bow and quiver of arrows, a sympathetic expression on his face. 

It makes her take a moment to catch her breath. She glances up at Gale, and then back at Peeta. And her anger towards her husband fizzles out completely. She steps back inside to take the bow and arrows from him.

“Be back before dusk, yeah?” He whispers, leaning in to peck her cheek as she slips the quiver strap over her shoulder.

“Yeah.” Is all she says, and then she turns and walks out, slamming the door closed behind her.

It’s completely silent between them for several long beats. Gale is the first to move, walking down the steps. She follows, hesitant.

They haven’t spoken since that awful conversation in the capital. After she’d found President Snow in his garden. After the truth of the capital bombs was revealed.

She knows it’s not what Gale wanted. He didn’t mean for the bombs to be used like that. Yes, he didn’t seem to hold remorse over using it on civilians, but he was adamant that he never wanted children involved. Children were too far; they were fighting to save children, not slaughter even more of them. That was one line in Snow’s playbook he wasn’t willing to cross.

Katniss still isn’t sure if he only said that because he regrets his involvement in the creation of the bombs that killed Prim, or if he actually had no idea that was Coin’s true intention with the weapon. 

He looks guilty. Honestly, despite him not looking like a teenager anymore, and the fact that he’s filled out and gained weight from what Katniss can only assume is a healthy diet, he looks like shit . There’s dark bags under his eyes, and this up close Katniss can see that the beard is scraggly, less there as a feature and more as a result of Gale clearly not giving a fuck. His shoulders look weighed down by the world, as if he does actually hold a gut wrenching amount of remorse for his actions.

For a brief second, Katniss’s hormone addled brain feels bad for him.

But that’s ridiculous. And it’s much easier to be furious with him.

She pauses. They’re at the flimsy part of the fence. The one that’s still standing, somehow, even after all this time. And that makes her angry.

“Do you really think you can just show up on my doorstep, and then walk us into the woods? Do you think we can just go back to normal, like when we were kids, as if you didn’t murder my sister?”

Gale actually flinches at the accusation.

“No, Katniss. That’s not- I don’t think that, no.” 

“Then what are you doing here?”

He finally turns to look at her fully, gray eyes meeting hers. 

“Peeta said you wanted to see me.”

Katniss scoffs. 

“Yes, I do realize that wasn’t the case. Believe me, I was skeptical. But I…I wanted to hope. Sorry.” 

She wants to punch him. She wants to kick and scream at him. There are hot tears burning at her eyes, a thick lump of emotions clogging up her throat. 

And then Gale turns, and he pulls back the fence wire, and walks through to the other side. He holds it open for her to follow through. She hesitates. She could easily tell him to go back to district 2, to never show his face here ever again, and then she could go home. 

But then she looks at his tired and weary face. And her heart seems to betray her; she feels sympathy, and a distant longing, almost as if she’s actually missed him. She isn’t sure if she can forgive him, and she really doesn’t know how to feel about him at all; just knows that being mad at him is easier than anything else. But maybe she should try. She gave her mother a chance. Why wouldn’t she give Gale the same opportunity? A couple weeks ago in those same woods she’d thought that maybe she’d be able to face him, and maybe even forgive him. Is she really going to give up that quickly? She should know better than anyone that nothing in life is easy.

And so, to her own surprise, she follows.

They march on in silence for a while more. The tears catch up to Katniss, despite her efforts to hold them back.

For a while she thought she didn’t care about Gale anymore. That her anger for him was gone. That she’d accepted what he did and moved on. Clearly she was wrong. 

“I am truly sorry, Katniss.” He says eventually, birds twittering softly in the trees around them.

She doesn’t really want to hear it. No amount of him apologizing will ever bring Prim back. It won’t undo the massacre at the mansion gates. 

She knows the arguments they could have, if she complained some more. That he would tell her that in the long run, the decision to drop those bombs is what won them the war. That it led to less death than if the war had continued. And she would snap back that President Snow was just about to issue a surrender. And then he would ask why she chose to believe in that psychopath. 

She wouldn’t have an answer after that. Because he’s right.

Instead they walk, and she sulks. She doesn’t know what to say to him.

“Katniss. Are you happy?” He asks suddenly. He comes to a stop.

She looks at him. And then she feels that anger flare back up in her chest, Prometheus prodding at the ashes. What is that supposed to mean? Is he being sardonic? Like, is she happy she cut him out of her life? Is she happy he came? Is she happy her sister is dead? Is she happy she’s having a baby? Is she happy with Peeta, as if she might have regrets? Is he still jealous, even after all this time? She thought he’d figured out how to put that behind him, when he stopped bothering her so much about Peeta half way through the war. 

She must show her disgust on her face.

“Stop it. I don’t mean it like that.” He huffs, eyebrows furrowed. “I just- I’m just asking. Genuinely, Katniss. Are you happy?”

She blinks. And then she gives a very short “Yes.” 

He blinks. And then he seems to force a smile. “Good. That’s…that’s good. I’m glad.” 

She snorts. “Are you?”

He looks at her, and suddenly he does look sincere. “Yes, Katniss. I am. That’s…I know I was an ass sometimes. But I…I’ve realized all I actually want is for you to be happy. Especially after what I took away from you. It’s what I’ve always wanted, but I just…was a little too selfish to realize it.” 

And that’s…that’s a lot for her to take in. That’s not at all what she would have expected to come out of his mouth. That’s a kind of maturity she’d never seen in him. She frowns. She doesn’t know what to say.

“Although, I will say, you being pregnant is a surprise. I thought you didn’t want kids?” 

“ You didn’t want kids.” She says softly, all the previous anger and conviction sapped from her voice, “I never wanted kids in a world where they would suffer.” 

He looks at her for a long moment. And then he nods. “I suppose there is a difference there.” 

“Yes.” She whispers, staring out at the trees. 

He starts moving again, and she follows. She doesn’t really pay attention to where they’re going. She should, but her brain is too busy thinking, and her heart flip-flopping through emotions.

They come across the headstones. Gale sweeps a hand over the boulder that they agreed long ago was for his father. He’s quiet for a long time, and Katniss doesn’t say anything, standing still. 

“Which one is Prim?” He asks softly.

She swallows thickly. A protectiveness rears its head in her chest; she doesn’t want him anywhere near her sister, or her designated memorial site. He glances over at her when she hesitates for too long.

She could easily walk away. Decide she doesn’t want to do this with him, not today, not ever. Or she could be generous. Try to move on, try to accept what he’s done.

Katniss takes a deep breath, and looks up at the trees around them. She hears the sound of a mourning dove singing its lament. Mockingjays pick up the call in a chorus, and Katniss catches a glimpse of the dove as it takes off from a branch above her, wings whistling as it goes. 

She takes a big breath, and then finally points at her sister’s stone. He walks over, and crouches down. He brushes off the leaves laying in front of the cobble. She watches him take something from his pocket, and he places it down in the grass. He’s quiet for a long moment, and then whispers something, but Katniss is too far away to hear him. She steps up closer. He glances back at her, and then looks away quickly, a hand swiping at his own face.

It hits her like a rock to the chest when she realizes that he’s crying. Real tears, because he’s embarrassed, and his forehead creases in the way it always does whenever he’s genuinely upset; the way it did when she first met him, while they were still mourning the loss of their fathers.

Oh . That does something to her heart.

It’s a small doll, with cat ears and a tail, that he’s placed in the grass next to her stone. It’s orange, like Buttercup. Something that looks handmade. A small gift that Prim would have cherished, even if she wouldn’t have played with dolls anymore.

Katniss doesn’t know what to say. She’s not sure if she should say anything. 

Gale reaches out to brush his fingertips over the branches of the rowan bush next to him. “Who is this?” He asks softly.

Katniss swallows, hard. Suddenly words are difficult. “It’s…we named him Rowan.” She chokes out, hands hugging around her belly.

He looks up at her, gray eyes taking in her face. 

“That’s a good name.” Is all he says.

She nods. It is. 

“Katniss…” He breathes, “I never really told you how sorry I was, about all of that, that that happened to you-“

“Don’t.” She cuts him off. “Don’t- apologize for something that's not your fault.” 

He looks up at her for a brief moment. And then he nods. He stands up, rubbing his hands off on his pants. 

And Katniss realizes that maybe she can forgive him. She’s reminded that he was never actually that bad of a person. They were best friends for several years, and he was a good friend. He took care of her family like it was his own. He loved Prim, as if she was his own sister. He probably does miss her. So maybe he deserves a second chance. He's clearly grown. He clearly has regrets. At the end of the day, he wasn’t actually the one that killed Prim; that was Coin. 

“Where to next, Katnip?” He asks. 

The nickname makes her heart squeeze. Maybe half an hour ago she would have bit his head off for trying it, but now she just feels sad. 

She doesn’t know. It’s warm for late November, but her fingers are starting to chill, a biting breeze starting to pick up; Eurus starting to succumb to Boreas.

“Home?” She suggests.

He nods. “Home, then.”

They weave through the trees. Golden light is filtering in through the branches as the sun starts its descent. Wind scatters fallen leaves across the ground. Each of Katniss’s steps are like clomps. Gale still hasn’t lost his ability to glide through the forest, even under dry leaves. She wonders if he hunts in 2, or if he doesn’t have need for that anymore.

“ Katniss .” He hisses. 

The urgency in his voice makes her pause, and for a brief moment she’s afraid they’re being attacked. The last time she heard Gale whisper like that was in the tunnels under the capital.  

She pauses, glancing back at him, already pulling an arrow from her quiver to notch against her bow. He’s pointing out to their right. 

Up the gradual hill is a large grouse. Katniss doesn’t hesitate to take the shot. The arrow hits the neck, and it falls with an alarming cluck. Sparrows rush from the trees as Gale springs forward. The grouse staggers up and starts to make a run for it. Katniss tries to take chase, but she’s too clumsy in the underbrush. Gale manages to catch it before it gets very far. His coat gets soaked with blood as it struggles against him. She has to look away as he snaps the neck.

“Seems you need some practice, Kat. What happened to hitting eyeballs? That was less messy.” He teases, somewhat hesitantly, as he slides the arrow back into her quiver. He shifts to hold the bird by the feet.

“I’m pregnant.” She grunts.

Gale laughs. It’s a hearty one, and she hadn’t realized how much she’s missed the sound until right now. 

“That's a piss poor excuse for a lame shot.”

“Hey! I still hit the thing!”

“Nicked its neck.” He corrects.

“It was more than a nick . Are you claiming you could have done better? When’s the last time you shot a bow?”

He smiles, and she realizes she’s missed this too. Having someone to hunt with. Having Gale to hunt with. She’s missed him, and their friendship. Even if it has always been rocky. Maybe they can be okay.

“Alright fine, I might be a little rusty.” He says, grouse swinging as he walks down the gradual slope towards the fence. He's a lot less careful about his foot placement now, with a catch in his hands. Katniss doesn’t feel so bad about being so clumsy with her feet.

The rest of the way is silent. But Katniss prefers that. Their relationship feels incredibly shaky at best, if barely there at all. They’re treading a very fine line. She’s not anywhere close to forgiving him, maybe just leaning back towards accepting it. There’s still a lot that could be said between them, but right now Katniss really doesn’t want to fight with him. So silence is easier. Briefly pretending like nothing ever changed between them, is easier. 

As they reach the steps of her house, he pauses for a second.

“Katniss?”

She turns. 

He looks down at the grouse. “I uh…thanks, for, this. For letting this happen. I didn’t- I didn’t want to come here and fight with you. I just…wanted to be here, for you.” 

She blames her wishy washy back and forth feelings for him on her baby brain, and its desire for the world to be all peachy. A part of her feels like she should be a lot angrier, while another isn’t entirely sure why she should be mad. 

The truth is, their walk wasn’t so bad. She’s kind of glad they did this. It felt like a glimpse at old times, but now the world is a lot better. It makes it a lot easier for everything to roll off her shoulders. Maybe she’s taking this whole “putting the past behind me” farther than she ever thought she would. Is this another flicker of hope, her suddenly having the empathy to maybe rekindle their friendship? She’s not sure. But she’s not going to question it right now.

She just nods. “You caught me on a good day.”

That makes him smirk. 

Peeta looks guilty when they return. But he looks hopeful when Gale offers to gut and prep the grouse Katniss caught. Katniss settles back into the living room couch, and Effie pesters her with questions. Haymitch is busy staring at the wine bottle that Johanna nurses between fiery statements. Annie and Beetee take turns filling Katniss in on the goings-on in the other districts. Peeta keeps trying to help Katniss’s mother in the kitchen, but he keeps getting kicked out, so he finally settles on the couch with Katniss and listens to their friends chatter. 

Gale eventually comes in from butchering the grouse, hands and coat covered in blood. Effie releases a horrified shriek, and Peeta vaults off the couch to haul Gale upstairs to wash off and get a change of clothes. When they return, Katniss is surprised to see Gale scoot in next to Johanna on the loveseat, putting an arm across her shoulders. Johanna sends Katniss a grin, but surprisingly doesn’t comment, just leans into him. 

Finally Katniss’s mother calls them to the table. It’s a large meal, and lot of the food is stuff harvested from their garden. There’s corn and green beans and apple and pumpkin pie. There’s ham, and the grouse, and mashed potatoes. They eat and chatter. There’s laughter and smiles, and Katniss feels happy and warm. She eats until she’s pretty sure she might explode. 

They clear the table when they’re done, and Haymitch breaks out a worn deck of cards. They play multiple games. Lucas seems to pick Peeta as his playmate, and scoots in next to him, asking him for help as he tries to play cards with the adults. Katniss finds it adorable, and Peeta does a great job with him. It makes her feel fuzzy.  

Eventually her mother, Effie, and Annie leave to go back to the living room, since they are uninterested in playing cards. Katniss follows so she can pass out on the couch, feeling tired from the day's events and her full belly. Effie and her mother have little in common, but Annie manages to bridge the divide. Katniss finds it entertaining to watch the three of them interact. Her mother pulls out a blanket she’s been working on, and it gives Katniss that fuzzy feeling again. Her mother has really taken up helping Peeta with the nursery. She’s already finished knitting a pair of mittens. Katniss thinks it’s nice, that her mother is finally invested in something.

She yawns, and she falls asleep to the sound of warm laughter from the dining room, and her mother’s knitting needles clacking together as Annie quietly tells Effie a story.

Chapter Text

Katniss and her mother are slowly getting along. By the time they reach December Katniss feels like they’ve both healed enough to enjoy the other’s company. And Katniss is kind of forced to, given Peeta hates the idea of her leaving the house in the cold weather. 

She watches from the kitchen window as the first few flakes of snow lazily drift from the sky. Peeta slides up behind her to place a kiss to her temple, hands smoothing out to splay over her belly. 

Katniss never liked winter. Everything becomes scarce in the winter. Hunting is at its most difficult. And even when she did manage a catch, no one at the market ever had much to sell during the frigid months. 

Things have gotten easier the past few years. Provisions from the other districts are sent in. Katniss doesn’t have to worry about providing for the family. But she still gets the gut twisting dread that comes with snow. She still feels the restless kick to get out into the woods, to find anything she can. So they don’t starve. 

“We’re all safe and happy, Kat.” Peeta whispers into her ear, thumbs rubbing against her belly. “Enough food to last us till February.” 

She sighs. “I know.”

He hums, and leans in to peck her cheek. He pulls away, briefly grabbing her hand and giving her a reassuring squeeze. 

“Your mother wants to teach me how to cook.”

Katniss snorts. “You cook better than she does.”

He laughs, and then shushes her, coming back to hug her from behind. “Shhh! Don’t let her know!”

Katniss can’t help but smile, turning her face to meet his eyes. He pecks her lips. 

“If you’re itching that bad to get out of the house, you could go see if they have any fish at the market.”

“Fish?” Katniss quirks an eyebrow.

Peeta hums. “She wants to show me something from district four.” 

Katniss gladly takes the offer. She bundles herself up, adding an extra layer at Peeta’s request. Peeta hands her a loaf of zucchini bread, a true delicacy, especially this time of year. She tucks it under her arm after she pulls on her boots. He gives her a kiss on the tip of her nose, and then she opens the door and disappears into the flakey breeze. 

The market doesn’t have much when it comes to fish. She only knows of one person who frequents the lake to fish; some guy who moved here from 13 after the war. She knows her chances of him having anything close to what her mother is expecting is slim; trout is probably the only fish this time of year.

She finds the angler lugging what looks to be a heavy bucket towards the market. He’s precariously holding his tackle box, rods, and fishing nets. She’s completely blanking on the man’s name, but his face lights up when he sees her.

“Mockingjay!” He shouts. 

She cringes at the name. He seems to catch it. 

“Mrs. Mellark,” he corrects, eyes flickering not-so-subtly down at her belly. “I have quite the catch today if you’re looking for some fish.”

She nods. “I am. My mother wants to make something she learned in four.”

He grins. “Well I’m sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have any salt fish if that’s what she’s looking for.” 

“I doubted you would. Trout would be fine.” She says, offering to take his tackle box for him as they make their way into the market.

He hands it off, a grin on his face. “Oh! You doubt me! I told you I got a good catch, didn’t I?”

Indeed, he’s caught himself some impressive fish, especially for the time of year. When he cracks open the bucket at his usual stall, Katniss can’t help her surprise at what he pulls out.

“A beauty!” He proclaims, grinning brightly at the big largemouth bass that he places on the chopping block. “This one was quite a shock when I pulled him in. Rare to find these in December. But I have more!” He proceeds to pull out a large catfish, followed by a walleye, a muskie, and several trout. 

“How long were you fishing?” Katniss scoffs.

“All day.” He says, and then points to the loaf tucked under her arm. “What’s that?”

Katniss nearly forgot about the loaf. “Oh- zucchini bread. Peeta baked it this morning.”

The man smiles. He motions to the bass. “He’s all yours. The missus loves Peeta’s bread.”

Katniss shakes her head. The loaf isn’t worth nearly as much as the bass. “No, I couldn’t possibly- keep the bass.”

He insists. In fact he’s adamant. Katniss has no choice but to take the catch. He guts it for her, and then sends her off with a smile. He then proceeds to haggle the next person, who goes for the catfish. 

Katniss’s mother is delighted with the fish she brings home. She immediately gets to cleaning it up, calling Peeta in for help. Katniss settles in on one of the chairs so she can watch. 

Peeta and her mother get along wonderfully. Her mother seems to have easily adopted him as her own. It almost makes Katniss jealous, with how she treats him. Other times it just makes her feel warm and happy.

They’re playfully bickering. Her mother is strict on the recipe. Peeta keeps feeding her suggestions, but it’s also clear he’s never cooked a fish before. They’re both smiling, despite the slight argument.

“Wouldn’t it be better with butter-“ Peeta suggests.

“Olive oil!” Her mother tuts, drizzling it over the fish.

“You really want me to add paprika to this?”

“Paprika and chili. Not a lot. A few pinches.”

“Rosemary would be better-“

“I’m the one cooking!” 

“Right! Sorry!” Peeta grins.

Katniss picks up her latest crochet project, but she’s not making much progress. 

“Right, I think we need more eggs for the egg wash. Buttermilk would probably be good too-“

“Just eggs! This isn’t southern food. We aren’t making biscuits.”

Peeta snorts. “We’re in Appalachia, Mrs. Everdeen. Biscuits are a staple. Buttermilk will add more flavor-“

She waves the spatula she’s holding up into the air, turning to him. 

And then something unexpected happens. Peeta flinches. And it’s not a small flinch. His hands come up, and he takes a step back, like he’s bracing himself to be whacked.

Everyone pauses. Mrs. Everdeen’s mouth pops open, but nothing comes from her lips. The spatula dwindles in the air, coming down to her side. 

And it’s in that moment that Katniss is reminded of something else; something that makes the jealousy over their relationship fizzle out completely. Peeta’s mother was barely a mother at all. More of a monster. Someone who beat her son and called him wicked and vile things. 

Katniss’s mother isn’t like that at all. She just clams up when faced with grief. But she’s not mean. She’s not violent. She doesn’t hurt people. And Peeta deserves a mother who’s kind . 

Peeta’s cheeks go red. “I- I’m sorry I- I didn’t mean to-“

Her mother crushes him in a massive hug, catching him off guard. He freezes up, and then slowly melts into the hug. And then he cries. And Mrs. Everdeen hushes his tears. And Katniss finds her own cheeks wet. 

The deep fried bass is delicious. It gives Katniss some heartburn, but it’s absolutely delectable. Her mother just grins like a cat that got the cream.

“See? I can cook better than Peeta.”

Katniss almost chokes on her next bite. Peeta erupts into laughter. 

- - - - -

Katniss is suspicious. Everything just…keeps falling into place. There’s no hiccups, no badness. It all just…keeps happening. Everything is good . 

She hasn’t had morning sickness in several weeks. Her ankles are swelling but Peeta willingly offers up foot massages. The winter has been pretty mild. Her mother is happy. Peeta’s been teaching her how to paint. And just last week she bought a brand new house in town. She’s nearly all moved in, and clearly here to stay. Haymitch still visits them often. He’s managed almost three weeks completely sober. The government is running surprisingly smoothly. News from the other districts seems good. No one is starving or sick with disease in district 12. There’s been no crime.

It makes Katniss anxious. Everything is too quiet. Too good. Too simple. Too easy. Something always happens. She’s used to something happening. She feels like she’s getting too compliant. Too relaxed. She’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Because she doesn’t trust any of this. It’s too wishful and she knows good things never last long. That good things are always balanced out with bad. Safety isn’t always secured, it can be ripped away at a moment's notice.

And yet nothing happens. 

It’s starting to reignite her fears about having a baby. There have been a few points during her pregnancy where she’s had doubts. Not so much fear of losing it, like she’d had before, but now a fear that maybe she’d be a terrible mother. And Peeta has had to assure her that she will be fine . Those moments usually come and go, as Katniss’s everyday confidence goes through its ebbs and flows. But lately the eery quiet feels like it’s put her on an extreme edge. 

Peeta has also been getting better at walking her off those edges. Reminding her of how she took such good care of Prim, and even Rue in the games. They’re painful memories, but he makes good points. 

“Katniss, you’re going to be an amazing mother.” He whispers late one night, thumb softly brushing at her chin, “Even if something bad were to happen, anyone who tries to hurt this baby is going to have to face the pure wrath of Katniss Everdeen. And as someone who has seen parts of that wrath before, I don’t think they stand a chance.” He quirks a smile.

Peeta catches on pretty quickly. 

“You’re working yourself up over nothing.” He says softly, kissing at her shoulder. 

She stares out the window. Waiting for someone or something to come down the road. 

“Everything is fine, Katniss. Relax.” He mumbles, lips mouthing against the slope up towards her neck. 

“I can’t relax. It’s been too quiet.” She huffs softly.

He hums. “Because the world is fixing itself. We’ve reached the easy part.”

“Peeta.” She grumbles. “You know what I mean. It’s…it’s been too easy.” 

Peeta pulls back to sweep her hair over her shoulder. Warm breath fans across the back of her neck. “I know. But there’s not anything we can do about it. Unless you’re thinking of starting something. Which I hope you’re not.”

Katniss scoffs, turning slightly to look back at him. “No. Don’t be ridiculous.” 

He smiles, an eyebrow quirking. “Hey, I can’t ever be sure. You’re always full of surprises.”

Katniss rolls her eyes. “I’m not crazy .” 

Peeta makes a face like he’s not too sure. Katniss huffs, playfully shoving him. He giggles. And then he rests his chin on her head, hands sliding out to touch her bump. It’s gotten much bigger, at almost 7 months. And Peeta has continued to spoil her. 

“I think I know something that will help.” he says, hand creeping down towards the waistband of her pajama pants. “And now that your mother is all moved out…”

Katniss rolls her eyes. That's really the last place her mind is at right now. But also she can’t entirely complain. The past month has felt torturous. She's not sure if it’s just her hormones, but Peeta has seemed incredibly sexy as of late. Like, drop dead handsome. And it’s kind of driving her crazy. 

They’ve messed around some, but with her mother here it hasn’t been easy. There’s been a few instances that were almost very close calls. 

“Your plan is to distract me?” She says, teasing.

He hums, smiling. “Yeah. Got a problem with that?”

She grins. “No. Not at all.”

Peeta laughs, and then he’s pushing Katniss over to lean back against the headboard, propped up on pillows. He crawls up, leaning over her to capture her lips. She meets him with enthusiasm, lips and tongue gliding against his. It’s just one kiss, but it has her buzzing. 

***

Peeta breaks away to catch his breath, and then dips down into her neck, slipping kisses against her skin. A hot tongue swirls on her collarbone, and her shirt gets hiked up. The bedroom is a little chilly, but Peeta’s hands and mouth are warm like the sun on a summer day. The contrast sends goosebumps up her spine and down her arms, heart jumping in her chest. He shifts to kiss at her belly, mouth heavy enough to leave faint marks against her skin. Those cornflower blue eyes stay trained on her face, and it sends heat pooling into all kinds of places. The way he watches her through hooded eyes, gorgeous eyelashes fluttering, as a hot mouth slips against her skin. She hums, a hand sliding into his curls, and those eyes slip closed as he breathes against her. He ducks down, and she gasps as his tongue licks a stripe up from her underwear to her belly button, where he pauses to leave a soft peck. And then she can’t help but drag him back up to kiss him. His teeth graze her bottom lip as he thumbs at the underside of her breast. He breathes a “Can I?” against her mouth. She nods, and he smiles, hands sliding up to touch. A breath shakes its way out of her mouth, eyes slipping closed. He slowly works his way back down her neck, mouth molten against her skin. It makes her feel breathless. Finally he lands a kiss, and swipes out with his tongue. She hums as he suckles softly, pale blues flickering up at her as his mouth works across her.

And in that moment she wants him so terribly , so desperately that it yearns all the way down to her bones. He feels so good . She shifts her hips, desperate for friction, a whimper escaping her lips. All it does is bump her belly against his chest.

He grins against her skin, and teases kisses across her sternum. He hovers over her other side, hot breath blowing against her.

“ Peeta .” She huffs. 

He just hums, smiling softly. She presses at his head, and he chuckles as his mouth meets her skin. She reaches over his shoulders and tugs at his shirt, impatient. He breaks away to help her pull it off, and then works her shirt over her head and off her arms. She sits up, and wastes no time in shoving at his sweats. He actually laughs, something bright and cheery. 

“Someone’s excited.” He grins, helping her.

She huffs. “I haven’t had you in weeks. Forgive me for being a little desperate.” 

His eyes crinkle, and he leans in to kiss her. “That’s alright. I like it.” 

She playfully shoves at his shoulder, and he pulls back, teeth nipping her lip before he goes. He kicks off the pants, and then shifts to press scattered kisses across her chest, hands slipping to her waistband to tug at her pajama bottoms. She shifts, leaning back to lift her hips so he can pull them down. He releases a hiss when he discovers she’s not wearing any underwear.

“Katniss.” He growls softly.

She hums, shifting to get the pants off. He fixes her with a look; one she knows well, one that sends butterflies exploding in her stomach and desire rushing to her cheeks. He swoops in to press a sloppy kiss to her mouth when the pants are off, and then he pulls back, forehead against hers.

“You drive me crazy.” He huffs.

She smiles, a hand slipping under the waistband of his boxers to cup his ass. “Yeah well. The feeling’s mutual.” 

He grumbles, and then pulls back to look at her. He takes a deep breath, blue eyes flickering over her skin, one hand squeezing at her thigh.

“Heavenly is the only way to describe you.” He says, voice suddenly soft and feathery. “Would you call me crazy if I told you to stay right here, while I go get a canvas and paint?” 

Katniss scoffs. “Yes, yes I would.”

Peeta smiles. “You’d make a fine artwork, just like this. Gorgeous.”

“That’d be a pretty raunchy painting, wouldn't it?” 

He hums, “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve painted you like this.”

Katniss feels her cheeks go pink. “What?”

Peeta’s teeth flash as his mouth quirks. “Can’t help it honey. You’re just too gorgeous. Make my hands want to paint.” 

Katniss almost feels scandalized, to think somewhere there’s a painting of her in the nude. 

“I can show you them, if you’d like.” He says.

Them . There’s multiple?

Now he has her curious. She wants to know what he’s done with his knowledge of her body, and his artistic eye. But her eyes are busy trailing down his chest, and she wants something else a lot more right now. 

She shifts. “Later.” Is all she says, biting at her lip. 

He smiles, all handsome and pretty. “Yes ma’am.”

She rolls her eyes, and he just chuckles. He squeezes at her thighs, eyes falling between her legs—or belly, really.

“How do you wanna do this?” He asks, licking his lips. 

She groans. His mouth is all too tempting, but that’s really not what she’s been craving lately. She reaches to tug down on the waistband of his boxers. Blue eyes flicker up to hers, a smirk tugging at his lips. His fingers ghost up the inside of her thigh, feather light and teasing.

“Straight to that, huh?” He smiles.

She nods. He grins. “Alright.” 

He shifts, and between four hands, those boxers are removed pretty quickly. She nearly releases a very embarrassing sound at the sight of him. Instead her breath just catches in her throat. And he leans in to steal her lips, mouth hot and heavy. Arms loop around her, and he shifts to lay her down on her left side. His mouth breaks from hers and he glides wet kisses down her shoulder, hands grabbing at her legs and moving her until he’s straddling her left thigh, her right knee draped over his right thigh. 

“This good?” He asks, a hand rubbing over her bump. 

She shifts slightly, breath catching when she feels him against her. She nods, desperate. 

He lets out a low sound, and his voice is husky. “You sure you don’t want me to touch you first?” He asks, his hand sliding over her ass.

She shakes her head. She’s been needing this for weeks. He leans forward to capture her lips, and she whines when he slips up against her, right where she wants him. He grunts, breath shaky against her lips, and captures her mouth. A hand smooths out across her belly, tongue melting against hers. She reaches to thread fingers through his curls, and he releases a soft sound against her as she scratches gently at his head. 

When they pop apart his lips are pink, eyes blazing. At this angle they almost look as bright as a bluebird. Their noses brush, and he smiles.

“I love you.” He breathes, voice warm like sugar and honey.

“I love you too.” She says, fingers curling softly in his hair.

He gives her his great beaming smile, infused with a warmth that lights a fire in her soul. And then he pecks a kiss to her shoulder and presses in. Her breath catches, and so does his. He practically glides, but she still feels the delicious stretch that she’s missed so much. Her lips part in a moan of relief and desire, and he huffs hot breath against her arm. 

There’s a moment where they both pause, just soaking in the warmth of the moment. The closeness, and the heat. Bodies pressed against each other as far as they’ll go. His eyes flutter shut, hot air puffing out of his nose against her arm. The heat sends goosebumps across her side. She reaches for one of his hands, and that smile relights his face as she intertwines their fingers. 

“Katniss.” He groans softly, eyes cracking open to glance at her.

She hums, shifting against him, wanting him to just get going . His breath catches slightly, but the smile doesn’t falter. He pulls their hands up, kissing the back of hers. 

“I think you might just be the death of me.”

She rolls her eyes, smiling. Shifts again, leg tightening against him in an effort to pull him even closer. And finally he relents, moving. 

It steals her air. The pressure and the friction. He drags against her, breath hot against her skin, squeezing her hand tight. Rocking, slowly, not nearly enough, but good all the same. A warm body pressed to hers, filling her in every way. Warm hands, warm thighs, warm everything. He really is like the sun. Bright and pretty and oh so stunning. Setting her heart ablaze, all passion and art. The curve of his lips, the strength and delicacy of his hands, the slope of his chest and hips; and she understands then, about the paintings. Because he looks like one, glistening warmth rocking above her, a poetic mouth against her skin. And she wants this moment captured forever, on a silky canvas with artistic brush strokes. Peeta has no idea how good he looks, no idea how good he feels .

Maybe he does. Because she releases a desperate moan that sends heat flying to her cheeks, and he gets a devilishly handsome smirk on his face, like he knows exactly what he does to her, both mind and body. He leans in against her breast, and whispers something down-right salacious against the heat of her tender skin, tongue licking a hot teasing swipe. And it has her tumbling oh so close to the edge. 

He is the sun. Because the warmth he gives off only grows, like the long stretches of summer days as warm rays bare down on the world. The heat turns to scorching as he bucks, skin and mouth hot. Sweat slipping against her hips. It grows like a wildfire in her gut, pleasure ratcheting up as he slips a hand down to shift her leg, spreading those thighs he’s rocking between, and thumbing against her in a way that sends her legs quaking and moans spilling from her lips.

He swears, and it crashes into both of them like pouring rain breaking through thunder clouds. Lightning through her limbs and rocking into her in all the best ways. Hands find hers and squeeze. He huffs against her skin, and the crash feels beautiful. 

“Oh god, I needed that.” She huffs when she finally catches her breath.

He laughs, bright and happy as he slips free and shifts up to nuzzle against her throat. 

“You wanna go again?” He chuckles.

“Oh please .” She moans. And he laughs.

*****

A few hours later they sit curled in the bed, and Peeta shyly hands her a sketchbook. She thumbs through it. It’s an entire book of her. Some disarticulated pieces of her body, clustered sketches of her hands, hips, arms, legs, nose. Some of them half finished pieces. Some are raunchy sketches, her body naked and thrown into positions she recognizes, but not from a point of view she’s used to. They heat her cheeks, and Peeta hides his face against her shoulder, eyes peaking up from behind her occasionally when she asks questions. There’s a few he’s thrown water color on, mock ups for real pieces. He breathes against her neck and tells her about the ones he did paint. The ones he has hidden in the studio. Ready for her to look at when she wants. She smiles, and kisses his cheek. And whispers to him that she’d love to see them. 

He blushes a pretty pink, all shy and gorgeous at her praise.

- - - - -

The other shoe does drop, eventually. Like Katniss worried it would.

She’s sitting by the empty fireplace, blinking slowly out of boredom. An unfinished blanket and yarn sit on her lap. Sleep drags at her consciousness. Peeta is kneading dough in the kitchen. She listens at the shift in his feet across the floor. The baby flutters. It’s been a lazy afternoon. Chilly outside, but warm where she sits curled on the couch.

She’s drifting. Eyes drooping. The baby flutters again, and her eyes snap back open. She puffs, annoyed. “Just let me sleep.” She grumbles quietly. Lately this is the baby’s thing, every time Katniss finally starts to drift off, the baby kicks up again. 

There’s a knock on the front door. Katniss expects it’s her mother, considering the person doesn’t barge in shortly afterwards (Haymitch), and they rarely get other visitors.

She hears Peeta’s feet shift across the floor to answer it. 

“Peeta Mellark!” An all too chipper voice says. And it’s one Katniss doesn’t recognize. 

And the accent is distinct. It’s Capitol .

Ice rushes down her spine. Her stomach drops. She scrambles to her feet, immediately looking for her bow.

“Oh- hello-“

“Peeta! News is Katniss is pregnant! Is this true?” A different voice says.

Katniss, in her hurry to try and save her husband from these capitolites who have crawled all the way out here to bother them,  makes the mistake of stepping within eyesight of the front door.

There's multiple people in the doorway. Microphones shoved into Peeta’s face, with camera equipment close behind. All eyes land on her.

And then all hell breaks loose.

There’s shouting and shoving. Suddenly Katniss is swarmed by reporters, in the entryway of her own house. She’s asked a hundred questions all at once, with no time to answer any of them even if she wanted to. 

She freezes up, a statue in her own home. It sends her back to after the games. Of so many questions, and comments. It sends her back to the victory tour. The victory tour . 

Someone asks about the miscarriage. And then there’s a hand, a full hand , touching her bump. 

She jumps back, slamming into the wall behind her as she tries to get away. It makes her breath catch and hiccup in her chest. People freeze at the loud sound, and suddenly Peeta is in front of her. 

“Katniss, you need to breathe.” He says, blue eyes stern. 

And then Katniss hears clamor outside the house.

“HEY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YA’LL DOING?”

Haymitch . There’s a loud bang of a sound, and it makes Katniss flinch. The reporters around them jump. 

Haymitch storms his way in, pushing people aside without any reservations, and wielding a dirty frying pan. He bangs it against the doorway as he shoves through, yelling.

“OUT! OUT OF THE HOUSE!” He feigns forward towards a man with spiky green hair, as if he’s about to jump him. The man yelps, and then squeezes out the front door. “That’s right! I’ve gone crazy with age! I’ll kill all of you!” He yells as people flee the entryway.

One brave soul attempts to shove a microphone in his face, starting to ask him a question. She doesn’t get very far before Haymitch rips the microphone out of her hand and chucks it out the door. It hits someone in the head.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” He shouts in her face.

There’s all kinds of scandalized gasps and faces full of shock. As if they’re not the one’s completely in the wrong. Haymitch shoos the last of the people out the door, and then slams the door shut behind them, flicking the lock.

They all breathe in silence for a moment, trying to catch their breath. Katniss feels like she’s running, with the way her chest is racing. She shuffles, hand finding the wall and then sliding down to sit. It’s hard to breathe.

“Katniss.” Peeta says softly, crouching down in front of her. He cups her face, thumbs swiping at her cheeks. “You gotta breathe.”

She tries. It’s difficult, because there’s a racing panic tumbling in her chest and squeezing up her throat. 

It takes her back to her worst nightmares. Of propaganda, or being a pawn, of being forcefully shoved in the spotlight. She doesn’t want that. She thought they’d maybe finally escaped that.

Such a naive thought. 

“Sweetheart, it’s gonna be alright.” Haymitch’s voice is soft and gentle, softer than she’s heard it in a long time. A hand lands on her head, smoothing over her hair. 

She looks up and meets two faces, pretty blue eyes and worn greys that match her own. 

There’s a knock on a window, and they all look over to see multiple people piled against the window by the door. 

“Oh for crying out loud.” Haymitch grunts, and then he’s storming off to yank the curtains closed.

They sit huddled on the couch. The doors and windows have all been locked and curtains pulled. She can still hear the mass of people outside. 

“Well. We have to give Effie props. I’m honestly shocked she managed to keep the secret for almost three months. I figured it’d be maybe three weeks. Or three days.” Peeta sighs.

Haymitch makes a face, and then rubs a hand over his scratchy stubble. “I think you’d be surprised, kid. The Trinkets have closets full of skeletons. Effie knows how to keep a secret.” 

Katniss just stares at the crackling fireplace. She feels utterly trapped, in a way she hasn’t been in years. She hates it.

She was waiting for this. Or, something like this. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t ready for it. It still scares her. The fear and anxiety wash over her skin, leaving her feeling sensitive and bare.

She got used to being able to live her life how she wanted to. Sure, the possibility of the capital finding its way back to her doorstep always hung over her head, be it in her nightmares or the moments she let herself consider the world. But she’d gotten pretty good at pushing that to the side. Compartmentalizing. 

This kind of threw the entire lid open, and dumped all those worries and fears she’d carefully tucked away, back onto the floor.

She closes her eyes and breathes.

It’s actually kind of a miracle it took this long. Apparently the people of District 12 wanted the capital out of their hair as well. Katniss’s pregnancy really isn’t a secret around town. At this point there is no hiding the belly. There’s been a few people who made comments to them about it, congratulated them, but it had kind of gone unspoken to not really talk about it. And that had worked pretty well.

Until now, obviously.

“I want them to go away.” She grumbles.

Haymitch laughs. “Oh tell me about it.” He gets up and peeks through one of the curtains. There’s almost immediately shouting outside. “I’ll call up Plutarch. See if I can get him to withdraw the crows.” 

Peeta rubs at Katniss’s back.

Katniss is plagued with nightmares the next several nights. She wakes up screaming and sweating, Peeta trying to talk her down. They’re bad ones. She finds herself in the bathroom, or in the kitchen. Peeta’s right there, trying to shake her awake. 

She relives all kinds of nightmares from the past. The one of the baby cradle in the road. The one in their first games, where Peeta shrivels in front of her, and she finds Haymitch bleeding out on top of the Cornucopia, Snow launching the baby to the mutts. She dreams of Coin starting a new Hunger Games. Of her faceless child being thrust into an arena, torn to shreds by mutts, just like Cato, just like Finnick. Except she can’t end the suffering, because she’s not there. A lot of them are about her kids, and a lot of them are about Peeta. They die in every single one. In torturous, excruciating ways. And she spends hours shaking after she wakes up. She loses sleep. Feels hollow and numb, a sinking hole. 

She’s not sure what Haymitch does, but he must make some kind of deal with Plutarch. Because by the end of the week the reporters are gone. Plutarch arrives instead, with Cressida and Pollux. A part of Katniss is glad to see them, happy and in good health. But they also remind her of terrible times. And Plutarch’s grating presence sets her on edge. She feels like she’s teetering on a wire, between being in the moment and diving into a trauma response.

They’re sat down on their couch. Katniss hates how much it reminds her of being trapped in District 13 during the war. It’s far too familiar. Peeta answers most of the questions Plutarch asks. They urge Katniss to answer some. She doesn’t give great answers. But it must be enough, because they’re out of there pretty quickly. 

Her and Peeta’s faces are on the news again, the next day. For the first time in years. She turns the TV off. She doesn’t care. Only glad that there aren’t reporters camping outside her house. She knows they’ll be back eventually, once the baby is born. But for now she can rest a little easier.

It takes a week for the nightmares to fade again. It’s freezing outside, just whispers of spring on the horizon. But Peeta bundles her up and they go for walks in the woods. Short walks, but it helps clear her head. She looks at the sky one day and sees a hawk, watching them from the trees. 

On another, a day where the sun shines brighter, she manages to convince Peeta to walk with her to the lake. He puts up quite a fuss, about how cold it is, and the fact that she’s 8 months pregnant, but she’s stubborn and drags him along, waddling through the snow and underbrush. Her toes and fingers are frosty by the time they make it, her nose freezing cold. But the view is worth it. 

Sunshine reflects off the iced over lake, snow frosting the tips of evergreens. The world is captured in a layer of crystal. Quiet and frozen. 

She’s reminded of winters with her father, when he’d take her and Prim out to this lake. And they’d slide across the ice, laughing at each other as they slip and glide. She’s tempted to step out, but her balance right now is less than ideal, and with spring just a month around the corner, she knows the ice would be thin. It would be a disaster. 

She catches movement from their left, and it takes her a while to figure out what she’s looking at.

“Swans.” She whispers, pointing. 

Peeta looks. They waddle further down the bank from them, almost invisible with their pearly white feathers. But they stop here and there to nose at the ground with bright orange beaks, searching for lotus roots. Their long necks swivel back to look at them, and then they keep moving on.

“Wow.” Peeta breathes. 

She kisses his cheek, and thanks him for the walk. He just smiles, a bright pretty smile that warms her heart like a furnace. 

- - - - -

It’s almost dawn when she wakes up. The sky is just starting to go purple out their window, Apollo lazily trading places with Artemis. A full moon hangs suspended in the stars, casting just enough light into the bedroom to make out the outline of Peeta’s sleeping form next to her.

The window is cracked open. There’s a soft breeze that tinkles the wind chimes on the back porch. She figures it’s those soft sounds that woke her up. 

And then she feels the contraction. Peeta stirs in the bed next her as she shifts and hisses.

“Katniss?” He whispers sleepily. 

She reaches for him, squeezing. “It’s fine.” She breathes as it passes.

But Hera is there. It’s time. And Katniss feels it in her bones; in the way her back has ached all day, with the small cramps at dinner and before bed that she brushed off as false contractions, or just the regular aches. But things feel different now.

“You sure?” Peeta asks, sitting up next to her. 

And they get the answer pretty quickly. It feels like a pop, and then her pajama bottoms are soaked, along with the bed. A cold shiver runs up her spine, dread sinking in her stomach.

“Call my mother.” Her voice shakes.

Peeta swears, and then bolts from the bed. He falls on his face, having forgot his prosthetic. It makes Katniss laugh, if only briefly. Peeta chuckles nervously, and yanks on his leg before rushing out the bedroom door.

Katniss tries to breathe. Tries to focus on the way the wind softly rustles the trees. She tells herself this will be okay. It has to be.

Peeta returns with his arms full of blankets and towels. He drops the linens at the foot of the bed, and then sits to gather her in a hug. She crushes him tight, and the tears fall. He smells like home and safety, and she tries to remind herself that this isn’t anything like the sandy beach that she’s always reminded of when it comes to moments like these. Peeta is warm, smells like flour and dill. Not like blood, sweat, and salt water. 

“She’s coming.” He says, rubbing at Katniss’s back. “It’s going to be alright, Kat.” He says it, but she hears the nervous shake in his own voice. He’s scared too. “Let’s get you changed.” He offers, pulling away after placing a kiss on her head.

He turns on the bedroom light, and then helps her undress. He gives her one of his long t-shirts that fits her like a dress. She slips it on, and is comforted by the smell. He lays out towels beneath her, and clutches her tight as she has another contraction. 

“I’m scared.” She cries.

He laughs softly, “Me too.” He admits, the fear evident in his own voice in the way his laughter shakes. He pulls back to peck her lips when the contraction passes. He rests his forehead against hers. “We’ve survived two hunger games. And a revolution. I think we’re going to get through this just fine, Katniss.” He says softly, a cheeky smile on his lips.

Katniss scoffs, tears slipping down her cheek. He's right. But this moment is still terrifying. There’s a nervous purple monster gnawing at her stomach and making her breath catch.

“Stay with me.” She whispers.

His head tilts, and a tender expression melts his face. One that tells her she really doesn’t need to ask that question anymore. She already knows his answer.

His hand gently cups her cheek, thumb brushing away the tears. “Always.” He breathes. And then he kisses her, soft like the sunrise that’s gradually starting to peek through their window.

Her mother arrives quickly, but doesn’t look to be in a hurry. Katniss squeezes her in a hug, and she rubs softly at her back.

“It’s alright, darling.” Her mother breathes, “I’m here.” She’s calm when she pulls away, smiling gently as she tucks hair behind Katniss’s ear.

Another contraction ruins the small moment of peace, and Katniss hisses. Her mother reminds her to breathe, grasping both of her hands and letting her squeeze. Peeta scoots up behind her, pressing kisses to her head until the cramps are over.

“You’re 4 centimeters dilated. We have some time to go.” Her mothers tells her after checking. Katniss groans. She’d rather this be over with as soon as possible.

Peeta plays with her hair, undoing the messy braid to fix it. She holds onto his thighs that sit on either side of her, and he pauses to press kisses to her shoulders. His hands are warm and soft, breath slipping against her skin as he whispers sweet reassurances into her ear. She wishes the peaceful moment could last forever. 

The next few hours are excruciating. Katniss watches the sun rise through their window, trying to distract herself with the pretty colors that remind her of one of Peeta’s paintings. She has to look away when instead she’s reminded of the Quarter Quell, and Peeta soothing the morphling in the lake; just like he tries to soothe her now. 

Contractions come and go. Katniss is tired. Her mother keeps track of how dilated she is. She says she’s progressing, but Katniss feels like it’s taking forever.

Peeta gets fidgety. He starts resituating the already situated bed, readjusting the towels and blankets. Katniss’s mother gives him a long list of tasks to keep him busy. He brings up a sturdy dining chair, fills a bucket with warm water, and preps the crib. He makes them brunch, and Katniss is hungrier than she would have thought. The contractions make her stomach toss and turn, and it takes a lot of energy to keep the food down.

They take turns forcing her to walk back and forth through the hallway, which Katniss hates. Her mother brews her tea, which is supposed to help make the process easier. Katniss will take anything at this point.

It’s the worst physical pain Katniss has ever experienced. And she’s been through a lot . She swears on Peeta’s life, that she’ll never let him touch her again after this. He just nods and lets her crush his hand in a vice grip as the contractions rip through her. 

When the sun is high in the sky, her mother finally lets her push. Katniss is pretty sure she screams so loud the entire district can hear her cries. She’s exhausted, leaning into the side of their bed as she sways and yells. Its hot white pain, ripping through her back and twisting like knives in her stomach. Her brain can barely register it. Peeta tries to soothe her. All she can do is snap and scream at him. 

“The shoulders are through, Katniss.” Her mother says, encouraging her to keep going.

Katniss could cry in relief, knowing the hard part is over. The baby is out quickly afterwards. Katniss collapses into the bed, and Peeta praises her endlessly.

“It’s a girl.” Her mother says, and then there’s the piercing cry of a new born child. 

It startles Katniss at first. That sound has haunted her dreams for years. She pushes herself up, and Peeta helps her properly get into the bed, instead of hanging off the edge. Her mother smiles bright, cradling the cocoon of yellow blankets in her arms, wiping gently at a small face. It’s carefully placed in Katniss’s shaky arms.

The sight catches her breath. It’s the tiniest little thing she’s held since Prim. A soft dark wisp of hair on her small head. A tiny nose that Katniss can’t help but recognize as Peeta’s.

Peeta’s breath catches over Katniss’s shoulder. “She’s gorgeous.” He whispers. 

She’s captivated. There’s tears streaming down her cheeks. And in that moment, Katniss knows she’d fight tooth and nail for this child. With her entire being. She would die, and she would kill. 

She doesn’t want to let her go, but her arms feel weak, and her eyelids heavy, a bone-deep exhaustion like she’s never felt before swimming through her. And her mother is trying to get her ready to pass the placenta. Peeta gently takes the tiny bundle when Katniss mutters his name. Katniss watches him. His soft blue eyes fill with tears. Its shock, on that gorgeous face. Katniss watches it morph into one of the largest smiles she’s ever seen. And then his eyes meet hers, and the smile grows, eyes glittering like topaz.

Peeta leans down, pressing a kiss to her lips. It’s a bad angle, and Katniss is too exhausted to give the effort needed, but it says everything she needs to hear.

The world feels soft again. Her chest feels warm, instead of racing with panic. She can hear the wind chimes on the back porch. The occasional click of the fan overhead. Peeta brushes sweat off her forehead, eyes falling back to the baby.

She feels the exhaustion tug harder at her limbs. The only thing that keeps her awake is the faint contractions that wash over her and the radiating pain that lingers. Her mother shakes at one of her legs, telling her not to sleep yet. She fights heavy eyelids as she passes the placenta. Her eyes slip close, and she falls somewhere into sleep as the contractions stop, and she feels the baby placed against her chest. 

When she wakes up she feels beyond sore. When her eyes flutter open she sees Peeta laying next to her, staring at the bundle of blankets laying between them. She watches him in silence, looking around the room. It looks to be the afternoon, with the way the light falls in their bedroom. The bedroom window is still open, and the curtains flutter softly. She hears distant birdsong. A white feather sits on the floor under the windowsill.

She’s reluctant to move. She licks her lips, feeling parched. Peeta finally looks up, and then he smiles. 

“You’re awake!” He shifts, leaning over to reach behind him. He holds out a glass of water, which she takes. He helps her sit up so she can drink. Her entire body hurts. It’s not entirely a new experience, but it's not one she missed, and it certainly hurts in ways it never has before. She downs nearly the whole glass.

And then she smells herself. And it’s awful. And she’s acutely aware that she feels disgusting. Still covered in dried sweat and other fluids that she’d prefer not to think about.

Peeta kisses her forehead, a hand rubbing softly at her arm. “Your mom’s downstairs, making us a late lunch. You’ve been sleeping for a couple hours. The baby’s already been fed. She’s been sleeping for a while.” He whispers softly. 

Katniss sighs. She still feels exhausted. 

“Hey, don’t cry.” Peeta frowns. 

Katniss hadn’t realized she was. She blinks, touching her cheek. It’s wet. Peeta kisses her forehead again.

“I…” her voice is raspy. “I feel gross.” She whispers.

Peeta nods. “I can run you a bath.”

She frowns. “I-“ and the cry comes out of her faster than she expected, “I’m so tired.”

Peeta takes her cheeks, head tilting slightly. “It’s okay, Kat. I can clean you up. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it, alright?”

Her chest shakes as she sniffles, nodding. He wipes her tears, and kisses her cheeks. 

“I’ll be right back. You want to hold our baby? She’s precious.” He says softly, gently scooping her up. 

Katniss nods. Peeta carefully places her in her arms. And Katniss is immediately captivated by that tiny little face. Peeta wanders off, but she doesn’t really notice, too preoccupied with the little being in her arms.

Her mother slips quietly into the bedroom, taking a seat next to her. She presses a kiss to Katniss’s head.

“She’s gorgeous.” She says. “I’m proud of you.”

Katniss cries then. It’s a simple thing, but it means a lot. Her mother just wipes her tears, and carefully gives her a side hug. 

“I’ll watch her while you bathe. I have a yummy soup on the stove. I’m sure you’re starving. The baby will probably be ready to be fed when you’re done. Also, Haymitch is lingering downstairs. He says he’ll wait as long as you need. He won’t admit it, but he’s excited.” 

Katniss lets out a soft scoff, the tears still slipping down her cheeks. She just nods, and finally looks up at her mother. She has a gentle smile on her face. And Katniss suddenly wishes Prim were here too. Prim would love this baby. So would Katniss’s father. It hurts. And she cries harder.

Her mother seems to read her mind. She swipes a stray strand of hair out of Katniss’s face, frowning slightly. “I wish they were here too. They’d be just as proud of you, Katniss.” She says softly, her own eyes watering.

Peeta comes in, a worried look on his face. “Is everything okay?” He asks.

Her mother nods. “We’re just reminiscing. And Katniss has had a rough day.” She swipes another piece of hair out of Katniss’s face. “She’s ready for her bath.” 

Katniss lets her mother take the baby, and Peeta gently scoops her up out of the bed and carries her to the bathroom. He gently sets her down on the toilet. He helps peel off the shirt, and Katniss tries to pee. It hurts, but she expected that. 

He helps set her into the tub, slow and gentle.

“Is it too hot? Too cold?” He asks.

She grunts, relaxing into the water. “It’s perfect.” 

Peeta kisses her cheek, and undoes her braid. He slowly drenches her hair, and massages her scalp and shoulders. Katniss melts into his hands, eyes slipping close.

“You did such an amazing job Katniss.” He breathes. “Thank you.” 

He showers her with praise and kisses. Asks where she hurts, and what he can do to help. The answer is not much. But he tries. He scrubs her down. He drains the tub and turns on the shower head, and very gently cleans between her legs. He presses kisses to her shoulders, calling her all kinds of variations of pretty and gorgeous. He’s careful and patient, and it reminds her of all the times he did this for her when she was grieving for Prim.

“Thank you.” She breathes, crying again. 

“Of course honey.” He smiles.

“No I- I mean, for everything. For- all these years. Thank you.”

Peeta just hums, and kisses the tears off her cheeks. “I love you.” 

And he’s warm, just like the sun. Lights up the room, and the world, and makes Katniss’s insides flutter, even after all this time. 

“I love you.” She whispers.

When she’s squeaky clean he helps her climb out, and then dries her off. He helps her get dressed into something comfortable. The bed has been cleaned up, with new sheets and a comforter. The white feather that was on the floor before is gone.

“You want to sleep or go down stairs?”

Katniss feels more awake now. And she’s hungry. 

“Down stairs.” She whispers.

Peeta nods, and then scoops her up and whisks her down the stairs. Katniss can smell the soup her mom made, and it smells delicious. 

Haymitch is lounging in their living room, splayed out on the recliner and flipping through TV channels. Peeta sets Katniss down on the couch. He kisses her head and then slips into the kitchen.

Haymitch practically jumps out of his chair. “Hey.” He says, looking almost startled.

“Hey.” Katniss offers him a smile.

Haymitch just looks at her, eyes scanning. And then he surprises her. He comes forward, and crushes her into a hug. 

“Oh!” Katniss squeaks.

“How are you feeling sweetheart?” Haymitch asks, pulling back to look at her. “You alright? I could hear you all the way from across the road.” 

Katniss grunts. “Sore. And tired. But glad it’s over.”

Haymitch grins, a cheeky smile. His mouth opens to say something, but then Peeta is walking in, cradling a yellow blanket in his arms. Haymitch goes silent, grey eyes watching him.  

“Do you want to hold her?” He asks softly. 

Haymitch swallows, glancing over at Katniss. Katniss just nods. And then Haymitch reaches out, and the baby is placed carefully in his arms.

Katniss doesn’t expect the tears. Haymitch doesn’t seem to be expecting them either. His breath hitches, and they’re suddenly rolling down his cheeks.

“Oh.” He says, voice wobbly. His hands are too full of newborn baby to wipe the tears. He laughs, little breaths. “Wow.”

The rest of the afternoon is gentle. Katniss’s mother spoons her soup as she relaxes on the couch. Haymitch practically hogs the baby, staring at her with fascination. He very quickly hands her over to Katniss when she starts to cry. 

“What’s her name?” Her mother asks as she folds stacks of baby clothes that Effie had sent over months ago. 

Katniss swipes over the dark wisp of hair on her small head, watching as she suckles and drinks. She adjusts the blanket that covers them, glancing up at Peeta, who’s watching her with a fond expression from the recliner.

It’s the start of spring. The winter snow has finally melted away. She knows, from years of experience, that down by the lake the katniss is starting to sprout outside the abandoned cabin. And the willow branches overhead would be blooming, swaying gently in the wind.

“Willow?” She offers, reminded of the name from so long ago, from brief moments of happiness on a salty beach. 

Peeta’s eyes meet hers. He swallows, and then nods. “Willow is good.” He breathes.

- - - - -

The first month is hard. They all are, really. But Katniss struggles, especially the first week. She sits awake most nights staring into the crib, terrified of what might happen when she looks away. Her head hurts, and she’s exhausted. The times she finally manages to fall asleep, she’s either plagued with nightmares of losing Willow, or she wakes up to the sound of piercing cries.

The first few times she heard those cries it sent chills down her spine and panic scrambling in her chest. Those cries have made a home in her nightmares for years, and now they’ve come to life. It makes her jump every time, heart racing. Peeta is far better at calming Willow down, scooping her up and hushing against a tiny head, patting gently at her tiny little back. Katniss usually freezes, and doesn’t know what to do. It makes her feel like a terrible mother, that she’s scared of her own baby. All she’s good for is staring and feeding. 

Eventually it gets better. Peeta is so sweet and understanding. He drags her to bed, and she eventually falls asleep. And Katniss’s mother convinces her to listen to Dr. Aurelius and take the pills that are supposed to help with the depression. The pills make it easier to sleep. Helps the nightmares fade, and makes it easier to look at her daughter and not be filled with a hollow sense of guilt. 

Haymitch helps a lot. Or, sort of. He likes to steal the baby when she’s calm and happy, and then very quickly hands her off when she starts to cry. He refuses to help with dirty diapers, and is willing to feed her until one time she throws up on him afterwards. But he gives them moments to relax and get in naps, so Katniss really can’t complain about the temporary baby-napping. And it's cute, when he passes out in the recliner with Willow splayed out on his chest, thumb in her mouth as she sleeps, drooling on his shirt. Katniss never would have taken Haymitch as a gentle soul with a soft spot for babies. He tries to act like it's no big deal, putting on a stoic face. But she still catches him cooing at her, poking at those chubby cheeks and whispering a soft “I love you like all-fire” when he thinks none of them are listening.

It gets easier. In some ways, at least. Every day brings new surprises and new challenges, but overall Katniss starts to get the hang of it, and they fall into a routine of sorts. She turns over the first time when Katniss’s mother is playing with her. Starts crawling the first time when Haymitch comes over for dinner one night and opens his arms up in a greeting. Willow’s first word is “uh oh”, when Peeta spills a can of corn meal across the floor. She takes her first steps when none of them are looking, too busy discussing restarting the Mellark bakery. She bumps into Katniss’s leg, pretty blue eyes staring up at her mother, and they all squeal. And then she starts getting herself into all kinds of trouble, and Katniss never would have expected that baby-proofing the house would be such a tedious thing. But Willow makes up for it in all the brightness she brings to their world.

On an early summer day, Willow chases Peeta across the kitchen. Katniss catches her and spins them in circles. She slaps tiny hands onto Katniss’s cheeks, flour poofing across her mother’s face. Willow releases a peel of laughter, happiness pouring out of her like ambrosia. Peeta tickles her stomach and she squirms in Katniss’s arms, giggling endlessly, face pink. An hour later they sit on the back porch as the warm sun shines down on the garden, enjoying freshly baked cookies. Peeta bounces her on his knee as he tries to teach her how to hold a paintbrush. She’s more interested in slapping paint-covered hands onto the canvas. Peeta treats each hand-print as a flower, drawing stems and leaves. Katniss just watches, smiling as she weaves a tiny flower crown. It's in that moment, that Katniss is pretty sure all of this was inevitable. It would have happened this way regardless of the games, or the revolution. It might have taken them longer to get here, but they would have found their way here eventually. She’s glad she’s found this. It’s a paradise that she only could have hoped for. And it’s then that she decides that sometime in the future, she wants more of this.

Peeta reads to her before bed at night. Occasionally it’s out of the memory book, telling her about their fallen friends and family. Most times it’s books he’s picked up from the new book store in town. A lot of them are of ancient myths, far before the dark days. Katniss recognizes some of the names, like Artemis and Apollo. It reminds her of Cinna. Other nights he makes up his own stories, featuring old friends and random characters he’s made up. They go on grand adventures, climbing mountains and slaying hydras and gargantuan lions. Sometimes he sketches pictures for her, and as she gets older she adds to them. Sometimes Katniss stands quietly in the doorway, listening and smiling. Sometimes she cries, but she swipes away the tears quickly.

Peeta lets her help make cookies. She’s too little to understand, but he tries his hardest to teach her how to bake bread, explaining how the yeast works and how to knead the dough. She’s not good at it, but she’s little and cute and makes up for it. 

Sometimes during the day Katniss takes her to the woods. It gets easier as she gets older, when she has better balance. Katniss tells her about all the flowers and the plants, and which ones they can pick and which ones they should never touch. She tries to teach her how to walk quietly–as quietly as a toddler can–through the forest, so as to not scare off any food. She turns it into a game; who can be quieter through the woods. Katniss is the clear winner, but she always pretends it’s Willow. Peeta won’t let her teach her how to hunt yet. Katniss begrudgingly agrees to wait until she’s five before she teaches her how to skin a squirrel. 

She takes her to the stones, and cries when Willow places the flowers she’s picked down at each of the makeshift graves, completely unaware of the meaning of the action. She’s too young to understand, too young to be told of the real horrors of the world. But when she smiles with those pretty blue eyes, Katniss can’t help but smile back, wiping away her tears for another time.

She teaches her how to swim in the lake. By the age of three she can swim better than Katniss can. Peeta just watches them from the shallows as their baby girl floats on her back, eyes closed as the sun shines down through the willow branches above. Katniss sings on those days, when she’s full of love and happiness and longing for lost friends and family to share the peaceful moments with. Songs her father used to sing to her when she was little. And the mockingjays always pause to listen, and then sing with her. 

Haymitch teaches her all kinds of things. Mostly how to cause trouble. But he also teaches her to be resourceful. And she grows up helping him care for the ever-growing flock of geese. She babbles his ears off as they toss out feed, and he sweeps her up off the ground when the mother geese get too agitated with her messing with the goslings. He learns to braid her hair, and likes to keep it in two braids. He calls her his sweetheart, and squeezes her close before she runs across the green to go back home. She calls him “gam-paw”, against his wishes, because it's easier than saying Haymitch, and Katniss and Peeta always get a kick out of it. 

They get pictures of Annie and Lucas in the mail, and Katniss is always struck with how much he looks like his dad. They visit a few times, and Annie gives Katniss this giant smile when she meets Willow for the first time. Effie always sends presents on Willow’s birthday, fancy dresses and makeup and things that Willow has no interest in. But the few times Effie does visit, she captivates Willow with stories as they play dress up. Johanna visits once. She isn’t very interested in Willow, but makes a rare comment to Katniss about being proud of her, that they’ve really started to move on. Gale doesn’t visit. But he sends letters. Katniss answers some of them, sends a picture a few times. 

Katniss’s mother visits at least every other day during the spring, summer, and fall. She goes back to District four in the winters. On the days her mother does visit them, she almost always brings a gift. It's usually something small. Sometimes it's a pretty pebble, a small flower, or a tiny bite of cheese. But Willow is always so happy to see her, all wide smiles and dimpled cheeks. And sometimes Willow has presents for her too. Like the day that she jumps into her grandma’s arms, and tells her she’s going to be a big sister.

- - - - -

Lilting laughter trails through the meadow. A soft breeze filters through the trees. The sun is warm. The picnic blanket spread out beneath her is soft. Mockingjays pick up the song of a dove call, singing through the forest behind her. Peace floats like feathers on the wind.

Peeta’s laughter flutters through the tall grass and wildflowers. She looks over, watching him tuck dark waves behind Willow’s ear, and then gently places a dandelion crown on her head. He whispers something to her that makes her giggle, and she jumps towards him to wrap him in a hug. He smiles, brighter than the sun, as he hugs her close. 

Rye makes a noise in her arms, gurgling and starting up a cry. 

“Oh, it’s alright.” She soothes, starting to rock. She gently swipes over his cheek. “Did you have a nightmare?” She whispers. She brushes at his blond curls. He’s still waking up, soft eyes blinking away sleep. “I have nightmares too.” She whispers. 

She has a lot of them, her and Peeta both. Their life is so simple, so easy and warm, but the past still haunts them. Katniss still has moments where fear wracks her bones and makes her shake and shiver in the night. Their children don’t quite understand. Willow’s old enough to have learned about the games in school. She knows they’ve played a part in them, but she doesn’t know all the horrors. And Katniss never wants her children to know it all. She doesn’t want them to know that when they play in this meadow, they play in a graveyard. That a lot of Katniss’s nightmares actually happened.

Peeta says it will be okay. They have each other, and the book. They can make them understand in a way that will make them braver; have already started, with Willow. But someday Katniss will have to explain the nightmares. Why they came. Why they won’t ever really go away.

Some day she’ll explain to them how she survives it. How some days it’s impossible to let herself take pleasure in it all, because she still fears all of this could be taken away.

“I have a game,” she whispers, “When my nightmares get bad. When I start to worry too much.” She watches his soft face, “I make a list, of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do.” A lot of those acts are from Peeta. But as the years have gone by, she’s seen more. And she remembers others, from before. “It gets tedious after a while. After all these years,” she smiles at him, swiping his cheek, “But there are much worse games to play.”

Rye stares at her, goose-grey eyes filled with wonder. He reaches for her hand, tiny fingers squeezing. Willow’s laughter floats over, pretty like a poem. Rye turns, pushing himself up to sit on Katniss’s lap so he can see them. Peeta is twirling Willow in circles, and she giggles and squeals.

“Mama,” Rye says, pointing a barely coordinated finger.

She nods. “Yes, you can go play.” She smiles.

He grabs onto her, and she helps him stand on his chubby toddler legs, and then he toddles out into the grass after his sister, babbling towards them as he weaves through the wild daisies. Peeta calls him closer, and then scoops him up and spins him in his arms, all smiles and happiness.

Yes. They’ll be okay. 

THE END

Where nature unmakes the boundary

The pillar of myth still stands

The Swan Upon Leda

Occupier upon ancient lands

The gateway to the world

Was still outside the reach of him

Would never belong to angels

Had never belonged to men