My Light

The light that seeps through the window above our bed is cold and uninviting. Not like the yellow and orange streaks of a warm sunrise that always seem to bring a smile to Peeta's face, which lately has transferred to me and made me unable to not mimic his expression. Unfortunately those days seem to be long gone and now, as we are in the middle of February, all I can seem to think about is the lack of light. That, and the life now growing within me.

Peeta and I found out a couple of months ago, after I had been throwing up violently for a duration of days. I still remember the terrible taste and the acid burning in my throat. Not that I'd never thrown up before, just this time it was so... different. The nausea seemed to return almost instantly after my date with the nearest place to dispose of the content of my stomach, but then, after a little while it would seem to just vanish. It had always been over as quickly as it had started.

And this went on for days on end until Peeta, after patiently keeping my hair out of my face, finally voiced his concern, a concern that had been growing in the back of my own mind as well, a concern that I hadn't allowed myself to think about in fear of the consequences for myself, for my already fragile mind and general stability.

"Katniss, what if you're pregnant?"

When he said it I froze. How could he afford to think like that? Was it really a plausible probability after just one time? My menstrual cycle was unpredictable at best, and especially after the games it had been all over the place, sometimes skipping two or three months or having me bleed for two weeks straight. I tried to think back, but I couldn't seem to remember having it for a long time actually.

The vomit, the missing periods, the general moodiness... I felt a coldness spreading from my chest to my stomach and I had to force myself not to start hyperventilating.

But despite all the proof, I quickly dismissed Peeta.

"No, that's completely impossible" I mumbled, barely audible, but of course he caught it. As an answer, he was quiet a long time.

"Well, if you think about it, it actually is..." he never got to finish his sentence.

" I am notpregnant," I hissed as I got myself away from the toilet where I had spent the last 30 minutes.

It couldn't be, it really couldn't. Our first and only time had been extremely clumsy and awkward and there was no way a child could have been conceived from that. Or was there? God dammit. No, nothing was carved in stone. None of us were sure; maybe some stomach bug had just affected me the last couple weeks? Wishful thinking.

My thoughts were racing and my stress level was climbing higher for every second that passed. I wanted to block out the world, grab my bow and run out in the woods, go hunting and feel the cold winter air on my feverish flesh.

I had sworn to myself to never have any children. I didn't want them to go through the same struggles as Prim and I had had to go through, and although I was now a victor there was no guarantee that hunger would stay away. But hunger was only one thing. There war also the Hunger Games. That had always been my main reason for not wanting to bring any children into this world. There would always be the chance of them getting reaped, and if that happened, I would never be able to forgive myself. But now that Peeta and I had both won, and that in the same games, if we, the infamous star-crossed lovers from district 12, were to have a child together, that would mean giving said child a one-way ticket to certain death. Children of victors always ended up on the stage in front of their district's justice building with their names typed on the "randomly" picked paper slip. And having your name on that paper was the same as having it inscribed on a gravestone. The reapings were always rigged, and so were the games. Apparently a bit of 'family drama' was always great entertainment for the twisted people of the Capitol. And that was all The Hunger Games were to them: entertainment.

My stomach did an uncomfortable turn at merely the thought of giving my own child, a little piece of Peeta and me in one body of flesh and blood, a living, breathing human being, up to the Capitol and to the cruel fate of being slaughtered on national, live television.

The feeling of Peeta's strong hands on my shoulders brought me out of my thoughts. Tears I had tried so hard to hold back were now traveling down my cheeks and the sensation of false security that Peeta's touch always gave me was making everything worse.

" Hey...Katniss, nothing is confirmed yet, this might just be some stupid scare that we're working ourselves up about for no reason" he said, but I could hear a hint of desperation and uncertainty in his usually so steady voice, and that, the thought of not even Peeta being sure or able to calm me down, broke me completely.

Not bothering to control the tears any more, I turned around, now facing him, and walked straight into his embrace. His strong arms wrapped around me instantly and with my shivering frame pressed against his warm body, I sobbed against his chest.

"It's going to be okay" Peeta hummed in a low, soothing voice against my ear while stroking my back gently. His breath made me suddenly aware of how close we were and as by instinct I almost pulled away, but got a hold of myself in the last second. If I were actually pregnant, then I would probably have to spend the rest of my life with Peeta and I'd have to become comfortable with having him inside my personal space. Not that the Capitol would have any different plans for us, but now with this life changing discovery everything seemed so much more... real. This was actually happening to us. Maybe President Snow would have us get married before the legal age just because of this baby? Surprisingly, the thought of spending the rest of my days with Peeta didn't seem so daunting as I thought it would seem, but I just wish that it had been on our own accord, not forced on us by the Capitol. As Haymich once had told me: Peeta was worth ten times the likes of me, and I knew that was true. Sweet, caring and loving Peeta stuck with a cold-hearted murderer like me just because I had held out those berries in the arena.

I dug my face into the fabric of his shirt and tightened my grip around his neck as waves of sobs wrecked through my body. I had to use my last ounce of willpower to keep myself from screaming my head off and potentially scare the life out of Prim and my mother downstairs.

Oh God, Prim and mom.

"What are we going to tell them?" I forced out between sobs, my heart racing at the thought of possible consequences.

"Tell whom?" Peeta gently whispered into my hair.

"Prim and mom! If I'm... pregnant." I found it hard to say the word out loud, "then how the hell are they going to react?"

Again his silence filled the room, only interrupted by my now less powerful and more controlled crying. His heartbeat was steady beneath my hand. I could hear his sharp intake of breath and knew that he was about to say something, but before he even got the chance there was a knock on the door and it opened to my mother standing outside in the hallway. I could see her eyes shift between the two of us as I clung to Peeta with all my strength, but if she was embarrassed or confused, she hid it well.

"Is everything alright in here?" she asked. "I thought I heard you crying, Katniss, so I just wanted to check on you."

"Mrs. Everdeen, I didn't get to say hello to you when I arrived, how lovely to see you!" Peeta released me and went to shake her hand. He smiled at her and his sudden act of polite friendliness must have taken her by surprise, because her eyes softened a little bit.

"I'm glad to see you too, Peeta. Now, do any of you want to tell me what's going on?"

A couple of days after I came home from the Capitol and the games, she had apologized to me. For being a bad mother, neglecting us, and for letting us starve. I had told her that it was alright, that I understood why she had let herself become a ghost of herself, although I really didn't, and after that she had tried her hardest to compensate for all the lost years and really tried to become a mother again. I accepted her acts of kindness- letting her run baths for me, braid my hair or make me cups of tea. And now that she was standing in the doorway in front of me, I could see a motherly worry in her eyes that I hadn't seen since before my father's death. A look that showed that she actually cared for my well-being.

What were we going to tell her? If this pregnancy were indeed a fact, then she would get to know about it sooner or later. Maybe she had already connected the dots, being a healer and all, and with my nausea and shifting mood the last weeks it would be easy for someone as skilled as her to see that something was going on. She was in fact the closest you could get to a proper midwife in all of district 12 without having to pay a year's earning for the services provided. I had seen her deliver countless children of women in 12 in our living room, and if someone would be able to help me, it would be her. It was then that I decided to, just for once, rely on her for something important. I wanted her to be my mother, my protector of sorts, and I wanted her to look after me, to help me through.

"Mom, I..."

I tried my best to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over, and it was odd hearing my voice this vulnerable, but for now I allowed myself to be the scared child I actually was, the sixteen-year-old girl who had been forced to grow up too fast.

I tried to collect my thoughts and to form a coherent sentence between the stupid sniffles I couldn't control, and I was able to get out something almost understandable:

"You know I have been sick the last weeks and behaving oddly and doing weird things and…" I kept babbling, struggling to figure out how to say it. I wish I were as good with words as Peeta was, being able to use my silver tongue to get out of uncomfortable situations. Situations like this one, for instance. My mother must have sensed my building panic, because she gripped me by my shoulders and held me tightly in place, maybe afraid I would fly out of the room, into the woods, never to return.

" Katniss, are you pregnant?" Her tone was calm and collected, without the anger or disappointment I was afraid of hearing. Of course she had understood everything. Maybe she had even come to the conclusion long before Peeta and I and had even begun thinking of the possibility of such a thing.

Relieved I hadn't needed to say it out loud, I just nodded weakly, letting tears run down my face once again. I didn't like showing this much emotion to anyone and I despised my weakness.

To my surprise my mother pulled me in for a hug for the first time in years. It felt strange being this close to her. Unfamiliar. She didn't smell the same as when I was little and my father was still alive. Back then her scent consisted of coal dust, like almost everyone in twelve, but there were also hints of honey and faint vanilla, wherever that came from. Now the coal dust had been replaced by a fresh soap, and the honey was gone, but there was still something comforting about it all. She felt fragile underneath my embrace, almost like a twig about to break, despite having access to enough food for three lifetimes, and I was almost afraid to tighten my hold of her.

"We're not certain yet, she hasn't taken a test or anything," I could hear Peeta say from behind me.

"We'll figure this out, dear" My mother mumbled into my hair. "I'll get hold of a test somewhere so we can get his cleared up."

"Sounds good," Peeta answered. Was his voice shaking?

"Aren't you mad?" I whispered to my mother. She took her time before she answered me.

" I'm not angry, Katniss, but I am worried. Have you two thought about what a pregnancy will bring? What about the future of the child?"

I knew she was talking about the reapings and this baby's enormous chance of becoming the Capitol's new puppet along with its parents. I was glad she didn't say it out loud though; hearing her express her worries might have become too much for me.

" I don't know what we are going to do," I muttered, eyes fixed on the floor. At least we would have twelve years before we needed to start worrying about the reapings, but until then we would have to deal with the cameras and interviews and the lunatics from the Capitol, crazy after a piece of us, the victors and star-crossed lover from District 12.

" Nobody can know," I said, stubbornness obvious in my voice, as I released myself from my mother's arms.

" Not the district or the Hob, least of all the Capitol, or God forbid, President Snow," I shuddered when I said his name. "Not even Gale."

I don't know how keeping my pregnancy a secret would benefit the baby or Peeta and myself, but my mother had her eyes on me and I could feel Peeta's from behind. The room was silent. After a while my mother, although with a weak voice, spoke up:

" You cannot keep this hidden forever, Katniss. You'll grow and change in more ways than you can imagine, and a secret child of two victors won't go unnoticed very long."

" She's right, Katniss," Peeta chimed in. " If you don't want to tell anyone we'll of course support you, but we need to think about this more thoroughly."

They were both right, of course, but I was still scared of what the reveal of my pregnancy would lead to.

" I don't even know how far along I am! It will remain a secret as long as possible, at least if I have my say. And that's it."

"Of course you have a say, Katniss. This is your call," my mother agreed. Then she smiled, "I'll get you that test." And she exited my bedroom and Peeta and I were left alone.

The cold and grey light of early morning is replaced with the warm glow from the tabletop lamp on Peeta's side when he wakes up besides me. His blond hair is everywhere and he has dark circles under his eyes, but he still looks so good I have to smile at his confused face.

"Morning," I mumble and shuffle closer to him under the comforter. He instantly wraps his arms around me. "Are you okay?" he croaks.

The pregnancy hormones, or so I tell myself, have made me more affectionate towards others, Peeta especially. I never really liked physical touch of the sappy sort, but as my pregnancy progresses, the more I want him close to me. I have a hard time letting him go in the mornings when he leaves for the bakery, but he makes it up to me by bringing freshly baked cheese buns back. My displays of affection seem to constantly surprise Peeta, which under normal circumstances might have hurt my feelings, but I'm usually too far-gone in his embraces to worry much about it.

"I'm good," I say as I sneak myself to a kiss he sweetly returns. "Did you sleep well?"

I already know the answer, but I keep hoping it will be different the next time I ask, but that never happens.

"Not really," he says, his voice tired, "You know, the same old. But you seemed strangely calm tonight," The way he says it makes it sound like a question.

"I don't think I had any nightmares for a change, or at least my dreams were less vivid tonight," I reply. I can't really remember what I dreamt, which might imply they weren't that interesting.

" That's great, Katniss. It's very important that you get enough good sleep,"

" The same goes for you, Peeta, you know that. If you want to wake me up during the night, then please do so. I don't think any of us want to be alone after a nightmare."

He nods and gives my cheek a quick caress, the small touch sending shivers down my spine. Then he pushes the covers away and I feel the dip in the bed as he gets up to face the day.