I laid my head on Peeta's shoulder, as I always did at this time of night. He sighed at my touch and drew small circles on my back as I stared up in the large canopy of down that enveloped us. Our bed in Victor's Village was nothing like the small, cot like existence I had when I lived in the Seam.

Wow, the Seam! It seems like it was so long ago that I lived there, like a dream within a dream. My life before the games was a hard one, but nothing compared to what it turned into. I want to recall the memory but it hurts too much, and I don't want to ruin this sweet moment with the tainted aftermath of thought that haunts me every night.
Peeta must have been staring at my twisted expression for some time, because I just noticed he's been tracing the features of my face, trying to get me to calm down. I looked up at him pathetically and nuzzled myself deeper into his broad shoulders. I just wanted to disappear in his warm embrace for however long he would allow me.

We stayed silent for a long, long time, drifting off into complete bliss. The blankets cocooned us in a warm encirclement of our own content and the darkness of the room seemed heavy, but needed; there was no one here but him and I, and that was all there ever needed to be. The huge expanse of people who bother us on a daily basis goes on and on. I understand that we were the faces of the Rebellion, but it happened so long ago that all I want to do is forget.

Suddenly I think about what might have happened if Peeta and I hadn't have met in the Games, and he would have just remained the Boy with the Bread to me. Would we have met some other way? Gotten married? Or would I have ended up with Gale?
I mull over this for a while, feeling a sharp pang of anger when I think about Gale. A large part of me hates him; how dare he leave me here! Getting a fancy job in District 2, getting a beautiful wife and having beautiful children! Sometimes the thought of him being with anyone else still sickens me.
But then I think of what he did to Prim. My sweet Prim, who had so much to give, was so wise for her age. Much wiser then I was, that's for sure. She would have been 20 a few days ago, and I realize its hard for me to think about her as anything but a frail, blonde 14 year old with the whole world at her feet.

Peeta interrupts my thoughts with a kiss on the forehead, and this surfaces me back to reality. "…Katniss?" his voice startles me a bit, and I grasp what he's asking before he asks it.
I turn over to my side and sigh heavily in exasperation. "No."
He gently holds my torso and turns me toward him, his irresistible blue eyes piercing me with longing. "But why? Children…they would be so wonderful. You would be an amazing mother. That's…just…everything would be so amazing."

His voice rises and falls with nervousness I've never heard. Peeta has never had trouble getting out words.

I want to ease his pain and silence his begging, but I just don't want children. Maybe it is the thought of then having to go to the reaping that used to torture me, but that isn't even the case anymore. I'm all out of ammo in this battle, and it's only a matter of time before I say yes. Peeta must realize that he's close, because he cradles his whole body around mine, outlining the shape of my physique with his.
"Please Katniss. It would…mean so much to me. Just…please."

I shake my head in the disbelief of what I'm about to do and sigh in annoyance at my weak resolve. Of all the times he's ever asked this of me, it's never been so hard to say no. I just can't see him like this anymore.
He takes my head shaking the wrong way and takes a sharp intake of breath in disappointment. "You know what, it doesn't even matter. Goodnight."
The swiftness of his warmth abandoning me leaves me breathless. I take a sharp gasp of air at his coldness and the creak of the bed as he turned over to the opposite side of me.
This breaks me more than anything he could have ever said. In this moment I just want to make him happy and please him.

I forcibly turn over and roughly get on top of him, feeling the heat of his body wrap me in longing. His face is surprised but victorious as he realizes what I'm doing. He returns my force and pulls me to him, kissing me with more hunger then I've ever seen him have. He's always been so gentle, always taken things so slow with me. This new, animalistic power is so attractive to me.

This is most definitely not the Boy with the Bread, but I am unquestionably the Girl on Fire.