Author's Note: I know most of you don't really read author's notes, so this is it.

All characters belong to Suzanne Collins, another book I would've messed up if the idea were mine.

The fingerprints on her arm turned a deep shade of red. She knew they would be blue in the morning, maybe even black.

They didn't hurt that much, though. What hurt a lot more was the pain in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated over and over, desperation in his voice. She wanted to reach out and hug him, kiss his tears away and make it all better, but every time she moved to close to him, he recoiled.

He was crying, tears streaming down his face. She knew that the guilt and self-hate were eating him up from the inside.

"It's okay," she said. "It happened before, don't worry about it."

Desperation turned to deep shame. Now he looked even more like a puppy who was kicked but somehow believes it's his fault.

"But it shouldn't happen!" He ran both his hands through his hair, smearing flour through it. "Especially not while you're-" He didn't finish the sentence, but his eyes slipped down to her swollen belly. It moved, kicking her (probably to make her say something in his defense) and she involuntarily groaned.

His eyes grew wide with fear. "Oh God, did I hurt you? Did I hurt her?"

She shook her head and opened her mouth to begin explaining why she was in pain, but he backed away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and escaped through the door. Not for the first time, she wished it was a little easier to run while pregnant.

By the time she was at their bedroom, he had locked himself into the bathroom attached to it.

She knocked against the door. A muffled reply came out.

"Go away."

"That's not fair," she protested. "Please, just talk to me."

She could hear the sobbing, even through the closed doors, and her heart soared.

He wouldn't open the door. He wouldn't even speak to her through it, and she was starting to panic.

What if he wasn't okay in there? What if he had another episode?

When the sun went down, she fetched Thom who broke down the door for her.

He was in a corner, paler than a ghost, his hair a mess. She knelt down next to him and he turned away from her.

"I'm sorry, Kat," he said.

She stretched out her hand to run it through his hair and he flinched.

"It's okay," she said nonetheless.

"No, it's not. You're pregnant. What if next time," he trembled, "next time I hurt not only your arm?"

Hurting her in a non-harmless, will fade in a few days way had, besides the choking incident happened once, all those years ago, shortly after the revolution was over. He had freaked out and smashed her against a doorframe. She had an open wound across her shoulder and it took forever and Haymitch to talk him around the fact that she was okay.

"I can't do this," he whispered. "I can't-I couldn't live with myself. I don't know how I still stand it, even now."

She tried to choke down the fear that had closed her throat.

"You're not," she tried. "You're a good person and a good father and we will be okay!"

He nodded slowly.

"Yes, we will be okay." He nodded again. "You will be okay."

"Exactly." Relief slowly edged its way up, but she wouldn't allow it to take over yet. "We will be fine. Now come out from that corner."

He ignored her.

"Kat, you said I were a good father, right?" She nodded. "And a good father is supposed to keep his child from all harm?"

Too late she realized that it was a trick question.

"Also when he himself is the harm?"

No. No. No. No. Oh God, please no.

But he slowly got up from his crouching position, and nodded. He seemed detached from the world. Panic was overwhelming her.

"Peeta-" she tried, but he was moving forward like in trance.

"Bye, Katniss," he whispered. "You'll be a fantastic mother, I'm sure of that if nothing else."

The first few weeks without him were horrible. She tried to understand him, be mad at him or reach for him. He was staying at Thom's. She knew he still baked, she didn't taste any difference when she pulled herself together enough to eat, and the cakes had his drawings in icing all over them.

He was still alive, she reassured herself. He hadn't tried to take his own life, it's fine. He was still alive.

She phoned Dr. Aurelius a million times about what had happened, even calling her mother. She cried. She talked to the little child, his child, growing inside her, reassuring her that everything was fine. Peeta was so sure it would be a girl, somewhere along the way she had begun to accept it as a fact.

She wouldn't accept the fact that Peeta had left her on her own.

Her belly grew more and more, but she was feeling nauseated all the time. She knew she wasn't eating enough, but she just couldn't bring herself to choke down a few bites on some days. On the worst days, she even wanted to go to Haymitch's and get drunk, but she knew for sure that this would harm the baby beyond imagining.

Thom, after a lot of pleading and begging, told her Peeta wasn't fine. He was tired because he wasn't sleeping and sick because he wasn't eating.

She wanted to hate him, then. Hate him for making her want to have a child with him and then leave her on her own, but deep down she knew that he still wanted that child. It was still his and he still loved them both. She was sure.

She had to be, at least to have some hope to cling to.

Thom never took her money when she wanted to pay. Another sign that Peeta still cared.

And one day, she just broke down.

It was on her porch. She had watered the primroses that Peeta had planted there a long time ago. She liked to just sit there, looking at them, but today it just reminded her of all things lost.

Her father. Prim. Now Peeta.

Haymitch was out, too. She hadn't seen him in a while, he had been visiting Effie in the former Capitol.

He blinked at her for just a second.

"That you, sweetheart? Damn. You're crying. What do I do?" He looked completely helpless. Also, confused.

"I'd offer you a drink, but you're knocked up. Shall I get bread boy?"

If she'd been crying before, she was in hysterics now.

"He's – not – here," she gasped in between sobs. "He's – not coming back, never coming back again."

Haymitch stared. "He died?"

She shook her head. "He left me."

Haymitch stared some more. And laughed.

She might be crying, but she could still scowl at him.

"Are you kidding? That boy would give up everything for you. He even did, quite a few times. Like ever being a daddy. And now, that he's about to become one, he's not gonna take off. Come on, sweetheart. You're messing with me."

She shook her head vigorously. Tears were still streaming down her cheeks, falling onto her rounded belly. Haymitch's face froze in a way that was both sad and funny.

"He really did leave you?! I know why, but…damn!"

"Thanks, Haymitch," she muttered.

"Didn't mean it in that way." He shrugged it off. "But seriously, what did you do?"

She vowed to stay calm (she had survived two hunger games, after all.) She took a deep breath.

And then she blurted out everything.

Haymitch seemed slightly in awe with her while she talked. She probably had never said that many words at once, at least not to him. She started crying again (she blamed the damn hormones, she was pretty sure she would have just beat Peeta up until he came back home pre-pregnancy) and that seemed to terrify him even more. And make him more determined.

"Jesus, someone gotta talk some sense into that kid."

She nodded, and he smiled at her in a surprisingly soft way.

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'm on it."

Peeta didn't just not-listen to Haymitch, no. He didn't even react to anything Haymitch was throwing at his head (not literally.) Haymitch seemed to take this pretty personal, but Katniss had been expecting something like that. He had always been stubborn. Not as stubborn as her, but getting close to that.

Haymitch told her to not give up.

But the next morning she woke up in a puddle of blood. And she had never been more terrified.

She screamed for Peeta, still half asleep. He didn't come, Haymitch did. He wasn't very sober, which made it even harder for him to mask his fear. And knowing. Knowing why she was bleeding.

She knew it too, deep down. Like when her mother had lost her brother in-between her and Prim.

She had lost the last of Peeta in her life.

A doctor from the newly-built District Twelve hospital arrived, and she was numb.

He smiled sadly at her, someone trained to break bad news to other people. He also informed her about the surgery she had to have to have the corpse removed from inside her body.

She smiled at Haymitch when he asked her if she was okay, but she had died.

She wouldn't move from her bed. She lay in Peeta's side, smelling the scent that was part bakery and part just him. It had faded in the last few weeks.

But two days after the terrible news had been broken to her, she was kicked.

She bolted upright. Something kicked again. She was supposed to have surgery in a few hours.

When she told the doctor, he told her she was imagining things. But she wouldn't lie down on the operation table or even as much as take off her clothes before they did a scan.

The baby was alive. It had just kicked her stupidly, which had set the blood off.

She would be mad at her for the scare, but she was just so, so relieved.

She loved her already so much.

The days went by, and Katniss' belly grew a little bit every day. She was huge, and didn't even have Peeta to tell her she was beautiful.

All bits and pieces of anger and resentment against Peeta had faded. She just wanted him back.

She longed for him now more than ever, which was why she went to the bakery more often than usual. All the baked goods reminded her of him, if only just a little. Thom was nice to her, asking her how she was and still giving her all the things for free.

Until one day, when Peeta was behind the counter instead of him.

She froze up just as much as him, but he snapped back quicker.

"Thom's sick," he whispered. She didn't answer.

He looked a lot like Peeta, but not the Peeta she knew. He looked like injured Peeta from her first hunger games. Dark circles around his eyes, which were hollow, also unlike Cave-Peeta who had always at least tried to look on the bright side. He was pale, and she got the feeling he was transparent. He had lost a lot of weight.

When he cleared his throat, she started.

"Did you want anything?" He gestured to the baked goods. She nodded and randomly pointed at something, she didn't care what it was. If she didn't get out of here soon, she'd fling herself at him.

He packed whatever it was into a bag and pushed it over the counter. She didn't miss how his eyes were fixed on her belly, a longing in his eyes.

Of course.

Peeta had wanted to be a father all his life. Now that he had finally persuaded her into going down that road with him, he wasn't allowing himself to do anything. Not touch her belly, not make her food, not rub her feet.

For a fleeting second, Katniss felt sorry for him. Then she felt liquid running down her legs.

First, she thought she had wet herself, but then she felt the cramp and her hand flew to her belly with a startled breath.

"Katniss?" Peeta was staring at her in concern. "Are you alright?" She nodded, and shook her head, gasping.

"Katniss?!" He was urging her to say something, anything.

"Get help," she whispered. "Please."

He nodded with wide eyes while she sat down against the counter. When he returned, a million years but barely a second had past.

With him he brought an older woman. Katniss knew her only a little. Her mother had known her. She had to be good enough.

Even though she had her eyes closed, she addressed Peeta. "Don't – don't leave again. Please." She could feel him hesitating, so she tried again. "I can't do this without you, I can't. So do us both a favor and stay."

Peeta and the woman helped her into the back. Sae came also, the woman had called her for help. Katniss had refused to go to the hospital after that stupid misunderstanding that had almost cost her daughter her life.

The next hours were pain-filled. Peeta sat next to her, letting her squeeze his hand if it got to bad and telling her senseless stories in-between. Or just rambled about how much he loved both of them.

"One final push!" The woman was smiling at her, and Katniss longed for her bow.

"You can do it, Katniss," Peeta was saying. But she couldn't. She couldn't, she couldn't, she –

And baby screams filled the room. Sae lifted the baby up and placed her against Katniss' chest. Katniss was laughing and crying, but –

"No," she whispered. "No, let Peeta hold her."

And even though she wanted to keep her daughter – her wonderful, tiny, beautiful daughter – pressed up against her chest forever, the disbelief and overwhelming joy on Peeta's face were totally worth it.

And later, as she was drifting off, he pressed a kiss to her lips. They pull into a smile.

"Don't leave," she whispered. "Don't ever leave again."

She just needed to trust herself not to have imagined the promise he instantly gave her.