I just finished Mockingjay and as a writer with an obsession with writing about pregnancies... Well here you go (; First HG fic for me!
He comes to me in the fading twilight, on the front porch where I sit staring quietly at the lazily twinkling stars struggling to come to life in the evening sky. Neither of us speaks for a long moment. His hand eventually finds mine resting on the wooden slabs of the porch, but he still doesn't speak.
The sun is completely gone from the sky when he finally addresses me.
"I want to start a family, Katniss," he says without preamble.
I flinch slightly, readying myself for the debate that is sure to follow his simple and quiet request. I appreciate that he doesn't mince words or start with a colorful analogy to seek to convince me. "You know how I feel, Peeta," I reply simply, not even bothering to glance in his direction. I make a weak attempt to pull my hand from his grasp, but he is firm yet gentle in his hold on me. Typical Peeta.
"You're scared," he accurately acknowledges. "I know why you're scared. I lived it, too. But we are running out of time to decide. If we wait much longer, it will be too late."
He is drawing attention to the fact that I passed thirty a couple years ago. I'm nowhere near approaching the cessation of my menses, but he is right. The longer I wait, the more difficult it will be to carry a healthy child to full term without complication. Even if we were to start trying for a family now, it could be years before we are successful. My body has been through quite some trauma. I haven't even bothered having a medical exam to see how great the damage is. I can't decide whether it was fear or indifference which held me back.
"But what if-" I begin, but he cuts me off. He has heard it all before.
"No more what-ifs, Kat," he whispers gently, scooting closer to me and clasping my hand between both of his. "There will never be a time of greater peace. We will never have a more perfect opportunity. The time is now, Katniss. We can do this."
I finally turn my head to face him. I am sure he can read me like a book. With Peeta, I am raw. I am exposed. There is nothing I can or want to hide. He is the only one who knows me in this way. So I know he will understand what I mean when I say in a weak, hoarse voice, "I couldn't protect her."
"I know," is his soft reply. He caresses my cheek and leans forward to kiss my forehead. "Some things are out of your control. And I know that scares you, too - not being in control. But you can't let fear run your life. You can't let fear push you to the sidelines and keep you from living." He pauses and gives me a pointed, loving stare before continuing. "You will be a wonderful mother."
Will. Not would. He knows. He knows that I am breaking. He knew before this conversation began that he would win. And it only took him fifteen years.
There is no point fighting him anymore. Peeta has sacrificed so much for me, for my safety and for my happiness. I owe him so much. And I love him. He wants this more than anything else in the world. He hasn't had a family since the Capitol took them from him. And since they hijacked his mind, he has come so far and fought so hard to stay with me and love me as only Peeta can. He deserves this from me. And only I can give him what he wants, what he needs.
"Okay," I relent in a low voice. "We can try."
He doesn't gloat. He doesn't erupt into an ecstatic explosion of happiness. He is my Peeta, and he knows and respects me. Instead, he nods simply and puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his warm embrace.
"Okay," he echoes.
Review and I will love you forever and stuff.