I sat hunched over myself in the closet, my arms wrapped around my knees, my forehead resting on my arms while I repeated what I know to be true.

My name is Katniss Meelark. I am 27 years old. I live in District 12. I was in the hunger games. Twice. I escaped. Twice. I assassinated President Coin. President Snow is Dead. Peeta and I got married. My sister is dead. My mother lives in district 4. I am pregnant.

It's the last one that sets me off - Terror freezes my veins and I sit in a terrified stupor, unintelligible muttering streaming from my mouth.

It has been a long time since my last episode, possibly more than a year, but now when they come, they come long and hard. I try my little game again, but cannot get past two points.

My name is Katniss Meelark. I am pregnant.

Pregnant.

The last thing I ever wanted to do in this life was bring a child into the world. This world full of starving countrymen, and a sadistic president who would force children to fight to the death for the entertainment of the elite.

I don't know how long I sat there in the closet before light came streaming through. I squinted up at the figure in the doorway.

"Katniss?" Concern etched his features and coloured his voice, and without another thought I reached for him. My sunshine when the world is dark, my rainbow in the storm. My dandelion in a patch of weeds. He hunkers down and crawls into the closet with me.

Its very crowded with two people, but finally, with his strong arms around me and my head pressed against his chest where I can hear the beating of his heart, some reason returns to me. I let out a sigh and relax for the first time since I discovered I was pregnant.

After all, this was the man who had overcome hi-jacking of the most personal kind and, despite my not deserving a speck of it, came to love me again. This was the man who lived his life to protect me, who would do anything for me, who despite his own tortured past, still sees the positives in the world, the beauty, the colour, the goodness. I know that without him I probably would have wound up drunk and alone, like Haymitch.

I shift a bit so I can lean up and kiss him. That he is still concerned for me is evident, but after seven years of marriage, he knows when to press and when to let me be, so he just holds me securely against him, kissing me back, running his hands through my hair and setting my blood on fire.

Not that we can get too carried away in this tiny space, so before things get too heated I pull back and again lean my head against his chest, listening to his heart.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, him tracing patterns on my back, and me tracing the lines on the palm of his other hand before he mentions moving.

"I think my leg is falling asleep," he comments.

In response I shuffle out of the cupboard, then lean in to help him up. Once we are both standing, I move right back into the safety of his arms. I can't cope with the world right now; I just need him surrounding me, supporting me like he always does.

I know he thinks that this is related to a flashback or a nightmare or something, and I try to will myself to say the words, to let him know. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I bury my face in his chest and he runs his fingers through my hair.

It is there, with my eyes squeezed shut and my mouth up against his chest where the words are so garbled they are unintelligible that I first say it out loud.

"I'm pregnant,"

Of course he can't understand me. I could hardly understand myself, but just saying the words has set a tremor to my bones. My hands begin to shake, and my heart is pounding so heavily I can feel my pulse in my little toe.

Peeta draws back slightly so he can look me in the eye.

"What is it Katniss?" he asks.

I sigh and look away. He is always so patient with me. I know that I will never deserve him. I take a deep breath and brace myself to tell him the truth.

I don't realize I'm crying until he reaches out to wipe a tear away from my cheek.

I look up at him. I know he wants this. We have had many conversations about it. It's the only thing we argue about, whether or not to bring children into the world.

Peeta is all for it, arguing that with the Games gone, and Paylor as president the world was as safe as it ever was.

I just could not imagine bringing a child into a world where there was even a possibility they could get selected to participate in something so depraved as the Hunger Games, and even though they were over, how could we be sure that years from now, someone wouldn't imagine up another use for them? How could I keep my children safe in such a world? I would be powerless, like my mother was powerless against the reaping.

Nevertheless at this particular moment, I clung to Peeta's belief with everything I had inside of me. Without it I would go mad. It was too late for anything else, I had to believe it. And with Peeta holding me, I almost could.

I swallowed and took a deep breath, looking up into his blue eyes that still sometimes clouded over with confusion, still sometimes stared into space for hours getting lost in a memory or a flashback.

I reached up and cupped his face, and with tears in my eyes, told him.

"I'm Pregnant,"

Joy lit his eyes at my words, then disbelief as he searched my face for traces of jest. Finally understanding. He always understood me. He knew why I was so tortured about this.

He squeezed me tight against him, and I clung to his strength and steadiness.

"It will be ok!" he assured me, "the games are gone and they aren't coming back!"

I nodded into his chest.

"I'm going to need you to keep telling me that," I whispered.

Peeta stepped back and cupped my face. The joy was back in his expression, and I could tell he was barely containing it.

"Always," he said.

This was his promise to me - to stay with me, to protect me, to encourage me and to lift me up – always. A smile crept up onto my face. Seeing it, Peeta let go of whatever was holding his joy in check and lifted me in his arms, spinning me around.

"We're going to have a baby!" he cried out.

I couldn't help but laugh at his antics, his joy. And wrapped in his joyful embrace, I felt a stirring of happiness myself. For the first time I let myself believe that everything was going to be ok.

I reached up on tip toe to kiss him again, and as he enthusiastically reciprocated, the beautiful orange colours of sunset once again lit our little world.

KC

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