Hello! How was everyone's Christmas? And if you don't celebrate Christmas, how's the holidays?

Here's a little present for you all! Writing this has taken me a bit longer than I hoped due to finals and, of course, holiday preparations. And, I had extreme writers block for the whole thing. I found writing a continuation of an ended series very complicated, but I pushed through it and I hope you like this Post-Mockingjay/Pre-Epilogue thing that I made.

Here's your disclaimer...

I do not own The Hunger Games series. The song below is from the movie The Prince of Egypt, which I also do not own.

Enjoy! :)

When You Believe

There can be miracles

When you believe

Though hope is frail

Its hard to kill

Who knows what miracles

You can achieve

When you believe

Somehow you will

You will when you believe.

My answer is always no.

When Peeta first asks me, I try to tell him as nicely as I can. Because really, what he is asking is so sweet. So Peeta. But he needs to understand that I can not be persuaded on this topic. And that is why I am shocked when he asks me again. I repeat my answer a little more firmly than before, hoping it will get through to him this time, definite and final. Peeta says he understands, but I know he is a bit upset with me when he doesn't say much for the rest of the night. But when I wake up from one of my nightmares, shaking in cold sweat, I find his gentle arms pulling me close and I know that he will always be there for me. That he'll always know when I need him most, just like I know when he needs me. But even as I snuggle into his arms, grateful for their warmth and protection, I feel the guilt prick at the back of my mind. I know nothing I do will ever make up for what I am depriving him of. It reminds me of what Haymitch once said to me. That I could live three lives and still not deserve him. I feel like he's more right every day. And it eats at me.

The third time he asks, I feel obligated to explain to him why.

"It scares me."

Fear. It is always there. Even when we manage to conjure up tiny bits of happiness it never completely goes away.

"Katniss, we can't let the fear slowly tear at us anymore. The Capitol no longer controls us."

"Yes, but I've never wanted kids!"

"If you don't like children-"

"No, Peeta. It's not that I don't like them. I know you think I'm not the motherly type," I say. "The problem is that I am."

This is true. I care too much. I have a natural instinct to protect whatever I see that is young and helpless. And all I am thinking about is how I've failed far too many times to take my chances. I stopped protecting my own sister, even if it was just for an instant, and she died. I had might as well set off those bombs myself when I let her get pulled into my mess. I can't have my child end up like Prim or Rue. Or any child that looked up to the Mockingjay as their hero and suffered because of it.

"That's why you're scared?" Peeta whispers as the realization dawns on him. "You're afraid someone is going to take your child away?"

I nod vigorously.

Peeta sighs, almost in relief. "Katniss, who is going to? The Capitol? The Capitol doesn't own us anymore. Real or not real?"

I bite my lip. "Real."

"Exactly. Besides, I think having a child will make you even happier than you could ever imagine."

"No, It'll make you happy. I'll always be scared."

"What is there to be scared of?" He asks. I can hear him losing patience, something Peeta rarely does.

I squeeze my eyes shut in attempt to push a relapse down. I don't want to fight with him. He isn't doing anything wrong. "Just drop it, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good."

And then he finally stops.

Even though he no longer asks, I know that it is constantly on his mind.

Its the littlest things that make me notice it. Like the way he gives every child that comes into his bakery an extra treat to take home. Or the way he is with Delly's four-year-old daughter. Little Harper has decided Peeta is her best friend and is practically his tail whenever she and Delly stop by the house for a visit. She sits herself on his lap and declares with this tiny dignity he read from her tattered fairytale book over and over again. Its not that Peeta minds. In fact, he loves it. He adores Harper as much as she does him.

However, I hate how Peeta spends so much time with Harper. And I hate myself for hating it. Peeta nor Harper are the problem to my hatred. It is the bond they share that is. A bond Peeta so desperately wants to become a reality. He doesn't want to be the friendly neighbor or even the spoiling uncle. He wants to be the Daddy. Not to Harper, but to his own blonde-haired little girl or blue-eyed little boy.

There is this little park on the corner from where Delly lives. It is the only park I've ever seen in District 12 and it is always jam-packed with children and is seen as somewhat a safety hazard to me, judging from how it looks as if it was built to fit only three six-year-olds.

Harper often drags Peeta to it, and Peeta often drags me along with them. That's another thing I hate. The park. Full of more children to make me feel guilty.

Then there are the parents, usually the mothers', that would rather talk to Peeta than watch their own child beat up another kid with a stick for pushing him off the slide.

I know it is mainly because of how good Peeta is with people and how bad I am with them. Peeta swears that all the mothers' worship me, but I can't help thinking that if Peeta really wants children, he would have no trouble finding someone else that would be willing to.

And that is yet another thing I hate. How easily scared I get that Peeta will leave me. I don't know how I would be able to survive without him.

When I told Haymitch this he laughed at me. This is Peeta. He would be by my side until the day I died and vice versa.

Deep down I knew Haymitch was right, but I still couldn't help being fearful.

I had reached my thirties, and that was the very last time Peeta asked me about having children.

I was shocked. Peeta hasn't asked me that question for ten whole years.

I had just come back from hunting. I didn't answer him. Instead, I went upstairs and sat on our bed and thought. And thought. And thought.

I thought about everything Peeta has ever done for me, starting with the bread he tossed me when we we're just kids ourselves.

He was willing to die to keep me alive in the Hunger Games twice and I know he'd do it again if he had to.

And then, when his humanity was stripped from him and replaced with a burning hatred towards me, I couldn't deal with it so I forced him to push through it and he did.

And what have I done for him? Peeta has no family left and I might as well been the cause for their death myself. The least I could do was give him something -someone- who would share the same blood as him- someone who would be part him and part me.

I get up from the bed, my decision made, and head downstairs.

"Fine," I say.

Peeta looks up from the dishes he was washing. "What?" He asks, vaguely confused.

"I'll do it," I say again, really not able to process the correct words due to it terrifying me. And it'll still probably terrify me for the rest of my life.

It takes him awhile, but slowly the realization of what I am trying to say dawns on him and his face cracks into a huge smile.

And then he kisses me. Even without saying anything, his kiss speaks to me loud and clear. It is filled with joy and happiness and hope and makes me suddenly wonder why I ever said no in the first place.

It takes some time, but three months later, I wake up with a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. Nobody needs to tell me what I already know.

I am pregnant.

And I panic.

My first instinct is to head to the woods, and so I do.

It does not take long for Peeta to find me. I've climbed high up into a tree, just like I usually do in a crisis, when I hear Peeta's faint but persistent voice not too far away.

"Katniss?" I hear him call, then repeat. "Katniss? Where are you?"

I make a strange noise, somewhere between a sob and a yell, and in no time, Peeta is at the base of the tree that I sit in.

He looks up, trying to decide if he can make the climb, then, deciding against it, calls up to me. "Katniss, can you come down?"

I nod my head, then realizing that Peeta cannot see me, I slowly make my decent until I plop down right next to him.

His open arms are already awaiting and I fall into them.

We stand there for awhile, and I breathe in his scent. He smells like burnt bread and cinnamon and I immediately start to calm down.

Finally, Peeta says, "What's wrong? Did you have another nightmare?"

I snort. "No, I'm pregnant."

"You're..." He trails off, speechless.

I nod.

"Wait...wasn't that the goal?"

I nod again.

"Did you..." Peeta pauses before continuing, "...change your mind?"

I quickly shake my head.

"Okay, so what's wrong? I haven't seen you this shaken up in years."

I sigh. "You really don't expect me to be scared?"

Peeta furrows his brow. I've confused him. "I thought you said yes because you were no longer scared."

"No, not really. I'll always be scared," I say.

"Then why did you agree to it?" He asks.

I'm unsure of how to respond. How do I tell him the real reason why I decided I'd let myself do this?

He looks at me so lovingly and that's when I can't keep it together anymore. I break and the hysterics start.

"What was I supposed to do? You wanted this so bad and I deprived you of it for fifteen years counting! You've done so much for me and I have done nothing in return! You look at me like that, all loving and patient and kind every single day and you don't push me to do anything I don't what to do. So I thought, what could I do to make up for all you have done, and all you have lost? And you're baby crazy, so the least I could do was give you one!"

There is a deadly silence after that. It seems as even the woods has stopped to hold it's breath. Then, Peeta says, "You did it all for me?"

He's so stupidly shocked I almost laugh. "I certainly didn't do it for myself!"

"Katniss," Peeta says softly. "If you really don't want a baby you don't have to have one."

By now, we've made our way out of the woods and to the meadow.

"I just want to make you happy," I tell him earnestly. "And the funny thing is, I do want this baby."

I sit down at the base of a large willow tree. Peeta sits down next to me and begins to fiddle with some stray rye stalks. We spend the rest of the day in the meadow, sitting on the blanket of grass, weaving together rye stalks and small wild flowers into an assortment of things.

"For our baby princess."

I look up. Peeta has woven together a tiny necklace, laced together with willow leaves and small wild daisies and violets. He holds it up for me to see.

I look down at what I am making. I had taken the rye stalks and woven a small crown. I hadn't noticed how tiny I had made it. It is much too small for Peeta or I.

"Or our little prince," I say.

I realize that it is now sunset and notice how the sun has already sank into the ground, leaving behind smudges of pink and purple. It is really beautiful, and looking around me, I realize how perfect everything is.

I turn towards Peeta. "I wish we could freeze this moment, right here, right now," I begin.

"And live in it forever," Peeta finishes.

But I know, unlike before, there will be much more pause-worthy moments ahead of us, and all we have to do is press play.

Ta-dah! There you go.

My goal was to publish this on Christmas night and that's exactly what I'm doing.

I hope you enjoyed and remember to review, follow, favorite, whatever :)

Have a happy holiday and eat lots of cookies!