I stare nervously at the ticking clock on the wall. Peeta should be home any minute now. You can handle this, Katniss, I tell myself, and take a deep breath—before burying my head in my hands. I really can't handle this, no matter how much I try to convince myself of it.

For the last couple of weeks I've had my suspicions that something was off. Today I went to a doctor and had it confirmed. I am pregnant. Peeta doesn't know yet, and now I'm just waiting for him to come home from work so I can tell him.

I'm afraid—not of his reaction, of course; he's wanted kids since we got married fifteen years ago. I'm afraid that I won't be a good mother, or that our child will be harassed by reporters its whole life, or that due to some childbirth complication he or she won't make it. Maybe it won't even live that long, I think in horror. Maybe it will die in my stomach.

Stop it, I tell myself harshly. None of that will happen. You're just being paranoid now. I know I'm right, and yet I can't keep the fear from creeping up on me. It makes me laugh bitterly. I went through a Hunger Games, a Quarter Quell, a rebellion, and an entire district being destroyed because of me. Plus, to top it off, I watched my little sister get blown to bits by a bomb that my best and most trusted friend designed. But a baby? Forget it. I can't handle that.

I have no idea what to do in this situation. I have nobody to talk to. Haymitch will just laugh at me. Johanna and I lost contact long ago; same goes for Annie. My mother is far too busy in the hospital she now runs to deal with my problems. And Gale? I haven't spoken to him since he killed Prim. The thought of me calling him up now and asking for advice is almost laughable. Almost.

Frustrated now, I stand up and go outside, needing some fresh air. Standing on the porch does nothing to help, so I head towards the Meadow, not caring that Peeta will worry when I'm not home; some wife I am.

I reach the Meadow and find a spot to sit on the rough earth. They covered up the bodies many years ago; now it looks just like it did when I was sixteen.

This particular spot I've chosen is a couple feet away from a small, flat stone. It is carved with the letters P.W.E. Primrose Willow Everdeen. I remember how long it took to carve. I remember setting the finished monument tenderly down on the ground, almost as though it would break. I remember weeping when I thought about what it stood for. I've visited this stone every day since.

That was almost sixteen years ago.

I sit in silence for a long time, not doing anything, just reminiscing. I think about Prim's laugh, the way she used to smile shyly when Rory Hawthorne held her hand, the way she would shake her head disapprovingly when I hissed at her cat, the way she would twirl in the pretty dresses I bought her after the Hunger Games. I think about other people too. I think about Finnick offering me a sugar cube. I think about Gale shoving an arrow through bread just to make me laugh. I think about Rue's contagious grin. I think about Peeta's father, who always looked out for me, even when I wasn't aware of it. I think about my own father, who taught me everything I know today.

So much I've lost. So much we've all lost.

I don't know why I'm thinking about all of this now. Maybe it has something to do with the baby. And if it doesn't…well, I don't know. I usually block painful memories so I don't hurt more than necessary. Right now, though, I'm embracing them.

I hear a twig snap behind me, and I don't even have to turn around to know who it is. Only one person would ever guess I'd be out here. He sits heavily down beside me, sighing softly. I keep my gaze trained on the far away mountains, not looking at Peeta's face.

"Katniss?" he asks gently. I don't answer; just continue staring into the distance. I know I should say something, tell him about the baby, but suddenly my mouth feels very dry and I can't speak.

"Katniss," Peeta says again. This time when he gets no response, he gently takes my face in his hands and forces me to look at him.

I stare into those clear blue eyes, so much like his father's, and wish I were better with words so I could tell him everything in just the right way, right now. But I'm not, and I can't, so I say nothing.

Peeta now thinks something is very wrong. "What is it? What happened?" he asks, his voice beginning to get less calm. I shake my head, telling him that I'm okay, and he relaxes, but only slightly.

"What is it, Katniss?" he asks, relentless. He brushes a few loose strands of my hair out of my face and says in a gentle tone, "I don't like it when you're upset."

At this, I sigh in defeat and lay my head on his shoulder. "I—I need to talk to you about something. But," I say, looking up at the darkening sky. "Not here."

"All right…" Peeta responds, clearly confused, but says nothing else as we begin our walk home.

The sun has set by the time we've reached our house in Victor's Village. Peeta holds the door for me—ever the gentleman—and we step inside. I grab his hand and take him over to the couch, making him sit down next to me. We sit in silence for a moment. I know Peeta is waiting for me to speak, but I can't bring myself to say anything.

"Katniss?" Peeta prompts after a while.

I take a deep breath and prepare to give him whole speech on how we're having a baby together, and how he'll make a great father, and how much I love him, and how I know he's wanted a baby for a long time, and how I'm sorry I can't be as enthusiastic as he is about it.

Instead, all that comes out is: "I'm pregnant."

I tense up and slowly turn to him. He's staring at me emotionlessly, no trace of happiness, anger or anything else on his face. He just sits there and gazes blankly. I'm about to ask Peeta if he's all right when suddenly his emotionless expression is gone, replaced by one of pure joy and delight, and I'm being covered in kisses. Peeta's lips are moving all over my face, and despite my previous solemn mood, I can't help but enjoy his reaction. He pulls back and looks at me.

"You're really pregnant?" he asks. I nod, and something seems to suddenly occur to him.

"How do you feel about it?" Peeta asks me cautiously, and I know what he's expecting. He thinks I'll burst into tears or be angry or have some other equally negative emotion, but I can't let that happen.

I definitely am not very happy about this baby, but this afternoon—something changed. When I thought about Prim and Rue and Finnick and my father and Peeta's father, it's like some part of me accepted that I was having a baby. Like some piece of me told me that it'd be okay, that even if I were a horrible parent, Peeta would still be there for our child. And, sure, I'm just as terrified as I've been for fifteen years, but seeing Peeta's reaction to this—how happy it's made him—has made it a lot less difficult for me.

I tell him the truth. "I'll be okay." Peeta smiles softly and kisses me.

"I love you," he says.

"I love you too."

Aw, a happy ending! Gotta love those! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and please leave a review-they make my day. Thanks for reading! :D