I want to thank everyone that left nice reviews! It means a lot to me! I decided because it's just too much fun to stop, I will keep this fic going until I see a good place to end it. It's not going to be too much longer, but I might do one or two more chapters! Enjoy! xoxo


The sunlight is leaking in from behind the dusty curtains in our little bedroom, letting me know that it's well into the morning. Peeta is probably off baking something in the kitchen but my nose tells me there is nothing cooking below me. I purse my lips and stretch my legs under the blanket. When I turn over, I see something unexpected. It's him.

Peeta is a few inches from me, his eyes wide open, watching me. He lifts his hand and touches my cheek, tracing the profile of my face down to my lips. I smile at the unexpected touch, at the sight of Peeta. Usually he is up early in the morning, working his hands through the gooey dough and flour. He has never been here when I've woken up. He always gets up at the crack of dawn to work and manage his own thoughts alone.

"Good morning." He murmurs.

The happiness I let myself feel slips away for a moment. "Is something wrong?" I ask sitting up. He pulls me back down and my head thumps on my pillow. He breaks into a grin, showing me his sparkling white teeth.

"No, no! I just wanted to make good on my promise. I told you I'd stay with you if you had another nightmare. Now that you're awake, I think my work here is done." With a soft kiss on my lips, he hops out of bed and stands in the doorway.

"Thank you." I say softly.

He smiles once again and heads off to start his work for the day. I turn over in bed and sprawl out in the warmth he left behind.


I take a long, hot shower and tread down the stairs, seeing Peeta bent over an oven with a fresh mound of dough. He slides it in the oven and turns around.

"Oh hey." He flings off his apron and claps his hands together sending a cloud of flour into the air. "Anything special you would like to do today?"

I stand at the window thinking. Nothing comes to mind. It is ominously cloudy out, and it looks like it could soon rain. "I'll let you know."

"Okay." He looks at me for a second, as if he were about to ask me something but decided against it.

"Peeta, I'm sorry about worrying you last night. I shouldn't have made you think I'm suicidal or anything. It's definitely not like that."

He shuffles toward me and leans against the wall. "Don't apologize, Katniss. I know you're going through hell every night. I only worry..." He kisses me on the nose. "...because I love you."

He is sure now. His words come effortlessly, just like they did back when we were sixteen. Back when I figured it was all a ruse for the audience. Back when I wasn't even sure myself. Then things changed and when I was the one that was sure of my feelings, it was he who was confused. But here and now, all the kisses, the embraces, him staying beside me as I cry over the horrors we've been through in the past few years, they are too sincere for him to be faking. Besides, who would he be faking them for? I'm all he has left.

I smile to the flour covered man before me. "Peeta, I want to go for a walk. Would you like to come?"

He runs to the oven and puts out the flame, then splashes his hands with water, ridding them of the remaining flour. "I couldn't refuse."

The sky looks dreadful, but the fresh air is what I need right now. As we shuffle through the tall grass behind the house, Peeta's fingers are tangled in mine. He points to the sky as a mockingjay flies overhead, surely taking cover from the incoming storm. I smile; the sweet mockingjays remind me of Rue, in a positive light.

Peeta is very quiet for a good portion of the walk. He mostly gazes between us at our hands, every so often squeezing mine in his and smiling. As we approach a patch of purple flowers, he stops briefly and opens his mouth. He says nothing.

"What?" I ask, trying to figure out what's on his mind. "Is something bothering you?"

Peeta half-smiles and looks me in my eyes. "You know that I love you more than anything in the world, right?"

"Of course," I murmur, obviously concerned. What is he trying to say?

"And Katniss, there is nothing I would ever do to deliberately hurt you." His voice sounds pained, and my worry is growing.

"Peeta, what happened?"

He pulls me down into the flowers, laying my head down on his lap. He strokes my hair softly while I gaze up into his eyes. If only I could read what he's hiding in those baby blues.

"Nothing happened," He speaks innocently. "I just had an idea, and I'm not sure how you would take it."

I say nothing, waiting for him to continue. He picks a flower and delicately weaves it in my hair. He starts again, but no words come out. Raindrops start falling slowly, and he takes a steady hold of my hand.

"Katniss, I want to have a baby."

A baby. The words that I didn't expect him to say choke me and I am incapable of breathing. He knows my opinion on this; that I would never ever bring a child into such a broken world. We've never even been together intimately; there is no way I would risk it. He's been very patient these past few years, but I figured we had settled the matter when he held me as I cried one night a few years ago. I had a nightmare that I had a baby boy, with blonde hair and blue eyes like Peeta and he was mauled to death by muttations. I woke up in such a panic that it took hours for Peeta to console me. I made myself so hysterical that I ended up not eating for days. Peeta definately remembers that night, doesn't he?

"Say something, Katniss." His facial expression is worry mixed with longing. I know how bad he wants to start a family, but I just can't. I can't even think about it. No.

The rain is a full on downpour now. I stand up and wrap my arms around myself. The raindrops may be disguising my tears, but my voice can't hide my emotion. "Peeta,"

"Please Katniss." He begs. "Please. It's completely safe now. We could have a family of our own!" He stands up too, placing his hands on my shoulders. I shrug them off and turn away, biting down on my lip to hold in the terrifying sob threatening to come out.

I slightly shake my head to give him an answer, and I can see a tear coming down his face. It is definitely not a raindrop. It breaks my heart to hurt him, but this is something I just don't want to think about. I turn away from Peeta, and bolt through the rain to the safety of the house.

I run to our bedroom and slam my soaked body into the bed, letting out a scream that would startle every mockingjay out of the trees. I grip the comforter, expecting just that; comfort. But nothing eases the pain of the fact that I am hurting Peeta. I'm being selfish. But isn't he as well? Isn't is selfish for him to expect me to change my mind after I told him I never wanted to have a baby be so vulnerable in my fragile world?

I pull myself together and look out the window. I can see Peeta sitting back down in the purple flowers, hunched over and hugging his knees. I can't tell if he's crying, but he is becoming soaking wet from the storm.

He loves me more than anything. He didn't want to hurt me, he was just desparate to let me know how much he wanted a child. He wasn't demanding about it, he was gentle and kind. Yet I left him sitting in the rain. He didn't try to hurt me, yet I so roughly hurt him.

I guess it is inevitable that I end up hurting everyone I love.