A/N: Okay, I would like to say I'm sorry in advance. But this is not the end of their story. Please read this chapter first, please. I'd be leaving an explanation at the end, just in case it's still not clear to you why I did what I did. You could leave me questions and I'll try to answer them in the next chapter.

(Thanks for all the support you guys, especially chemistrykim, tmitidlover0412, and princessafiya!)

I can't feel anything. I seem to have lost the ability. Everything's dark, I can't see. Not a single sliver of light.

No.

No. I can't be in this world again. Not where nothing matters and all that exists is nothingness and numbness that eats you and will not let you go unless you wake up.

Wake up.

I force myself to open my eyes and it takes all the energy I have left. A bright light blinds me and I instinctively raise my arm to cover my eyes. But I can't. Because someone's hands are covering mine.

Peeta.

I think I hear him say my name. I turn to the direction of his voice, and slowly, he emerges from the white expanse of light in my vision. He stands, then I can see the rest of his body take form. He's crying.

My eyes adjust finally and I realize I'm in a hospital room. Two different tubes spring out from my right hand. I feel a couple of patches on my torso, connecting me to some monitor to my right.

"Katniss…"

I look at him again, and he hasn't stopped crying. I try to remember what happened, then for an unknown reason my eyes drift to my womb, hoping she could give me an answer.

But I can't feel her anymore.

Everything clicks into place, and I understand everything, and I strongly wish I didn't because maybe right now, she would still be in there, alive and growing and not dead and gone.

"Katniss…" he whispers. I look at him, my cheeks already wet with tears.

"She's gone, isn't she?"

"I couldn't lose you," he says. "They—they made me choose and I thought I was ready to be a father—that I was ready to do anything for her but I'm not. I'm sorry, Katniss. I just couldn't lose you."

My brain is buzzing, processing everything Peeta has said to me. Made him choose? Not lose me? So that means there was a way to save her, but it's either me or her who gets to live. And Peeta chose me.

This is supposed to make me feel a bit better, but it doesn't. It hurts so much. It hurts and I don't think anything can help me. I need to scream. I need to cry. I need to shout.

"You should have saved her over me!" I burst. I'm breaking. I'm shattered. I'm in pieces. She's gone. I could never hold her in my arms. I'd never see her smile at me, hear her laugh, watch her take her first steps. I'll never be a mother to her because she's dead.

I think I'm yelling, but my mind doesn't register anything and I feel myself slowly slipping away, tucked in that blanket of nothing, and pulled under for a long dreamless sleep.

Voices. I hear voices. I struggle to wake but fighting the drug off makes it harder to focus. Then I remember my science teacher all of sudden, telling our whole class that sometimes, when you lose a sense, your body heightens another particular sense to make up for it. So I just let my eyes remain closed and listen in to the conversation I'm hearing.

"The obstetrician said it's because of her body. All those stress from the Games and the war had some lasting effects. She said Katniss… she wasn't ready. It didn't make sense though. I mean…we got to the seventh month. She carried her for seven months and then she tells me she's not ready?"

Peeta. His voice is cracking. He's angry, and his anger unexpectedly soothes me.

"No one's ever sure of anything, Peeta. Some things just come and catch us off guard and there's nothing we can do." A pause. "How long has she been out before she came to?" a familiar female voice asks.

"T-two days. The doctors actually told me that she might not wake up again. But she did."

"I'm guessing she broke down. That's why they sedated her?"

"Y-yes. She—she didn't take the news well. She loved her so much, and I loved her, too, Mrs. Everdeen." My mom. "I loved both of them. But I really just couldn't lose her. And even if by some miracle that somehow what they're proposing to me works and our baby lives, I don't think I can raise her alone. I need her by my side."

I finally break free from the drug, I know it. I can hear clearer now. But I don't dare move.

"She might not agree to this, but I'm glad you chose her. I…I couldn't lose Katniss, too. I'll go completely crazy, a woman with nothing to live for. I'll probably just off myself."

This makes me open my eyes. I haven't seen this side of my mother before, she never ever talked about suicide. I lost a father, a sister, and a daughter, she lost a husband and a daughter, too, and taking your own life when you're given more time to live than others would be a huge insult.

And she's right, too. I'm the only real family she has now.

"She's awake." I see my mom stand from the side and walk to my bed.

"Mom," I whisper. I can't say anything else because I know I will cry if I said something about her. "Mom."

She just holds my hand as she sits on the bed. "I'm here, Katniss."

"Mom."

"It's okay."

I shake my head because it's not. Nothing's okay. I just killed my daughter. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have let her be conceived in the first place.

"It'll get better, dear. Pr—your sister will take care of her."

This rubs me the wrong way, and then I'm yelling again. "I killed them! I killed both of them! Why does everybody have to die? Why do they get to be the lucky ones and I'm doomed… to live…with their…bl-blood on…on my…hands."

Even with all the haziness that clouds my vision, I see Peeta rise from his seat and hold my mother as tears fall from her face. And I'm falling, falling, falling, falling…

I get discharged eventually, oblivious to how long has it been. I don't speak. I can't. Peeta helps me walk, stand, sit, anything. He doesn't talk, too, because by now, he knows there's nothing he can say to ease the pain I'm feeling.

For a month or so I live in our room. I don't get up voluntarily. I only eat because of the fear etched on Peeta's face. He scoops me up every morning and sits me on the counter in our bathroom. Then he uses a piece of damp cloth to wipe off the dirt or whatever it is on my skin. It becomes a new routine, and if I were the person I was before, I know I'd hate it because I feel helpless. But I'm not. And I don't care.

I'm near the point where I can tolerate the pain, but I make the mistake of looking down, and I see the bump. It almost looks like she's still in there. Almost. And then I'm determined. I get up now every morning and exercise, do anything to tire myself so I can lose the bump, just another painful reminder of her. The daughter I almost had.

Peeta lightens up a bit when he notices me moving around, I can see hope in his eyes. I know better though, I'll never be the same. It only takes me a mere three months to get my stomach back to how it looked before. This makes me feel slightly better, because now I can pretend I'm okay again.

But then one day a mockingjay perches on our windowsill and chirps out the tune I used to hum to her when I'm not doing anything and I lose it. I sob myself mindless, and Peeta finds me on the floor, my head in my arms, curled up in a fetal position. He doesn't say anything, just lifts me up in his arms and sits me in the middle of the bed. Then he moves to sit behind me and holds me.

In a matter of minutes, we're both wet from all our tears. I don't understand. I don't get it. Why is he crying with me? It's me who lost a child, it's my fault she's dead. I was the one who carried her. She was my dau—

My heart falls to my stomach.

I get it now.

Peeta's crying because she was his daughter, too.

That realization somehow lifts some of the pain away from me. Because now I'm aware I'm not alone. And this is something I should have known ever since, I was never alone. Peeta was, is, and will always be there. Everything I feel, whether it be good or bad, I'll always share it with him. And I can't let agony be the only thing he'll get from me.

And so I try again, I try to get better. Every day I look in the mirror and talk myself through a day, more or less like I did in Thirteen, listing off the things I'm sure of. About me, mostly. But this time, it's not just about me. I include Peeta and my mom and her, too. I tell myself that I still have Peeta, and if I had died, my mom would have died, too. There's a great chance that Peeta would die, too. And I can't let more people die because of me. I have to live.

I'm still broken, the lack of affection I share with Peeta serves proof. I only kissed him again that day I broke down. Today it's five months since, and I haven't opened the letters that came, no doubt all of them consoling us for our loss.

For months we don't do anything sexual, just one or two kisses a day, and he doesn't push me. I feel like I'm punishing him for something he didn't really do, so when we've settled underneath the covers, I turn and make him face me.

"Hey," I tell him, not knowing where to start.

"Hey."

"I…I love you, Peeta. And…and I'm sorry if I've been difficult. I…" I lose all the energy to speak. I break eye contact and stare at the hem of his shirt.

"It's been a difficult time for the both of us," he says.

I nod. "I'm being unfair."

"Unfair?"

"We didn't get to celebrate our fifth anniversary because of me. And… and," Ugh. Damn my 'purity.' "Don't you miss it?" I ask instead.

"Miss what?"

"The…you know. What we do? I mean, all you've gotten from me are brief kisses. Is that enough?"

For the first time after what feels like a year I hear him laugh again. And the absurdity of what I'm trying to tell him hits me and I smile. "Katniss Everdeen," he says.

"Mellark," I correct.

"Okay. Katniss Mellark, my love, first of all, how very thoughtful of you. Second, I'm pretty sure whatever it is you're feeling, whatever it is that's holding you back, I feel it, too. And lastly, no. I don't miss the sex."

"You don't?" My eyes narrow, because I've listened to enough conversations Gale has with some of his friends to know they like it a lot. But I guess, this is Peeta. He's not 'most men.'

"I don't." He answers. Then considers it for a moment, "Well maybe I do, kind of, but I'm not desperate."

"Okay." I kiss him goodnight and close my eyes.

The dream pulls me in right away and I'm transported from my bed to a meadow. Everything's green and flourishing. I walk forward, and I hear laughter from the other side of the hill. It makes my heart ache, because I know it's her.

I come up the clearing and I see her—them. Prim and my child. She's running around, Prim holding both of her hands, guiding her. My child. My child, it turns out she can meet her aunt after all.

"Prim!" I shout. She sees me, and her, too. I run to meet them, and I can't help it anymore so I cry. I feel Prim's arms embrace me, and a pair of smaller ones on my leg. It feels so good. I wish Peeta were here, too, so he can hold our child. "I miss you. Both of you."

"I miss you, too, Katniss."

"Me, too!" a small voice shouts. I break our embrace and look at her. She has Peeta's features, from the hair to the paleness of her skin, but she has my eyes. I take her into my arms and she hugs me, and I'm crying again. "I love you so much, Mama. Tell Papa I love him, too."

"Mama and Papa love you, too. We love you so much." My voice is breaking and I'm crying but I don't care. I'm holding her in my arms and that's all that really matters now.

"Mama, can you do something for me? And Papa too?"

"Yes, yes. Of course. We'd do anything for you."

"I want you and Papa to stop crying. I don't like watching you cry from up here. It makes me sad."

"We're just crying because we miss you…" I trail off. She doesn't have a name. I have to give her one before she leaves me again. I look around me, and all I see are flowers. A white flower catches my eye, it's so white, so pure, but unlike Snow's roses, this flower gives off an aura of innocence and humility. Like her.

"Lily," I whisper.

"I know you and Papa miss me, but I'm okay now. Aunt Prim's taking care of me. Grandpa, too."

"Grandpa?" I question.

"Yeah, Grandpa Forrest," she says. My dad. "And Grandpa Mel. And Grandpa Phil." Which I assume are Peeta's father, Mel for Mellark, and Gale's father, Philip Hawthorne. "I have so many uncles, Mama. Why is that? There's Uncle Rye and his brother, then Uncle Finnick and Boggs and Castor and a lot more. I can't rem'ber their names! Ooh, there's Grandpa Forrest!" she shouts and waves to someone behind me. I turn and find myself facing my father.

"Dad…" I breathe out.

"Hello, Katniss. Been a long time, don't you think?"

A laugh escapes me, and I hug him. He hasn't aged a bit, he looks even younger. This is all so confusing, my child who wasn't born is a toddler, and my dad who left us when he was only starting to get wrinkles looks just a few years older than Peeta. Is this what they call heaven?

"Wait! Wait," I pull away. "I'm not dead, am I?"

My father laughs, "No, dear. It's not your time yet. And I hope it's not sometime soon." He smiles at me, pinches Lily's cheek, and then takes my hand and Prim's. He used to hold us like this when we're going home, we used to wait for him at the Seam-Town border then we'll walk home together. The memory makes me even happier. We sit on a fallen log, me in the middle of him and my sister. Lily is still in my arms, playing with the end of my braid.

"Katniss, I know you've been through a hard time," he says to me. "You've been through a lot, and your journey's not over yet. You have a long life ahead of you, and I know that at some points, they'll be so heavy that you start to give up. And I don't want that. I can't do anything directly, but Peeta can. He's a wonderful man, Katniss. And I know he loves you with all he has, just like I love your mother, and the both of you, my girls. All I'm trying to say is that the two of you have so much love, and it would be put to waste if you don't let it bear fruit. I know you tried, and I know you feel like you've failed. I've heard all of your cries, but this I want you to know, it's worth it. Even now that I'm gone, I still am happy we brought the two of you to this world. I want you to feel that kind of happiness, too." I see him smile at me, and it feels final.

"Don't be afraid, Katniss. Never ever be afraid when it comes to love. Because it's worth it."

And slowly, everything around me starts to vanish. I don't want it to end yet, but I can't stop it. With one last glance at them, and one last kiss to Lily, our daughter, I let them fade away, but I make sure to memorize their smiles.

When I wake up, I blink, and I swear I can still see them waving at me. I bury my face into Peeta's shirt and cry. I've seen my daughter. And my dad and Prim. Lily. She's okay. She'll be well taken care of.

"Are you okay, Katniss? You looked at peace just seconds ago."

I sniff and nod against his chest. "I held her, Peeta. She was in my arms." I tell him about my dream, about our daughter, Lily, and my dad, and his dad, and Prim. I tell him everything. By the time I finish, he's crying, too.

"She looks like me?"

I nod again, "She has your hair and nose and lips and everything, Peeta. Even your skill with words and the calmness that you bring. The only thing she got from me was her eyes." We laugh, and I don't know. This is a miracle, though we never saw her in person, it's such a blessing to have this. Even just this dream.

Peeta gets the idea of painting her, and I tell him yes. We work on it all afternoon, and finally, finally I see her smiling at us. "That's her," I tell Peeta. And he does something I never would have expected to come from him.

He brings the painting close to his chest, hugs it—or her, then he starts talking to her. He tells him he misses her, and he's sad that he didn't meet her. He hopes she visit him, too. He says he loves her so much. He's crying so hard now that he can't speak anymore.

"Oh, uh, Peeta?"

"Yeah?" he sniffs.

"She told me that we should stop crying over her. She said she's okay and it makes her sad seeing us cry."

"Really, Katniss?" he asks, smiling. "You're going to tell me that only now that I have snot all over my face and probably my shirt, too?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't think you'd do that!"

He smiles at me, then looks up. "Papa looks awful crying, don't I? But okay, we won't cry anymore. I promise." He looks back at me and raises his eyebrows.

"I can't promise anything, Lily. But I'll try. I promise to try."

A/N: First things first, I don't know if it's just me or it's because I'm the author of this fanfic or anything but I feel like I know Katniss. I feel like I know what's happening in her mind. That could be just me though.
But anyway, explanation. Yes.

In my world, Katniss, ever since Peeta came back, hope came back to her, too. Because Peeta, the one thing she lost and at some point thought that she would never have again, came back to her. After he strangled her, she literally gave up on him. If not for Haymitch and Prim, she never would have spoken to him again. Now she has him back, and that's enough for her to believe that life can be good again. And because they're luckier than most, she's really trying to make the rest of her life a worthwhile period of time. I also thought that fifteen years is a bit too long if Katniss is trying to get better. When she said "five, ten, fifteen years," I knew there had to be a reason why she split it up. Or maybe it's just for emphasis. Anyway, I made her lose Lily for her to be scared again. I needed her scared because according to Mockingjay, it really was fifteen years and I'm trying to be as canon as possible.

I think that's all that matters now but if you still have some things to ask, feel free to leave them.

Usual preview quote from the next chapter: "You don't have to deal with anything alone."