Chapter 7

Cinna returns a couple of weeks later. This time, instead of appearing at the door with a small bag containing a few items, he returns with a giant suitcase, a lunch-sized paper bag, and a number of large stuffed garment bags hanging on a collapsible rack. After greeting us and handing the paper bag over to Peeta, he accompanies me up the stairs to the bedroom where I presume I will try on some of the prosthetics that he has structured.

Once he has reached the bedroom, Cinna begins reaching into all of the garment bags, revealing flesh-colored spandex suit after flesh-colored spandex suit. He then places the suitcase on the bed and unzippers it, pulling out one prosthetic after another, each slightly bigger than the next. He busily begins attaching the rubbery material of the fake bellies to the spandex undergarments. The realism of the rubbery prostheses astound me- from afar, even if my fake belly was showing, you would never be able to tell it wasn't real. And I'm sure that Cinna has elaborate costumes in mind to cover my belly and distract the eye for those up close.

"Here," he says softly, holding out one of the medium-sized ones. "I constructed one for every month of your 'pregnancy' starting at four months. I'm assuming you plan to announce that this happened on your honeymoon. If that's the case, this six-month model is the one that you'll be wearing when you begin Prim's Victory Tour."

I slip it on. Actually, I shouldn't say that- I squeeze into it, the spandex pinches me and pushes me, makes me gasp for breath at first, but it seems necessary to maintain the right structure of the prosthesis and let it blend in with the rest of me, so I don't object. Cinna then puts me in a bright orange two-piece maternity suit. I feel awkward as anything, but a quick glance in the mirror shows that I look like a pregnant woman. Cinna has even dared to let a fraction of an inch of the fake flesh show in-between the top and pants.

"Oh, Cinna," I breathe, taking a longer look at myself. "It's perfect. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Cinna smiles. "And that's not quite all. See this?" He tugs downward at the top of my low-cut maternity pants and points to something at the bottom of my fake baby bump.

"Um, no," I reply, grinning. The bump is sticking out just a little too far and I can't see anything below it.

Cinna pulls me closer to the mirror and points so that I might see it in my reflection. When I strain my eyes I see very faintly a long, thin line traveling horizontally across the prosthesis at my lower belly. It looks a bit like a scar. I nod.

Cinna grasps my hand gently and places it right on the line. I barely have time to observe that the line is actually a cleverly placed and well-disguised break in the rubbery material before Cinna pushes my hand firmly and it eases into my fake gut.

Cinna lets my hand go as I realize that my prosthetic belly is actually somewhat of a cavity. I squish my hand up there and explore. I feel a lot more rubber, it isn't close to hollow, but there is a little bit of space. And when I push my hand in as far as it will go, my fingers close over the handle of something solid and cold and metal- a knife. My eyes widen with surprise.

"I thought," Cinna begins, but then falters. "I thought- you might need to protect yourself…..in case he finds out…" is all he gets out before he starts to choke up. He looks as though he's about to cry, but quickly gets a grip on himself. "That kind of space is in all of the ones bigger than that, too."

"Oh, Cinna," I say again, and we hug for a long time.

Unfortunately, this visit isn't doesn't last any longer than the last one, as Cinna has to get back to the Capitol. He leaves me with the prostheses but assures me that he will be designing a lot more clothes for me to wear- the current maternity suit is just a sample to see how it would fit. In the meantime, I am to begin wearing the smallest prosthetic in just a few weeks, which I should be able to fit under my regular clothes. I walk him downstairs and we hug fiercely. He gives me a kiss on the cheek and Peeta a wink before he turns and walks out the door.

When he is gone, I notice Peeta looking at me with a little glint in his eye. I realize that I am still wearing Cinna's get-up.

"What, do you like this?" I ask, hands waving, gesturing to my bright orange-ness and protruding stomach.

Peeta shrugs. "Actually, yeah, I do," he replies. He approaches me and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. His gaze drops and his hands find their way to my prosthesis. He holds them there for a moment before slowly feeling all around it, mesmerized. He flushes and averts his eyes, embarrassed, but leans in to whisper into my ear. "I don't know, I know that we're too young, and that things are too crazy right now. But someday in the future, I'd love it if you were carrying our baby for real." He looks straight at me now, and his expression is hopeful. "Maybe?"

I smile. I wasn't ready to even think about it now, but Peeta didn't ask for much. And his voice was so pleading. I couldn't dismiss it. "Maybe," I reply.

"Good," Peeta gives me a wicked grin- at least, for him. "Now, in the meantime…" he strides a few steps to retrieve the paper bag that Cinna had given him before coming back and grabbing my hand with his free one, "Look, Katniss, I know that things have been really stressful for you lately. You've had all this pressure to get pregnant, more than any almost-eighteen-year old girl should have, and I completely understand how it could have affected your desire to- um…." He pauses for a moment as he searches for an appropriate word, "be with me," he eventually stammers nervously. He's trying to act confident, but it's easy to see that he's scared as hell.

I grasp his hand reassuringly, squeeze his fingers, and nod at him. At this point, I'm just relieved that he seems to understand.

"So I, um, talked to Cinna, and asked him to get us some stuff that might help put your mind at ease- so that, um, maybe you'll want to be with me again sometime. Just- one day. Not necessarily now. Though I wouldn't complain about now at all. Just so you know." His nervousness is palpable (and adorable) as he thrusts the opened paper bag forward for me to see.

Inside is a wide assortment of prophylactics and birth control. Pills, foamy-looking things, rubbery things, bottles of liquid- things that I have never seen, or felt, or used- only heard about. My eyes widen.

"I don't know how to use any of this stuff," I whisper.

Peeta shrugs. "That's okay. Me neither." He drops the bag to the floor as he pulls me close for a hug. My bump precludes us from getting as close as we would both like as Peeta envelops me in his arms. "We can figure it out together, right?" he whispers. "I don't care if it makes things a little awkward or uncomfortable between us for a little while. I just miss being close to you. I'm willing to try whatever it takes, if you are."

I look into my husband's beautiful blue eyes. I'll admit it, even though I knew that people at the Capitol and in some other districts used birth control all of the time, it had never even occurred to me that Peeta or I might be able to obtain it. Since Snow's visit, I had no idea that I it was even plausible to separate the intensely pleasurable experience of making love to Peeta from the accompanying stress that we could conceive a baby as a result of it. Now that we have in our possession the tools to make it not only a possibility but a likelihood, I realize that birth control must be the greatest thing since sliced bread.

I give Peeta a long, lingering kiss. "I'm willing to try whatever it takes, too," I whisper to him.

Using some of that stuff was easier than we expected- it didn't make things uncomfortable between Peeta and I at all. So whatever it took that afternoon was just for me to leave my stomach prosthesis on the first time we made love, since when I went to remove it I could see just a twinge of disappointment on Peeta's face. But that was okay. It was well worth it- I had the husband from my honeymoon back.

A/N: Hmmmm, hopefully this isn't getting too much into M territory...