Disclaimer: I own nothing. Suzanne Collins owns all the things.

I finally get a few weeks' peace. Ever since I started singing, Tadpole doesn't kick hardly at all. Tadpole still moves, but they're lighter, sweeping movements that I can handle. My voice only rests when I'm in the woods and when I'm asleep. Peeta is the happiest I've seen him since the few weeks before Tadpole started moving. I know part of it is because I'm finally happy, but I know the other part is that he loves my singing. It calms him just as much as it does Tadpole. I notice that the amount he gets confused or has hallucinations decreases drastically over these weeks. He mostly just sits close to me and listens. I resolve to sing like this to him the next time he has trouble. I do not like to sing in public, or to just anyone. I'll only sing in the woods and to people I'm certain I love. But I will sing to them as long as they need me to.

I repeat that song so many times that the mockingjays that nest close to our house have nearly memorized it. Sometimes, at night when I stop singing, they spontaneously break out in my song, without provocation. I hear them repeat the song in little groups, singing in rounds. There is music in our house nearly all the time.

These weeks also see an improvement in my ankle. I am able to put a bit of weight on it again. Not that it matters much. I am enormous now, and even if my ankle were unharmed, I would be forced to waddle everywhere I go. Tadpole is so heavy, I have to wear a sort of belt around my belly just so my back doesn't give out from the strain. I have always had a slight build, and I don't handle the extra weight very well. I have hit the stage where I can't fit a cupcake in my stomach. Everything settles, just as Sage said, right at the base of my esophagus. I'm not all that concerned, though, just because I know I have so little time left. I feel like I've been fighting my way through my whole pregnancy, so this is a relief.

Peeta still helps me out to the woods every day, even though I can barely fit on the bench in the front of the cart anymore. I knew Tadpole would get big, but I could never have anticipated not being able to fit in certain spaces. Benches like this one, chairs, narrow hallways. I'm even loud in the woods now. It's so strange to hear my own heavy, dragging footsteps when I'm used them being silent. I can't even sit down or stand up without Peeta's help. I have finally become the human roly poly I dreaded months ago. It is nearly as infuriating as I thought it would be, but this is tempered by the knowledge that it won't last long. I have a matter of weeks, if that.

Every few days, Peeta drags me by Sage's office on our way home. She demands to see me as often as possible. One day, she tells me that I technically have three more weeks to go, but that really, I could have this baby at any time now. She tells me what to watch out for and that when the time comes, I should get Peeta to bring me straight here.

The coming week feels as if I'm holding my breath. I am just waiting, feeling that I'm in the calm before a storm. Just as I knew that I was pregnant without anyone having to tell me, I know that I do not have three weeks. I can tell in the way that I inexplicably feel the compulsion to re-fold all of Tadpole's clothes one morning. I can tell in the way that one day, I wake up to find space between my stomach and my breastbone and Tadpole sitting low inside me. I know that Peeta and I will be parents by the end of the week. Peeta can feel it, too. We both spend the week in jittery, anticipatory nervousness. Things do not feel real to me and feel too real at the same time.

In the evening in the middle of the week, I start to feel very light, sporadic contractions. Sage said that would happen. I don't have to go to her office yet. It's when they get stronger and when my water breaks that I have to go. She said this part can last for a while and it's not urgent, so there's no need to do anything but go about my day as normal. I also don't tell Peeta about it, because I know he'll start panicking early and I don't want to worry him before it's necessary. He won't understand that so little is happening right now that it's barely worth paying attention to. But I know now I'm down to a matter of days. Maybe hours.

I last through the night without incident. I go through my morning as normal, but it's as if I'm waiting for a bomb to drop. I still let Peeta cart me out into the woods. It'll help my anxiety a little and I could last another day like this without anything happening. I get Peeta to take me to my lake today. I stand for a minute, in the same place I watched the little tadpoles swimming around, just taking it in. It's not spring yet, but signs of it are starting to crop up. Little buds are starting to form on the trees. Same for the flowering plants around the lake. Some of the buds have little, colorful petals peeking out. I see a little splash of yellow and blue in particular on a lone petal from a rogue iris plant. Eventually I ask Peeta to help me sit down. He grasps both of my hands, lowering me down. I have just made contact with the ground when I feel a little pop and there's a gush of clear fluid coursing down the insides of my legs.

"Up, up, back up," I demand, my hands still in his. He frowns confusedly, but pulls me gently back up.

"What is it?" He must not have noticed because of the tall grass.

"Peeta, did you not see the waterfall?"

"What?"

I gesture down to my soaked legs. His eyes widen. He chokes out a few words.

"Does that-"

"Yes. You like it that much out here, huh?" I ask my stomach.

Peeta hasn't moved. He nods once, but doesn't seem to have understood.

"Come on, we should start walking. I don't move that fast and we're supposed to get to Sage's now."

He nods the same nod. I have to take Peeta's hand and drag him along for a few paces before he clues in. He remembers to help me because I still have small trouble with my ankle. He does seem to want me to go a little faster than usual, though. At one point, I can't keep up with him.

"Peeta, slow down, I can't go that fast."

"Sorry," he slows down, looking at me sheepishly. I can tell he's started to panic and wants to get me to Sage's as quickly as possible.

"Calm down, we have time to be able to walk like normal people. This is going to take a lot longer than you think, Peeta," I can't help but laugh a little. Peeta doesn't seem much calmer, but he does slow down considerably.

"How long?"

"I don't know. But we'll be there a while. Maybe all night."

"Oh. Sorry. I just-"

"It's alright. There's just no need for panic. You'll know when it's time to panic."

"...how?"

"I'll probably be yelling at you."

"Oh, thanks," Peeta replies sarcastically.

I smile a little. I am strangely calm right now. I know that this won't last and that I'll be panicking later with the knowledge that I'll have a defenseless human being in my care in a matter of hours. But for now I am unconcerned. If anything, I want to enjoy the certainty of the moment. I am no longer waiting, no longer wondering how I'm going to be able to power through my days. There's a finality to everything right now that I'm enjoying. We get back to the cart and Peeta gingerly helps me in. I realize that we haven't got anything to take to Sage's.

"We should go home first."

"But Sage said-"

"Peeta, you know that lovely little bag you've had packed for three months?"

"Yes."

"We don't have that with us. We should go home and get it first. It won't take that long."

"Why do we need it?"

"I'd rather not go through labor in this," I gesture to my outdoor clothes. I can still fit my father's jacket over my shoulders if I don't zip it. "It's not exactly comfortable. I'd also love for the baby to have clothes to go home in."

Peeta sits for a moment without saying anything. I can tell he's nervous about this, but he knows I won't leave him alone until he listens to me. He sighs.

"Okay. But don't yell at me if it takes too long."

I just chuckle. We are silent for a moment before Peeta speaks.

"Are you nervous?"

"A little. But I'm also really happy that this is almost over. It hasn't been easy. But I will say I think you look more nervous than me."

He doesn't say anything. He just smiles that sheepish smile again. I am worried about him, though. He hasn't said much in the last twenty minutes or so. I think it's because he's worrying about bringing a baby home just like I am, but I decide to ask him.

"Are you nervous about bringing the baby home?"

Peeta smiles.

"Some, but not that much. You are?"

"Yes! Babies scare me. They're fragile. I'm always afraid I'm going to hurt them. That's not what you're scared of?"

"Not really. And you won't hurt it, Katniss. I swear you're convinced you'll be the world's worst mother and you need to stop. No, I'm worried about the next twelve hours or so. I'm worried about you having to actually have this baby."

This brings me up short because it's so low on my own list of worries.

"Why? You're not the one who actually has to go through it," I grumble.

"I know that," Peeta rolls his eyes. "I just hate seeing you in pain. It really bothers me. And things can go wrong. I'm just worried."

Peeta is perpetually worried about me and today is no exception. He hates to see me in any sort of distress, and if he does, he is immediately trying to fix it. He's also obviously still worried that he might lose me, although I know the chance of that is slim with Sage to help us. I wince. This will probably be terrifying for Peeta. I'm calm now, but I've seen mothers in labor. My own mother used to take care of them. I usually cleared out if I could, but sometimes I couldn't and was forced to watch them and hear them. I see flashes of them, white-knuckled, gripping door frames, chair backs, headboards, fistfuls of bed-sheets. I remember them pacing like caged animals, or rocking back and forth, or sitting huddled on the floor, or on all fours, heads hanging like beaten dogs. The noise was always the worst. You couldn't escape it. Panting and moaning and growling and screeching. Ancient and bestial. Childbirth looks and sounds impossibly violent and frightening. I need to assuage Peeta now, because I know there'll come a time later where I won't even be able to speak.

"Don't worry about anything going wrong. Sage will be there. She'll let you know if there's reason to worry about that. Just put it out of your mind now. But, Peeta, I can't avoid the pain. It's going to look and sound awful and I won't be able to help it. But that doesn't mean anything is wrong. It may seem like I'm mad at you, or like something's wrong, but that's not true. I just need you to understand that now because I won't be in my right mind later. Just trust me that it's going to be okay."

Peeta nods determinedly. "Okay. Do you even feel anything yet?"

"Yes but it's not strong enough to count as pain." I am not concerned about the pain aspect of this. I am used to physical pain. I've almost died before. I've been in the hospital too many times to count. I deal with pain as it comes and usually forget it quickly. It's only emotional pain I ever worry about.

Peeta gets us back home fairly quickly. He doesn't even bother to help me out of the cart, since he intends to run in the house, grab the bag, and run right back out. Thankfully, he's in the house when the first sign of real pain hits. It feels like the muscle cramps I used to get in my calves, only ten times stronger and from hipbone to hipbone. I think I feel it extend back to my back a little. It is surprisingly powerful. I cannot do anything but clutch the edge of my seat and grit my teeth until it passes. I exhale, realizing I was holding my breath.

"This'll be fun," I mutter to myself. Peeta is back out the door in record time, which is good. Although we're not taking too long by any means, the onset of real pain tells me it's definitely time to stop dawdling and get to Sage's. Peeta seems to notice a reminiscent look of discomfort on my face and immediately asks about it.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine, I'm just feeling it now. It was only one, so don't worry."

The strange, strong pain only hits once more on our way to Sage's. I curl over a little, eyes clenched shut, gritting my teeth again. I was in the middle of a sentence and had to stop abruptly. When it passes, I open my eyes again. Peeta just eyes me warily.

"Sorry, they're hard to talk through." I continue where I left off. Right now, everything is quite bearable since I get long breaks in between the pain. I take advantage of it since I know it won't last.

We get to Sage's fairly quickly. She is a bit surprised to see us, but takes it in stride.

"Few weeks earlier than I thought, but that's just fine. Come on."

She shows us to the same bed I was in last time and lets me change into the nightgown Peeta brought. She examines me first, then straps me to a number of strange machines that spit out charts I can't read.

"Well, you've got a ways to go, but everything is normal. I suggest you get as much rest as you can now. Sleep if you can. You won't be able to later so try."

Sage doesn't disappear upstairs this time, but just moves into a room adjacent to this one on the same floor. I suppose she wants to keep a closer eye on me today.

"You should try to sleep too," I tell Peeta. "I'll probably wake you up later even if I don't mean to."

I drag him up on the bed with me. I fall asleep surprisingly quickly with him pressed against my back, one hand on my belly as always. Sometimes I float out of unconsciousness, half-awake when the pain hits, but mostly I stay asleep. Sage doesn't wake me up at all. I'm sure she reads the strange little charts the machines produce, but she obviously finds them satisfactory and lets me rest. I'm grateful. I'm not sure how long I've been asleep when I slowly start waking up. I keep being pulled from sleep, pain on the edge of my consciousness, before I slip back under. This happens for a while, slowly waking me up. But soon I'm brought harshly back to the waking world. This pain is stronger. A lot stronger. It lasts much longer this time, too. I know my time for rest is over.

The strange waves of pain come closer together now. I still have breaks in between, but they're shorter. When it hits, there is nothing in my consciousness but pain. I can't speak, can't think, can't even keep my eyes open. It is brutally strong. It's powerful enough that the sensation seems to carry over into my legs, running down the nerves there. I lie there for a while, legs squirming, hand fisted around the corner of my pillow before I decide I can't stay lying down anymore. Thankfully Sage appears immediately, as if summoned.

"I want to stand up," I demand, eyes clenching shut again. Sage examines me first, but then obliges. Peeta is still asleep and I decide to leave him there for a while and let Sage deal with me. Peeta will hate this, so the less he has to see of it, the better. Sage pulls me to my feet easily. She's surprisingly strong for someone who is fairly small.

"You're strong," I blurt out.

"You're not very big, even pregnant. Besides, if I'm strong enough to set bones, I'm strong enough to get you on your feet. Do you want to walk or just stand?"

"Walk."

"Okay. That's good, walking gets things moving faster."

"Good, because I'm already tired of this. How much longer is this going to last?"

"Not to be discouraging, but you're definitely not out of the woods yet. You're almost halfway."

"Joy."

"Come on, let's walk."

The walking at least helps until the pains hit. Then I have to stop, and hold on to Sage so my knees don't buckle. Sage holds me up, steady despite her size. She keeps walking with me, up and down the room with the beds. No one else is in here besides her, me, and Peeta. She is businesslike as always, but is remarkably patient.

"Thank you," I blurt again. I seem to have lost my ability to censor myself. "I know I don't listen to you most of the time, and you still put up with me."

Sage laughs at my candor.

"Well, you are one of the most difficult patients I've ever had. But, if anyone has earned the right to be a pain, it's you. I'll put up with you as long as you need, and that's my thank you to you."

Sage tries to counteract the sincerity of her words with a bit more terseness than usual. But they get through to me all the same. I nod once at her. We understand each other. She keeps walking me up and down the room until we hear Peeta stir.

"Katniss?"

"I'm over here, Peeta."

Peeta is upright and across the room in seconds.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"I haven't been up that long, Peeta," I lie. He won't understand that I was trying to spare him a few hours of this. "Just a few minutes."

"Here, maybe you should take over for a while," Sage suggests. "Just help her walk and hold her up when a contraction hits. Simple."

Peeta nods, happy to be of some help. I am glad that Peeta is here, because the pain starts getting worse. Now, when it hits, I loop my arms around Peeta and press my forehead to his chest. He stands quietly through it, rubbing my lower back. He asks, "Does this help?" I just nod into him, unable to do much else. A half an hour later, I'm clutching Peeta, standing in the middle of the room, and I can't keep quiet anymore. I've been relatively silent before this. The sound is somewhere between moaning, whining, and singing. It stays on the same pitch and reverberates in the room. A few minutes later, I realize I can't keep walking. I can't stay upright without leaning on Peeta.

"I don't want to walk anymore. Go back," I murmur, shaking my head. Peeta does everything I ask, saying almost nothing. I don't lie down once we're back to our little corner. I lean, hunched over, fists clutching a bar on the side of the bed, arms braced against it, still half-standing. I'm vaguely aware that my legs are twitching and trembling uncontrollably. I am slowly losing touch with what is going on, losing awareness. My existence becomes just fighting through pain. I am only still conscious of Peeta's presence. He just keeps rubbing my back, silent. He seems to know that trying to talk to me is a bad idea. I'm sure I'll snap without meaning to if I try to talk back. I just stand, fists clenched, trembling and moaning that same whining, singing moan. At one point though, I do snap at Peeta as he starts doing something to my hair.

"What in hell are you doing? Are you seriously playing with my hair right now?"

"No, I'm just re-braiding it. It's falling all over the place. I think you'll feel better if it's out of your face, but if you want me to stop, I will."

Peeta just calmly replies to my biting tone. I feel bad, but I am past the point of being able to do a thing about it.

"Sorry. Yeah, re-braid it." Even my apology sounds forced, but all speech is a struggle for me, so I move on. Peeta carefully braids my hair as my head hangs and I sway, rocking back and forth, still clutching the bed. He is right; I feel better with it out of my face. He keeps rubbing my back after that. Things continue this way for a long time. Hours, I think. It is all I can do to just clutch the rail on the bed and try to stay sane. My keening moans get louder, harsher, and longer. Sage comes by more than once to check on me. She keeps telling me how many centimeters I am and I am past the point of knowing or caring what that means. After she does this the third time, I snap at her, too.

"Sage, I don't give a damn. If I'm not ready to get this thing out of me right now, then I don't care. Just tell me how long I have to do this and be done with it."

"I was going to ask how she was coping, but I guess I have my answer," she says to Peeta.

"Is she supposed to be doing better or worse?"

"She's about on par, though I think she has back labor, which is a bit worse than normal. Just keep doing what you're doing and don't talk if you don't have to. She's relatively calm now. Just stay vigilant, because I think she's one of those who is going to lose it when she hits transition."

"What does that mean?" Peeta asks warily.

"Oh, you'll find out."

I would yell at them about talking about me like I'm not here, but I can't spare the energy. Time moves too slowly. I spare a moment to look up at the windows in the room. There is no light peeking through the curtains now. I have been here all day. I have no idea how much longer I have to go. It is exhausting and constant and impossibly draining. When I get tired of standing, I move to the bed, which is tilted up a bit so I'd be sitting upright if I were laying on it normally. I'm planted on my knees, hands clutching the top of the bed, head buried there too. All of my limbs are shaking now. I don't want to stay upright, I want to lie down, but lying down is too impossibly painful. I cannot find a comfortable position anymore. The only thing slightly comforting is Peeta's hand rubbing warm circles on my back as it has been all day and part way into the night. Time starts to take its toll on me. The pain has not gotten worse in the last hour, but I have been fighting it all day. I am starting to come unhinged.

"I don't know if I can do this," I moan. It's been taking so long.

"You can."

I shake my head at him. "No."

"I know it doesn't seem like it. It's been taking a long time and you're tired. I know you are. You're handling it better than I would if I were in your position. You can do it, and you will." Peeta's voice is calm and measured and blessedly understanding. I just nod at him, head still buried in the mattress.

As if the universe knows that I am reaching my breaking point and wants to play a cruel joke on me, something happens. My throat feels like it's closing up. I am nauseous. My whole being is trembling, almost vibrating. And there are no breaks anymore. Absolutely none. The waves of pain overlap each other. And that is when I really lose my mind.

"Oh. Oh my god." I start yelling. "Oh god, oh god, oh god!"

"Katniss?"

"Oh my god, what the hell is happening?" I shriek, incorporating the words into the moaning that doesn't stop now. I'm inexplicably infuriated.

"What's wrong?" Peeta asks, panicked at my outburst.

"I feel like I'm dying, that's what!"

I hear quick footsteps.

"Is she alright?" Peeta asks. Sage must be here.

"She's fine. Well, relatively."

"Then why do I feel like this? This does not feel fine, dammit!"

"That's transition," Sage tells Peeta. "The good news is, we don't have much longer. The bad news is, she'll be like this for the remainder of labor."

"Quit talking about me like I'm not here and just tell me how long I'm going to feel like I want to die!"

"Shouldn't be much longer than thirty minutes."

"That's 'not long' to you?"

"Well, considering you've been here since ten in the morning and it's almost midnight, yes."

Any retort I have dissolves into incoherent wailing.

"Just breathe through it," Sage commands. I am in too much pain to handle any sort of direction well.

"I swear to god, Sage-"

"Swear all you want, but it'll help. Just breathe."

"I mean it. Tell me to breathe one more time and this," I gesture to a small but heavy clock on the side table, "and anything else I can find will be coming towards you."

"Sage, she means it. She'll throw it. She will throw it at you. She's got good aim-"

"Breathe."

"You breathe!" I yell, lobbing the clock behind me.

"I told you," Peeta mutters. I know the clock didn't hit Sage when I hear it slam into the wall. But I know it was probably close.

Sage speaks, obviously trying to contain how badly I've startled her. "Alright, so coaching isn't going to work with her."

"I could've told you that," Peeta mutters, chuckling a bit. "Not like that anyway."

"Don't you dare laugh at me, Peeta!"

"I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at Sage. What would make you feel better?"

"Killing something."

"Well, you almost killed Sage."

"No I didn't. Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god," my words dissolve into more amorphous yelling. "I want to shoot something!"

"I know, I know. And I'd let you if you weren't, you know, in a hospital."

"I want to throw things! Oh god-"

"Please don't. You already broke the clock. Don't get mad at me, but maybe you should try breathing."

"No."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Is this normal?" Peeta asks Sage.

"For the most part. Although, she is the most violent I've ever seen. She's lethal."

"Oh god, I don't want children anymore!" I bellow, punching the mattress underneath me.

"Does that help? Punching?"

"I don't know, I don't know! Dammit, dammit, dammit," I beat the mattress with each phrase.

"That's right, Katniss, punch the mattress," Peeta says patiently. If I weren't in blinding pain, I might laugh. I do end up beating the mattress. It doesn't actually help the pain, but it gives me an outlet at the least. This continues for at least fifteen minutes. My continuous hollering and punching, Peeta's attempt at encouraging and calming me.

"I want this thing out of me!" I scream when the pain gets particularly bad.

"I'll check how far along she is," Sage says, startled as much as Peeta is at my vehemence. I clench my fists as she examines me once more, hoping that I don't have to suffer much more of this. Peeta just puts his hand over my clenched one.

"You're almost done," he assures me. I can't say much back, but I do unclench my fist and grasp his hand, vice-like. He squeezes back. I dissolve into that wailing again, but I don't let go of his hand.

"You're in luck. We're ready to have a baby," Sage concludes. The next few moments are a flurry of jumbled activity. Sage running for things, Peeta looking around wildly, me being moved this way and that. Next thing I know, I'm turned around, sitting upright, curled over, legs slung into something akin to stirrups, straining and pushing and sweating and shouting so hard I'm afraid my lungs will burst. I still haven't let go of Peeta's hand. He's got one arm behind my shoulders, holding me as far upright as he can. The other is bent at the elbow, straining against the strength of my hand bearing down on his. Sage is shouting directions at me. I can't follow them. I can hardly hear her over my pulse pounding in my ears, the pain, the strain, and the exhaustion. After a moment, Peeta starts calmly, measuredly repeating what she says. He's not yelling, he's not demanding. Just talking. I obediently follow, able to think clearer when he talks to me. Sometimes he counts with Sage. Sometimes he says calming things to me. Sometimes, gently directs me. Others, encourages me. His voice is the only thing I'm really aware of for a time. Suddenly, Sage does break through my consciousness.

"Baby's head is out. You're nearly there, just one more."

Peeta jumps when she speaks. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

"You can't tell from a head. A little patience, Peeta?" Sage admonishes. I almost laugh, but I can't yet. I feel as if I don't have an ounce of strength left, but I try to dredge up what I can and with a final shout I feel the baby slip free. I feel warm weight on my stomach and hear a tiny, thin little wail. Sage is rubbing the baby with towels as it rests on me, so I can't really see it at first.

"Did you hear that, Katniss?" Peeta asks thickly. I have fallen back, leaning exhaustedly, propped up by the tilted bed.

"Uh uh. What did she say?"

"It's a girl."

I look back down and Sage finally moves away from the child. There she is. Grayish and red-faced, still screaming her head off, thrashing about as much as her tiny limbs can. She slows down to little kitten mewls once she realizes that Sage has stopped the business with the towels. She's looking around quickly, sharply, and curiously, frowning still. I can feel my tired, drooping smile envelop my face. Sage gets Peeta to shakily cut the cord before whisking her off to weigh her and make sure she's alright. She's returned quickly to us, this time wrapped tightly in a little blanket. She's still looking around, as if trying to take in everything at once.

"What in the world are you looking at?" I chuckle quietly at her. She starts and her little gaze darts to me and Peeta, as if she just noticed us. She squawks halfheartedly at us before quieting down and settling against me. She's still looking up at us, but it's no longer questioning.

"Yeah, you know who we are, don't you?" I ask her.

"She's got your hair," Peeta smiles. He's sobbing, tears pouring down his face, leaning on the side of the bed. She does indeed. She's already got a head full of stick-straight, dark hair, just like mine.

"Your nose, though."

"She does, doesn't she? But look at her eyes."

She has the bluest eyes I think I've ever seen. Dark, deep blue. I see so many people in them. A bit of my mother. Some of Peeta's father, from what I can remember. So, so much of Peeta, in how bright and sweet they are. A quiet gentleness that is unmistakably Prim. And there's a little spark in there that is just her that I've never seen in anyone else.

It's not until Peeta hands me a tissue that I realize I'm crying as hard as he is. He's just staring down at her like she's the most precious thing in the universe.

"Here, take her," I smile. Peeta has been waiting for this all of his life. I'm not going to delay it any longer. He gingerly gathers the little girl in the crook of his elbow and doesn't look away. I suspect he never will. She looks up at him and immediately closes her little blue eyes, burrowing into him, content. He sits down with her right next to the bed, as close to me as he can get.

"So, what's her name?" Sage asks, business-like as ever once more, pen poised to record it.

Peeta and I peer into her little face.

"Should we name her after anyone?" he asks.

"No. She's her own person," I reply, decidedly. He nods in agreement. I keep wondering what her little eyes remind me of. I think of how the only place she was ever calm was out in the woods, particularly by the lake where I gave her her nickname. I remember a vivid blue from just this morning, by that same lake.

"Iris." Her eyes look just like that little petal poking out from that iris plant from this morning. Peeta looks at her hard. And nods.

"It fits."

I lean over onto his shoulder, taking in the both of them, like two little matching puzzle pieces.

"Yes. It does."

The last thing I see before exhaustion overtakes me is Peeta, smiling and talking to her endlessly, Iris listening with rapt attention. I fall asleep and dream of her bright blue eyes.

Hope you all enjoyed! Thank you so much for all the well-wishes while I was traveling! They were lovely and did indeed make the train to Rome more fun. I'm home safe now. Do leave a review and tell me what you thought! Until next time!

~Belmione