Hey, so here it is, the 50th Chapter. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, I DIDN'T REALLY THING THAT THIS WOULD HAPPEN SO YAY! I really didn't think that this would come so far guys, it literally started as a little idea that I really didn't think would go anywhere. I owe everything to you, all of you beautiful, wonderful intelligent friends of mine; who have stuck with me until this point - and hopefully to the end - I couldn't have done it without you! I would like to say thank you to Pinkkitten1 for your review, but this chapter is dedicated to all of you (Apart from Khaya because we're at war), because you're all so wonderful.

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MadcapScribbler

The next morning, I'm woken up early by various doctors who need to take my blood and run various psychological tests. Why they have to do it before the sun is up, I have no idea. Eventually, they leave and I quickly notice why they were so quiet; Peeta and Finnick are both asleep on chairs at opposite ends of the room. Not that it's very big or anything, but they are both tucked neatly into opposite corners in the end of the room lucky enough to be shadowed by darkness. It's odd that they gave me my own room. I've never really been here much, like I told Peeta – my mum would sort us out if we needed to see a doctor – but on the rare occasion that I did come all the way to the hospital as a child, I never even saw any private rooms.

The hospital was a pretty grim place, and I never particularly liked it as a child. We would have to walk for ages to get here and then my father would have to fill out a million forms with names and addresses and citizen numbers and allsorts. Then, after the hours of walking and paperwork, we would then have to wait in cramped conditions before your number was called. You would walk into a room with the doctor and then realise that there were three or four other doctors with three or four other patients in the same tiny room.

I may say it was cramped, but that's not because there were loads of people there. It was mainly because the hospital was understaffed and small, and therefore if there were, say 40 people there, it would already be crowded.

I look down at my now very small stomach. It's not supposed to be so small; it should still be big and swollen for the next few weeks. I want to hold her, I want to look at her eyes and nose and mouth and ears and decide how much she looks like Peeta. I want to take her home and show her to Prim and Madge and Adrian and Olivia and Rye and everyone. I want to put her in the cot that my father made and Peeta fixed. I want to wrap her up in blankets and keep her warm and I want to protect her from every bad thing and person that there is. But I can't. I wish I could breathe for her. I would if I could, believe me. I'm pretty sure Peeta would give up his lungs for her if he could; after all he did admit that he'd kill his own brother if it meant she could live. I don't want to believe that he would, but I think I do.

He's still not comfortable with Rye being around, not really. They don't tend to talk much at all anymore, not unless they need to. And even then, they exchange words on the simplest and bluntest terms. I can't help but be responsible, I shouldn't have kissed him, and I wish I hadn't.

I look up when I hear noises coming from the other end of the room. Finnick is beginning to wake up. I watch as he rubs his eyes and blinks a bit before looking up at me and beaming. He looks so happy still, smiling up at me from the darkness. I want to ask him if ignorance is bliss, but I don't think it is ignorance in Finn's case. He is optimistic and innocent in a way that I can't wrap my head around. Innocence in the eyes of knowledge; an uncommon trait that only Finnick possesses. I smile back at him and push myself up a bit more so that I'm sitting on the bed; he gets the idea and sits on the other end of it, facing me. He crosses his legs and his knees sit like knotted rope on the end of his legs.

"Morning," he beams.

"Is it?" I ask, looking to see the sun just risen enough to be fully visible, a full orange circle beaming down on the day.

"You alright?"

"No," I sigh; there is no point in lying to Finnick.

"She's going to be ok, you know that right?"

"I want to know that, but there's no possible way of knowing that's the truth."

"Hey, she's the daughter of Katniss Everdeen – survivor – she's going to be just fine"

"I don't want her to go through what I've survived though, Finn. There's a big difference between living and surviving. Surviving is just about staying alive; making sure you're not dead. Living is enjoying your time while you survive."

"Oh, I beg to differ. I mean, sure, staying alive is so boring. It's just… staying. Flat-lining. A constant. But you've got it wrong. Surviving isn't about staying alive. Surviving is about being alive. And Katniss, I've never met anyone more alive than you!"

"I…" I snap my mouth shut and the room returns to silence.


Not much happened after that, and I fell asleep quickly. When I wake up again, the room is empty. I push myself up and double check, but I'm certain there is no-one in the room with me.

"Peeta? Finn?" I wait a few seconds but get no response. That is when I decide that I can't stand being bedridden any longer, so I push myself round and swing my legs over the bed before standing. The floor is cold under my bare feet and feels funny under my toes. Walking feels weird because I haven't moved much in a while, so my limbs are stiff, but I get the hang of it in a few seconds and get out of the room quickly.

I don't recognise the hospital outside of my room; I don't think I've ever been in this part of it before. Then again, most people won't have been. The majority of births are at home, but I guess Peeta panicked, and to be fair, I was a little scared to say "Put me down, I want to have a baby here" so I just let him carry me. I look around; there is nobody to be seen, no doctors, nothing. I see a sign that has some badly painted words written on it and head forwards; in the direction of what I think is the NICU. After a few minutes of aimlessly walking, I see a door that has the words "Neonatal Intensive Care Unit" written (in better handwriting) on the door. I push it open and find Peeta sitting on a stool much like the one in my room.

He's sitting by a really scary looking contraption that's hooked up to what looks like glass box. She's inside it, with a tube in her nose. I watch as her stomach inflates and deflates and feel little relief that she's breathing. She's asleep, and therefore her eyes are closed, but she definitely looks like Peeta. Her hair is already very obviously Peeta's; blonde and slightly curly. There is something about her; maybe it's her mouth, or the way she's curled up her hand up with her index finger pressing on the space between her eye and the top of her nose, but something about her reminds me of prim.

I don't say anything as I walk in and sit with Peeta, on the opposite side of the incubator. I sit and watch her sleep; she looks so peaceful in such a scary environment.

"So, Finn said you thought of a name?" Peeta says without looking up at me.

"mmm," I agree, slightly distracted.

"You want to tell me?"

"Oh, uh, yeah." I look up at him, "Laurel"

"Laurel," Peeta says the name as if he's getting his mouth used to it, "Yeah, I like it," he smiles, "Laurel Mellark."

"Laurel Mellark," I repeat, "Survivor."

Oh, so I will just fill you in on the name Laurel. The bit about the trees in the last chapter is all true and they are beautiful and strong trees, but I put more thought into it then that. In history, victors and people that were looked up to as strong leaders and such were given crowns of laurel leaves to wear as a sort of trophy I guess. Also, the name "Laurel" comes from the name Laurence/Lawrence (yes, as in Jennifer Lawrence - lucky coincidence) which means "Alive" so really the name couldn't be more fitting. Thank you again for making the 50th chapter possible, new chapter tomorrow x