((Peeta's POV))
"I must have loved you a lot if I was trying to save you in the Quarter Quell."
She's looking at me, her eyes cold and demanding. She wants an answer to a question I've been asking myself since after the first Games.
"I love you. Real or not real?"
Ever since that night that I first visited her, I have been making an effort to talk with her like she asked. But we've been through the easy questions; set the foundation of reality that has only seemed to confuse her more. She doesn't ask easy questions anymore. She knows her favorite color is green, she bites her nails when she's anxious, she loves cheese buns, she gets a reoccurring headache in a spot by her left eyebrow, and that she loves Prim more than anything. The basics, the easy stuff.
This is not easy for me to answer.
"I don't know." I whisper. Because it's the only truth I can give her. And I promised her that I would not lie.
"You're not especially strong, are you? Or handsome."
There is an edge to her voice, and I begin to stand up.
"You know, I would have saved myself a lot of trouble if I had left you to die by that river. I'd be a happy little victor, and everyone I love would be safe."
I need to get out of here. She may be restrained, but she is still hurting me. I try and ignore the tears forming in my eyes and the hurt swelling in my chest.
The worst part is that, to a certain degree, she is right.
As I rush towards the door to leave, Prim almost runs right into me.

((Prim's POV))
Katniss is broken. I love her, but I know this to be true. She's not unfixable - I have to remind myself that broken is not the same thing as unfixable.
She's getting better, I just know it. In the beginning, she would lay stiffly while I held her. Now, the doctors allow me to remove the restraints so that she can hold me.
Ever since she was rescued I have felt my fear ebb away. My thoughts are no longer consumed by fear for her. Yes, she has been tortured, but she is as safe as she can be here in District 13. I know where she is, and that she loves me.
For now, that will have to be enough.
But as I look over her medical charts, my sense of security is fleeing. My sister could be dying. Her weight is much too low, and the doctors want to give her a feeding tube. She cannot sleep without pharmaceutical assistance. She rarely eats. And the poison has all but rendered her immune system worthless against infection from her wounds. Her cuts and bruises remain; she is not healthy enough to heal from them.
Four months.
I watch from the observation room as Peeta talks to her, keeping the heart rate monitor screen in view. Since Peeta has been visiting routinely, her initial panic at the sight of him has decreased; she is not violent anymore.
Just shattered, her entire sense of reality scrambled.
Though the doctors estimate she is 3-4 months pregnant, she hasn't noticed that she has started to show. Her inevitable discovery of her pregnancy is a weight I cannot seem to lift from off my chest. Because she does not know, and the doctors don't have much of a plan for when she does.
I have lied to her.
She told me of a memory she had with Peeta. Of a night in the Capitol - or was it on the train? - when she finally let herself love him. She was vague, of course. She still views me as a little kid, the little twelve year old she sacrificed so much to save. But I knew what her memory was. And the pain and fear in her eyes haunted me.
So I lied to her. When she asked "real or not real?" I broke the rules of our game. Though I couldn't know for sure whether that exact memory was true, I told her it wasn't. The relief in her eyes soothed the knot in my stomach that formed that day.
But only for so long. There is nothing Katniss Everdeen despises more than liars. I dread the moment she finds out I lied. I have regained her trust since she came back, and I cannot bare to lose it.
Suddenly, the beeping of the heart rate monitor increases. The noise is rapid, panicked. And the look in Katniss's eyes is rabid.
"Peeta!"
I can hear it through the glass. I should not be able to hear it, but she is screaming at the top of her lungs. I rush into her room without a thought.
I do not know what has set her off. Her remaining triggers are no where to be seen. I shoulder my way through the door and nearly run into Peeta's chest. He's leaving, but I need to know what happened; what is happening.
She is still screaming for him.
My hand on his wrist seems to bring him to his senses, and he turns around immediately when he registers her screams.
"Peeta! Help me!"
I cannot help but breathe a small sigh of relief. Her progress with Peeta hasn't been lost.
I rush to her side, my grip on Peeta's wrist dragging him along with me.
"Katniss, what's wrong?" Tentatively, I rub her arm in what is supposed to be a soothing back and forth motion. But she does not calm.
"My stomach!"
Shit.
"Distract her." I whisper it to Peeta, only I'm not sure he hears me. He has already adjusted the cot so that she is laying flat. When she does not move away, he moves her hair from her face and strokes her cheek.
"Hey, you're okay. It's okay. Tell me what you feel."
She makes unintelligible noises at him while I pull up her hospital gown and run my hands along her bump. Nothing seems amiss. Checking to make sure Peeta isn't looking, I check under her underclothing.
No blood. Likely not a miscarriage. And if it were, she would know it wasn't her stomach.
Maybe I missed something. What could be bothering her this much? She is used to hunger, and she would not cry out if she felt that kind of pain.
And that's when I feel it. A flutter beneath the skin of her stomach. The baby is kicking. Katniss is shrieking. She still has restraints, though she has not been violent in waking for a while. She tugs on them, trying to free herself.
When I meet Peeta's eyes, he nods to me. Fishing for the key, I go to undo the restraints. Hopefully it will calm her down…
She's reaching for Peeta, and he seems to panic. But she does not hurt him. Instead, she seems to be seeking his embrace. I unlock her other arm, but hesitate at her ankles. If she works herself into too much of a panic she could hurt herself or Peeta…
It doesn't seem to matter, anyway. She is clutching at him, and he gently holds her. It is so deeply personal and loving that I have to look away.
Where would they be if she hadn't been hijacked?
Slowly, she seems to calm. He talks nonsense to her about painting, the woods, the exact shade of the sunset. It begins to work, giving me to opportunity to attach a morphing drip to her IV. On second thought, I exchange it for a sedative. She has not slept for a while, and if the baby starts kicking again…
She begins to fall sleep and her grip on him loosens. Before she becomes unconscious, I hear their quiet exchange.
"Stay with me?"
"Always."
Peeta and I sit in silence for a while, watching her chest rise and fall. I tidy everything up, and make a note on her chart. I need to talk to the doctor about the kicking, and before she finds out we need to get that feeding tube going. I do not know how incapacitated she will be when she finds out.
"Thank you, Prim." His words are quiet and earnest, but my mind is elsewhere.
We thought she was at 4 months, but if the baby is kicking it has to be closer to 4 1/2 or 5. Which means that he has not been completely honest.
"Peeta, she's farther along than you said, isn't she?"
He is silent, unable to meet my eyes. He leans away from her cot and remains silent. I can't decide whether he doesn't want to answer, or that he doesn't want to accept the timing.
If she is 5 months in, then we have less time than planned. If she is 5 months in, it could be Gale's. But we do not know if they were intimate or not. And I do not want to be the one to ask.
We remain silent for a long time. Finally, the door opens.
"Hey, Dr. Aurelius. The baby-" I'm brushing off my scrubs and standing up, but when I turn around, it is not Dr. Aurelius at the door.
It is my mother.
"It is not Gale's. I revisited the ultrasound; the baby is small, but she is at 18 weeks. It is a miracle that she does not know yet."
Initially, I can feel Peeta relax. But he tenses a moment after she says 18. He must be doing the math.
They would have been on the train to the Capitol. Hurling towards their deaths at 250 miles per hour.
The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Peeta is on the ground sitting by Katniss's head and I find myself sinking into the guest chair. Surprisingly, my mother sits on Katniss's cot. Without looking at us, she gently places her hand on Katniss's bump. She smiles.
"Must be healthy if the little thing is kicking."
I sit next to Mom and put my hand near hers. Sure enough, the baby kicks right where my hand is. When I look down, I see Peeta has a wistful look in his eye, and that he has grabbed Katniss's hand.
If she were awake, this would be perfect. A moment in time I would want to freeze and live in forever.
But she is not awake. And she is only 17, something my mother has thrown in Peeta's face every time she sees him. But today she does not fight with Peeta. I am surprised when she speaks softly to him.
"Come feel them."
Them.
Peeta seems oblivious to her phrasing and rises from the ground. He goes to the other side and puts his hand where my mom gestures. He smiles and his hand is met with a kick.
"Mom, when you said-"
"Yes, Primrose. Twins."

((Peeta's POV))
The word echoes in my mind.
Twins. It is a wonder. And if she really is 18 weeks along, it is a wonder she wasn't showing for so long. If she was eating healthy instead of being stuck in the Capitol being tortured…
I find myself running my hand along her bump now, imagining a world where this would truly mean family.
I force the negative thoughts away and focus on what joy I can find in this moment. I envision us in the Meadow with two little ones running about and playing with the flowers. Dandelions, buttercups, and primrose. Katniss laughing beside me, Prim chasing them through the field.
It is so beautiful and unreachable that I find tears making their way down my cheeks.
I want this vision to be real more than anything I have ever wanted for.
Mrs. Everdeen whisks Prim from the room and I am left to mourn a life I may never have. Children, yes. If she can get through the birth or c-section…
But I will not think of what is to come. Instead, I think of what I have. And then the thoughts of what they need if they are to be safe.
This rebellion must win, and I must fulfill my promise.
I leave Katniss with a kiss to the forehead and go to the Command Room.

-
((Mrs. Everdeen's POV))
Teenage pregnancy was not something I ever thought I would have to worry about. Especially for Katniss.
She is beautiful, of course. And while she was oblivious to it, she did garner male attention back home. But she was never interested. Never wanted to start a family. And the complete opposite of her sister when it came to children and marriage.
So of course it would be Katniss who got pregnant at 17 and would still not know at 19 weeks.
The news was shocking to me. I couldn't help but be angry with Peeta, though I know he didn't mean for it to happen. Neither one of them did. But some part of me is thankful. Because while I know that her finding out will be painful, I am glad that she will end up having children after all. Especially with such a good boy.
Twins. Plausibly, the risk could not be much higher. They have survived the Hunger Games without being miscarried, but with Katniss's mental state… I fear for what will happen when she finds out. And if she can survive the birth.
Her medical chart is not promising. She is still emaciated and due for her feeding tube tomorrow, but in this condition she would die. And no matter how I abandoned my daughters, I cannot bear to see my little girl die.
But she can't even handle the kicking. It throws her into a tizzy and she needs drugged to handle it. It would be funny that she thought it was just a bruised rib or stomach ache if it weren't for how delicate the situation.
"Thank you, Mom." Her words are quiet, but they bring warmth. She is not kind to me very often anymore.
"Of course, sweetheart. I love you." I may be pushing my luck-
"I love you too."
While unexpected, the words are lovely to hear. I hold on to them because she may not say them to me again.
-

((Katniss's POV))
Children. Two little girls with raven colored hair and the brightest blue eyes I have ever seen. They run through the Meadow, chasing Prim. I do not know why I see them in my occasional dreams, but they exist.
Willow and Chrysanthemum.
Dandelion and Violet.
Their names are ever changing, and so are their faces. But the core stays the same. Two little girls who remind me of their daddy. Prim. Mom. Peeta.
Everyone I love in a place where they can't get hurt.
The image fades away and I dread waking up. There is no relief in opening my eyes. Only strong fluorescent lights that completely contrast the dim dungeon I was kept in a month ago.
But this time I am unrestrained. Which is strange. I always wake up bound.
I am cold, but I must have kicked off the blankets while I was sleeping. I take pleasure in being able to roll onto my side and assume the fetus position.
I wrap my arms around my middle for warmth, but find a bump in my way. Something flutters and kicks from inside.
It takes a moment to process the only thing it can mean.
I scream.

((Peeta's POV))
Command is an organized disaster. The war effort is lagging, and Coin wants to send us to District 2 to help rally the troops. Luckily, when I stand my ground Finnick offers they film his wedding instead. But Coin and Plutarch Heavensbee just cannot seem to agree on the details.
Extravagant. Simple. Wedding-of-the-century. Cheap.
Soon enough, other people begin to try and join the conversation. It's stupid really, that Finnick and Annie's wedding is a bargaining chip for our safety. That the government has nothing better to argue about than what decorations will be used.
Suddenly, everyone goes quiet. I look up to see why, but everyone is looking behind me.
I turn around to find a crying Prim in the doorway. She looks terrified.
She looks me in the eye when she says it. "She knows."