Chapter 4

Katniss' POV

A pearl. That's how I think of her. The product of putting pressure on coal, or in our case, two kids from the coal district. I think of Peeta's smile as he gave me the pearl on the beach at the quell. Joking about Effie's misinformation. Little did we know, I was growing one inside of me.

I had never wanted to become a parent. The fear of the reaping, or watching my child starve to death, was just too much to bear, but the only thing that keeps me going these days is the baby growing inside of me.

I think back to this morning, Effie holding my hand while the doctor came to talk to me about my pregnancy. Last week, after Effie told me about the pregnancy, they ran a full genetic panel. This morning, the results came in. There was so much that they could tell me about my baby. Peeta should be here for this, and I can't stop the flow of tears as I remember that Peeta won't be here for any of this.

I smile gratefully at Effie as the doctor begins telling me about the baby inside of me. A daughter, I'm growing Peeta's daughter. A little girl with his pale skin and blue eyes, and chestnut hair, a perfect blend of our hair colors. She'll have my height and build. Best of all, from the tips of her toes, to the top of her head, she will be perfect.

I can smell him before I can see him.

I was supposed to die in the Quarter Quell so that Peeta could live, but I couldn't even have that wish. Snow is angry. The berries were bad enough, but now, I've destroyed an arena. Why is he keeping me alive?

"Hello my dear, how are you doing?"

The smell of blood and roses overwhelm my senses, and it takes everything to keep from throwing up. Morning sickness doesn't restrict itself to morning, but I'd likely feel nausea anyway. My hand instinctively goes to my still flat stomach, protecting my little pearl. His face close to mine, he presses a kiss to my cheek.

"I hear congratulations are truly in order. How did the father take the news?" The smile he gives me makes my skin crawl. His words dripping with the implication that the father might not be Peeta.

"He was cautiously optimistic. I'm sure you caught the interview." I say, fire flashing in my eyes. I keep feeding the fire, because when the fire fades, the tears come, and I refuse to cry in front of President Snow.

"I think we should share the good news, don't you. The people of Panem deserve to know that the star crossed lovers story doesn't end with Peeta's death. Your love story inspiring another generation of Panem. I'm sure that you want to keep the baby in the best of health." He doesn't even try to hide the threatening sneer.

President Snow rises, as he steps through the door, he turns and says "I'll be watching."

I shiver. The room feels like it dropped ten degrees. Haymitch's words echo in my mind. "You never get off this train." Why didn't I just eat the berries? I wish I could eat them now. I could be with Peeta again, and give our little Pearl the family that she deserves. Peeta would have been an excellent father. Love like that comes natural to him. I can picture it, Peeta holding her in his arms, her bright smile as he tosses her into the air. She has his laugh.

For a brief moment, I feel happy, holding on to what little I have left of Peeta. I know what I must do, I must do whatever is asked of me to keep this baby safe.

I'm tired, so tired. I never thought that closing my eyes could be more frightening than the games themselves, but the nightmares are more vivid than ever. The doctor said that's normal with pregnancy, but without Peeta's arms to comfort me, I find no relief in sleep. Lately, my dreams aren't of the arena, they are of a fate much worse than that; watching as Snow takes my baby, being unable to protect my baby, Baby Mellark being called out in a cheery voice at the reaping. Over and over again, these visions come.

Effie is shaking me, and as I open my eyes, I can see her look of concern. I see her school her features, plastering on the fake smile she showed me the day of the interview, a smile touches my face as I remember her words "Try and pretend! See, like this. I'm smiling at you even though you're aggravating me." Effie leads me down the hall to the Remake center, where I am face to face with Peeta's prep team. There is a slight moment of discomfort, and then I find myself being drawn into their arms, bonded by our shared loss. They are quick and efficient, taking me to beauty base zero, then pressing a button.

Portia strolls in and circles me, an appraising look on her face. She gives me a quick smile, squeezes my hand, and walks out again. The doors reopen, and Peeta's prep team are back at work, curling my hair, polishing my nails in a shimmery pale pink, and applying a light layer of make-up. A knock on the door reveals Portia with a dress bag, and as she slips the light weight dress over my head, I am awash in a mixture of grief and happiness. I would recognize Cinna's work anywhere. I'm poked and prodded, and the dress is slipped back over my head, leaving me in a daze of confusion, but one of the ladies from Peeta's prep team is helping me into the most beautiful pair of pale pink knickers, and a matching bra. I slip on the proffered pair of shoes, a moderate heel quite simple in style. My hair is pinned back, and I am walked to a mirror.

I gasp when I catch my reflection in the mirror, and a stab of longing fills my heart. I wish Peeta could see me like this. Pregnancy has rounded my curves already, my make-up lightly done, appearing as though I just have some gloss on my lips, my hair pinned away from my face, with ringlets hanging down my back, the pale pink lace, it gives the impression of a lovely young woman who's never been in the Hunger Games, she just radiates love. The dress is brought back, having been altered to fit my blossoming curves, and when they slip it on, I feel my eyes get misty. I feel beautiful, like I could finally be deserving of Peeta's words those nights in my room, as he told me that I was beautiful.