I stare at the little test in my hand. There's absolutely no way. We've only tried once since I agreed to this guaranteed catastrophe. Surely that wasn't enough to already have this be happening? Once? One time without any kind of protection and I'm carrying a thing inside of me? Unbelievable. I only half realize I'm picking up a glass vase and carelessly throwing it against the wall. The moment Peeta bursts onto the scene is when I fully realize what I've done.

I have taken one of our possessions, which I'm sure was a wedding gift at one point in time, and just shattered it into a billion irreparable pieces. Surely a sign of things to come. Peeta eyes me warily, no doubt wondering what heinous memory has set me off this time. Oh, if he only knew. Wordlessly, I put the pregnancy test onto the counter and storm out the door. I haven't the slightest clue as to where I'm going, but I know there's no stopping me until I get there.

I can only imagine Peeta, his entire being just lighting up at the tiny little plus sign just lying on the counter. That little plus sign that means very different things to the two of us. Peeta sees us; the two of us combined into one little person, one innocent undamaged baby. He sees our future; he sees what every new father must surely see. And then here I am. The dark storm cloud, pelting the horizon with all of my damaging thoughts. I see a tiny person, one innocent undamaged baby, just waiting for me to screw up. I've already done so many things wrong in my lifetime, and now life is presenting me with another golden opportunity to ruin it all. A tiny undamaged baby; would it die also?

I think back to my last tiny undamaged baby. Dead for 15 years now. Gone. She was so small; so young. And I had taken away the whole rest of her life. Just a baby. Gone. Surely this would happen again? I am a monster, only able to repeat past mistakes.

I look at the door in front of me. A door to a home long left alone; a door into a world I haven't visited in over a decade. My old house in the Seam. Our old house; mine, mothers…and Prims. I reach for the door handle and twist. Right away I am greeted by such horrendous pain I am hardly able to stand, hardly able to breathe. Nothing has changed. The few pieces of furniture we left behind when we moved to the Victor's Village remains exactly where it was left. I see a tiny little girl standing in the corner, her shirt untucked, her eyes bright with a smile to accompany her joy. I blink, and she's gone. I glance to the corner; I see a woman hunched over, her arms tight around her body, shut out to the rest of the world. Suddenly she stands; she tries. I blink once again, and the vision disappears. So long ago. Memories I had suppressed; memories that were too sad to remember. Now, all I can think of is how I'd like to write them down in me and Peeta's memory book. It's been almost a year since either of us has thought to add anything.

I remember my father holding a baby Prim. My eyes fill with tears. I can't do this. I cannot be a mother. The only example I have to lead by is off in District 4. Oh, she stops by occasionally. Last time I saw her was three years ago; Greasy Sae's funeral. 3 years ago. For a funeral. That is my mother. She asks, no, begsfor my forgiveness on my wedding day, and then makes rare appearances for the next 15 years. I can't be a mother. I can't be her.

How can I? I'll leave my child; somehow for some moment my child will be motherless. If I have a nightmare I can't wake up from. It's happened a few times; Peeta literally had to pick me up and put me in the bathtub to tear me away from the demons in my mind. Or what if I have to save Peeta from a deranged flashback? The things I have to do to keep him with me are not suitable for a child's eyes. Our entire lives are not suitable for a child's life!

It still, over a decade later smells of ash and pain. Sure, pain may not have a legitimate scent, but if it did, if you could bottle up the smell of misery, the Everdeen's house in the Seam would be the place to go. Small piles of ashes have collected over the years. Paw prints can be found in some of them. I think back to Buttercup, who died not too long after I found him here. Are these his prints? Or has some other animal been roaming the remains of a life long ago left alone. Neither of those options brings me any comfort. Poor Buttercup. If they are his, it's just too sad. His little feet wandering around his old home, looking for some source of normalcy, something from his life of comfort he missed. His tiny marks, permanently apart of this black hole of a home.

If they are not his, it means my neglect of my previous home has finally gone to the extreme. Wild creatures might possibly be lurking behind every corner of this fading structure. I have tried so hard to forget this place; I am no better than my mother.

"Katniss."

I am not surprised he has found me. "You got your wish Peeta."

I hear him suck in a breath behind me. "At the cost of what? You're breaking things; walking out without giving me any answers. You said you wanted this Katniss."

"I didn't think it would happen this soon. I didn't think."

Peeta walks away from behind me so that he can talk to me, face to face. Oh no. Peeta and his words. He has a way of making me think of things I normally would not.

"Katniss. You said that you wanted this. I never ever would have tried with you if I knew you were lying. Why would you lie to me about something like this? This isn't some trivial thing Katniss! This is our child!"

I hold my head high. I will not break this time. I know that I am right. I feel it in my everything. I am right. I am hysterically crying as well.

"I didn't lie! But I didn't think Peeta. Do you know what kind of monstrous mother I will be?"

He reaches for me, likely trying to hug the fear out of me, but his arms can't save me this time. This time, I am alone. I am alone in thinking these things. I am alone in wishing this thing inside me didn't exist. We were doing so well! Of course we have our bad days, but it was just the two of us. We could call each other back from anything. But with a child? We will be limited. There are methods we can't use anymore; effective methods. This child was created by using that effective method.

Already, I am wishing I was without child! How could these thoughts not have crossed my mind before I agreed to this! I take one look at Peeta's heartbroken face and I remember. I have had every one of these thoughts.

I am not good enough.

We cannot do this.

I can't do this.

Peeta could do this.

Peeta will do this. I don't have a choice anymore. I will do this. Together. It's all too much and the room is spinning. I feel nauseous. I go to sit on the floor and immediately Peeta is there, trying to protect me. Trying to protect us. He lifts me up and I lay against him. "I'm pregnant," I whisper. "I know."

I have good days and bad days. Right now, it's in between. I really wouldn't mind crawling into our bed and wallowing in my own misery, but I feel like I shouldn't do that. If I can feel that much, then it's an in between day. I drag myself out of the bedroom, throwing one of Peeta's shirts on in the process. According to the doctor, I'm now four months pregnant. Four months. I'm starting to show a little. I try to cover it up. I know eventually there will be no hiding this, but for now, pretending is the only thing I have left. I pretend I'm not getting more and more pregnant by the day. I pretend I am still happy. I pretend I am not slowly killing Peeta. Pretending is the best I can do.

When I come downstairs Peeta is waiting for me at the table. He's just sullenly sitting there, watching me. I grab a glass and fill it with milk. Reluctantly, I take a vitamin sent by my mother. Oh, she was elated over the news. I hadn't wanted to tell her, but Peeta made me. No one else knew; not even Haymitch. Mother had sent me over a blue blanket she made, along with the vitamins and a note telling me how much she loved me.

A note. She sent me a note. Her last child on this earth, pregnant, and she sends a note. I had tossed it into the fire after I read it. Peeta had just stared at me, just like he's doing now. His constant stares make me feel terrible. I remember when he used to stare at me out of lust, out of love, out of happiness. Now he just looks afraid. He's waiting for me to snap, to do something dangerous that will hurt the baby. He's waiting for me to intentionally ruin this all. I don't blame him one bit. I am a ticking bomb, waiting to explode and destroy everything I love.

Quickly, I swallow the vitamin. "I'm ok today," I whisper. Peeta shifts uncomfortably in his chair. It's then that I notice he has his fists clenched at his sides. "Katniss. This is not you being ok. This is you, barely living. This is the Katniss I came home to years ago. This is you mourning again, only this time you're mourning life." With that, he gets up and walks away from me. I'm left alone in the kitchen, somberly watching the chair he previously sat in. He's right, of course he's right. But I am too. I am not to fit to be a mother.

I hear the front door slam close, making me jump. I will not cry. Besides, I've cried so much these past few months I don't think I have any tears left in me. I feel my eyes get watery and I instantly realize I was wrong. How many tears can eyes produce? Evidently a never-ending supply. Frustrated, I get to my feet, effectively pushing my chair backwards and tipping it over onto the floor. I don't even care. I can't keep doing this!

I love Peeta. I love him so much; more than anything. More than this child. I can't keep hurting him this way. It's killing him, and its killing me. I've been pretending this pregnancy doesn't exist, but maybe what I should be doing is pretending this pregnancy makes me happy. That's exactly what I should be doing. I've faked happiness before, I can do it again. And the first thing I am going to do is tell Haymitch. I pick up the chair, and push it underneath the table where it belongs. Taking a deep breath, I realize I feel a little better. With a goal in mind, I have something to get me through the days. I have a way to make Peeta happy again.

I start walking up the stairs, going to change when I hear the front door open again. It had been maybe five minutes since Peeta had left and already he was back. "Katniss, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have walked out like that." Before I can deny his apology, tell him how happy he makes me, he's already noticed my tear streaked face. "I made you cry? I am so sorry! I know how…unhappy you are, I shouldn't add to your burden."

"Peeta, I'm fine. Really. I am. I was actually thinking…I want to tell people. About the baby." I try not to choke on my own words. "I want to tell Haymitch first though." I muster up the most genuine smile I can manage. He just stares at me; that same stare from earlier, his eyes holding none of the joy I had thought my pretending would bring forth.
Instead they darken. "Katniss, don't lie for me."

"Peeta I-." He holds up a hand. "No Katniss. There is nothing you can say. I do not want you lying for me under any circumstances. If this pregnancy makes you miserable, if it depresses you all over again, fine. But don't pretend. Don't make it something it isn't!"

He looks so heartbroken and right here, in this moment, I wish I could take it back. Everything I've said or done to hurt this boy, no, this man that I love. I place my fingers over my stomach, wondering when I'll feel the baby move. I don't try to defend my lie; to make it into a truth. Peeta knows me far too well for that. Still… "I want to tell Haymitch." He looks away and nods his head. "I'll come with you." I shake mine. "No. I want to go alone." Peeta just nods again. Not even bothering to freshen up, to erase the tear evidence from my face, I walk out the door and stumble my way into Haymitch's house. I burst through his door; he is sitting at his own table, pouring what I assume is goose food into a bowl. I notice his clear eyes and see once again he is sober. He very rarely is ever visibly drunk anymore. At least not during this season when his geese appear. Once they fly away, he takes up the bottle again.

"Haymitch, I'm pregnant." Immediately, he drops the food, scattering it around the table and onto the floor. It's almost comical really, the way his eyes widen and his jaw drops. "I'm four months along now." He lets all of his breath out in a woosh. "I can't say I saw it coming. I thought you didn't…"

"I didn't. I mean I don't. I thought I did, but I changed my mind."

He snickers. "I think it's a little late for that sweetheart."

I am about to say something snarky in response but before I can I feel something. Something I had not felt before. I feel my baby kick. And then I feel it kick again. I gasp and immediately Haymitch is at my side. My fingers drop to my stomach and I am in complete shock. There's a baby inside me, kicking. I grab Haymitch's hand and tug it onto my stomach. "Do you feel that?" He grumbles something but I don't care what he said. I am still mesmerized by what is happening in my stomach. I think of Peeta and how he should be here experiencing this with me. I hear Haymitch clear his throat and I can only imagine how uncomfortable he must be. I pat his hand and he moves it away. I keep my other hand across my belly though. I turn to leave but before I do I need to tell Haymitch something. "I want the baby to call you Grandpa, if you don't mind. I never had one; neither did Peeta. It would be nice to start a new tradition."

"I don't mind," he whispers. I smile and continue my way back to Peeta. Don't stop kicking I think. I want Peeta to feel this. I bang open our front door, a huge smile plastered on my face. "The baby kicked!" His eyes brighten and for the first time in months Peeta smiles. The last thing I see before I lose consciousness is that big smile turn into a look of horror.

It's very bright; too bright. I try to open my eyes, but when I do I have to immediately close them. The way I'm reacting to the light makes me wonder how long I have been asleep. I try again, and this time through several blinks, I am able to keep my eyes open. Instantly I bolt up. I do not recognize where I am. My breathing comes rapidly and I start to open my mouth to scream when I feel something warm in my hand. I look over and I see Peeta asleep next to me, his hand in mine and I am taken back to a morning when I woke up similarly to this one. His hand in mine, holding me through my nightmares. Even now, after all of the misery I have put him through since I found out I was pregnant, he still holds onto me through the night. I brush back the hair over his forehead and he blinks open his eyes.

"You're awake! I was so worried Katniss," he says, leaning forward to kiss the top of my head. "You scared me," he whispers. Unsure of what to say, I tug on his arm until he takes the hint and crawls into the bed with me. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face into his chest. "What happened Peeta? Is the baby ok? Is it?"

His arms wind around me. "The Doctor says you aren't healthy. He said that you aren't taking care of yourself; that taking the vitamins isn't enough. You have to be mentally healthy. He says…he says to him it seems you've lost the will to carry on. But the baby is ok. You passed out from stress induced exhaustion."

I hear so much hurt in his voice, so much sadness that I am instantaneously filled with shame.

"Katniss I know you think you can't do this. I know you think that you can't be a good mom."

I shake my head. "It isn't something that I think, Peeta; it's something that I know. I feel it with everything that I am. I just knowthat I will not be able to do this!"

"You're wrong Katniss. Just because you have a lousy excuse for a mother doesn't mean you're going to repeat her mistakes. Look at me; am I anything like my mother?" Feeling like a child myself, I shake my head no. "Right. But am I like my father?" I think about it and nod. His father was kind. He wasn't as strong as Peeta, but he had a sincerity about him that I see in Peeta. "And you're like your father. From what you've told me, he was always there for you and your sister and mother. That's the kind of parent you will be Katniss. Don't look at the mother you have, look at the father you had. Don't look at how it could be, but make it something it will be. I know, I just know it; you will be a fantastic mother Katniss." I sniffle.

He looks down at me and smiles. "You are going to love this baby. It is going to love you. You already have proven just how wonderful of a mother you are. You need to remember that you practically raised Prim. That was you. She was an amazing little girl because of you." I take my fingers and lay them gently across my stomach for the millionth time today.

"Prim had my mother. She and my mother connected in a way I never could."

Peeta was already shaking his head before I finished. "Prim didn't learn to love unconditionally from your mother. That was something she learned from you. You don't even realize it Katniss, but you love so hard and so strong that your love can break you." With his arms still around me, Peeta pulls me into his chest and I breathe him in. There he goes with his words again. I feel I'm starting to see things his way. I grip onto my thoughts like they are a lifeline. I have to be strong, don't I? I, Katniss Mellark, was not born to be a mother, right? "That unconditional love you hold onto so strongly, that will you have to not lose everything under any circumstance, thatis something only you can teach our child. Only you can teach our child how to live so passionately."

I resist the urge to snicker. Me? A passionate person? Sometimes I think Peeta puts me on too high of a pedestal. He sensed my disbelief because he kept talking. "You are passionate Katniss. In ways you don't even realize. You aren't emotionless. You feel. You feel things in a way hardly anyone can." He's whispering now, tickling the back of neck with his warm breath. I lean into him and shudder. "But what if I can't?"

His fingers brush a tear running down my face. "If you ever feel like you can't, just remember I'm here. I'm your fallback. I will never leave you Katniss. I might take a trip away every now and then, mentally speaking, but I will always come back to you. Always. I will always come back to both of you."

The Doctor agrees to let me go home under the promise to take care of myself. When I walk through the front door of our house I am struck with a thought. When I felt the baby for the first time, when I felt that little foot kick me, that tiny somewhat planned but oh so unexpected foot, I cared. I cared about the thing inside me. I did. And when I started to fall, when I began to black out, when I was faced with the possibility of losing my baby, I cracked a little. I broke free, just for a moment, of my extreme dislike to this change in our lives. And now I can't shake away that change of heart. Everyday I feel it a little more and more. I noticed it when I started singing to the baby. I did it without even realizing, but I did it. I sing every morning.

"Deep in the meadow…under the willow…." Everyday. Every morning. This song that means so many different things, to so many different people because of a publicized tragedy and yet has only ever meant one thing to me: I love you. My parents sang it to me. I sang it to Prim. I sang it Rue. And now I will sing it to my child.

I'm pretty far along now. In fact, any day now our house will be home to not two Mellarks, but three. I'm terrified every morning again. I haven't sang to the baby in at least a month. This time, the Doctor isn't concerned. He says I'm healthier than I was. I suppose I did start taking better care of myself. With a little force from Peeta that is.

I sit on the edge of the bed, holding my swollen stomach and silently will the baby to come out. Right now. I just really want this baby out of me. I can't take it anymore! I can hardly walk, hardly breathe, hardly exist! "Please baby. Please. I could really use the extra weight off of me. Please do this for me. Do this for your momma." I hear Peeta chuckle and I look up, fully aware of how crazy I must look.

"I love you."

Maybe I'm not so crazy. "I love you too." My water breaks.

Author's Note: Alright alright. I realllllllly feel like I went off on a tangent this time. If Katniss is ooc I have no one to blame but myself. In my defense though, she is 15 years older. And yes, with this ending there will be a guranteed chapter 5. As far as any after that, I'm not sure. So you'll just have to wait and see (as will I). And I LOATHE time jumps, but I felt like I had too. I don't have the patience/talent to span our their lives for the next fifteen years. I APOLOGIZE FOR THIS CHAPTER.

But thank you all for the love and support! I'm so glad you like it!