I change my mind. I want the baby to stay inside me, safe and sound. If it stays inside me, it will be just fine. It will be safe, warm, cared for. If it comes out here, into the real world, who knows what kind of turmoil it will have to face.

Only one reason comes to my mind as to why this baby should come out of my stomach: I hate referring to it as an "it." I'd really like to know the sex of my baby; that's the only reason I can think of. Other than that, it can stay in my womb forever. All that flies out the window though as another contraction makes me want to rip my hair out.

I grip Peeta's hand I can feel him wince. "I really want the baby out," I whisper. I will not lose my control. I cannot get angry. I cannot risk losing Peeta to my pregnant personality. As difficult as it is, I suppress the hateful words I'd like to throw at him as yet another contraction tears through me. I try my best to loosen my grip, not wanting to send Peeta into a tracker jacker frenzy. It's just that sort of thing that could send him spiraling away from me. And I need him right next to me right now. The Doctor keeps telling me to push and push and push and PUSH until finally, finally, I hear a cry.

It is not the sound of someone having night terrors, or the cry of someone facing horrible memories alone. It is not the echo of a daily battle, fighting to remember what is real and what is not. It is not the shriek of someone losing their mind. No. It is not any of these things.

"Katniss, it's a girl."

It is the sound of my daughter, breathing, alive, wailing. Perfect. I smile and rest back against the pillow. My daughter. "Can I see her?" I can hear him stepping closer and all of a sudden I am shy and nervous. He places the little bundle of baby in my arms and I can hardly breathe. Right away I am counting. She has two eyes. Two ears. Two nostrils on her single tiny nose. Ten baby fingers and ten baby toes. She has such dark hair and it covers her small scalp. I am overwhelmed and humbled. "Hi baby. It's me," I say through my tears. I look away from her and look into Peeta's eyes. His expression reflects my own: awe. I just have to kiss him. I move my head forward and he is already there, his lips tangling with mine. I pull him into the bed with us; my family. My husband. My daughter. And me.

Peeta wraps his arms around me and leans forward to kiss our child's head. "Thank you Katniss. I love you so much," he chokes out. I kiss his cheek. I do not have the words to describe how I am feeling. But for the moment, I feel flawless.

The windows rattle and Amy begins to shriek. I carefully set her down and run after Peeta. Screaming towards Haymitch who is standing outside, I tell him to go inside with the baby. Without a second thought, he is inside my house and I am gone. Amy is six months old. Peeta has not had an episode within those six months, but that all came to an end about five minutes ago.

Amy is actually her nickname. Her full name is Amaranth, after a flower. The flower that lives forever. The flower that cannot die. It was Peeta's idea.

He had been making breakfast for the two of us while I fed Amy. Everything was calm. He turned back and looked at me and he smiled so big I thought I would burst. I heard the buzzing sound a moment before he did. I watched, stunned into silence as a wasp landed on his hand. With Amy in my arms still, I lurched forward, ready to swat the creature away, but I was a second too late. Enraged, Peeta flung the bug off of him, his eyes dilating. The wasp lay on the floor, its stinger gone, surely embedded into Peeta's hand. Before anything could be done, he was out the door and I am now chasing after him. This was sure to be a disaster.

"Peeta," I screamed. "Peeta answer me!" Silence. Silence terrified me more than Peeta having a flashback. "Peeta please!" Silence threatened to strangle me. I keep running. I haven't the slightest clue as to where I am going. I just know that the longer it takes me to find Peeta, the longer amount of time he is all alone. A lonely Peeta is more dangerous to me than anything in the world. All of a sudden I see him, sitting on his knees, fists at his sides, tears down his cheeks. He looks broken. He looks irreparable. He is alone.

I cover my mouth with both of my hands to stifle my own cries. My Peeta. I notice his hand has started to swell from the sting. This where I start first. I kneel next to him and take hold of his damaged hand. Even when he pulls away, when he literally tries to push my hand off, I hold his palm in my own. "Leave, now. Katniss you need to go." I stare down at his hand. They have always been a source of fascination to me. They can paint the most beautiful pictures, create the most delicious foods, touch me in ways only Peeta could. They can also kill. They can hurt. They can break. Especially me. Especially now.

"Never." His hand tightens around mine, to the point of pain. This is not my Peeta. But he is always my Peeta. I keep quiet; I don't even flinch when his grip strengthens even more. All at once, he tears away from me, stomping towards the woods. "Don't follow me Katniss."

I'm torn by the sincerity in his words, and by my need to never leave him. I wonder if he will say the words. I hope against all odds he will. But when have the odds ever been in my favor? He doesn't say a thing. Should I say it? Will it break him even more? Or could it possibly save him from whatever darkness is clouding his mind. I don't know what to do. Am I selfish for asking? Or am I selfish for not? As always my mouth speaks the words my mind won't allow me to.

"Stay with me." He shakes his head. "I can't"

Instantly I feel the blackness clawing at my mind. In fifteen years I have never felt this alone. He can't stay with me. He can't. Not this time. I know something in him has broken because Peeta would never leave me. Something has broken, and I can't fix it. I've never not been able to save Peeta. I can't save him. He can't save me. It isn't until the scenery around me starts to shake that I realize I'm on the floor. It isn't an earthquake. It's Peeta, shaking my shoulders. I blink rapidly and force myself to look into his eyes.

"Katniss! I'm here. I am. I'm here."

"You said you can't," I whisper. I sound like a child. The Mockingjay is sitting on the dirty ground outside, hyperventilating while her child is in the hands of a known drunk, because her husband was gone. All at once I realize I have become exactly what I said I never would be. A wife. A mother. A woman. I have become the very same things I hated about my own mother. Weak. I have weaknesses.

There's no one left I love. Those had been Johanna Mason's words to me in District 13 all of those years ago. No one left to love. I have everyone left that I love. I am at more risk than I have ever been. If Peeta having a flashback he can't come back from is enough to send me into the oblivion, what would the loss of Amy do? Why did I do this? Why did I get involved? Why have I become emotionally attached to anything, let alone my husband and daughter. How could I let this happen?

I shrug out of Peeta's grasp on my shoulders. "You want to leave Peeta? Go ahead. I won't stop you."

I get to my feet, trying the best I can to remain strong and emotionless. I can't seem to stop shaking though.

"Don't you understand Katniss? All it took was a wasp to send me right back to that place. It hasn't been that bad since before I came back home! Can you imagine if I had hurt you? Or if I had hurt you while you were holding Amy?"

I'm so angry. I'm angry at myself for caring. I still can't understand how I let it happen. I had been so set in my ways. I will not get married. I will never have children. I have broken my only rules. And what scares me the most is I can't bring myself to regret it. Not at all. How did I lose myself?

"Peeta I can't always do this with you! I can't let it be about the what-ifs! I did that for so long and I can't go back to that. We have Amy. We can't live in the past anymore. Do you realize that ever since that last time in the Capitol, you haven't hurt me? Not even close! I know that it's always there for you. I know that, but as long as you are strong enough to not make it a reality, then I know I'm safe. I haven't felt more safe than what I feel when I'm with you."

I forgot. I didn't lose myself. I found Peeta. I found me.

"The only thing you could do to ever hurt me, or make me fear you, would be to leave. It isn't just me you're storming off from anymore either. It's Amy."

He steps closer to me. "She needs you too Peeta." I'm in his arms. "I need you." His lips crash against mine. I pull back to take a breath when Peeta takes this as an opportunity to start talking.

"You looked like you were about to disappear."

I put my hand on his cheek, making sure he knows I'm here. "I know sometimes you have to leave us, but don't stay away. You can't stay away. No matter what you have to be here. Even if it means I chase you across all of Panem, I won't stay away from you and you can't stay away from me." He starts to protest but I run my fingers across his back. He's told me in the past he likes my cold fingers against his skin.

"No. You have to stay." He sucks in a breath. I kiss his ear. "You have to." I run my hands down his arms until they are in his hands. I gently run my fingers over the spot he was stung in. "Let's get you home," I say. He nods, staring at my lips. I lean forward and kiss him quickly. As much as I'd like to continue, his hand has turned a nasty shade of red.

After that day, Haymitch made sure someone sprayed insect killer around our house constantly. Even now he looks after us. After nearly two decades later, Haymitch tries to protect us. Lately he has been looking more and more aged, more haggard by the day. I'm terrified for his health. He may think I don't notice, but I do. I also have seen the empty bottles. Two months have passed since Peeta's flashback, and I know Haymitch has been drinking again. Never enough to pass out or be incoherent. But enough to make me worried for him. I know too much liquor can kill a person. I can't help but wonder if he has reached his limit.

It's a Saturday morning and Amy is still asleep. I stretch my arm out to my left, making contact with Peeta's waist. I roll over and wrap my arms around him. He stirs in my embrace. "Morning sleepyhead," I whisper. He turns over to look at me and smiles. "Morning beautiful." As is our morning routine I look at him and say, "No nightmares?" He nods. "No nightmares." It's been a week since either of us woke up screaming or delirious. Neither of says it, but I know we both wonder how long these peaceful nights and mornings will last. Peeta kisses me chastely but just as our kisses deepen, I hear Amy in her crib. Peeta groans and rolls over. "She has a knack for waking up every time you and I look at each other."

I laugh at poke him in the ribs. "You wanted kids remember?" He pretends to ponder this. "Oh that's right, I did." We both get up and walk together hand in hand into Amy's room. I lift her in my arms and am tickled when she smiles at both Peeta and myself. "I love you baby girl," I say kissing her on her head. She giggles as Peeta whisks her away into the air. "What about me? Doesn't daddy get any love?" I laugh and rest my head against Peeta's shoulder.

I broke all of my rules. I got everything I could have ever wanted.

Author's Note: Shortest chapter yet :( Sorry about two things: The length, and the amount of time it took to get this out. Not to worry though, this semi-happy ending isn't the last chapter. I still have at least two more up my sleeve. Haymitch is about to become very important ;)

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