Katniss made her way down the hall slowly, like a woman walking toward her execution.

Each footstep echoed emphatically off the walls. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Katniss, you have to tell him. That was what her mother had said. And she was right.

Section F, Room 107. That was him. That's what Haymitch had told her as he glanced at her curiously, wondering why she wanted the information, but knowing better than to ask.

She took a shaky breath and lifted her hand and knocked softly.

Please don't be here. Please don't be here. Please don't be here.

Of course he would be here. It was 6:45am, and she was trying to catch him before breakfast at 7.

She heard shuffling inside and then the door opened a crack and he peeked out. He shook his head as if trying to clear it and rubbed his eyes sleepily, obviously confused as to what she was doing here.

"Katniss?" he asked, as though he wasn't sure if he was awake or dreaming, and his voice was thick with sleep.

It startled her. She'd never heard him say her name before. It had always been 12 or Girl on Fire.

"Yeah."

"What time is it?"

"6:45."

He just stood there, still rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I have to talk to you about something," she said. "Can I come in?"

"Uh, sure," he opened the door further and stepped back to let her in. His hair was mussed and from the neck up he looked like a little boy. But he wore only boxers and from the neck down...that was an entirely different story.

Now that he was more awake, he'd returned to avoiding her eyes. "I don't, uh, there's nowhere for you to sit except the bed," he said as he threw on a t shirt.

"No that's ok I'll stand. You sit."

He just stood there, staring at the ground.

"I think you should sit," she said.

His eyes fluttered over her briefly, questioningly, and then back down to the floor.

"Cato please sit down." It came out desperate, a plea.

He did, eyes still downcast. Finally. God this was so awkward.

She cleared her throat. "They gave me birth control before the quell. It's, uh, supposed to be 99% effective."

His face took on a look of confusion. "Ok…?"

"I'm...apparently I'm the 1%."

She watched him process this information and make sense of it, her body tense as she waited for the explosion.

But there wasn't one. He just looked up into her eyes for the first time in more than eight weeks.

"You're pregnant." His tone was flat. Neutral. Devoid of emotion.

"Yeah."

"I'm the father."

"Yeah."

His eyes returned to the floor. She stood there, waiting for him to say something or ask something or display some kind of emotion but he didn't. He just sat there, staring at the ground.

"Are you ok?" she finally asked.

He shook himself and looked back up at her. "Uh, yeah. I'm fine. I'm good. I'm good."

"Ok. I'm gonna go now. You sure you're ok?"

"Yeah. I'm good."

"Ok, well I'll see you around."

"Yeah. See you."

And then she left.

Cato just sat there on the edge of his bed.

He didn't feel it yet. He didn't feel anything. He was in shock. But he knew it. He knew that for the first time in over a year, he was good.

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They didn't speak again after that morning, but he was different. Katniss could feel it. He was as quiet as ever, but there was a new lightness to him. As though something deep and dark had been lifted and he now walked on air.

And though they still didn't really look at each other, whenever they were in the same room she saw him, felt his presence, the way she could see and feel the sun around her in the Meadow, even though she couldn't look directly at it for fear that its radiance would blind her.

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She needed to tell Gale somehow, even though things were still awkward between them, and she knew it. He was her best friend, and it didn't feel right to keep this from him. But she didn't know how or when.

Her opportunity presented itself late one morning in the middle of October. The air was unseasonably warm that day, and he had been given permission to go above ground and take a walk in the woods, so he asked her to come with him.

She dreaded it, but she had no good excuse to turn him down. But she really did miss him, and her heart leapt at the chance to get out and breathe in fresh air. She was beginning to feel like she was going to suffocate below ground.

It was awkward at first, but it got less so as their boots crunched over the fallen leaves. They talked about Gale's training and how they missed going hunting in 12. And about how the revolution was going so well that it looked like the whole thing would be over within another year, and about how Rory seemed to have developed a one-sided crush on Prim.

But they did not talk about the topic of Plutarch's plan and her most recent games. Their tongues avoided it like feet avoid shards of broken glass. Consciously. Carefully. Fully aware of its existence but tiptoeing around it.

They were almost back to the entrance to the bunker, and Katniss knew she needed to bite the bullet and just tell him.

"Gale," she cut him off while he was in the middle of laughing about the lovesick glances that Rory threw at Prim. "I need to tell you something. About what happened with me and Cato."

He stiffened immediately. "I know," he said bitterly. "It was all part of the plan. It wasn't what it looked like. They explained."

"No, that's not it," she said. "I mean, yes, it was part of the plan, but that's not what I have to tell you."

"Then what is it?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steeling herself for the fireworks. But when she opened her eyes, Gale seemed to have lost his focus on her, and he was looking up at the sky.

"What the-?" he asked. A low rumble, almost like drawn out, far off thunder was unfolding above them. "Katniss. We need to get back underground. Now."

He didn't have to say it twice. They both broke into a sprint, and when they reached the entrance, the drones were just coming into view in the western sky.

"All the way down," Gale commanded her firmly over the sound of the alarm, as soon as they were inside. "To the cellar." Though the entire underground compound was, in theory, meant to withstand serious bombing, it had never been tested, and so, as a precaution, a huge, cavern-like structure nicknamed the "storm cellar," or "cellar" for short, had been built deep into the bowels of the earth, and that, they had been informed, was where they were to retreat in the event of an attack.

"Go!" Gale yelled. "Don't wait for me. I'll make sure the doors are sealed."

There was a time when Katniss might not have listened. When she might have been stubborn and insisted on waiting for him. Or maybe not. Maybe the thought of Prim would have sent her on ahead, albeit reluctantly. But now it was a primal fear for her unborn child that sent her racing down the stairs without a second thought.

She could hear a group of people arguing somewhere far below her. Something about not being able to wait any longer and having to seal the door to the cellar and people were yelling her name and Gale's.

She opened her mouth and and yelled "We're here! Wait!"

But at the exact same time, the first bomb fell. The earth shook and cement chunks rained down around her, and she doubled her speed as the lights began to flicker.

Another bomb fell, and another, and somewhere in between the blasts, she heard Gale scream her name in a voice that was so hoarse and desperate and animalistic that it didn't even sound like him as it bounced back and forth oof of the walls and the metal of the stairs, coming at her from above and below and sideways all at the same time. She panicked. Was he hurt? Should she go back and try to help him? But she couldn't. Her body was no longer her own, but the vessel for something precious and fragile, and so, even though it broke her heart, she kept going.

She was almost to the storm cellar-at the bottom of the very last staircase, in fact-when another bomb fell and the lights went out and she was enveloped in a black so dense she couldn't see her hand in front of her face.

She was terrified and she cried out, but Gale had caught up with her and his arms came around her and her back was pressed against his chest. As the bombs continued to fall, he edged her into what she soon realized was the nook beneath the staircase and together they sank to the floor and she curled up in a ball, her head tucked against her chest. He brought his legs around to bracket her body and bent his head protectively over hers.

But then he wedged one of his hands between her torso and her thighs, and he settled it possessively over her stomach, where new life had taken root.

And the knowledge slid into her, certain and swift, that this was not Gale holding her, but Cato.

It was not Gale who had screamed her name so desperately, but Cato.

"Katniss?!" Gale's voice echoed from somewhere up above in between two blasts.

"Down here!" she called back, as she pushed herself further into Cato's chest, further in between his legs. "It's ok! I'm ok!"

It went on for what seemed like forever. Blast after blast shook the world around them, as she huddled into herself, cocooned by Cato's warm, solid body. He was just as scared as she was- she could feel his body shaking, shivering into hers as hers shivered into his.

When it finally ended, minutes or hours (who knew?) later, they moved in tandem, releasing twin sighs of relief, stretching their cramped legs out in front of them at the same time to create a double v.

But he did not release her from his arms and she made no move to free herself. His head remained bent over hers, and he released another shaky sigh into her hair. His hand on her stomach did not relax, but tensed up even more, his fingers curling around her side.

"Katniss!" Gale called. She could hear his footsteps, slow and cautious, as he made his way down the stairs in the pitch black.

"I'm here!" she called. She knew she should stand up, but she felt frozen in place, powerless to move.

And then somewhere down the hallway she heard the heavy clank of the door.

"No, I think they were almost here," she heard a voice say, and then a faint light penetrated the stairwell. "Gale? Cato? Katniss?"

"Yeah. In here," Cato lifted his head and called out. He stood, bringing her to her feet as well, and they were joined by two soldiers whose faces Katniss recognized but couldn't put a name to.

Cato peeled himself off of her slowly, lingeringly, his hand on her stomach the last part of his body to break with hers. He did not lift it off all at once, but slid it regretfully from her centimeter by centimeter.

And she lifted her head to see Gale staring at Cato's hand on her lower abdomen, clearly confused. But he was a smart man, and in the space of a second, the confusion turned to understanding and then, as his eyes met hers, to pain and anger.

"You're pregnant. That's what you had to tell me." His tone was an accusing one, as though she'd done this on purpose to wound him.

"Gale-"

But he shook his head and clenched his jaw and turned and strode off.

Her mother rushed into the stairwell, cutting off the awkward silence that was threatening to ensue. "Where is she?!" she cried frantically, and then threw her arms around Katniss. "I can't!" she wailed. "I can't deal with this again!"

"It's ok mom, it's ok," Katniss tried to soothe, but her voice was still shaky.

Her mother pulled away from her. "Oh, you're a mess!" she said as she began to pick pieces of plaster out of her hair and brush the dust from her shoulders. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. Your sister is worried sick."

As her mother led her away, Katniss turned back to meet Cato's eyes for the first time that day, and the expression in them was heavy and unreadable.

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"We had maybe ten minutes' warning," Haymitch told her later. "Wiress is working with a bunch of other scientists on improving the range of our radar detection so we have more time in the future. It's a miracle everyone made it down to the cellar in time. Although it looks like they were right about the top layer being strong enough to hold. You shoulda seen Cato though. Jesus. He was practically rabid. Screaming like a madman. A group of like five guys had to hold him down or he would have made it all the way out into the woods to look for you. Obviously, he managed to escape them anyway and make it out to the stairwell before they sealed off the cellar. I think he broke some poor guy's nose."

He looked at her curiously, expectantly, as though was waiting for her to say something. But she didn't. He sighed. "Look, sweetheart, I can't help it. I gotta ask. What the hell? I thought you two couldn't stand each other. And then you ask me where his room is and now this-"

"I'm pregnant," she said, ripping it off like a bandage.

"Whooooaah! Hoooooly shit! And it's Cato's? You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure! Who else's would it be?"

"Are you two…?"

"No," she said emphatically. "No."

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"It's a girl," she said two months later, and handed Cato the ultrasound image.

She didn't know why, but for some reason she had assumed he'd want a boy. Maybe so he could turn it into a mini version of himself.

But he lit up like the sun. "A girl?" he asked.

"Yeah. A girl."

"A girl." His voice lingered on the word. Caressed it. Cherished it.

"Can I keep this?" He waved the paper in his hand.

She was surprised. "You want to?"

"If it's ok with you."

"Sure."

"Thanks."

He stared at it in wonder, and then he traced the image of his daughter's face with his index finger.

Katniss couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up from her throat.

His head snapped up. "What?"

"Nothing...it's just...look at us. For once, instead of destroying a life, we created one."

"We created one," he echoed, his voice a whisper.

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He ran into her a few weeks later. She was carrying a twenty-pound bag of potatoes, transporting it from a storeroom to the kitchen.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, stopping her. "Give that to me. You shouldn't be carrying that. You're pregnant."

She shifted the bag out of his reach and gave him a withering look. "I'm not made out of glass Cato."

"But the baby," he said insistently, and grasped the sack, tugging it firmly from her hands. "Now where do you want me to put it?"

She furrowed her brow in a scowl and huffed, and he laughed. She looked like a petulant preteen, not a mother-to-be. "Up your ass," she spat, clearly offended by his patronizing of her.

So he reined himself in and bit his lip to keep from laughing again, and with an exasperated sigh, she turned toward the kitchen, and he followed on her heel.

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One night he visited the archives and found the footage of their first games together.

He watched the way she shoved her sister behind her at her reaping, the conviction with which she volunteered. He watched the way she gave the little girl from 11 extra food that first night they allied with each other, the way she curled around her in her sleeping bag to keep her warm. He watched the way she clamped her hand over Loverboy's-no Peeta's-mouth to force him to swallow the sleep syrup so she could get his medicine from the feast. She was fiercely protective of those she loved. She would die for them in a heartbeat.

He watched the way she smoothed Rue's curls from her forehead. He watched the way she looked at Peeta as they traded stories to while away the hours in the cave. He remembered how her entire demeanor had changed as she turned from her mother to her sister at the train station during their Victory Tour. They were rare moments, but they were vivid glimpses of how soft and warm and tender she could be.

He turned off the footage and returned to his room, and as he lay in bed that night he thought to himself that he couldn't think of a better woman to be the mother of his child.

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She grew round and radiant and she carried his daughter high and tight in her belly and she was as luminous as the moon and sometimes he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

One evening, during her 31st week of pregnancy, they found themselves at the drink station in the dining hall at the same time.

"You doing ok?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Do you need anything?"

"Need anything?" she echoed. "Like what?" And then she grimaced, and the hand not holding her water glass went to her belly.

"Oh my god what is it, what's wrong?" he asked in alarm.

"I'm fine." She shook her head and opened her eyes. "It's just, she's kicking, and she's so high, she's like right up against my diaphragm, and it just pushes on everything. You know it's all…"she rubbed her hand over her belly," it's all packed so tight in there now."

"Oh. Does it hurt?"

"Kind of, sometimes. More uncomfortable than anything." She made the face again

"Did she do it again?"

"Yeah. Do you wanna feel?"

"Uh yeah, sure. Are...is this ok?" he asked as he held his hand out tentatively.

"I wouldn't have asked you if you wanted to feel if I wasn't willing to let you."

Cato nodded and placed his hand on Katniss's belly, scrunching his face up when he didn't feel anything.

"No it's more..." she put her hand over his and moved it to the side a little. "It's more here."

Cato gasped and jumped a little when he felt a twitch against his hand. "Oh my god, that's her!"

"Yeah." Katniss was smiling.

He felt the twitch against his palm again and couldn't keep himself from grinning. But then he realized something and his grin faded. "Why are her feet all the way up here?" he asked in alarm.

"Huh?"

"Why are they up here?" he repeated.

She smiled at him. "Because she's upside down."

"Upside down?!"

"Yes!" she laughed. "Babies are supposed to be upside down in the womb. They come out head first. You didn't know that?"

"No." He scowled. He felt dumb and his face was starting to grow warm.

She stopped laughing at him and her face softened as she looked at him. "Her head is here," she said gently, and moved his hand down to the underside of her bump.

"Here?" he asked, his mood improving immediately as he caressed the curve of Katniss's belly, imagining the crown of his daughter's head in his hand.

"Mmm-hmm."

When he looked back up at Katniss's face, he could tell his eyes were shining.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing just...what you said after you told me she was a girl. That we created something this time."

"We created something this time," she echoed.

She put her hand over his on her belly, and then she held her glass out, and he tapped the rim of his against the rim of hers.

And she looked up at him.

And he looked down at her.

And together they partook in holy communion.

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A/N: Let the Catoniss begin. We're not going to focus on the war hardly at all, so if you were expecting that and you're disappointed, I'm sorry (but not really). It's not that type of story. Instead, shit's gonna get downright fluffy.

I'm hoping to have at least one more chapter (and maybe two) up as a Christmas present.

Thanks for reading and please review.