A/N: So, I know that it has been forever since I updated and I feel awful. There was a terrible storm here and I went two weeks without power, /and/ my hours at work where crazy for awhile. Anyway, here is Chapter Five, dedicated to Whitney on Twitter. :)

Chapter Five

"Opening Up…Maybe"

I shut off the TV before anything else is to be said. I'm too shocked, too confused to do anything else. Cinna might be alive? Impossible. I saw him being beaten and drug away to his death with my very eyes. Is it really possible that he had escaped? What if Cinna really is alive somewhere and has no clue that the Rebellion has ended?

I have to remind myself, that even though they try, Panem Today and Tonight don't always report stories that are true. This could be something false, something that hasn't been investigated enough. No. I won't think about this. Not until I have some solid proof. Cinna's body might not have even been thrown in with the other martyrs. Cinna was such a big part of starting the Rebellion that they might have let the mutts eat his body without giving him the burial that he deserved, but I can't let myself think about that either. I will mention it to Peeta tomorrow, wait for more information before jumping to any conclusions.

I push myself up from the couch, and walk into the kitchen. To my surprise, Peeta's not the one cooking, Annie is. Peeta is sitting in chair by the counter with Annie and Finnick's tiny baby cradled in his arms. Peeta has one of his long, large fingers stretched out to the baby. The creature's small hands are gripping onto it tightly as it giggles like Peeta's finger is the greatest toy in the world. Peeta's blue eyes are alight with joy, the smile he is wearing doesn't convey anything else. Peeta would be such a great father. I know he wants kids, but I don't think that I will ever be able to give them to him. Before, it was because of the kind of world that we lived in. I never wanted to bring children into a world where they could be plucked from me, tossed into the arena, and have their lives taken far too soon. But now, I don't know if I will ever fully recover from the Rebellion. I don't think I will ever be emotionally stable enough to bear a child. I would be a paranoid mess, constantly worrying, or, the exact opposite would happen, I wouldn't be able to love the child enough, I wouldn't care at all. I would be a horrible mother.

But it would be such a shame to deny Peeta of something that he so desperately wants, deserves even. I just don't think I could ever bring myself to do it, and that breaks my heart. I'm always hurting Peeta in some way. I'm not sure why Peeta puts up with it, especially after all of the times that I have hurt him before. If I were Peeta, I would have given up a long time ago.

"Hey," I finally manage to say.

Peeta looks up as soon as he hears my voice, his finger still being held captive by the baby, his smile brightening evn more when he sees me.

"Hey, Katniss," he says. "Have you held Little Finn yet?"

Little Finn? So the child's name is Finnick. It's fitting, considering that the baby looks just like him, but I can't believe that I hadn't even been thoughtful enough to ask Annie what the baby's name was. I really am a horrible person.

"Me? Hold the baby?" I ask, shaking my head as I do. "No, no. I couldn't. I'd drop it or something."

Peeta lets out a chuckle and the baby lets out a giggle. It has really warmed up to Peeta. It will probably hate me.

"Don't be silly, Katniss," Peeta whispers. He gets up from the chair by the counter and nods to me. "Sit down."

"Peeta, don't-"

"Katniss, this will be good for you. Sit."

I know that there is no getting out of this. If Peeta says that something is for the best, he usually gets is way. There is no talking him out of it. It's not because he's menacing. He's just persuasive, even when he's not trying to ne. I slowly walk over to him and then sit down on the chair. I hope that Peeta stays close. I don't know what I will do, especially if I see the baby's eyes again. I'm afraid I will get shocked, too caught up in my memories, the rage I still feel towards Finnick's death and accidently hurt the small creature they are about to place in my arms.

"Hold out your arms like me," Peeta tells me gently.

I want to refuse, but the look in Peeta's eyes tells me it isn't really an option to refuse. I'm starting wish that I had never left the living room, but I have to admit, this is getting my mind off of the Cinna thing. Peeta adjusts the baby in his arms when I hold out my own, and he places the tiny creature inside of them.

I'm surprised at how tiny it is, how much it weighs. It can't be more than ten pounds. Maybe not even that. I don't want to look down at it though.

The baby lets out a soft cooing noise and I feel a gentle tugging on my hair. The tiny thing has wrapped both of its hands around the tip of my braid and has made a game of pulling on it.

"Hey," I whisper. "Cut that out. That's not a toy."

The baby just giggles at this, tugging a little harder on my braid. My eyes travel down, that little grin, those eyes. He is so much like his father.

"He already enjoys annoying me, just like Finnick."

Peeta laughs at this, but I'm suddenly come over with an overwhelming sadness. Here I am, alive and well, holding Finnick Odair's child when he never got to do so himself. Finnick would never get the chance to see his son. He wasn't there when he was born, he wouldn't get to teach him to swim, take him to the beach, hear his first words, and see his first steps. Finnick was a wonderful man, and would have made an incredible father. It isn't fair that I get to hold his son when Finnick never would.

I feel tears welling up in my eyes despite my attempts to stay strong. I can feel my entire body shaking as I start to tremble. Of course. I knew that this wasn't going to be good. One tear slips down my cheek, and then another.

"Here," I mutter, handing the baby to Annie as quickly as I can. I'm afraid that I am going to fall apart completely. As soon as the baby is out of harm's way in my fragile, emotional state, safe inside of his mother's arms, I become engulfed in Peeta's. Almost instantly, my face is burrowed into his chest, and his hands are rubbing comforting paths up and down my back. He doesn't ask what's wrong, he doesn't need to. He already knows, and so does Annie.

It takes awhile for me to calm down completely. Annie puts Finn down for the night and I won't lie and say that I'm not relived. Once I am able to untangle myself from Peeta's embrace, he finishes dinner, eats quickly and runs to his house to get some things. His tooth brush and a change of clothes, I'm sure.

Once I manage to force some food down, I get up from my seat and start to help Annie with the mess. I'm hoping that this will give me the opportunity for me to ask her something that has been weighing on my mind since last night. How does she do it?

"Annie, can I ask you something?"

Annie looks up from her silent work of washing the dishes, seemingly unsurprised that this has come from me. It's almost as if she has been expecting it. She probably has. Annie is smart.

"Of course you can," Annie replies, a soft smile toying at her lips.

I nod my head, really trying to make this sound just right. It could be touchy subject for her and the last thing that I want to do is upset her.

"I just…how do you do it, Annie?"

Nice. That really wasn't the best way to say it. I guess maybe being blunt could work. It's worked for me in the past, but I'm always treading delicate waters with Annie Cresta, everyone is. Almost no one wants to disturb a calm stream, or pond when the water is still, shining, and peaceful. Sometimes, however, someone comes along and tosses something into it, causing a ring of ripples, disturbing the calmness, the stillness hidden underneath. What if my question was a pebble in Annie's calm water?

My question doesn't seem to faze Annie at all. She simply stops what she's doing, removing her hands from the depths of soapy water that is pooled in the sink. She starts to wipe her hands on a nearby rag as she begins to speak.

"I used to wonder that myself. How I was going to do it. From the moment I found out Finnick was gone, it really tore me apart. I didn't feel like there was any point in moving one, then, I discovered that I was pregnant. Everyone else was apologizing, telling me what a tragedy that it was, but I didn't see it that way. It was a blessing. I would always have a piece of the man I loved with me, something that we created together.

The first time I set my eyes on Finnick Junior, I thought the same thing. How am I going to do this? But then, that tiny baby in my arms opened its eyes, just like his father's and I knew, I knew that I could do it.

At first, when I looked into my son's eyes, it was hard. I sometimes expected to see the same ones looking back at me in the morning, but I never did. Eventually, I learned that it was a good thing. Every time I feel hopeless, like I can't go on, I look at my son, see so much of Finnick in him, and it gives me the strength to go on. Not just for me, for Finn, for Finnick, for you, for everyone that relies on me."

I would have never expected all of that to come from Annie, so positive. Her strength and determination astounds me. "Wow," I manage to mutter. "That's such a great way to look at it."

"Exactly. So do what I do, every time you look at Finn, just think of Finnick in a positive way. Think of a happy memory you have with him. It really helps."

Annie would know better than anyone. I decide to try that next time. I take a deep breath, deciding that it's time for a change of subject.

"So," I finally manage to say. "Peeta and I didn't get the chance to ask earlier, but would you mind if we spent the evening together, just the two of us?"

Annie laughs lightly, giving me a knowing smile. "Peeta already asked," she says. "He was so excited that I don't think that he could wait."

I shouldn't be surprised. Of course Peeta was excited about this. I'm hardly ever in one of my affectionate moods. Who knows when it will end and when Peeta will get to enjoy it again? I hate that I am so selfish in this way, shying away from his affection, but it's just how I am.

"You know," I say to Annie. "I'm excited too."

I'm not sure what has brought on my mood, or why I have been so prone to even initiating things lately, but I find that I am actually enjoying it, either that, or my subconscious is helping me pretend that I am. Regardless, I'm glad I am, so Peeta can enjoy it too.

"Peeta was afraid that you wouldn't be," Annie mutters. "He says that you're not usually this affectionate with him."

"I'm not," I reply quickly. "I don't know. Every now and then, I get this way."

Annie gives me another one of her knowing smiles. "Maybe you're just opening up a little."

I could deny it, argue that it wasn't true, but what use would it be? She's probably right. It actually scares me, terrifies me beyond belief. It's an irrational fear, I know, especially after everything I have been through, but it doesn't make it any less real. So, instead of arguing, I give Annie a shrug of the shoulders.

"Maybe," I say, and before she has time to say anything else I add, "Good night, Annie."

She simply shakes her head at my impulsiveness as she bids me goodnight while I ascend the stairs. I let myself into my bedroom, and climb into bed to wait for Peeta. I prop my pillows up against the headboard and lay back against them. I am only taking a moment to relax; Peeta will be here in a few minutes.

I am not mistaken. Maybe five minutes later, I hear the shutting of a door and footsteps in the hall before Peeta comes through my door. He is holding a duffle bag in his hands, dressed in lounge pants and a t-shirt, his blonde hair is slightly disheveled, still damp from his shower. I honestly think my heart skips a beat. He sits his bag down, slips off his shoes, and gives me a bright smile.

"Hey," he says as he shuts the door.

"Hey," I mutter back as my eyes follow him as he makes the short journey to my bed. He climbs in beside of me, slips under the covers and almost faster than I can think, his arms around me and I'm being pulled against his frame. I feel myself relax almost instantly.

"This is all I've wanted to do all day," he whispers to me. He has buried his nose in my hair, his lips just inches from my ear; his hot breath is tickling my neck. All things that would usually make me want to pull away, retreat to my own side of the bed and try to fall asleep until I eventually made my way back into his arms. But not tonight. For once, I don't shy away from it, I relish in it.

"Is it?" I ask softly, not sure how to respond to this statement. I rest my hands on his broad arms. My eyes travel down to look at them, and I see the scars that I know are there. I start to use one of my fingers to trace the intricate patterns that they seem to have formed, my simple affection in return. Peeta's breath hitches at the first feel of contact. He had not been expecting it. All the better.

"Yes," he replies, his blue eyes fluttering closed as I continue to trace light patterns on his skin. His grip around me tightens a bit, causing a small, almost miniscule smile to form on my lips. Even though I don't always like the affection, it's always sweet. Peeta always lets it be known how much he cares for me, with words or actions. "I love holding you like this. That way, I know you're safe."

I feel my heart flutter. He knows exactly how to tug on my heartstrings without even really trying. But that's Peeta. He says what he feels, and it usually makes everyone around him happy. He's really too good for me. I'm sure he would disagree.

"And I'm not safe anywhere else? I can take care of myself," I say, still dragging my fingers across the damaged and scarred skin of his arms.

"Not as safe as you are here," he whispers in that special tone he only uses on me. "I won't ever let anything bad happen to you again, you know that right?"

I have been fixated on the patterns on Peeta's arms up until this point. When I hear these words come from his mouth, I look up at him, seeing that his crystal blue eyes are already watching me. My grey eyes lock with his and I feel my heart beat quicken. I know that. I do, but hearing it is different than just knowing. It feels like a promise. It feel secure. It makes me feel safer than I already feel.

"I know, Peeta," I whisper, not adverting my gaze from his. "I know that you'll protect me if there is anything that tries to hurt me. But guess what? We don't have a lot to worry about anymore."

"You never know," Peeta whispers. He slips one arm from around my waist, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. He must know that I like it when he does this, because he has taken to doing it nearly every chance that he gets. As his thumb starts to glide over the skin of my cheek, he starts to speak again. "Anything could happen, Katniss. I just want to make sure. I've already lost you too many times before. I'm not taking that risk again."

For some reason, these words cause a blush to cascade itself across my cheeks, for me to look away. Why am I so shy, so afraid when it comes to things like this? Practical confessions of love. Peeta just chuckles at this, his fingers slipping beneath my chin as he gently tilts my head up so that I'm looking at him again.

"What did you look away for?" he asks in a whisper. There is a beautiful glint of happiness and amusement in his eyes.

I simply shrug. "I don't know why I looked away. I had a shy moment I guess," I say, my eyes locked with his again, my cheeks still flushed red. I lean in a little closer, allowing my nose to brush his gently, the pull away again, keeping our gaze.

He smiles at me. "I like it when you're like this. I feel like you're not repulsed by me."

I'm taken aback by Peeta's words. He thinks that I'm repulsed by him? I'm anything but. It might appear that way because of the way I act, but I'm not. "I'm not repulsed by you, Peeta," I say in a whisper. I can tell by the tone in my own voice, that the shock has registered itself there.

"Sometimes I feel like you are, but then I remember. I remember who you are, and what you've been through. I can wait for you to come around. I still get to hold you like this every now and then. It's better than nothing. More than I ever imagined I would have with you. I've waited my whole life for you, what's a little while longer going to hurt?"

I am silent. I don't know how to respond to this with words, so I do the only thing that I can do, I lean forward and press my lips to his. This isn't like the kisses we have shared during the past couple of days. Kisses of comfort, reassurances. This kiss is purely for pleasure, just to exchange our emotions in way other than words, because, like I've said, I'm really no good when it comes to words.

Peeta's hand slips from my cheek and slide carefully down my side before he snakes it around my waist, pressing it against the small of my back. My body instantly moves closer and before I know it, I'm pressed up against him. I can hear my own heartbeat, erotic and out of control as Peeta's soft, warm lips move gracefully against my own. I can feel Peeta's heartbeat where out chests are pressed together. His heart is just as fast, if not faster than my own, but I realize quickly that it's not faster; it's beating with mine in almost perfect sync. I slip my arms around Peeta's neck, trying to stay as close as I can.

I am nearly overwhelmed by the feeling of Peeta's lips against mine. There is a rhythm that Peeta and I always find when we're kissing. Our lips are almost in a dance with each other's. I can move my lips and Peeta knows just the way to move his in return. My lips are tingling with pleasure. It's almost like sparks are spreading from our kiss, throughout my entire body. It's an amazing feeling.

I'm not sure how long our lips are locked together, but eventually, I feel like my lungs are screaming for air. I reluctantly pull away from our kiss, my breathing heavy, coming in short huffs; my lips are slightly swollen from kissing for so long. I am taking long, deep breaths trying to even out my breathing. I look at Peeta. His blue eyes are filled with nothing but pure love and desire, his cheeks are flushed pink, his lips are slightly puffy, and his blonde hair is a bit more disheveled than when we first arrived. I guess my hands had somehow traveled into his hair when I wasn't pay attention. I had been so lost in the kiss, that I hadn't been aware of what I was doing. This always seems to be the case.

Peeta brings his hand up and he runs his thumb gently across my swollen lips before pressing a light kiss there. As soon as it's over, I crave another.

"That was amazing," he whispers, almost in awe.

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out but a loud, drawn out yawn. Peeta chuckles at this and positions himself so when he pulls me to him, I am practically on top of him, my head on his chest, listening to the still rapid beating of his heart.

We lay awake in silence for awhile, his hand gently rubbing my back, me using my finger to draw patterns on his chest until finally, I am unable to keep my eyes open. I let the sound of Peeta's heartbeat put me to sleep.

I don't have any nightmares tonight. Instead, I dream that I'm in the woods. I'm running. I've been running for a long time. I can tell that I'm tired, my legs hurt, my throat is sore from calling out a name that I am unable to make out. Whoever it is that I'm searching for, I've been looking for a long time.

When I finally find the person that I'm looking for, it is by the small, concrete house by the lake that my father used to take me to when I was younger. I fling my arms around the person, and I embrace them with everything that I've got. I am muttering how much I miss them, over and over again. As if I can't say it enough. But, it's the last person I expected. It's not Peeta, Annie, Prim, or even Finnick or Cinna that I'm embracing.

It's Gale.