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The baby is warm and pink and tiny, like most babies I suppose. But this one, she's mine - Peeta's too. And the way he looks at her, the pure adoration that fills his face as he watches me hold her...
"You named her Petra?" I ask, repeating the name the midwife had given me. We lie on the floor of the roof, propped up against the wall and surrounded by an assortment of flowers and foliage, many of them planted in honor of our daughter, I'd imagine.
He looks at me a little sheepishly, "They needed a name when she was born. The council and I agreed it was best. It's a family name, a feminine form of Peeta."
"It's a statement, isn't it?" I ask, rocking her gently in my arms, "A way of letting everybody know you claim her."
He nods, "A way of making sure people know she isn't Gale's."
Gale. I had barely thought of him since I had awoken, too sick to think of much more than my daughter. The labor had been intensive, but the days that followed were even worse - a myriad of fevered dreams and near death. But nonetheless I had lived, and so had she.
"I put a stay on Gale's execution like I promised," Peeta blurts out. "He's not dead."
"Oh?" I say, the baby resting in my lap. I'm not quite sure what to do with her, having never been particular about babies, but Peeta seems to know about those things. "Here," I say, lifting her gently, "you can take her."
Peeta's eyes light up as he takes her into his arms, cradling her in the crook of his arm.
"Gale," he says in a soft, cooing voice, "I don't suppose anybody told you. There was a whole ceremony, while you were ill, and then at the last moment he was granted a royal pardon. It was the committee's idea, a show of leniency to quell the unrest. I am working on this landmark legislation with Haymitch, The United Kingdoms of Panem, we're calling it."
"The United Kingdoms of Panem?" I laugh, "Who came up with that name, the council?"
"Johanna, actually," he says, darkening a little, "she said it was concise, honest."
My heart snaps up at that, my thoughts drifting to the time that had passed - the world where my husband was discussing politics and reform with his mistress. Why was it so easy for him to allow her into his council when I had to fight for every bit of influence?
"And Johanna," I ask snidely, "was she pardoned at the beck of your bed?"
Peeta shakes his head, "I am sending her to exile at the Abernathy Estate along the border. She is still smart though, useful in that manner."
"Useful in other manners too, I imagine," my words are sharp, full of a resentment I didn't know I was holding back.
"Katniss," he squeeze my hand with his free one, "I touched her and I know it was wrong, but…"
"You touched her, though," I shrug at him, resigned with the affirmation, "it is what it is."
Perhaps Peeta felt justified in his actions with her at the time, but the thought of them together still livens an anger in me. If it had been any other woman, I don't think I would care as much, but Johanna had been friend and enemy in so many ways.
"I touched her," he says, "but I didn't lie with her. I'm not sure if it makes a difference."
"And did you enjoy it?" I ask tentatively, though I already know the answer. All the men Johanna roped around seemed to enjoy her, and Peeta had come to her bed before.
Peeta looks downward at the baby, "I won't lie, I did, in the moment. I felt sick in the aftermath, though I'm not sure if that was what I did with her or thoughts of you."
"When you slept with her," I ask him quietly, leaning back against the wall, "did you know she betrayed you?"
"No," he says firmly, "of course not. If I was in the habit of bedding traitors I would have come to you."
"A-and after?" I ask him, voice raspy, "I know you said, but did you...even once?"
He shakes his head, careful not to disturb the baby, "No, not with her or any other. I kept things up with her for some time though, bled her for information I knew I couldn't get from anybody else. But I never touched her in the slightest way, that I promise to you."
"Will we be able to make this work?" I sigh at him, ignoring the daffodils pressing into my shoulder, "I know we can't - can't be fixed tomorrow. But you were right that day, we have a child, Peeta, and I don't want mine to grow up the way you or I did. I want, at the very least, for us to get along. Maybe we will never really forgive each other, but we ought to-"
"You're forgiven," his voice cracks a little and for a moment I think he is going to cry, "You're always forgiven."
"Peeta…" I drift off, "we have both mistrusted, and even harmed, each other. That won't be fixed with pretty words."
"But we can work on it. Look, Katniss," he says, shifting towards me and causing the baby in his hands to move her tiny fist against him, "I have said it before and I will say it again, I am not going to spend the rest of our marriage barely speaking and keeping lovers. Forgiveness, it's a choice - so I'm forgiving you no matter what, but promise me this - tell me you will try to work on us."
"Okay, Peeta," I shift my legs outward and lean my head against the crux of his shoulder. "We can work on it," I sigh against him, "And...I forgive you too."
"If it wouldn't hurt my back so much I'd lean over and kiss you," he says, rolling back his head in laughter.
"What?" I say, wriggling my eyebrow, "I'm not worth it?"
"No," he says, lifting my hand to his lips, "you're always worth it."
Author's Note: I'll probably continue it past this, hope you like where I'm heading with the two of them and thank you so much for all of the support I have been granted over the years.
As always, you can follow me on tumblr at starveinsafety and everlarkfanfictionclub. Big round of applause to all the people that have made this story possible!