Disclaimer: All names, characters, and places belong to their respective owners. I only own my original content. Snippet from the whipping scene included in this chapter. No copyright infringement intended. Big thanks to my beta dandelionlass for the quick turn around.

Present

"Yes," I say, biting my lip. "Children. I didn't know you wanted more than one."

"I know you never wanted any," he says, glancing back at the door, "but I just figured, all things considered, that we would have others. But," he sighs, "if you don't want any more after this, I won't push the issue."

"I know," I reply honestly. "Though with our track record, I won't be surprised if we have a dozen before this one turns ten."

He laughs, wrapping his hand around my body and absentmindedly twirling my dress around. "I forget. They don't have rubbers down here, do they?"

"Rubbers?" I frown, squinting at him. I have a vague understanding of the word, but the last thing I want to do is make an assumption and embarrass myself. It was like that with Peeta and I a lot, the two of us not knowing about the things in the other person's world. While I might not know what rubbers are, Peeta doesn't know what plants are edible or how to boil bark down into a stew.

"Yes," he says, chuckling. "Rubbers. They sell them back in the Capitol, and most of the big cities as well. It's a little piece of well, rubber, that is placed over the penis."

"Oh," I blush, my suspicions confirmed at his description of the term. "I knew that...but aren't they illegal?"

Peeta snorts. "This is coming from a girl that breaks the law on a daily basis?" Smiling, he adds, "You should know better than anybody else that if you're willing to pay, you can get what you want."

I cross my arms at him, suddenly annoyed at the implications of his knowledge. "And you never bothered to use these rubbers with me?"

His eyes widen at my thinly veiled accusation. "They don't sell them here, and quite frankly, I didn't come down here with the intention of sharing anyone's bed. I don't normally involve myself with local girls, of course…"

I narrow my eyes at him. "Couldn't you have ordered them?"

Peeta's hand rests on my stomach. "They're mostly used for disease prevention. And given that you were a virgin, I didn't worry too much about that. I figured we were fine if I pulled out. But I guess next time we'll be more careful."

"Oh," I reply, biting my lip as I accept his explanation. It's not like Peeta would have any reason to get me pregnant. Not when he barely knew me, and not when he had been the one who had offered to take me up north for an abortion. But it still bothers me, the idea that we wouldn't be in this situation had it not been for our mutual recklessness. I want the baby, I have to, but a small part of me can't help but blame him for us being here.

"We should head out," he says, nodding towards the door with a sigh, "it's getting late. Better take out the papers and make arrangements before things close down."

I let out a sigh of agreement, following him as he takes my hand and leads me through the door and out towards the street. My hand is still in his as we make our way through the town. No point in concealing what everybody is going to know about soon enough. Though, by the looks we get, it seems the news of our engagement has spread to half the town already.

Mayor Undersee seems to be an exception to this rule. His eyes practically shoot out of his head when Peeta walks up to him and asks for a license.

"Of course, of course," he stutters, shuffling around papers in an attempt to cover up his surprise. I wonder what he thinks about me. I'm not a stranger to his daughter, Madge, and over the years my family has been the subject of all sorts of interest. Perhaps he rightfully assumes I'm pregnant, as most will in the days to come.

"Ah! Here," Undersee says, placing two copies of a blank license on the desk. Addressing Peeta he adds, "The license must be completed and returned to me within two months." Then, leaninging into his chair and peering at us, he asks, "You don't intend on marrying today, do you? Because if so, I will have to find the form on officiating weddings and…"

"No," Peeta says firmly, "we intend on having a proper wedding."

"Good," Mayor Undersee replies, letting out a breath and peering at me, "because I couldn't in good faith marry a girl no older than my daughter without her mama's consent. The last thing I want to explain to your dear mother is that her eldest has run off with a Mr. Mellark."

Peeta swallows, straightening his body and wrapping his arm around my waist. "Her mother is aware of our engagement," he explains coldly. "She has given her approval."

The man shakes his head, smiling softly. "No, of course. I never meant to…"

"Thank you, Mr. Undersee," I say, swiping the papers off the counter. I grip Peeta's wrist tightly, pulling him out of the small town office with a whip of my hand. "What was that all about?" I ask, once we're out of earshot, "I thought you didn't care what people thought of us?"

"He implied that I was taking advantage of you," he shrugs, releasing my grip and shoving his hands in his pockets. "Like I'm some devilish rake who ruined you and stole you from your mother."

I scoff. "What does it matter? Besides, people aren't going to think you took advantage of me, they're going to assume I'm an opportunist."

"An opportunist?" he raises an eyebrow at that, sticking his feet in the worn dirt road as he pauses to look at me.

"You know full well how this appears from the outside. And you were right about what you said when I told you that it doesn't matter so much what people think."

"Oh," he says, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "I was right?"

I roll my eyes at him. "Yes, you were. We have each other, we have the baby. We got ourselves here, and now we have to do what's best for our child."

"People are going to talk, Katniss. I just, I don't want my child growing up and thinking that their father took advantage of their mother. Or worse yet, that their parents were forced together because of their conception. I just wish I had waited, wish I had done things properly...wish we had the chance to get together the right way."

I bite my lip. Throughout this whole ordeal, Peeta's always been the one who stood strong and sugarcoated my doubts. Now it's my turn. "Well," I start, "if it wasn't for all of our impropriety, I doubt we would even know each other, much less be anything close to a wedding."

He shrugs. "I suppose you're right, though I think fate has a way…"

I roll my eyes, resting my head against this shoulder and playing with the pearl ring wrapped around my finger. "Oh, Peeta," I sigh.

"I know you're not one for fate," he says, raising his eyebrows, "but I have this belief that some people are destined to be together, and—"

I cut him off. "And you think we're these people?" I frown at him, trying to decipher exactly what he's saying. "That we're destined to be together?"

He presses a quick kiss against my forehead. "I...I think that we must be linked in some way. Are you opposed to that idea?"

I look up at him, my eyes meeting his hopeful ones. "Well," I shrug, "we do have a way with storms."

He laughs, his eyes lighting up as he takes my hand, kissing my ring finger with great ceremony before wrapping his arm around my shoulder. "Close enough."

Two Months Prior

"Don't move!" the man barks, cocking the gun. "My name is Romulus Thread, and you are under arrest."

A lump forms in my throat as I take sight of the thing. Under arrest? Nobody's been arrested for illegal hunting in these parts for years. A small voice in the back of my head wonders if this arrest is being made on Peeta's behalf, but I dismiss that thought pretty quickly. He wouldn't, would he?

Thread drags us through the woods, Gale by threat of gun, me by the pull of the wrist. My bones ache under the heavy grip, my fingers turning red as we make our way closer to the town. It's when we've entered the square and we have more than a few eyes on us that the man yanks on my arm, perhaps thinking I'll make a run for it.

I let out a yelp on instinct, only realizing my mistake when I feel Gale's body fly past me. Before I can even do anything, my companion's hands are on the older man, strong arms throwing him backwards. But Thread's not to be underestimated, and before Gale can draw his punch the man is bringing down the butt of his pistol in full force.

The fight passes in a dizzying blur. When one of the men from the crowd, a miner, makes a move to break the fight up, Thread informs them that he has been hired by the Mellark company. It's like a magic word. Mellark. Nobody here dares goes against it, not for the likes of Gale at least, and not with winter coming. So instead of defending their neighbor, friend, colleague, they merely watch, curious eyes gathering around the spectacle.

The second blow of the pistol hits Gale's head, and I know then that the fight is no longer a fair one. Something's wrong with Gale, he's disoriented, aimlessly striking around. But Thread keeps on going, keeps whipping him with the pistol like the boy he's hurting isn't even human.

He's going to kill Gale, I think, bash his head and kill him.

"No!" I cry, and spring forward. It's too late to stop the arm from descending, and I instinctively know I won't have the power to block it. Instead I throw myself directly between the gun and Gale. I've flung out my arms to protect as much of his broken body as possible, so there's nothing to deflect the hit of it. I take the full force of the weight against my cheekbone.

The pain is blinding and instantaneous. Jagged flashes of light cross my vision and I fall to my knees. One hand cups my cheek while the other keeps me from tipping over. I can already feel the welt rising up, the swelling closing my eye. "Stop it! You'll kill him!" I shriek. I get a glimpse of my assailant's face. Hard, with deep lines, a cruel mouth. Gray hair shaved almost to nonexistence, eyes so black they seem all pupils, a long, straight nose reddened by the freezing air. The powerful arm lifts again, his sights set on me. My hand flies to my shoulder, hungry for an arrow, but, of course, my weapons are stashed in the woods.

It's only then that the crowd's apathy seems to break. But before any of the townspeople can make a move, somebody else steps in, hands that have touched me, held me, pushing through the crowd with a violent fervor.

"Put the girl down!" a too familiar voice barks. Peeta.

Thread's arm drops instantly, and I bring my own to my cheek in an aimless attempt to lessen the pain. The older man looks a little sheepishly at Peeta. "They were stealing," he attempts to explain, "the boy struck me."

"Did you hit that woman?" Peeta asks incredulously, open mouth covering up the stewing anger.

Thread's voice thickens. "No," he says, narrowing his eyes at me, "I hit a thief."

Author's Note: Thanks for all the support guys, so sorry I got this out late. I've been crazy busy with school, moving, etc. I just didn't have the time to write much, but I'm back! Let me know what you thought in the comment section below (P.S. I did NOT mean to imply Peeta intentionally knocked her up or anything like that).

As always, you can follow me on tumblr at starveinsafety and everlarkfanfictionclub. I also post fic reviews at girlonfirerecs. If you like this story, I'm going to shamelessly plug Coal Black Water Blue, which is another historical fic with similar themes.