This took forever to upload, and I'm so, so sorry. It also took forever to write. It's a long chapter, but that's not really why. And toward the end, you can tell that I just wanted to get it all out and uploaded. Sorry about that.

I have a month left in school, and it's chaos. I also just went through a surgery, so I'm in pain. But I will try to sit down and write the next chapter as soon as possible. No, I haven't even started yet. But I will try, I promise. For you, I'll do anything. Thank you for the reviews, and I hope you will enjoy this chapter.

The next couple of weeks after my announcement to Peeta, Christmas and a new year passed, and we barely had the time to think about the pregnancy at all.

We were too busy with Haymitch to spend much time one on one with the other at all, and we only really had a couple of hours every night together. Despite him being in the bakery all day, and me being in the woods, we always had the time to spend a lot of time together. Cook dinner, close the bakery, relax on the couch in each others arms. Always together.

Not now when we had to put most of our energy on Haymitch.

He had warned me that it would get ugly, and he was right. In the first few days, he still remembered that he had made the decision himself. He remembered why, and even though he was pissed, he was controllable since he still wanted it. Then he forgot, and things got harder. He put down more energy fighting us than fighting himself, and I started to spend less time in the woods and more time at Haymitch's place. Peeta opened the bakery later and closer earlier just to help me. But after a week, when Haymitch started to fight us, he wouldn't let me near him. Of course I didn't listen to him, but I did back away each time Haymitch threw a punch and I let Peeta handle it himself. It really wasn't that hard. With as little as Haymitch ate and drank, he was weak, and he missed most of his swings. And the few times he did hit Peeta, he was the one losing his balance.

Peeta never asked me why I knew about Haymitch decision to stop drinking, but it really wasn't that hard to figure out. He knew, but he never talked about it. So as Peeta avoided Haymitch fists and knifes, reminding him that there was no alcohol, I cleaned. Every day there seemed to be more than the day before, and I couldn't understand why. Haymitch really didn't do all that much.

After about two weeks, things turned around. They started to get better. Haymitch screamed and cursed less each day, and the punches didn't come as often. When they did come though, there was more force behind them than before, and more than once did I have to put something cold against Peeta's jaw. He always assured me that he was fine, but he always let me take care of him. Putting the icepack against his jaw a few nights that week was as close as I would ever come to a descent healer. That was the first time in a long time that I truly did miss my Mother. I had everything here. Peeta, my friends and the few people that I would always call family. They were all here with me, and I loved them. I needed them. But despite the fact that we had a good healer in our District, she would never be as good as my Mother. Never be as good as Prim could have been.

And that's why I called her. I didn't know first thing about what would happen when alcohol left a man's body after running in his blood for so many years, and I hoped that my Mother could help. She couldn't, at least not much. She told me to keep doing what we were doing. And then, when she asked why Haymitch had suddenly decided to become sober once and for all, I lied. I told her I didn't know. Maybe he was just tired of it.

I'm not entirely sure why I lied to her. I could just tell her that I was pregnant, she would find out eventually anyway. But somehow, I felt like she didn't deserve to know just yet. I knew that if Prim had been alive, she would have been the first to know. Long before Haymitch and Peeta. She would have been the one I would have asked for advice. But she wasn't here, and neither was my Mother.

But, because of Haymitch, neither Peeta or I truly had the time to ever talk about the pregnancy. Or even think about it much. Not until the nausea struck me in the ninth week.

It came from no where. One second I was finishing up Haymitch's dishes, and the next I had my head hanging over his sink. I don't know where Peeta came from, but he was by my side as soon as I had finished, his hand stroking my back. He was worried. I could feel it in his movements, and I could see it in his blue eyes as soon as I met them.

"You okay?" he whispered, his voice soft, and I nodded as I let the water run down the sink. I actually was. The nausea disappeared as soon as it came, and despite the sour taste in my mouth, I felt okay. Peeta handed me a glass of water, and I took it as Haymitch spoke. He was aware enough to comment, aware enough to care, but he didn't leave his spot on the couch.

"I thought they called it morning sickness."

Things didn't really get any easier after that. Haymitch was doing fine though, and eventually he even started to clean on his own. But Peeta and I continued to cook him dinner, and he came over every night. Effie and Cinna joined him sometimes. Apparently, the atmosphere between a sober Haymitch and Effie was a good one. She would comment on his manners, but that was pretty much it. They had long conversations without arguing, and Peeta and I always watched in amusement.

But as Haymitch got better, I could return to the woods. In the weeks that we had taken care of him, I hadn't been able to catch much game. Just a few rabbits each day in the snares I set up. I never had to use my bow, and I missed it. But the first Sunday I spent in the woods realization struck me. I wouldn't be able to do this much longer. I would probably start showing soon, and I was surprised even now that Peeta still let me out into the woods. When I started to show, people would know. And as I would grow fatter, I wouldn't be able to do this anymore. I had seen pregnant women walk over the District all my life. Their wobbly walks, how they always had difficulties with bending down to get something they dropped, how they always seemed to have a back ache.

As a hunter, I needed to be smooth in my movements. I had to squat down, I had to move on fast, quiet feet, I had to climb trees. I wouldn't be able to do that with a big, fat stomach blocking the view of my feet.

And as I cleaned my game that day, before heading back home, the smell of blood hit my nose and I had to fight the urge to throw up right there and then.

After that, I always brought the game back home after I had killed it. I didn't clean it. Rooba cleaned her parts, and the animals I brought home for dinner... Well, Peeta had to learn how to clean a game. I gave him the directions on how to do it, standing safely in another room where I couldn't feel the smell. He laughed at me the entire time, and I fought the urge to walk in there and take the knife from him and just do it myself. But I knew that I would just throw up, so I settled with a glare as soon as he had washed away all the blood and proudly showed me the cleaned meet. I had to agree with the fact that he did a good job. Not as good as a skilled hunter, but it was his first time. He would learn.

But I had to wonder. When the time came, and Peeta wouldn't let me out into the woods again, when I couldn't go out there, then who would I be? For as long as I could remember, I had always been a huntress. It was who I was. It's where I came alive, and the woods had always been my second home. It would always be my second home. So who would I be if I couldn't go out and hunt, and do what I had done every day for the biggest part of my life? What would happen to me?

The following Sunday, we invited Haymitch, Effie and Cinna over for dinner. We did that almost every Sunday. I loved Sundays because of that. Because Sundays meant coming home from the woods, cooking dinner for more people than just Peeta and me, and it meant having to spend the night with my family. How could I not love it.

"Have you heard about the bear?" Effie asked in a matter-of-fact voice in the middle of dinner, and my head popped up to look at her.

"What bear?"

"Oh, someone saw a bear the other day. Apparently it was pretty close to the fence, but it's probably nothing. You know how people talk, Katniss."

I was on my feet as soon as she mentioned that it was close to the fence, and Peeta knew exactly what I was thinking so he jumped to his feet and grabbed my wrist.

"You're not going out there," he said gently, his eyes boring into mine.

"Yes, I am."

"Katniss, please," he started but I cut him off.

"It was close to the fence! It's not like when we grew up; there's kids out there. Playing."

"I can't stop you, I know that, but I don't want you to go out there." The hidden words in his meaning was obvious, and he would have mentioned it if we hadn't had company. We weren't going to tell them just yet, not until I started to show. "Hell, can't you at least wait until tomorrow?"

"Peeta, language," I heard Effie's voice bark from behind us and the corner of my mouth twitched despite the fact that I didn't want them to. His voice could be a lot dirtier than that, and the first time I heard it, I was shocked. Peeta wasn't one to curse. Or so I thought. In our most private of moments, I silently begged for those words to leave his mouth, and just thinking about it left a shiver down my spine.

I shook the thoughts away, and continued to look into Peeta's eyes. He was worried.

"Why are you worried?"

"It's a bear," he stated, "the last time you faced one..."

"I was a child!" I finished for him. "I'm the only one who can do this, and I'm going out there, like it or not."

"I don't like it, but you're not the only one who can do this."

"Who else?" I scoffed. He knew I was the only one who dared to go outside the fence when it was still forbidden. And it hadn't been allowed long enough for someone to be old enough, skilled enough, to reach up to my limit. But there was no one out there. Everyone knew I was the one to who hunted. Everyone relied on me to deliver their meat to them. Everyone knew I was the only one who really could.

"There's Gale."

"Gale?" I asked disbelievingly. "He lives in Two, remember? He probably hasn't been hunting for years, and even if he had, it would take days for him to come here. If he wanted to. And why would he? I'm doing this alone, it's the only way."

"With a hovercraft, he'd be here tomorrow night. If the bear just so happens to walk in your trail, then fine, shoot it. But you're not doing this alone."

"Then you come with me!"

I realized that we were halfway into an argument about this, but none of us cared about our audience.

"Have you met me?" he asked. Crossing his arms over his chest and I almost rolled my eyes. This was no time for that. But yeah, he was right. He couldn't do this. But he was also right about Gale. And maybe a part of me wanted to see him again. Fall into the familiar patterns of hunting with him again. Maybe I wanted to have a hunting partner again. The woods could be lonely sometimes.

"Why do you want Gale anyway?

"Because I knew he'd still risk his life for yours. So I'm calling him."

"It would be easier if you'd just let me do this alone," I stated, knowing that I was right. If I did this alone, I could leave early tomorrow morning. Follow its trail, and capture it before night. It would be dead before the sun would set.

"I'm not, and you very well know why," he stated and his lips pressed against mine for a second. "I need you safe. Both of you."

His words were whispered, meant only for me, but the others heard them. I heard Effie mumble something to Haymitch and Cinna.

"He's not talking about Gale, airhead," Haymitch answered her and I looked at him. He looked smug. He had known all along, and he knew that we would tell the rest soon. He probably figured that soon was now.

"Then who?" Effie turned to Peeta now, but his eyes were still looking into mine. We were having a very silent, very private conversation. We had to tell them now, they would have it figured out already. On the look on Cinna's face, he already had. Haymitch still looked smug and all-knowing.

"I'll call him," I promised Peeta and laid my hand on his chest. He nodded in approval and pressed another kiss against my lips. "I think we have some explaining to do first."

And so we told them. After the hugs and the congratulations, Peeta cornered Effie and made her promise not to tell anyone. No one was supposed to know. He used the voice he only really used when he wanted people to know just how serious he was, and she nodded in an answer.

Gale arrived the following night, and he was still as good of a hunter as he had always been. Even though it only took us a day to track down the bear and have it killed, it was nice to hunt with him again. To sit in silence with him again, the way we always sat when we waited for a game to appear. He didn't ask why I let him clean the bear himself, and why I insisted on getting help just then. We couldn't carry this beast alone, and he knew we needed the help. So he didn't ask questions as I left. But I think he knew. I think he understood, but if he knew, then he also knew why I didn't tell him. He knew that I'd tell him when I was ready. And I wasn't just yet.

As February ended and March rolled in it was still cold outside, and it was easy to hide my growing stomach underneath all the clothes. Therefore, it was still easy to keep it a secret. Well, a secret between five people. Peeta would unconsciously let his hand gently slide over my small bump several times a day, and I liked his hand resting on my stomach every night as we slept. Just that little thing showed me that he already loved this baby, and that he would become a great father to our child. I still wasn't so sure about me. But I never brought it up, and neither did he.

But it got worse with the first kick. I knew that there was a baby growing inside me, but feeling it move made it so much more real. I suddenly knew that as long as this baby was inside me, I was the only one who could keep it safe. I was supposed to take care of it, alone. And because of that realization, my fears of failing only grew. Every night I'd wake up from a new nightmare. In every dream, my baby was taken from me in a new way, and I couldn't describe the way I felt each night in the dream. Each night after waking up. The dreams made me feel hollow in a way I had only felt after Prim's death. It resembled the feeling I would have after waking up from a dream where Peeta was taken from me. The dreams and the unbearable feeling made me realize that maybe Peeta was right. Maybe I did love this baby.

As April came I had stopped hunting altogether. My stomach never stopped growing, and the walk I hiked each day was getting harder and harder. So I stopped, and I forced Peeta to teach me how to bake. I had to do something, and so each day I helped him out in the bakery. I wasn't very good at it, but he never complained. Always said I did a good job, but the lie was obvious. So he told me to try frosting, but I refused. I would never be good at frosting. So what I did instead was to write down each recipe in a book. He had them all in his head, some scribbled onto papers he never used. So I wrote down what he told me, and I wrote down what I read, and I made a book about it. It allowed to me keep my hands busy as well as spending time with Peeta every day.

On my birthday I woke up from another bad dream, this one really bad, and I decided to just stay in bed all day. It was a Friday, and since I didn't hunt anymore, what else was there to do? And I really didn't feel like moving. Despite my arguing, Peeta closed the bakery and stayed in bed with me all day. The only exception was when he walked downstairs to get my cake. It was beautiful, one of the most beautiful cakes he'd ever made, despite how simple it was. He laughed at me when I ate most of it on my own, but still claimed to be hungry, so he made me lunch after that. I also had to run to the bathroom quite a lot, but other than that, the entire day was spent in his arms.

As May ended and June came, walking in stairs became quite a challenge because of my growing stomach, and Peeta often carried me down to the bakery on the days I felt like being there. But it was the beginning of summer, and the weather was hot, so the bakery was slow. The first year it happened, I was worried. There had always been so many buyers, but Peeta assured me that June had always been a slow month. Business started to kick in again in the middle of July or beginning of August, and this year seemed to be no difference. Peeta had sent Rory home, the best help he had ever found, and we were alone, just the two of us. His hands, covered in flour despite the fact that he just cleaned up, ran over my side and his lips pressed against my hot neck. He could feel my body become rigid, and he let out a sigh but his hands continued to trace over my skin.

"I miss you," his voice was almost pleading, and I hated it. But my fat, ugly body didn't deserve his gentle hands on it. There hadn't been much of anything lately, not since my birthday, and in the last few weeks I had barely let him kiss me the way he used too.

I felt horrible. My body was big and horrible and in the way all the time. He deserved better, he deserved beautiful. And right now, I couldn't give him that. How were we supposed to put up with this until late August?

The fear of giving birth became bigger every day. It wasn't the pain I was worried about, but what would happen after that. I would be a Mother. I had no idea what to do. I couldn't protect my baby anymore. I realized now that I did love my baby, even though the love wasn't as strong as it had always been for Prim, but it was love. And I wanted to protect my baby. And I knew that as long as the baby was inside of me, nothing bad could happen. But it couldn't be inside of me for the rest of my life. And that scared me.

"I know," I whispered to him, and I could feel his hand run over my stomach, up toward my breasts. But just then we heard the bell ring, indicating a guest, and Peeta removed his hand from under my shirt, letting out an audible sigh. He pressed a quick kiss against the side of my jaw before he left to welcome his potential buyer. I could hear laughter, his and a woman's, and I tried to fight the urge to go out there. But I did, and noticed that the woman he was talking to was clearly not from our District. She was young, beautiful, and she kept tossing her hair. She was clearly flirting, and Peeta laughed with her. He laughed, and it was warm and genuine. But I did not have the right to be jealous. Not after the way I had been treating him lately. It was my own fault if he searched intimacy somewhere else. But I knew that he wouldn't. Never. Which is why I hated the fact that I was jealous.

He was always kinds to guests, always joked with them, always laughed with them. Smiled. But she knew better. Everyone in all of Panem knows who Peeta Mellark is. They know how he looks like. They know that he's married to Katniss Everdeen, the Mockingjay. She knew that I could take her out in a second. Granted, she didn't know that I was pregnant, but she did not stop even when she saw me. It was annoying, and I hated her. I hated her for flirting with my husband. So I did the only thing I could. I walked up to them, wrapping my arms around Peeta's waist, and then pulled him into a kiss. She had to know that he was mine, and I was his. Nothing else was acceptable.

Peeta was clearly surprised with how deep the kiss was, but he kissed me back. Just for a short second though, before he leaned out and I saw confusion in his eyes.

"I'm going to Haymitch's," I told him, and he clearly heard the lie in my voice. I stalked off before he could say anything, but I stopped in the bakery. I could hear their voices, and from the sound of it, he was selling her bread. And cakes. I sat down and crossed my arms over my chest, and when Peeta came back into the bakery he looked at me. And then he burst out laughing. He laughed so hard it nearly made him cry, and it only made me more irritated. Why the hell was he laughing? This wasn't funny.

"You're jealous," he choked out and only laughed more when I told him I wasn't. "I can't believe you're jealous."

He had calmed down a little bit by the time I spoke, but the amused smile never left his lips. "She was flirting with you. And she was pretty and young and she made you laugh."

"You thought I was going to run off with her, and kiss her in the moonlight," he said, barely holding it together. I knew he was only saying that to get a reaction out of me, and he succeded.

"I'm not jealous," I said, having some difficulties with getting up from the chair, which only made him laugh harder.

"You know that I only go for women with grumpy looks and braids."

"I'm not grumpy," I stated and he shook his head in amusement. "Dinner will be ready in an hour."

"Okay," he told me, kissing me on the cheek before I turned around. "And Katniss? Don't get jealous of all the bread I'm going to spend the next hour with."

"Shut up," I tossed the closest thing I could find toward him, which just happened to be a towel, and I missed. Which only caused him to laugh even more. Even upstairs, standing in the kitchen could I hear him laughing, and I smiled to myself. Yeah, maybe I was jealous. I knew that Peeta would never do anything to hurt me, so I knew that I was only jealous because I myself missed the intimacy we used to have. That kiss felt good. More than that. But I felt disgusted just imagining his body against mine, his lips against mine, his moans mixing with my own. The way I felt about myself right now, it needed to stop. I needed to be a wife, a woman, again. I needed to be myself again. I just didn't know how.

On the day that used to be referred as Reaping Day, still was among those who remembered those days, was bound to be horrible. It was every year. But this year, it would be as public as it used to be. As the ten year anniversary of the rebellion was this year, someone had come up with the brilliant idea to put the celebration of the past on Reaping Day. It would not surprise me if it was Plurtach.

And so Peeta and I were put on a train heading to The Capitol. We didn't want to, but we had been told to. The Capitol was still The Capitol, and even though I liked Paylor, this was an order we could not hide from. Maybe I would have been okay with it under different circumstances, but Panem did not yet know that Peeta and I were having a baby. We had been able to hide it well, better than I thought. The whole of District Twelve knew, but no one had spoken up. Maybe they thought we wanted privacy, and we did. Most of Twelve were old friends anyway. The only people outside of Twelve that knew were Johanna, Annie, and my Mother. I had yet to tell Gale, but he would find out soon enough. The unveiling of the statue of me and Peeta was public, and everyone was told to watch. We were supposed to hold a speech. Peeta didn't have to ask to know that I wanted him to deal with the speech part. He was good with words. Haymitch came along with us, mumbled something that it was his duty as a Victory and from being a part of the rebellion. I think it mostly was because of me. Because he had always been smart, and impulsive. If something happened, if something paralleled out of control, he could handle it. Like he had so many times before.

Peeta was right, he still wanted to keep us safe. Our baby too. And simply the fact that Haymitch was sober now would draw some attention from us to him.

"I wish we could hide this," Peeta murmured before we walked up on stage. There would be cameras, there would be reporters. This was live television.

"I do too," I squeezed his hand, wishing that he could take me away from here and back to the safety of Twelve. Like so many times before, I wished I could be out in the silence of the woods. But that wasn't possible.

Even though Cinna had designed our clothes, I knew that the crowd didn't go dead silence because of that when they saw us walk out on stage after being introduced by Effie, in all her Capitol glory. She had asked to do it, but I don't know why. She had already introduced Haymitch, and the rest of the Victors. Annie wasn't here, and neither was Noah. I knew why. She didn't want to expose him to the world when it was like this. I knew, because I didn't want the same to happen to my baby. But I had to. I was the Mockingjay, or at least I was to the people of Panem. To those around me, I was just Katniss Everdeen, the girl from the Seam who married the baker's son. To Cinna, and to others, I would always be the girl on fire. But to me and to Peeta, I was just Katniss Mellark. But today I had to step up and be the Mockingjay, even to us. To everyone.

The crowd was still silent as Effie introduced Paylor and Plurtach. He was supposed to unveil the statue. The crowd was still silent as he did, and I could feel more eyes on me than what should be. They should be looking at the statue, like the rest of us did. Peeta and I hadn't really been told about it, just that they would rise a statue in our name. But it wasn't just in our name. It reminded me a lot of when we were introduced as a team for the first time, but without the fire. We looked older, but our hands were intertwined, just like ours were now. I had my signature braid, a very detailed one despite the fact that it was made out of stone. Peeta was looking down on me, and even in his stone eyes could you see the love he had for me. The statue was beautiful, everyone could see that. It captured us, everyone could see that too. Or at least how they thought we were. We knew better, we knew the whole story. We had been the star-crossed lovers for a long time, but the love had also been one-sided for a long time, no matter what the sign said. "To the star-crossed lovers of District 12, for showing Panem what love is, and for reminding us that it can conquer all. Thank you for your endless determination, spirit and courage – it inspired us to live."

Reading the sign made my eyes teary, and I was thankful for the fact that I could just blame it on hormones. I did that a lot these days, but Peeta always saw through me. I hoped that Panem wouldn't.

"I love you," Peeta whispered to my ears only and I leaned into his side, allowing his arms to wrap around me.

The reporters wanted questions to be answered, and most of them were about us. Some were to Hamitch, and some to Johanna and Beetee. But Peeta was the one who answered most of the questions as I stood beside him, never letting go of his hand. But when one of the reporters asked why we had waited so long to have a baby, he wasn't sure what to answer. We had prepared for every question imaginable, but not this one. I don't know why, and from the look on Peeta's face, he hadn't thought of this one either. So I took a step forward, and gently pushed Peeta out of the way. I could answer this one. Panem had been told so many lies about us, and they deserved this truth. I knew that a lot of people thought of me as cold, despite what I had done for Prim and the country. And I didn't care. I knew I was cold and hostile to people I didn't know – it was just who I was. But those who loved me, and those who I loved, they deserved something better. I was always my best with those I loved. Especially Peeta. He always saw me for who I was. Always had, always would.

"Peeta and I grew up under very different circumstances, and because of that we grew up wanting different things. We grew up very different people. At one point in my life, I lived in a bubble and I wanted it all. A big family, kids, everything. Then reality hit, and I promised myself that I'd never put a child into this world. But the world as I knew it has changed, and maybe it's not perfect. But it's better. And maybe, despite everything, it's okay to bring a small, defenseless child into this world. It just took me a long, long time to realize that."

An early morning in the beginning of August, Peeta found me on the couch in my old Victory house, watching the tapes from our first arena. It was the first time I saw it since it actually happened.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" he asked and I paused the tape, not letting my eyes wonder from the television. The truth was that I dreamed that we were still there, and I couldn't shake it even after wakening. So I dug and found the old tapes, wanting to watch them again. I knew it would hurt, but I felt like I had to. I could remember everything so clearly, so vividly, and it hurt. Seeing Rue and seeing Marvel killing her. How I sang to her, and how I found Peeta on that river bed. It all hurt. Especially all the questions that were building up inside me.

"How are we supposed to tell her?" I asked, stroking my hand over my stomach as I turned to look at him. He sat down beside me, and raised one of his eyebrows.

"Her?"

"It's just a feeling," I explained and he let out a sigh as he placed his hand above mine.

"We'll figure it out."

"But I don't want our baby to know that kind of pain, to know what parts we played in the war. I don't want our baby to know what happened to us. But I want our baby to know about Prim and Rue and Finnick and Boggs and everyone else, and what courage they had, and it's all so conflicting."

"We'll figure it out," he murmured again and I felt myself nod. I moved Peeta's hand a little bit to the left so that he could feel the same movement I felt inside me. I remembered all to well the fear and terror I felt the first time I felt my baby kick, and as if Peeta could read my thoughts, he said, "We'll be fine."

I glanced toward the television again, and Peeta's eyes wandered with mine.

"If you hadn't had those berries, would you have done it?" he asked suddenly and even though I knew what he meant, the question took me a back. What a stupid question.

"There's no such thing," I said firmly and he met my eyes.

"How do you know?"

"Because if I would have walked out of that arena alone, I would be stuck there, trying desperately to get both of us out. And if I found a way, I would just feel even worse because I didn't succeed in the first place. So no, and don't ever ask me that question again."

His smile was genuine as he rose from the couch, dragging me up with him. "I want to show you something," he claimed, leading me back home. He walked patiently behind me as I wobbled up the stairs and then he stopped us outside the room that would belong to our baby. Without knowing why I did it, I placed my hand on the closed door and looked at him.

"You're done?" I asked, and his smile gave me his answer. He had been working on painting the nursery for months now, only being able to be in there a few hours every week. He had told me not to go in there, and despite how much I wanted to see how it looked like, I wanted to see the finished product more, and so I waited. It wasn't patiently, but at least I waited. And now it was done.

He turned the doorknob and as he pushed the door open, I took a step inside and looked around in awe. It was beautiful and so colorful, and it was perfect. He had painted all of our favorite places in the world on each wall, somehow managing to blend them perfectly together. The wall facing the door was the lake, a place that I now shared with Peeta. It was our place, and I knew that we'd bring our child there in the future. Every detail was perfect and I could almost hear the sound of the water and feel the smell of the flowers just looking at it. On the right wall was the deep blue ocean meeting a sun setting in the horizon, a figure fishing in the water. The left wall held the meadow, primroses covering the ground and mockingjays singing in the trees. A perfect rainbow filled the image with its beautiful colors.

They were all featured there in the paintings, the spirits of all the people that I loved. My Father in the lake, Finnick in the ocean and Rue and my sister in the Meadow. But where were the people that Peeta loved, where was his family?

"They're there," he promised me, wrapping his arms around his waist. I turned him against the fourth wall, and I didn't have to say anything. He knew that I wanted to know why he had left the wall white. "It's for the memories we'll make together, the three of us."

I turned around in his embrace, my lips searching for the familiar feeling of his. I hadn't felt them for real for so long, and as the hunger rose inside me, my lips moved harder and fiercer against his. He didn't hesitate to kiss me back, his tongue sliding into my mouth as he pressed me up against the white wall. Our breathings became louder with every breath we took, his body pressing closer against mine as his lips never failed to lose contact with my own. My arms locked around his neck, my fingers twisting with his thick, blonde hair as his hands felt like fire against my skin.

I had missed this. More than I had realized. I needed this just as much as he did. I needed him in this way just as much as I needed us to be like this again.

As his lips left mine to explore my waiting skin, my mouth formed his name in a moan and I could feel his hot breath against my neck.

"Honey, I'm home!" we heard Johanna's sarcastic voice from downstairs then and I could feel Peeta's body slumping against mine as I surrendered against him.

"I'll kill her," we muttered together, causing us to laugh after a moment. "We'll find some time alone tonight. Somehow," I promised and he placed a gentle kiss against my lips. We had guests to accompany.

We knew that both Johanna and my Mother would come in with the train today, but we must have lost track of time since her voice surprised us. Johanna would stay for just a week, but my Mother would stay until the baby was born.

The Healer we had in our District was good, and I would settle for her delivering our child. But Peeta had such bad dreams, and the only thing that would eventually calm him down was the idea of my Mother's healing hands. When he told me that, I knew that he was just as scared as I was. And he always helped me get through my fear, so I had to help him. My Mother wouldn't agree at first, she claimed that it would hurt too much, bring back too many painful memories of my Father and of Prim, but she eventually said yes. But not until after Peeta himself talked to her. Until he explained his dreams and fears and that he needed her to be there for the birth of our baby. When that almost didn't work, he played the grandmother card. It worked, and now she was here to stay. At least for a few weeks.

I had nine months to prepare and get ready, and in a way I was. Or at least I thought so. As the time came, I was still just as terrified and unprepared as I always had been. But there was no way out. Peeta and I, we were going to have a baby. We were going to be parents. I was going to be a Mother. The sudden pain radiating from my stomach, waking me up one hot August night was more than enough proof of that.