Peeta is exhausted. It's seven at night, and now that Sumpter has finally passed out so has Peeta. Ira has decided to get to sleep too; we've made plans to travel to the capital tomorrow. It's the only place to arrange a safe and successful paternity test, the others are all…dangerous and invalid. We leave early tomorrow morning, nearly five o 'clock am.
"Peeta," I whisper, poking his shoulder and trying to urge him awake. I haven't had a moment alone with him all day, he cannot be tired right now!
"Hmmm," he hums, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close, kissing my hair and readjusting himself.
"We haven't had a moment alone all day," I tell him. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes, knowing I won't let him sleep.
"I know. I'm sorry. I Just need to make sure this starts off right…so if he really is mine…"
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," I interrupt, still dubious of it. I won't be convinced until I see the results myself. I sit up and look in the other direction, avoiding the conversation.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, taking my hand. "I am."
"Not your fault," I shrug, not even sure if I believe it myself.
"No, but that doesn't mean I did anything right, either. They made me someone else, it's not that I had to do what they said…but it got to the point where I just didn't care anymore. I wasn't me," he says, "but I'm me now. And if he's my son I won't abandon him." I turn to look at him. He always has to one-up me. He's always right, no matter the situation, I always have to give him props because he knows what he's doing.
"I love you," I say, lying back into his arms and pressing my lips against his. He sighs and pulls the blankets up, snuggling down and holding me tighter. He smiles.
"We never have time to cuddle anymore. We're too busy loving on each other like bunnies," he chuckles, stroking my hair as I turn around; he hugs me from behind and I'm more comfortable that I have been for a while.
"I can't help it. My body wants things it's never wanted before," I shrug, tracing his fingers intertwined with mine.
"I love it," he whispers. "Every man's dream." He pauses, and we're silent for a moment. He lets his fingers trail down to my abdomen, and stops there, pressing against it. "You're showing," he comments, grinning. I suck in a deep breath. Damn, he'd noticed. I mean I know I'd not had my period now for weeks…but it's a sure fact, I was definitely with child.
"I know…"I answer.
"It's going to go faster from here," he assures. "This is the easy part."
"I don't see how that's possible… I won't even be able to hunt," I say, considering something I've had to consider. Surely the people will understand the lack of game for a few months knowing I'm pregnant, but I'm still not okay with it. We've helped a lot, but leaving them alone is hardly an option. It's not impossible, but it'll still be hard. They won't hold it against me or blame me, but I'll still feel guilty.
"Those people can provide for themselves. They did it the whole time we were in the games and on tour, they can do it for a few more months sweetheart," he says, moving the hair out of my face and kissing my neck lovingly.
"What do you want…a boy or a girl," I question, closing my eyes and letting myself fall into his tough.
"I want whatever we're going to have… In all honesty, I would be content with a boy because I'll be able to talk to him like a man and raise him the way I was raised, and I would be content with a girl because I'll be able to see the softer side of childhood, raise her in a house full of art and colors," Peeta continues kissing my neck, all the while creating beautiful image in my head.
"What about names?"
"Oh wow…I don't know," he chuckles. "Griffin for a boy…and for a girl…I've actually thought a lot about this…" he trails off. I turn to face him, placing my hand on his cheek and kissing his lips softly.
"What do you have in mind?"
"I want to name her Primrose." He waits for my reaction, squeezing my hand.
"Okay," I whisper in response.
"Do you want this too? Or would you like to pick a new name…"
"I need it," I answer. "I need to name our daughter Primrose." It is the thing I am surest about, aside from my love for this child and my husband, of course.
/
We ride to the capital in silence for the first few hours while we catch up on our sleep. But that is short-lived, because Sumpter wakes just as the sun starts to rise. The sound of him running down the hallway jolts Peeta awake and it's then that I see he's sweating. He looks to me frantically.
"Oh Katniss," he sighs, holding me tightly. He's trembling, and I'm unsure what to do but just hold him back.
"What's wrong…? I'm here," I answer, remembering do this same thing to Prim so many years ago on so many nightmarish and sleepless nights.
"I was dreaming," he says. He pulls back and kisses me, and he doesn't let go. He kisses me hard and I can feel the desperation in his movements. When he finally pulls away I see the tears running down his face.
"What's the matter," I whisper, wiping them away.
"I dreamt we were still back in the arena. I can't tell you Katniss…leading them to you was the most…I can't even…," he stutters, starting to hyperventilate. I stroke his arms and his hair, trying to calm him down. After all time, I was foolish to think our first time in the games would not haunt us.
"What are you talking about?" I ask quietly, tucking myself in his arms, just to show I'm here and I won't leave, ever.
"The tributes from districts one and two…they were hunting you and I led them to you, even if it was to protect you…I still brought them to you…I can't tell you how terrified I was when I thought they'd had you trapped. I thought I was going to lose you…and it would've been my fault..." he starts sobbing, taking in short jagged breaths and holding me tighter.
"You really think they could hurt me?" I joke softly. "I was never going to die. I promise you, I will be here forever. I'm here," I place a kiss on his hand, and after a few minutes the tears slow, his chest stops heaving, and we're at peace. That is until we hear Sumpter knocking at our door, asking if Peeta can come out and play with him.
/
Peeta gets his blood drawn. That's the only way, unfortunately, and I know doing the same for Sumpter will be a nightmare. But when Peeta does it then it's like a learning experience for him, give him a bit of confidence.
"See? Doesn't hurt a bit," Peeta grins as the guy pierces his vein. I have to admit, Peeta is doing a spectacular job. He's used to pain, a needle won't faze him. Still, Sumpter was only three…needles are a child's worst nightmare. I would know, I was hesitant at holding bow at first, but I guess you get used to it.
"Okay…" Sumpter mumbles nervously. Ira holds him tightly on her lap as the man finishes up with Peeta. After untying the tourniquet around his arm, they tie one around Sumpter. He starts to panic, but Peeta and Ira both assure it will be fine.
"Sumpter do you want to find daddy," Peeta asks the teary eyed boy. He nods slowly and shyly.
"Yeah…"
"Then you have to be a big boy for us and close your eyes. Think about happy things, chocolate, and cupcakes," Peeta instructs. Sumpter closes his eyes and giggles at the thought.
"I love cupcakes! Chocolate cupcakes!" he exclaims. I grin at him, that's just adorable. Despite the place we were in, for a three year old he was doing pretty good so far. It was a regular clinic in the capital, fancy metallic chairs in the waiting room, bright colored walls in all the examination rooms in the back of the building. Our room was bright yellow, and our doctor had bright pink hair that flowed down his back in a long braid, almost like mine except far more extravagant. Mine was just too…simple. I don't know how you can make a braid look so fancy, but he does it.
"Tell you what," Peeta says as he kneels in front of Sumpter, "I'll make you your own chocolate cupcake if you don't fight the doctors and let them take your blood. I think it's well worth it." He leans in and whispers in his ear. "I make the best cupcakes ever."
"It's true," I say. They look up at me; this is the first time I've really spoken since we've gotten here. "Peeta owns the bakery in town, he's very talented," I say, smiling a bit, just hoping we can get this over with as soon as possible.
"See? He's a professional cupcake maker," Ira says with a smile. Sumpter grins and eagerly jumps up on his mother's lap. Of course, his expression changes when the doctor turns around with the needle. Peeta covers his eyes.
"Don't look! You'll turn to stone!" he exclaims quickly on a whim. We both give him 'really?' looks. He shrugs awkwardly.
"Yeah…" Ira starts, "If little boys look at the needle they'll turn to stone…" This is not going well. I get the doctors attention to hurry things up.
"Alright Sumpter, this may pinch a little," the man says as he places the needle where it needs to go. Sumpter whimpers. Despite all the death I've seen and all the pain I've felt, I can't help but look away. I hate, I absolutely hate, when children are in pain.
But soon the worst is over, and he's surprisingly fast. Sumpter isn't crying as hard and as loudly as I'd imagined, and it only takes about five minutes to calm him down. All it takes is some encouraging words.
"So, how long do you suppose until we get the results?" I ask the doctor as he finishes up the paperwork.
"Oh, I'd say about ten minutes," he says with a friendly grin. He shakes all of our hands, even Sumpter's, and leaves after he says "be back shortly!"
As soon as he's all out of the room we all take in an audible sigh. The worst was over…hopefully. After a few seconds of silence, we all take a seat. Peeta holds my hand tightly, tighter than comfortable but I wouldn't have it any other way. He has been so strong the past few years, it's been so long since I've seen him this vulnerable. The last time he looked this way was when he was on the floor of a cave, a leg wound threatening to take his life.
"I hope you're my daddy…" Sumpter whispers, so low I almost don't hear it. Ira looks shocked, and looks up at me apologetically. I give her a nod, saying it's okay. She holds him the way she did when we first met, and I can tell he's tired. He's falling asleep in his mother's arms, sucking his thumb.
"Even if I'm not, I'll still make you cupcakes alright?" Peeta smiles at him and Sumpter give a little nod before finally winking off to sleep.
A few more minutes go by before I realize his eyes are glistening. Ira has her eyes closed, and she's rocking Sumpter back and forth softly. She doesn't notice us.
"It's going to be okay," I whisper, stroking his cheek. Peeta nods and smiles softly but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"I'm just so nervous…" he says in the same hushed tone.
"I know," I answer, not sure if saying anything could make the situation better.
Quicker than expected, the doctor comes back in, holding a manila folder. We all stand up simultaneously in anticipation.
"Alright! The results are right here in this folder," he holds the folder up, "would you like me to tell you if Mr. Mellark is Sumpter's father or would you like to read it for yourselves?"
Peeta immediately holds his hand out, "I'd like to read it." The doctor nods and hands him the folder.
"I'll leave you to…" he trails off. "When you're finished you can keep the extra copy of the results, if not just leave it in the folder. Leave the folder in the slot outside the door," he instructs, trying to keep a good attitude. "It was nice meeting you." And he's gone.
Peeta holds the folder in his hands, visibly trembling.
"It will be okay," I say again for the millionth time. I kiss his cheek softly, knowing to watch my public display of affection around the child. "I promise."
He nods and slowly opens the folder, reading each line carefully, his back to us. I see graphs and charts, words and numbers, but I can't make sense of them at a glimpse-distance.
"What does it say?" Ira says after a moment.
"It…"he looks down, thinking. He closes the folder and turns around, his face and his expression almost somewhat uneasy. My heart stops, and I wait.
"It's not me," he says, looking at Sumpter, "I'm not his father."