Pairing: Peeta x Katniss.

Rating: M

Warning: Mature content. Deals with issues of pregnancy, and other issues that readers may find sensitive.

Update: As Soon As I Can

Disclaimer: AU. After fifteen years of marriage Katniss is counting the minutes for a pregnancy test to show results. She'd always been so careful. She had no idea what the rebellious actions she takes would cause to her marriage. Fighting to survive the hurdles of love and life and a needy little puppy thrown into the mix, Katniss is living in her own brand of hell. Can she manage to fix the damage and fall in love with Peeta again before they both seriously contemplate divorce?

A/N: As it was pointed out to me last night, there was apparently an 'official announcement' regarding the 'names' of Katniss and Peeta's children in the Epilogue. Apparently the girl is named Willow and the boy is named Rye. Now seeing as this information was on none of the official sites and has barely even circulated anywhere, I've deemed it irrelevant to this story, as those names were chosen only for the movie. There are no names in the original fandom / books. Therefore I've deemed those names as fictional as the ones I have chosen.

It's also because I've chosen the names of the children for THIS FICTIONAL STORY long before the actual ending. So please, no complaining about the names of their children.

Epilogue

Katniss

The sweet sound of children's laughter flew on the summer breeze and greeted my ears as Peeta and I walked leisurely through the meadow, holding hands with the sun warming our cheeks. Hunter bounded around back and forth between us and snapped his jaws at butterflies that drifted lazily over the fresh green grass.

Our daughter, Poppy, now seven years old is an almost identical copy of me; she has long dark hair that I braid for her most mornings in two pigtails down her back, and the traditional olive skin of the Seam. However, her eyes did remain as blue as Peeta's and for that I was thankful. They were beautiful. She had been a rather stubborn child since the moment we brought her home; she'd wake up at odd hours and have the pickiest taste for food, however since the Games had ended we no longer had to worry about lack of food, and it wasn't long before we were able to find pureed food that she liked.

She had been a very curious toddler, always trotting alongside Hunter and even sometimes riding his back short distances until she got too big and heavy for him. We didn't want his back to break, no matter how fun it was to Poppy at the time.

When Poppy was only three years old, I found out that I was pregnant again.

Thankfully, with our son, the pregnancy was rather easy. He was a little heavier than Poppy had been when she'd been inside me; however he wasn't as fussy as she had been. He was a rather peaceful baby. His birth was definitely a lot easier than Poppy's; in fact it was so easy that Mum had even recommended I have a home birth seeing as I didn't have anything to worry about.

It had been a rather short birth in comparison to Poppy's; whereas hers had been two and a half hours over-all, our sons had only been a rather quick forty-five minutes. According to mum he had been far too eager to join the world and see his 'mummy'.

Originally we were torn between naming him something similar to Rye, but Peeta had stated that it would seem a little strange naming our son after his brother. I couldn't deny that; it felt weird to change baby-Rye's nappy whilst I was constantly reminded of Brother-in-law-Rye bonking my best friend.

Suffice to say, we struggled.

We'd even taken to just calling him 'pillow' for a couple of weeks whilst we decided, but nothing seemed to stick. It was only when Archie had come around to spend some time with his grandson that he spouted off a list of names and our son finally gurgled at one of them. It was an unusual name, one that hadn't really been mentioned for years due to the pain that it caused to the family. However, after an entire afternoon of watching his reaction to the name several times, it was decided.

That's how we came to name our son Wheaton; after Peeta's eldest brother who had died in the Revolution.

It had brought tears to Archie's eyes and I had only seen that man cry a handful of times.

We anticipated his peacefulness to wane as he grew older, however as his shock of blonde hair grew in and his murky eyes lightened to the classic smoky grey from the Seam, he still remained peaceful and mellow, whereas Poppy was stubborn and feisty. Where Poppy had learned to run before she could even walk –namely thanks to Hunter's encouragement –Wheaton had rolled about on rugs and played with his feet for a while. He and Hunter would have roly-poly competitions across the living room.

If ever a dog could get dizzy, Hunter definitely did when challenging Wheaton.

Their laughter carried back over the field and I smiled as Poppy raced back down the hill to where her brother had stumbled and was now crouched on all fours with his padded butt wiggling in the air. She bent down and took one of his hands in her own and –grasping it tightly –they hurried back up along the hill through the tall grass, her braids swinging behind her.

"Wait for me!" came a cry from behind us. Through the gap between our bodies, a dark-haired skinny boy with wide hazel eyes squeezed through and hurried up through the grass. Johanna and Rye's son –Rowan –had been born just over a year after Poppy had been born. It had surprised us all when Johanna suddenly got very round after their June Wedding.

It had been such a lovely wedding; Johanna had gone with a fitted pale chocolate satin dress with a fishtail skirt and had her hair done up in an elaborate bun with a small headband of beige 'thorns' nestled within the few loose curls. Rye had looked so handsome with his cream and brown diamond waistcoat and cravat. To watch the two of them dancing close together under twinkling fairy lights and cramming cuts of wedding cake into one another's mouths, had made me feel happy as I'd rocked Poppy in my arms as Peeta had glided us across the dance-floor.

We had all been shocked when Johanna had come back from their honeymoon to the recent Coastal District that had been set-up by the sea, purely for holidays for all of Panem, with a very round stomach and the news that she was already five months pregnant. The Coastal District was something that had once seemed so frivolous but now that there were no more Games, it was a privilege to get out of town for a week or so at a time.

Johanna had been a nightmare during her pregnancy, even worse than I had been. You wouldn't think to look at her now, that Rowan had made her crave oysters and whipped cream, potatoes and fish-paste, and champagne soaked turkey sandwiches. Even her mint tea hadn't soothed her irrationality.

It was a relief when Rowan had been born with his dark hair and hazel eyes. He had –thankfully –been a rather 'easy baby' after such a turbulent pregnancy.

Now, as cliché as it seemed, our children were now almost inseparable. Poppy clearly had a dominant personality but Rowan was no push-over. Even though his linguistics skills were basic, Wheaton seemed to be their little peace-keeper, a trait only given to him because he took after his father.

"You'd think running through a field all day long would keep them knackered," Rye stated idly as he sauntered up alongside Peeta and I, Johanna at his side as she rolled her eyes at him.

"They have us as parents, Rye, they will never tire out. Even Wheaton seems to have relentless energy," she grinned as she gave me a playful punch in the arm.

"She has a point," I stated as we made it to the top of the hill and unravelled the blankets out over the grass and settled down. "Poppy once ran around until five in the morning because she couldn't sleep. Even I wasn't that restless as a child."

As we gazed down the side of the hill, we saw Rowan giving Wheaton a piggy-back ride and Poppy rushing alongside him as they raced from one pulled up cardigan to the other balled up jumper several meters away. They really were adorable, and as I gazed down at them now I couldn't help but feel a little foolish; why had I ever been against having such happiness? Fear of the unknown was rational, yes, but I had always loved Prim. I had basically mothered her where our own mother had failed all those years ago. So why had I been so scared? Peeta came home to me every night and I loved him for it. It quelled that tiny seed of doubt at the back of my mind.

However, as I looked down at the meadow –the large, green grave that housed numerous bodies of all those who had died in Twelve during the Revolution –as our children laughed and rushed across it, using it every week as their favourite playground, I couldn't help but feel a sickening twist in my gut.

One day we would need to tell them the history of this particular meadow, and the role Peeta, Jo and I had had in the Games.

Poppy wasn't ignorant of it, not completely; they had started to learn in her class at school the vague outline of what the Games had been about and the roles Peeta and I had played. Johanna had the same fears that one day she would have to tell my son about why he had no aunts, uncles, or grandparents on her side. But he had an aunt, uncle and grandparents on Rye's side, and maybe the close-knit family unit would feel a lot better for him in the long run. So far he didn't seem to mind, and Johanna was relieved with that knowledge.

So far Rowan and Wheaton were ignorant about our survival history and we were both fairly content in the knowledge of their ignorance. It was nice to revel in their world of sunny skies and green grass and holidays. Poppy was quickly tiptoeing her way out of that world and it broke my heart that she would soon learn just how barbaric the Games had been as well as what her own parents had to do to be alive today.

I would have to tell Wheaton one day and it broke my heart just how soon that day would come.

For now, I was content on sitting on a woven blanket at the top of the hill, sipping fruit juices from thermos' and eating my way through cheese-buns and poppy-seed rolls –a new craving that had stuck with me through my second pregnancy –and various cold-cut meats that tasted amazing, and gazing down at my two beautiful children and my handsome nephew as they frolicked about in the high, green grass, the sun tanning their skin a healthy golden colour and my heart so full of love I was sure it would soon over-whelm me.

Peeta reached down between us, laced our fingers together and gave a gentle squeeze. The look in his eyes told me that he knew what I was thinking about, what I was almost always thinking about whenever I was near the meadow, or sang my children the same lullaby I sang to Rue.

He gave my hand another squeeze before leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to my lips.

Out of the corner of my eye I watched as Rye tucked Johanna in against his chest and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as though to protect her from the cold, when really it was to assure her that her son would love her no matter what, even after he found out what his mother had been capable of, was still capable of if anything were to happen to her new family.

I reached out and took her free hand in my own and gave it a squeeze. She glanced over at me and gave a small, sad smile before returning her gaze to her son down below.

That's how we spent the rest of the afternoon. We didn't move until the sun started to set beyond the horizon. Until that moment we watched our children play, oblivious to the fact that they danced on the mass grave that lie just feet beneath them.

One day I would tell them about what Peeta and I had done.

For now I was just content on watching them play and revel in their innocence.

To us, this wide expanse of fresh green grass was a bright cover over a terrible past that left me feeling small and vulnerable to the cruelty of the world.

However, to our children, it was just The Meadow.

THE END.

A/N: Well here you go, that is the end of the story. I hope you liked the journey and please, like before, leave some lovely feedback for me to read!

Love Belle x