We wait to see if anything comes of Cressida and Pollux's time with us. Every time the projection turns on we watch the whole show. Nothing ever gets mentioned and after a couple of months we assume nothing will. They kept to their word. Knowing this, I decide to keep in contact with Cressida. I phone her every now and then but she never contacts us. She always lets it be on our terms. Even Peeta will have a quick chat to her on the phone every now and then.

Time continues to pass and before we know it, it's been over 4 years since the war. Peeta and I decide to Toast. It's nothing like what Finnick and Annie had with everyone there to witness. It was just something we decided to do. Afterwards we told Haymich, Greasy Sae and her granddaughter. Peeta did make a little cake which was decorated with painted trees and a pond in the middle.

Everything stayed the same. There wasn't much improvement for either of us although we became a little more sociable. I finally told my mother about Peeta and I. She didn't really show any emotion either way about it but sounded relieved I wasn't completely alone here. Mother told me after that, that she had no plans to return. By this point I'm glad. It would upset the delicate balance we have here. However she did say she is ready to come down for a visit. I guess enough time has passed for her. It's no different from father, she shut down for a long time then too. At least this time she had a job to keep her focused. I often wonder what would of happened if I died during the games. Would she of mourned me like dad or Prim? I don't know why I sometimes dwell on it. It really makes no difference.

Her visit causes some stress, mainly for Peeta. He wants to show he is capable of looking after me. I tell him it doesn't work like that, we look after each other but he feels like he should be proving it to my mother. I explain it didn't bother me if we have her approval or not, considering she really isn't in our life.

Mother stays with us for a few days. It is nice seeing her again although she only really manages to talk about work. Peeta tries hard to stay focused but finds himself drifting out of the conversation frequently. He's fairly quiet over the few days. Before mother leaves on the last day during lunch she asks if we are going to have kids.

"Of course not." Peeta looks at me questioningly. I guess we haven't really talked about it.

My mother smiles and says "Maybe it's for the best." I agree with her but I can see her response hurt Peeta.

She says goodbye, leaving to catch the 1 o'clock train.

"No kids, huh?"

I turn to face him. "No." I go the kitchen to start tidying up.

"Never?"

"That's the plan."

"Do I get a say in it?"

"You can, doesn't mean I'll listen or change my mind"

Peeta gently pulls me away from the sink, taking my wet hand and sits me down at the table. I rub my hands on my trousers trying to dry them off. I feel exhausted even though the disagreement hasn't even started yet.

"Why not?"

"You're joking right? Firstly what if the hunger games got started again. Our children wouldn't be safe."

Peeta interrupts me before I can continue. "That won't happen again. That was the whole point of the war, to change all of that."

This frustrates me because I'm sure no one ever pictured the hunger games happening before it was too late. That's how it would happen again; it would just sneak up. He is being too trusting. I drop the list and cut to the point.

"Fine, assume it won't happen. Do you honestly think we would be good parents?"

"There are worst parents out there. We have off days more than most but it's not like we don't function at all and we are not going to beat our children either."

I'm sure that was a dig at both of our mothers.

"Off days is a light way of putting it. You've attacked me. What if you did lose it with a child?"

"I haven't lost it in 8 months."

"And? Can you honestly tell me you'll never hurt someone again?"

He finally breaks eye contact with me and rests his head in his left hand with his elbow on the table. I assume the conversation is done and go back to the washing up.

Over time children get brought up, again and again. Each time Peeta makes a point he hasn't had a complete melt down in a year, two years, two and a half. He still snaps and disconnects to what's going on around him but in three years he hasn't physically got violent. As more time passes he points out no reaping has emerged. My list against having children gets thinner until the main reason is simply, I'm too afraid to. Every time I tell him that, he comforts me saying he isn't going anywhere and that I'm not doing it alone.

As the years pass it's talked about positively or negatively depending on the day. The times I refuse to get up and stay in bed normally also include a speech on how I couldn't be a mother. Peeta waits out the rant then tells me that just because my mood fluctuates doesn't mean I can't do it. I suppose he has to have that attitude or he wouldn't be able to say he could look after a child. Peeta still grips his chair fighting of memories. This doesn't frighten me but I wonder how a kid would view it.

On good days we can think of optimistic points. Normally what we would like to teach our child. I look forward to taking it out into the woods to learn about the wildlife and if the child wanted to, learn how to hunt. Peeta talks about teaching them to draw. He says he wants to see what an innocent imagination looks like again. It's true, the child would grow up knowing nothing of the horrors of our childhood. They wouldn't know starvation, fear or suppression. Why people had children with that all going on confuses me. Maybe they were mainly accidents. Something we haven't had to worry about thanks to Dr Aurelius. Peeta continues to bring children up and it almost becomes a daily conversation. I guess now is the safest time for a child to be born when comparing it to the past. After 15 years of being together I finally give in.

"Okay."

Peeta looks up from his sketch book confused. "Sorry I think I blanked out, what's okay?"

I frown at the floor. "We... We can have a child." My voice is weak but I know he heard me by his expression. He puts his sketchbook down and joins me on the sofa.

"Are you sure?"

I nod and curl my way into his side. He strokes my head as his other arm wraps around me. "Well, we'll give it another 6 months. If you still feel the same way then we can."

I'm slightly confused. I assumed he would want them as soon as possible. Half a year is almost as long as you carry one. I look up at him not needing to say anything. "I want to make sure, you're sure" He smiles kissing my forehead.

We sit in silence, Peeta continues to sketch. Although we are okay in the house I start to think about a child being so confined.

"We need to start to go out." I say directly.

"What do you mean; we go out, just not to town."

"Exactly that. We need to start going to town. If we have a child, they will need to go to school. We will need to buy clothes for them. They will outgrow them every month." I see the frown forming on Peeta's face. "We will take it step by step."

Six months seem to go passed very fast for me and I'm sure the opposite for him. I know he is looking forward to my verdict but he also hates being dragged out to town at least once a week. Peeta wears a hoodie at first with the hood up. After a while I tell him it doesn't matter if people recognise us now or later when we have a child. Everyone is going to know about us again, sooner or later. We walk around the boarder of town, to get a good view of where everything has been rebuilt before venturing in. We start in the Seam. The hob has been rebuilt but it's much nicer than before. It's a cream colour rather than black and grey from the coal mines. There are new stools for people to use to sell from. Meeting up with Greasy Sae made it much easier on Peeta. She seems pleased that we were getting out and about more.

After a few weeks in the Seam we start to make our way to the merchant's buildings. It not easy going passed where Mellark Bakery used to stand. Peeta shuts down for a while as we stand in front of a new unfamiliar building. He doesn't move or talk. I have no words to comfort him. All his family died there and now there is a butchers in its place. I guess they didn't want rebuild the bakery on top of it. When Peeta finally comes to, he heads straight for victors village. I don't stop him. Over time, we make a mental note of where in town we could buy clothes, toys and other things a baby would need. It's hard seeing how it's changed. Harder still when people chat about us but never to us. "Isn't that the Mockingjay" or "Wasn't that the boy who lost his mind?" The people are made up from the remaining population of 12 which is about 900. Some came from 13 as it isn't too far away from here.

I stir, only waking up to see Peeta leave to go downstairs. I follow him down shortly after; neither of us bringing it up. Maybe he is worried I have changed my mind. Over the last 6 months it's hardly been spoken about. Peeta has really left the subject alone. I guess he didn't want to put any pressure on me. I kiss him on the cheek before walking out.

The fresh morning air always feels nice. I sling my hunting bag over my shoulder. I was planning on checking the snares I set yesterday but for some reason I end up at Haymitch's house. I push the door open. The smell still hits me every time. I open a couple of windows on my way to his dining room. Unconscious, he is spread out over the table. The years haven't been kind to him. No doubt to do with his drinking habits. Carefully stepping around the bottles, I spend a minute looking at this man, our mentor and friend throughout the years.

I find a couple of bottles and roll them into him, across the table. Neither of us shake him awake now, after he managed to catch me with his knife on my arm. He rouses as groggy as usual.

"Damn it. What? What time is it?"

"Early." I reply. I know he isn't going to appreciate me being here.

Another incoherent sound escapes his mouth. I try to find a clean glass. In the end I use white spirit on a glass over the sink and then wash it out. I fill it with water and place it beside him as softly as I can. I'm sure his head is pounding.

"What the hell brings you here girl?"

"A favour." My voice isn't its usual strong self.

Haymitch looks at me, blinking several times, clearly trying to get me into focus. I wonder if he remembers the last time I was here asking for his help.

"Is that so. What can I do for you sweetheart?"

I don't know how to bring this up. I can't imagine him having a positive word to say about it. I sit spinning a bottle on the table. Haymitch is surprisingly patient with me, even after all these years.

I start off slowly, almost tasting the words in my mouth. "If Peeta and I were to have a child…" I trail off from my original question. "What do you think?"

Surprisingly, Haymitch picks up the water and starts sipping at it.

"What does my opinion have to do with what you two want?"

"So you don't think it's a bad idea?"

"I didn't say that." He smiles over, taking another sip. "I think if that's what you two want to do then its fine. So what's the favour?"

I continue to playing with the bottle. "If something is to happen to us. Would you look after it?"

Haymitch looks at his water. "Nothing is going to happen to either of you two before something happens to me."

Very likely.

"If Peeta has a break down which hasn't happened in years now, not a full one, could we rely on you to take it in until the episode is over?"

I can tell he is processing the request. He is the only person here I would completely trust. Also if something was to happen with Peeta, Haymitch is only next door. He would be much easier to get to than Sae.

After a while, Haymitch gives a small nod. He gets up, chucking the water away and finds a bottle. He goes to pour it into the glass, but the bottle finds his lips first. The glass is discarded again. I take it as my queue to leave and I make my way to the forest, collecting from the snares. I didn't bother with my bow today. I take out a smaller bag from inside my hunting one and start to pick off strawberries. It's rare I take them. I normally leave them for others to make jam but there were so many today. I return home dumping the bag in the kitchen. Peeta has already finished baking and I can see the bread is out to cool.

"You took longer than normal." He doesn't look up from what he is drawing.

"I went to talk to Haymitch." I moved over to his side on the sofa.

"Really, at this time? I'm sure he appreciated that." He chuckles under his breath and continues shading in. He doesn't question why I went over. He seems too engrossed in what he is doing. I look over to see his drawing. It's a very large tree with what appears to be vines, no wires, running all over it. It's the tree from the 75th games.

"Did you dream about that last night?" He nods. I press no further.

I don't know how to bring up children. For him it always seems such a natural topic.

I make a couple of phone calls and skin the rabbits, handing them over to Sae when she turns up for the bread. We go through our daily routine. I wonder how this will change with a baby. Will I have time to go out and hunt? Will Sae still expect bread? Maybe I'm thinking a kid will take up more time than it actually would. I suppose during its first months it can't do anything but sit or lay in a cot.

It's not until bed time the subject comes up. I can feel Peeta watching me and waiting to see if I take my nightly tablets. I pick up the half used packet and throw it in the bin besides the bed. I turn to look at Peeta who is doing an awful job at concealing his smirk. I get into bed and sit against the headboard mimicking Peeta's position.

"Are you sure?"

I nod.

"Not good enough, Mrs Mellark. I want an actual verbal answer." It's rare he calls me by his surname, being so playful but serious at the same time.

"Yes, I have decided we can have children." I'm surprised I manage to finish the sentence before he kisses me.

It didn't take long to become pregnant. I was a little shocked at first how quick it was. I soon learn I can't have breakfast anymore, anything I eat before noon is seen again abruptly. Other than being sick every now and then, I carry on as normal. It's not until my belly starts to swell does the reality really kick in. Some days I refuse to get up. I lay in bed curled up. I think Peeta questions whether I am regretting my decision. The truth is, I don't know. He brings up my meals but I find myself staring at the plate. After a couple of days of this and Peeta asking me softly to eat, he snaps. He doesn't shout but his words are harsh at to the point.

"You can't simply not eat anymore when you don't feel like it. You're not just eating for yourself. You've got our little one to think about as well." His hand finds its way to my stomach under the sheets. "Think about it this way. The more you eat the better quality your milk will be afterwards too. We don't want to use goat's milk if we can help it."

It's true, even though we have always had plenty of food, I haven't really ever eaten that much. I have always stayed thin. The thinner I am the less likely I will be able to produce milk. My body will think I need the nutrition more.

I sit up taking the plate from Peeta's hand and start eating the vegetables first, then the meat. Sae must have brought us the veg because I know Peeta hasn't left the house. I only get through about half of it but it's better than nothing and it seems to relax Peeta slightly.

Over the next few months I start revising what I used to do when I got confused.

My name is Katniss Mellark. I'm 33 years old. I am safe in district 12 with Peeta. I'm pregnant with his child. I only have 2 months to go.

I don't have many plans for the day anymore. I can no longer go out and hunt. I sometimes help with making the bread but most of the time I find myself in bed. Peeta drags me outside for walks in the meadow. Not too far but it gives me fresh air and the physical excise seems to improve my mood. Today though, I know what I have to do. I phone my mother to tell her the situation and ask if she will come down for the birth.

She questions it to begin with, even asks if it was an accident which gets my back up. After talking about it for a solid 20 minutes she agrees to come down a couple of weeks prior to the birth.

The last two weeks go by very slowly. I'm frustrated by everything. My mother says it's down to nerves and puts sleep syrup in my tea every night before bed so I can try and get some rest. She reassures Peeta that it will have no effect on the baby.

Giving birth is horrid. The pain is hideous. I refuse to let Peeta in the room during the contractions. He fetches towels and warm water like my mother asks for but I tell him to leave straight away afterwards. I don't want him to see me like this. When I am finally ready to push my mother calls him in. Red faced I turn to shout at her but she stops me before I can get a word out.

"Stop being selfish."

Mother talks me through everything and she holds my hand when she can. Peeta gently places a hand on my head whilst I scream and push until I'm blue in the face.

"It's a girl!" She exclaims.

Peeta wipes my brow and kisses my forehead. I hear her screams. Even I know this is a good sign. She is wrapped in a soft towel and placed on me. I hold my baby girl, exhausted.

"What do you want to call her?" Peeta whispers in my ear.

"Willow." I look to Peeta for approval but he isn't looking at me. He is simply smiling at the new born in front of him.

"Perfect." He says in a small voice. I pass her over into her daddy's arms whilst I receive some stitches.

"She needs a feed." My mother says taking Willow from Peeta. She shows me how to get her to latch on and make sure she is taking milk. Mum stays with us for a few days showing us the ropes and then leaves us to it.

"I'm only a phone call away." She says as she closes the door behind her.

I sit there, staring at her cot. I don't really know what to do with her. I have no urge to pick her up and cradle her. I don't know what to say. I simply stay in silence watching her. Peeta has to encourage me to feed her every few hours now my mother has left. I don't get much sleep the first few days. She doesn't scream or cry much during the night. I simply feel uncomfortable not being awake. Peeta can tell I'm on high alert and constantly reassures me nothing bad will happen.

"Please, go to sleep." He rubs his temples. I can't tell if he is frustrated or just suffering from lack of sleep as well. I shake my head. "I'll stay up and keep watch, not that there is any need to. But you must get some sleep."

We stare each other down in the dark until I finally give in. I am exhausted. I fall asleep quickly and I must be too tired to dream about anything because the next time I awake it's by Peeta gently shaking me.

"It's feeding time," he tells me softly. Although I watch Willow like a hawk, I'm normally too lost in it to pay attention to the time. I'm grateful Peeta keeps an eye on it. He picks her up, having a cuddle with her first, before putting her down in my arms.

It takes a couple weeks for me to start functioning how a mother should. The more I hold her, the easier it becomes. I don't have to be reminded to feed her and her crying doesn't send me into a panic anymore. I start to be able to talk to her, hold toys and play with Willow. Everything just takes time.

Greasy Sae pops over for what bread Peeta can get around to making. She always has a helpful tip on something to do with the baby.

Time continues to fly by as we watch her grow. Everything becomes easier and I start to take joy from all the things a mother should. It's not long before she starts to crawl. We take her to the meadow and she sits happily pulling out the grass. Her bright blue eyes shining as she looks at us, proud of the bundle she has in her hands. Willow's noises soon start to sound like the beginning of words. Before long, she is able to run circles around us.

We joke, saying she should have someone around her own age to play with and to keep up with her. The joke starts to become a more serious discussion. It wasn't long before I was pregnant again. Carrying this one was a little easier but not much.

Peeta had to try and explain to Willow why mummy didn't want to play or why mummy was sleeping all the time. On days when I could manage it, Peeta would take both of his girls out to the meadow. Willow would point and ask questions about my belly most of the time. Trying to give any explanation to a three year old is challenging. One question always leads to another.

Since Willow was born my mother comes down for more regular visits and our second child wasn't a surprise to her like our first. We ask if she would help us deliver our second one when she was down for one of her stays.

"Of course I will." She says happily whilst playing with Willow on the floor. She stays with us two weeks in advance again. We tell Haymitch that we would need him to look after Willow this time. We don't want her to see it and we can't leave her alone for however long it takes. When Haymitch arrives he is completely sober like we asked him to be. Labour doesn't take as long this time but hurts just as much.

"It's a boy." Mother sounds as excited as she did the last time.

This time I take to new born straight away. I can't wait to hold him.

"What do you want to call him Peeta? I named Willow." Peeta mulls it over sitting next to me, caressing the few blond hairs on the baby's head.

"Rye."