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"She's not gonna come out."

"I have to be sure."

Haymitch sighs and rolls over on his porch couch. The sun is barely peaking through the trees, and I've barely slept. I've been waiting, just in case she went hunting. I need to talk to her.

Last night is still rolling through my head. After she ran out of the house, I tried to chase her, but my stupid leg held me back. I couldn't keep up and lost sight of her before I even left the Victor's Village. It was all so confusing that I didn't know what to do, so I went back to the house. Dr. Aurelius was still on the phone, calling out for someone to answer him. I demanded to know what he told her, but he refused. Everyone still keeps things from me, like I can't handle it. It made me angry, so I hung up the phone and went to sit with Haymitch.

Then she came back. Her eyes were crazed, almost like when she shot Coin, instantly making me uneasy. She yelled a lot of things at me, but the thing that stuck most was the word 'baby'. The thought of getting Katniss pregnant hadn't even crossed my mind, even after we had started having sex.

I've thought about it all night. What would it be like to have a child with Katniss? After the Reaping, I never thought of life beyond the next day - hell, beyond the next few minutes. But now that we have our lives stretched out before us, we don't know what to do or how to really live. We aren't married, not even twenty years old. It was irresponsible and reckless to not think about the possibilities.

Part of me desperately wishes that she was pregnant.

It's selfish of me, I know. She doesn't want a baby. But when she said it, I got so excited. Being a parent with Katniss is a dream. But who am I kidding? We barely are making it through the day, we could never have a child like we are now. Katniss is still emotionally unstable, and the hijacking will affect me for the rest of my life. Will we ever be okay enough to have kids? Should I even be thinking these things?

"She isn't coming out, boy."

Haymitch turns and picks up a fresh bottle of white liquor. The geese are nesting and he refuses to go far from them. I think he likes the pen, since he can lounge on his filthy sofa and still watch them. They can fly out, of course, but I think they like the pen, too. As much as geese can like anything, I suppose.

"No, she isn't," I agree. Deep down I knew she wouldn't. She'll be in bed, staring at the wall, caught in one of her nightmares. And I thought that we were doing so well. "I'm going to go bake. If you see her, please get me."

He just grunts. I've sat on his porch all night dozing in and out against the railing. He told me to go home and go to bed so many times that I lost count. I can't sleep without her anymore. It's a bit pathetic.

Finally I stand, though I nearly tumble to the ground because my leg is so stiff from sitting all night. Bread doesn't bake itself though, so I head to my house. A pair of her shoes are next to the door. One of her hunting knives is sitting on the counter. The bananas that came on the train are sitting on the windowsill, waiting for the next Saturday morning breakfast.

I can't get away from her. She's been on my mind for so long now that 'Katniss' is the default setting for my thoughts. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't angry at her, for her outburst. Aren't adults supposed to talk about things before yelling and fighting? I sort out some of my aggression while I knead the dough, but I can't ever stay mad at her for long. She's just scared. It's her survival instinct kicking in to cover a perceived weak point, since she's let herself be vulnerable with me, which I'm thankful for every day.

But it's still upsetting.

I put the loaves in the oven and stare out the window at her house. I decide that if she doesn't emerge before lunch, I'll break in and make sure that she's okay. She couldn't have locked the basement window, it's too high for her to reach.

I sigh, deciding that I should at least take advantage of the time away from Katniss to get some things done. Namely, planning her birthday party. Katniss has no need for a calendar, so she hardly ever knows what day it is, unless it is Saturday, and that's only because of the shipment. But next Saturday is May 8th, and even though Katniss has forgotten it, I remember her birthday.

I pull the bread out and cut the hot loaves in halves before throwing them into my basket. As I leave I glance at her house again. We'll be okay, I know, but it's still difficult. It'll always be difficult for us, though. But as I give Haymitch some bread for his breakfast, I realize it isn't that bad. Because all the good is well worth the pain.

I deliver the bread quickly, since I have some phone calls to make before lunch. It's almost ten in the morning by the time I step into the house and plop my basket on the table. On a normal day Katniss would be here, cleaning her game, but she hasn't left her house. In fact, her bow is still sitting in the corner of the room along with her arrows. She painstakingly makes them by hand, though I've offered to have Effie send some made in District 2. It's a matter of pride, she says. Stubborn through and through.

After getting comfortable in the office, I dial up my first number. "What?"

I laugh. "Good morning, Johanna!"

"Is that you, Bread Boy?"

"Yeah. How's it going?"

She sighs, her tone slightly ragged. Johanna is tough, but just from watching television I can tell that she's been busy. "Decent. Just trying to make the world a better place," she says sardonically. "How are you and our little Mockingjay?"

"Okay. Just trying to live." Though that isn't nearly as simple as it sounds with the two of us.

"It's difficult sometimes," she replies, echoing my thoughts.

"How are Annie and Finn?" I ask, not wanting to go down this road, especially over the phone.

I can practically hear her smile in her voice when she speaks. "Really good. Finn is doing wonders for Annie. She so together most of the time now. I just wish Finnick could have had her like this. Could have watched little Finn growing."

"We miss him, too," I say, recalling when Katniss and I talked about him just the other day.

"You didn't call just to catch up, though," she says, always to the point.

"No, I didn't. Would you, Annie, and Finn be up to visiting us this Saturday? It's her birthday."

Johanna is quiet for a moment. Then I hear a muffled voice in the background. Annie. Johanna is talking to her in a gentle tone. "Yeah, we can do that," she says after a moment.

"Good!" I reply, a grin spreading across my face. I haven't seen any of them since I left the Capitol, and it hits me now how much I miss them. "You can stay as long as you like."

"We'll work out the details, but we'll be there on the Saturday train," Johanna says. "Does she know?"

"Nope."

She chuckles and I hear Annie laugh in the background. "Well then, this should be fun."

"I'll call later this week to make sure everything is in order."

"No need to check up on us."

"I'll still call."

"Whatever. Catch you later, Bread Boy."

"Bye, Johanna! Bye, Annie!"

"Bye!" I hear Annie chirp in the background before the phone cuts out. I think of the picture on the front of the memory book. A ragtag family, missing some of its members, but they're a family nonetheless. This makes me think of my own pieced together family. Katniss and Haymitch, with Greasy Sae and her sweet granddaughter, and Thom and Jule, all of them. It makes me happy, this simple thing.

I want more than anything to go to Katniss. Instead, I hang up the phone and dial a new number.

It barely rings once before a voice bursts over the intercom. "Peeta, darling!"

"Hello, Effie."

The enthusiasm she brings to everything always amazes me. "How are you, dear?"

"Pretty good. You?"

"Oh, you know me! Trying to keep busy." I know that Effie is working under Coin to help coordinate the Capitol residence and ease them into their new lifestyles, so she probably has her hands full. But I know that the war haunts Effie just as much as it haunts any of us, and that she's struggling, too. "Can I do something for you?"

"Yeah. I had something to request for the next shipment."

I hear a rustling noise, probably finding her electronic device that orders things. "Okay, shoot!"

"I'd like some seeds. Green beans, potatoes, broccoli, carrots, and tomatoes. Fresh from District 11 if possible. I'd rather have the kind that hasn't been modified by the Capitol."

"No problem! The Capitol has actually been going in a more natural direction. I'm hoping it isn't just a trend, and that this will be another way to get the Capitol citizens integrated back into society. But getting those people to actually work is such a challenge!"

I laugh, wondering what the oddly colored and coiffed people of the Capitol would actually be qualified to do. "What kind of jobs are you trying to give them?"

"Well, some of them have taken to organizing the rebuild. Have you met the girl I sent to District 12, Varinia Spark? She loves you and Katniss so much, I just knew she would have a blast there!"

'Have a blast' isn't exactly a phrase I would use to describe a place that is recovering from a firebombing. "She seems to be doing a good job," I tell her honestly.

"Oh, how wonderful! She's one of the good ones, though. Most of them think that working is menial and below them. The nerve! I was working in the Games for years, and before that I was a secretary in a government office. I've been working since I became an adult! There's so much that needs to be done for this country, and they could help, if they wouldn't be so darn lazy!"

The passion in Effie's voice takes me off guard. Her dedication to the cause is impressive, almost inspiring. I suddenly miss her. She became like an older sister to me while I was in the Capitol, visiting me every day, bring me presents, doting over me. Maybe it's because I'm still vulnerable after last night, but suddenly I really want her to visit.

"Katniss's birthday is this Saturday. Could you make it up for a visit?"

"Oh, Peeta darling, I wish!" she says, sounding truly heartbroken. "I'm just so busy with work right now, I couldn't possibly pull myself away!"

"It's okay, Effie. You can visit whenever you have time." I can't help but feel disappointed, though I know that Katniss really wouldn't want her here, anyway.

"Maybe in a few weeks," she mutters. I hear a clicking sound. Probably looking through her electronic calendar. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No, that's it. Thank you," I tell her. "Good luck with your work."

"Thank you, darling! Keep an eye on Haymitch and Katniss for me, they would be lost without you!"

I want to laugh. I'm not so sure about Katniss right now, but she's dead on about Haymitch. He'd probably starve without Katniss and I. "Of course. Bye, Effie."

"Bye Peeta, dear!"

I hang up, leaning back in the chair. Talking with Effie always reminds me that so much is going on outside of my little District. The world is changing, and I'm kind of glad that I can hide away here and be shielded from it all, at least for a while.

I get up, stretching my arms above my head. It's nearly noon, and I'm kind of hungry. All I've had to eat today was some bread this morning. But I need to see Katniss now. It's only been half a day and I miss her terribly. Plus we need to talk, whether she likes it or not.

As I walk to the back of her house, I think about what I should say. I don't feel that I have anything to be sorry for, so I won't apologize. In fact, she should apologize for yelling. But I can't be harsh with her. Otherwise she'll just pull back and probably yell at me again.

The latch on the small basement window is a bit sticky, but I'm able to open it after a moment. Hefting those bags of flour around pays off sometimes. It is a tight fit, but I'm able to squeeze through the window. I lower myself to the ground, dropping down between racks of clothing. Despite my lack of fashion sense even I think the pieces are beautiful. They looked even more beautiful on Katniss. I think about all the tears she poured into the memory book page about Cinna and wish that I could have known him better. I wish that he and Portia had made it through the war. Too many good people died. Suddenly the dresses are like hanging corpses and I have to get away.

I go upstairs, finding the kitchen in a bit of disarray. She knocked things over yesterday in her rush to lock the windows. Suddenly I'm nervous. This is our first fight since she told me that she loved me. I don't know how these things are supposed to go. My mother was always mad at my father for one thing or another. He never tried to apologize, considering that he never knew why she was mad in the first place. Haymitch told me last night to just leave her alone, but I can't do that either, so I just head up to the second floor.

Her bedroom door is locked. Fortunately everything in these houses is falling into disrepair, so I'm able to use a knitting needle from her mother's old room to unlatch the locking mechanism. My hand hesitates over to doorknob. I never did decide what I was going to say, I realize.

I open the door and find her exactly where I knew she would be – on the bed, on top of the covers, starring at the far wall. She's fallen into the darkness of her mind again, and at least I don't have to think of anything pretty to say yet. My words always fall on deaf ears when she's like this, so I just approach the bed slowly. Her feet are dirty and her clothes are bunched in strange angles. Probably from thrashing around in her sleep.

I get a damp washcloth from the bathroom and wipe off the bottoms of her feet. The cold cloth must have shocked her, because I hear her hiss through her teeth. Her deep depressions have been lasting less time as the months pass. During the last one it only took her eight hours to come back to herself. Considering that she used to not leave her bed for days, this is progress.

When her feet are finally cleaned, I put the washcloth back in the bathroom. She's turned over on her back when I return, and her eyes are puffy from crying.

"I'm sorry," she croaks, and I'm startled, because she hardly ever apologizes first. "I'm so sorry."

I crawl into bed next to her, pulling her to my chest. Yesterday she hurt my feelings, but now she's breaking my heart. "It's okay," I murmur against her neck.

"I was so scared," she whispers, her tears dripping on to my cheek. "I don't want to have a baby, Peeta. This world… it's too dangerous." Her chapped lips brush against my forehead. "I'm sorry I blamed it on you. It isn't you, Peeta. I love you. It's just easy to forget how horrible the world is when I'm happy with you."

She's happy. This is something I knew, but just to hear her say it makes me hug her closer. "The world is getting better," I tell her, hoping to convince both her and myself.

"Do you think it will ever be good enough, though?"

Her voice sounds so young, and I lift my head to look into her eyes. She's so raw, so unguarded in this moment, that I can't help but kiss her. Her skin is sweaty from sleeping without the window open and her fingers are shaking, but she's just so damn beautiful. "If I'm with you, then the rest of the world doesn't matter," I tell her.

Then she scowls, her brows drawing together. "That was so corny," she says, shaking her head in mock shame.

"Maybe, but it's true," I reply, glad that she is able to joke again. "Katniss, I won't lie, I'd love to have a baby with you." She immediately stiffens in my arms, her eyes widening in panic. "But just having you is enough. Just being able to hold you like this, to see you smile, to hear your voice… It may be corny, but if I have you by my side, then I can face anything the world wants to throw at me. Hell, we made it through two Hunger Games and a war. We can make it through this."

She nods, and I can practically see the thoughts racing through her mind. "I don't want a baby," she says again, as if to make sure I understood her the first time.

"I know," I reply. I keep my own fears about us eventually having children from her. She has enough on her mind.

Katniss sits up then and stretches her arms above her head. I can't help but admire the curve of her body and the arch of her back. Her head turns and she looks at me, her cheeks suddenly flushed. "Isn't this when we have make-up sex?" she asks.

My jaw drops and my eyes widen. Is this really Katniss Everdeen? The girl who wouldn't even look at me naked two years ago, who could be made to blush in embarrassment so easily, the girl that me and Finnick and Johanna taunted for being too pure before the Quarter Quell? And now here she is, pulling her shirt off, looking at me with the eyes of a huntress, and oh damn, I'm her prey.

She throws her bra off before I can even try to reach for her. Katniss is standing on her knees, looking down at me, and I don't know if it's the stuffy room or her palpable lust that's making it hard to breath. "Fuck," I hiss, pushing myself up and pressing my face between her breasts. My tongue darts over the tender flesh, tasting the saltiness of her sweat, and she sighs as she pulls my shirt over my head. Her body is so beautiful, I just want to taste every inch of her. I don't know how she drives me wild so quickly, but when I feel her hard nipple against my lips and her fingers digging into my hair and her voice panting my name, I push her down on the bed and start tearing at her clothes.

Her hunting pants are heavy and I don't know how she was able to sleep in them. I toss them aside, and now she's spread out on the bed, her thin legs wrapping themselves around my torso, and she's a glowing goddess in the afternoon sunlight. I let her pull my body forward, pressing kisses up her stomach and ribs, grinding my erection against the juncture of her thighs. Katniss moans and I move my hand down into her panties. She's already so wet. I grin against her collarbone and slide one finger into her slowly, and she's pushing her hips up for more already. Her lips are against my ear, pleading, "Peeta, please, Peeta!"

I've never been able to deny her anything. The room is so hot that I feel like I'm floating as I pull off my shorts. She's already flung her underwear off the bed, her hands grabbing my arm and bringing me back to lean over her. "I missed you," I murmur.

She stops pulling and looks up at me. Her eyelids are heavy with lust but her gaze is crystal clear. It takes my breath away. "I missed you, too," she says, and I believe her, even though she was the one that locked me out.

Propping myself up with my arms, I lean down and press a kiss to her neck. She sighs in pleasure, and the heat between us becomes too intense to deny. Her legs are wrapped around my waist and she groans my name as I slide into her. She's so tight and wet that it's almost too much, but I take a deep breath and calm myself. Katniss is below me, shaded by my body, with her dark skin glistening with sweat and her loose hair splayed out on the pillow, and she paints herself like a picture in my mind, too amazing for words. "You're beautiful," is all I can muster.

She smiles – not her usual grin or smirk, but the soft smile that she only puts on for me. "You are," she returns, licking her lips in a hungry manner.

And that's what this is, I realize. This is hunger. It consumes both of us as I move over her, watching her face. She always closes her eyes, concentrating on the feeling of our bodies together, but today I want her to look at me. "Open your eyes," I whisper.

Katniss complies. She keeps them open wide, locked on to me, like I'm an anchor keeping her on the ground. I'm so close and it takes all my self control to hold back. Suddenly I remember what we had been talking about previously, about the possibility of a baby. "Katniss..."

"It's okay," she pants, "I can't get pregnant with the shot, so please, Peeta, don't hold back."

That's enough to drive me over the edge. I press my forehead against her shoulder and her hands are rubbing up and down my back. "Peeta," she coos, "You're so amazing, Peeta."

I look at her, cheeks still flushed, eyes still begging for me to finish her. But she is waiting for me, and these little acts of consideration from Katniss mean so much. She's still trying to apologize, but I'm not angry anymore.

Pressing my mouth to hers, I pull out and reach my hand down to touch her. She moans against my lips and her legs begin to shake in anticipation. "You're so beautiful," I tell her again as I press my fingers into her, watching her face as she comes a moment later. Her hips buck up hard against my hand and she lets out one loud burst of air, like she has been holding her breath. "Katniss," I whisper, pressing kisses to her neck as her body shivers in pleasure. "Katniss, I love you so much," I can't help telling her, over and over. My love for her in that moment, when she lets herself come undone for me, makes my heart feel like it will burst out of my chest.

"Peeta," she moans a minute later. Her eyes are partially closed as she turns, curling into my chest. "Love you, too," she manages to mutter before her eyes close. I guess she didn't sleep well last night, either.

Suddenly my exhaustion hits me in full force. I pull her closer and press a kiss to the crown of her head before I let myself drift off to sleep.

I wake up to the sound of a stomach growling. Katniss is still laying on my chest, but now her eyes are open. "I'm hungry," she says, pushing herself up to give me a small kiss.

"Me too," I agree, noticing the hollow feeling in my stomach. We slowly get up, our bodies still overly relaxed from having sex. She pulls on a plain shift dress and lets her hair fall around her face. The curves of her body poke appealingly at the fabric. When I had first returned to the District, she was so thin that it frightened me. It's so good to see her healthy.

"Hurry up," she says, throwing my shorts on the bed, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pull on my clothes and we head out of the room, opening windows and unlocking doors in our wake. She looks a bit embarrassed but doesn't say anything. Even when we get to the kitchen that is still a bit messy, she just scowls and stomps around, picking things up and shoving them back into place. She's always been too hard on herself. At least she's learned something from all of this. I hope.

I pull out some rabbit and set about making a quick stew. Katniss is at my elbow, constantly poking her head forward to smell the pot as it cooks. She stirs as I open the windows, letting fresh air into the stuffy house.

Apparently drawn by the smell of food, Haymitch makes an appearance a few minutes later as I'm mixing up a batch of dough for cheese rolls. He takes two steps into the room and a scowl crosses his face. "Smells like sex in here," he grunts, plopping down at the table.

I'm laughing, flour floating around the bowl as my stirring motions become choppy. Katniss groans and puts a hand over her face, but I see her smile curl out around her fingers. "We're finally acting like real teenagers. Shouldn't you be proud?" I say, grinning madly. I know that Haymitch understands us. He's more observant that he appears, and he somehow knows everything that goes on with us, though he likes to pretend that he doesn't care.

"Stupid kids," he grumbles, taking a long swig from the bottle he brought over with him. "Just hurry up and feed me so I can get out of this cave of hormones and sweat."

Katniss sticks out her tongue at him as she stirs the stew pot again. "If you don't like it, then don't eat our food!"

Haymitch leans back in his chair, letting out a loud belch. "You wouldn't let an old man starve, would you?" he asks.

"You're forty-two, you aren't old! You're just lazy and drunk," she replies, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter, keeping within smelling range of the stove.

"I'm not that drunk right now," he declares, like it's something to be proud of. And for him, it kind of is.

Katniss puts up her hands like she is amazed. "Let me call Plutarch, this is breaking news!" she mocks, wiggling her fingers at him.

The rolls are done by this time, so I let them cool and take over stew duty from Katniss. "I'll call Effie," I add, "She'd be so impressed that she might want to see a slightly less drunk Haymitch for herself."

His eyes widen and he looks horrified. "I honestly don't know which one would be worse," he mutters around the lip of his bottle.

"Plutarch," Katniss says, settling herself across from Haymitch at the table. "He would want you to talk and stuff. Effie would just flit around and chatter. At least that wouldn't require much effort." As soon as I set the bowl of stew in front of her, she picks up her spoon and starts shoveling it into her mouth. Somewhere between mouthfuls of food she mutters "So good" and "Thank you, Peeta".

"Meh, you don't know Effie Trinket like I do," is all Haymitch says in response as he begins to eat, and he and Katniss look so much alike in that moment that it's hard for me to believe that they aren't related.

I sit between them and eat my stew a bit slower, though now I'm ravenously hungry. Katniss tears into a cheese roll like she's a wolf ripping into a little defenseless animal. The feral look in her eyes is slightly frightening, I have to admit.

The two of them are on to seconds well before I'm done with my first bowl. They elbow each other at the stove, arguing about who gets to get more food first. I rest my chin on my hand, chewing on a large bite of rabbit, and I feel an overwhelming warmth for the two of them. They're my family, and I could never ask for more.

I rethink my luck when Katniss knocks over a cup of flour in their scuffle. Both she and Haymitch are covered in white powder, an identical scowl mirrored on their faces. I'm laughing so hard that my ribs hurt. "This is your fault," she mutters at him, wiping her face off with a towel.

Haymitch just grabs the towel and his bowl of stew. "Fuckin' kid," he grumbles, wiping off his face and shoving more stew into his mouth at the same time. Katniss looks at me, which only makes me laugh harder. Her eyebrows are still full of flour. I help her finish cleaning off as she eats a cheese roll, still glaring at Haymitch. The two of them finish eating in silence, only broken by my own occasional laughter when I find more flour on them.

Our Mentor leaves without a word, chugging on his bottle of clear liquor as he stomps off the porch. The back of his head is still covered with flour, and I have to hold my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing again. It hurts too much. Katniss helps me clean up the bit of flour still on the floor, and we do the dishes, me washing and her drying. "I'm going to hunt tomorrow," she says.

"I'm glad. Everyone in town missed you today." They had all asked about her. I hadn't really known what to say.

She scowls. "I'm sorry," she says again. Her hands tighten around a plate that she is drying. "I shouldn't have reacted like that."

"It's okay," I tell her. "I know you were just scared."

"I still shouldn't have yelled at you. I don't want to be cruel to you anymore."

I look at her then, watching her scared hands dry a glass. She won't raise her eyes to me, but I can see the shame in the tilt of her shoulders. "Katniss, just relax."

This seems to startle her, as she nearly drops the glass. "What do you mean?"

I sigh. "You don't have to act a certain way. Stop thinking about what you should say or do. Just... relax."

Her eyebrows crinkle and I know that she doesn't really understand what I'm saying. This world that raised her taught Katniss to always be afraid, and I don't know if that will ever leave her. I don't know if it will ever leave me, to be honest, but at least I see the problem. Katniss can't even see outside of her fear to look for a solution. "I'll try," is her response, and I guess that's the best that I can expect from her at this point.

We're both still tired, so we head up to bed. She yawns the whole time she is changing into her pajamas. I feel the same way.

"Hey, Peeta?" she says as we are laying together in the dark.

"Yeah?"

"Did you wait up for me all night last night?"

I suddenly feel embarrassed. "No," I say, but my tone isn't nearly convincing enough. I've lost my touch.

She shifts in my arms and kisses my cheek. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Katniss."