I wasn't sure how well this was going to go. They said he had been captured by the Capitol, tortured by them, by Snow. At first, every time someone had even mentioned my name, his eyes went wild and he said horrible things. After a week, they had me talk to him through a glass separator and he gave me dirty looks, called me names. I was always already sitting in place when he arrived and didn't get up until he left. We tried that two more times before I couldn't take it anymore.

Yet they insisted I see him now. He had been here a whole month already and he wasn't saying bad things anymore. He had even made the cake for Finnick and Annie's wedding, though he hadn't been there to see their happy expressions. They also hadn't told him that his lie became the truth. He would see in a few minutes, see for himself. But would he remember that it was him who did it?

The light gray walls never seemed so long. Unending really. Even in my condition, I usually flew through these hallways. Finally, what seemed hours later, I was at the door to the room that held him. Haymitch was waiting, hands clasped behind his back, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"He is better today, Sweetheart. The last three times we brought your name up, he only said, 'I loved her, right?' " The thought that he may not anymore hit me right in the gut. I felt the tears pool in my eyes, blinked them away quickly. They came too easily these last few months. Haymitch patted me on the shoulder, "He'll remember. The doctors have made a lot of progress over the last week alone. Gotta keep in mind, the Capitol had him for almost..."

"Five months. Trust me, I know." I gripped the handle and pushed open the door.

There he was, sitting on his plain, hospital-white bed, furiously sketching away in a notebook. He wasn't in restraints, but they were attached to the bed, ready to be used again at any time. When he looked up, all I saw at first were those bright blue eyes that surprised me in the mud in our first round of the Games. Then, as I looked at his face, I saw the dark circles under those eyes, fading yellowish-green bruises on his arms, and a red line across his neck. He'd been through so much and he had been by himself.

"I heard they were going to let you draw again." I didn't know where to start. I really wanted to run to him, hold him, smell him, but was much too afraid of what he would do. He just looked at me, his eyes hadn't gotten past my face yet. His eyes got wide. He looked mad at first, but I watched as his gaze dropped, until, yep, he saw it.

"Is that? Are you pregnant?" He pointed with a slightly shaky finger, his hands were laden with fresh scars. I could only nod in acknowledgement. "Is it mine?"

"Of course it's yours, Peeta." I needed to sit down. "Will you hurt me if I sit next to you? My legs have been shaking since they told me I would see you without the glass window."

He shook his head and scooted as far to the top of the bed as he could. They warned me that getting too close too soon might start something, but I felt as though I was going to collapse. I sat at the other end of the bed, but put one leg up on the bed to face him easier. I ran my hand over my belly, "Oddly enough, this happened the same night you told everyone I was pregnant. Go figure, huh?"

Peeta looked down at my belly, where his baby was. He reached his hand out for a second and then quickly snapped it back at his side. I knew he wanted to feel it, make sure it was real. "I didn't know we...I don't remember that."

Tears stung my eyes again. "I wasn't sure that you would, but believe me, I've never been with anyone but you. It's okay though, I'm not surprised that you don't. They told me that they altered a lot, messed with a lot of your memories of me."

"When you were on tv, you weren't pregnant. Is that why you were always already sitting down when we did talk? Why are you crying?" He sounded so far away, not like the once sweet Boy with the Bread.

I wiped away my tears. He just continued to watch me, stayed very still, but his face was riddled with confusion. "I'm sorry. It happens a lot nowadays. I partly blame you." I say with a nervous smile, hoping he would get the joke there. The curve of his lip tells me he did, as I rub my belly again. "My mother says it's the hormones and everything I've been through. But you've been through so much more."

"I don't want to talk about that." He looked away at the wall.

"Okay, that's fine. Ummm, yeah, they filmed me before I started to show, when I still fit into the Mockingjay costume. They just kept running it over and over with different backrounds to make it look like I hadn't really changed, they didn't want Snow to know that I was pregnant with your child. Is there anything else you want to ask me?" I so wanted to take his hand, feel some part of him. He looked back at me,

"When did you find out?" He asked, pointing at my stomach.

"Well, from what they told me, I was out a few days. I guess a few weeks after we were together, I started throwing up, couldn't hold anything down. I had missed my periods before, from not eating enough, so I didn't think it was anything to worry about until...until Prim said something."

"Were you happy? Are you happy to be carrying it?"

"Honestly, I was really scared at first. I never wanted kids before and still wasn't sure...until I felt the baby kick for the first time a couple of months ago. Then I was happy that I had some part of you in me. That some part of you would live on."

"You thought I was dead?" He looked so wounded by the words.

"No one knew what happened to you until two months ago when you popped up on television. I was afraid for so many reasons, but mainly that you would never even know that I was pregnant. Peeta.." I shifted myself a little closer and he put his back up against the wall. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't. I'll go now."

I got up, had my hand on the doorknob, when he said, "You didn't answer my question. Are you happy to be carrying it?"

I turned to him and replied, "Yes, I am happy that I'm carrying your baby."

And I walked out. Haymitch was waiting against the wall across from the door. He didn't ask me anything, how it went, was I hurt in any way. He put his hand out and I took it as he walked me back to my room.

Once I was safely shut away in my room, I started the shower. My mother and Prim were still in some part of the hospital, leaving me alone, which was perfect. I undressed and stepped into the warm flow of water and let the tears that had accumulated come out. I leaned against the wall so I wouldn't fall over. Rubbing my belly, I declared to whomever was in there, "You're father will remember that I love him. That I fell in love with him because of how good a person he is and how much better a person he makes me. I'll make him remember me!"