Here I Go Again

Chapter 20: A Son To Raise As A Hunter

Katniss' POV

"Come on Katniss!" my mother shouts to me. "Just one more push and we'll have your baby out."

"I can't!" I cry. "I just can't!" Peeta gently brushes my sweaty hair out of my face.

"Yes you can," he says. "I know you can. I believe you can."

"No more Peeta," I say. "After this one, no more."

"I agree," he says. "I don't think I can stand to watch you go through this again."

"On three Katniss," my mother says. I nod.

"One,"

"Two,"

"Three!" I lean forward and put all the strength I have left into pushing my child out. When I finally feel the pressure his body created leave, I fall back into the sweaty sheets. I only lift my head when I hear my child's soft cries.

"Congratulations you two," my mother says. "You have a healthy baby boy." Peeta looks at me and I nod for him to take our son. My mother gently lays him in his father's arms. Peeta brings him to my side and smiles at me.

"He looks like me," he says.

"That he does," I say. "He's perfect. Exactly as I imagined him." Peeta lays him in my arms and I hold him close to me. He's what I always wanted. Don't get me wrong. I love both him and Willow equally. But he is the child I wanted when I had dreams after Peeta and I married. A son who would be willing to venture to the woods with me. Someone who I could bond with in a way I will never have with Willow. She has that with Peeta. But hopefully, some of my fire will have gotten into this tiny boy's heart, tamed by some of his father's gentleness.

"My precious baby boy," I say. "Oh how I've longed to hold you in my arms." I smile at Peeta. "Call Hazel. I think it's time Willow met her little brother."

"Doesn't he need a name?" Peeta says. I look at the tiny boy in my arms, a pale down of blonde hair covers his tiny little head. The pale color is what gives me his name.

"His name is Rye," I say. "I think it fits him. What about you?"

"My father's name?" he asks and I nod. "I think it fits him very well. As long as you allow his middle name to be Jay."

"Why?" I ask him.

"You are my Movkingjay," he says. "The world's Mockingjay in fact. I think he deserves to carry his mother's legacy of bravery and wisdom." I pull him into a kiss and smile as he pulls away.

"It's perfect," I say.

"I'll go get Willow," he says. "I shouldn't be more than half an hour." I nod and he leaves. My mother smiles at me.

"You got your son," she says. "That little boy you used to talk about when you were a child."

"Peeta got his gift first," I say. "He always wanted a little girl who looked like me. It was only fair since he was the one who always wanted children. I guess it was just my turn." I kiss his tiny head.

"You have time before Peeta comes back," she says. "How about I clean up this little one while you take a quick shower so you're cleaned up a little before Willow arrives." I nod and very gently, and reluctantly, lay my tiny son in her arms and stand, walking to the bathroom. "I'll change the sheets for you as well."

"Thank you," I say and close the bathroom door behind me. I strip out of my sweaty and bloody clothing and step into the warm rain of the shower. I look down and watch the filth from my birth wash down the drain and smile at the fact that I can see my feet again. Don't get me wrong. I wouldn't give up my children for anything in the world, but I absolutely despise being pregnant. Most women love it, the feeling of a child moving inside them. But I never did. It scared me rather than exciting me.

After about ten minutes, I turn off the shower and step out. I dry myself off and quickly dress in one of my nightgowns. I step out and see my mother gently soothing my little son. I walk over to her and gently lift him from her arms.

"I think he's hungry," she says and I nod, sitting on the bed with my back against the headboard. I slide the strap of my gown off my shoulder and allow my son to latch on. I drape myself in one of blankets on the bed, just in case Peeta and Willow return before Rye finishes. When he does, I put my nightgown back out and stand, gently patting his back to burp him. He does and then begins to cry.

"Shh," I whisper. "Its okay. I'm here darling. There's nothing to be afraid of." I softly hum as I pace with him, rubbing his back and kissing his temple. His cries die down and I sit down in the rocking chair and rock him to sleep.

"Momma," I hear my daughter call softly and I hold my finger to my lips, smiling at her. She walks to my side and smiles at her little brother. "Is this him? My little brother?"

"That's right Dandelion," I say kissing her cheek. "This is Rye."

"He's so cute," she gushes. "Can I hold him?"

"Maybe tomorrow," I say. "He's had a long journey. He needs rest."

"And so do you," I hear my loving husband's voice. "Your part in bringing him here wasn't an easy one."

"I'm fine," I say. "I'll sleep when he does."

"He has your eyes Momma!" Willow cries happily. I look down to see she's right. I stare into the mirror image of my silver eyes. The same eyes I inherited from my father, making me smile.

"I guess he does," I say. "They look good on him don't they?"

"They do Momma," she says. "They really do."