"So," I hear Peeta say on the other side of the line. He lets out a held breath and a slight chuckle. He sounds nervous.
"Yes?" I drag out slightly before a giggle.
We've spent maybe an hour on the phone already this evening.
"What are you wearing?" he says, lowly.
"Peeta!" I giddily scold him.
"Shh," he hushes me. "You'll wake the babies."
Babies. Oh, I cannot wait to tell him we're gonna have multiple babies.
"We can't have this kind of call tonight," I warn him.
"And why's that?"
"Wills wants to talk to you," I tell him.
"I miss her," Peeta says. "I'm all alone here... it sucks."
I pout despite the fact he can't see it, "She misses you terribly also."
"I miss you," he adds. "And Rye."
"We all miss you," I say.
"Come visit me," he says.
"What?"
"Come visit me," he demands.
"You know that I would if I could." I say, twirling the phone cord between my fingers.
"You can," he simply says.
"Peeta, I miss you too, but we can't. Dr. Aurelius—"
"Dr. Aurelius wants to see how I do around you without the meds. I've seen clips of things they used in the hijacking and I've not had any kind of reaction."
"He wants me to be a human test subject?" I ask, kind of bitterly.
"That's not— Katniss, I want to see you. He thinks it would be a good idea to test the waters in a controlled setting before letting me around you un-medicated."
"Peeta, I-I d-don't know," I say uneasy. Any other time I wouldn't mind. I can hold my own just fine. But, I'm pregnant.
"Please," he begs. "I need you."
I could tell him while I'm there, I think. I could tell him now so he understands why I'm hesitant.
"Katniss," he whispers, and I can hear the desperation in his voice.
"Okay," I say, quietly.
I can hear his grin through the phone.
"I have a doctor's appointment coming up—"
"Doctor? Are you sick? What's wrong?"
"I'm fine," I tell him. "It's just a checkup."
It isn't a lie.
I look over at the clock, his sigh of relief dancing through my ear that the phone is pressed against.
"I should go get Willow," I tell him. "I'm surprised mom has been able to keep her occupied for this long."
"Go get my girl," he says.
"Ok, hold on."
I put the phone down on the bed and open the door to holler for our daughter.
"Willow! Daddy's on the phone for you."
Her feet come pattering down the hallway and she runs right past me, and soars through the air as she jumps on the bed to get to the phone.
"Daddy!" she cheers.
I crawl back up on the bed beside my daughter and it doesn't take long for her to scooch up to me. I can hear a muffled Peeta answer her.
"How's my gorgeous girl?" I just barely make out.
"Sad," she pouts.
"Uh oh," I hear. "Why are you sad?"
"I miss you," she says.
"I miss you, too," he replies.
"When are you coming home?" she asks.
"Soon, Wills. Very soon."
"Tomorrow?"
He sighs, "No, not tomorrow. I've got a few more weeks left."
7 weeks, 5 days, and 12 hours left, I say to myself. Not that I'm counting.
"Promise we'll play when you get home?"
"I pinkie promise," he says.
I see her hold up her pinkie finger as if she was actually about to make a pinkie promise.
"Hold it up, daddy," she says.
I hear him shuffle around, "you can never break a pinkie promise."
Willow smiles and snuggles against me more.
"Guess what?" she says, happily.
"What?" I hardly hear.
"I went to the bakery today!"
"You did?" I'm stating to lose him.
"Mhmm, Raven taught me how to make Madeline cookies."
Madeline, a name we had discussed for Willow. I bite my lip to keep me from smiling, my hand instinctively resting near my belly.
"They're doing a good job, daddy." she pauses, I hear mutterings from the other end of the phone that I'm not able to make out. "Rye is good," she adds with a yawn. She wiggles and sits up straighter, like she's trying to wake herself up some more.
"You should get to bed, Wills," I finally hear the sweet voice of my husband again.
"No," she whines.
"Do you want me to tell you a story?" he asks.
She nods.
"He can't see you nod, Bug," I remind her.
"Yes please."
Peeta starts in on this elaborate story, and after a couple minutes Willow's breathing starts to reflect that of her father's when he falls into a deep slumber. Her weight against me starts to feel heavier. Soon, the phone falls from her hand into her lap. I quickly pick it up, my ear being met with a chuckle from my husband.
"She dropped the phone, didn't she?"
"Yeah," I lightly laugh. "She's zonked."
We're quiet for a minute.
"I should probably get her to bed," I finally say.
"Probably." he says, " Leave me on the line? I like to hear your voice as I fall asleep."
"Sure," I smile.
* * *
The next afternoon I got a call from Dr. Aurelius to discuss what it means for me to come be a part of this testing process. Dr. Aurelius stressed this is not to make me a testing subject, he wants to be certain that Peeta can handle himself. He doesn't want to send Peeta home thinking everything is perfect, and then catch wind that he got triggered immediately after coming home.
He let me know that we weren't to spend any time alone together until he saw us interacting. Which meant I wasn't allowed to spend the night with Peeta. At least not right away.
"There is something I need to make you aware of," I tell him. "Um, I'm pregnant."
"Well, congratulations," he says. "I appreciate you telling me."
"I just found out, and Peeta doesn't know."
"Alright. I will keep it hush hush, and we will make sure to have someone here to monitor your pregnancy."
We decided on an arrival date. I would leave immediately after my 8 week appointment with Dr. Roman, and I would stay for a week. Mom is going to keep both kiddos, and Haymitch and Effie agreed to help her whenever she needed it.
We started introducing pureed foods to Rye and he loves them. He still gets breastmilk when he first wakes up in the morning and when he goes to bed, and I will nurse him periodically He's getting less from me, so my frozen supply should be enough to hold him over while I'm away. But I bought a container of milk powder for mom to use just in case.
Today's the day.
Morning sickness— I struggled terribly with Willow, had none at all with Rye— is starting to kick in. Luckily it's pretty tame, just nausea at the moment and it's not terrible at all. Just enough to be annoying really. No food aversions, though, so I'm able to keep hiding this from Willow. I don't want to tell her until I can tell Peeta. He and I need to discuss how—when we are going to tell her. It is so dangerous with my condition. I need to know this baby is sticking around forever. I don't want to have to sit my young daughter down and explain yet another very adult thing— a dead baby.
My biggest fear coming true.
I don't let myself think like this often, I tell myself it's bad juju. I don't like to sit in that... darkness. So instead, I focus on all the happy things we get to experience for the third time— seeing their face for the first time, their first cries immediately after entering the world, feeling their flesh against mine for the first time. Oh, I cannot wait to have a little smush to cuddle.
I lean against the countertop after fighting with the button of my jeans, admitting defeat.
I let out a heavy sigh and rub the bump that's preventing the garment from closing properly.
"How are we going to hide you from your daddy on this trip?"
I turn and face myself in the bathroom mirror. Thanks to the baby weight I haven't lost from my pregnancy with Rye, I really just look bloated.
"Who am I kidding anyway?" I sigh. "My pants were barely fitting anyway."
I suck it in, hold my breath, and try one more time to try and get these pants buttoned.
"Got em," I say through a held breath before finally letting it go.
It's not comfortable, but I really just need one pair of jeans to fit for when I eventually get to stay the night with Peeta. I know the two of us well enough to know that he'll be the one taking my pants off that night.
I quickly unbutton the pants to take them off, fold them up, and change into a pair of leggings for my trip. I take the pair of jeans I just tried on and stack them on top of the pairs of jeans with the maternity bands in my suitcase. I know I'm not big enough to need them, but I just really want to be comfortable while I'm in a place that causes me so much stress.
I zip up the suitcase and take it downstairs with me so I can leave. I feel like I'm in a rush. My appointment with Dr. Roman and Dr. Ostana went longer than expected. Everything is fine, but having two doctors who want to make sure every tiny thing is perfect... it makes for a lengthy appointment.
"One healthy sack," Dr. Ostana says, studying the ultrasound screen. "I still see the adhesion but it doesn't look like it's going to get in the way of anything at the moment. We'll watch it as baby gets bigger."
And when I heard the heartbeat, I bawled so hard they had trouble keeping the transducer in line with the baby's heart.
I don't have to go back until my twelfth week, and my appointment is set for the day before Peeta comes home.
Dr. Roman made sure I had a really good ultrasound picture to take with me in case I wanted to tell Peeta while I was there with him.
"All set?" My mother asks when I reach the bottom of the staircase.
I nod, "I'm ready to go see him."
"Do you think you'll tell him about the baby?"
I shrug, coming to sit beside her on the couch. "I think it'll just depend on how he's doing there. I want to tell him. But I don't want him to worry about all the bad that could happen."
"Today went well," she says, reaching for my hand. "I think you can allow yourself to let go a little. Fully enjoy it and let yourself be totally excited."
She gives my hand a squeeze.
"I can't," I say. "Not until I make it passed my twelfth week, when Peeta's home and I've made it out of the precious stage."
"Have you decided if you want it to be a boy or a girl?"
I shake my head.
"Oh, come on, Katniss," my mother groans. "Humor me."
I shrug my shoulders trying to hide a smile, "I kinda want another boy."
"Really?"
I shrug my shoulders, "I mean, I'm not gonna be heartbroken if it's a girl, but I think it would be nice for Rye to have someone so close in age for him to play similar things with."
. . .
I thought enough time had passed that I could walk about freely without the stares and whispers of the strangers around me. Maybe the people of Twelve had just gotten used to my presence.
Each hushed gasp, and the less-than-discreet finger pointed in my direction that followed, reminds me that my fame will never truly dim.
Had I taken this journey 15 years ago, I would have been more and more agitated with each and every subtle glance in my direction. Now I just ignore them.
My eyes roam the platform the second I step off the train, searching for the only gaze I care truly about.
Peeta leans up against a post, waiting for my arrival at the train station.
"Katniss," he beams.
"Peeta," I say, my heart feeling like it's normal self.
I run and jump in his arms, our lips immediately finding each other before I get the chance to steady myself. I wrap my legs around his waist, melting in his grasp. His fingertips dig into my sides as he holds onto me tight. He lets out a held breath through his nose before breaking our kiss.
Someone behind Peeta clears their throat, pulling the two of us apart.
I look over Peeta's shoulder and see a tall, muscular man, dressed in all black.
"Sorry," Peeta apologizes.
"It's ok." I smile. "You look so good!"
Peeta smiles back, "You're glowing."
I feel my cheeks flush. If he only knew.
I'm glad he couldn't feel how bloated I am today. My bump— more specifically feeling my bump pressed against him— is always the first thing he's obsessed with when I'm pregnant. But, his mind is elsewhere right now, and this isn't something he'd be expecting or even looking for.
Despite the multiple attempts it took to get my pants buttoned this morning, my shirt is still baggy enough that it keeps the attention away from my stomach even while it's tucked in.
"We should get back, Mr. Mellark," the man says, his voice is deep.
"Right," Peeta says. "Let's get your bag."
He takes my hand, intertwines our fingers, and guides me in the direction of the platform where we collect our luggage.
My heart is so happy. My skins is buzzing at his touch. I step a little closer to his side and circle my other hand around his bicep, my head tilting to rest against his shoulder. The boney bit of his shoulder hits my temple with each step he takes, so it doesn't rest there for very long. I look up at him, his gaze set on the task at hand, and smile a toothless grin.
Peeta catches me staring at him.
"Sorry about the company," he says, nodding his head in the direction of the man walking a few feet behind us. "We can't be fully alone just yet... for your safety."
"I know," I say, quietly. "I'm just happy I get to see you. You look— I can't even describe it."
"Clear?"
"Yes!" I cheer in agreement.
Peeta leans in for a quick peck.
"There's something about you too that I just can't figure out," he says.
"Yeah?" I nervously question.
Peeta smiles big, "Don't be shy," he chuckles. "It's not a bad thing."
"Ok," I giggle back.
'He's gonna figure it out this week,' I tell myself. 'Just tell him there's a reason. Tell him about the baby in your belly.'
We reach the baggage claim and I quickly spot my suitcase. I let go of his hand and walk over to where it's about to come around the bend, but as I lean over to lift the giant thing off the automatic rotating machine, Peeta beats me to picking it up. He sets the luggage on it's wheels, lifts the handle up, but doesn't move.
His hands find my hips and he pulls me closer to him, and he kisses me again, "I can't believe you're actually here."
"Me either."
"Gah, I cannot wait to be alone so I can kiss you for however long I want."
"I have never been so happy to hear you say that," I smile.
* * *
Days passed and the testing continued, and Peeta did amazing. I have never seen him so clear. It didn't take long for Dr. Aurelius to allow us to spend time together alone. He did, however, still prefer a guard remain posted outside our room. Ready to step in at any moment with any scream or cry for help.
Today is our last full day together. I leave in the morning.
Last night was the first we slept in the same bed since I've been here. I stayed in his room way later than I planned— we were content just being in the presence of one another. I had every intention of gong back to my own hotel room, and when I commented I should probably go, Peeta begged me to stay. I had nothing of mine in his room that I needed to sleepover. I could have walked down the hall and grabbed my PJs and toothbrush, but I couldn't find the will to leave Peeta's arms.
This morning, I sit at the head of the bed dressed in nothing but one of Peeta's flannel shirts— my clothes were making me uncomfortable— those damn jeans. Sleeping in a bed with Peeta, I was terrified he would discover the roundedness sitting just bellow my belly button and start to ask questions, or that I would wake up this morning feeling awful with morning sickness. I tossed and turned all night because of the anxiousness of it all, so my energy has been really low. Which is why I'm grateful he was content to just spend the day in bed.
"I have a night out planned for us," Peeta says, his fingertips running up and down my calf. His hands start to massage my slightly swollen feet.
"What?" I squint at him, taking a bite of the pizza we ordered as room service for lunch.
I just really wanted a cheesy slice covered in pepperoni.
Peeta chuckles, "You seriously thought you could come out here and I wouldn't plan a surprise date night?"
I roll my eyes, "I don't know why I had thought we'd been married long enough for you to realize I don't like surprises."
Peeta leans in and kisses my greasy lips. "But you always enjoy them," he points out.
I swallow before replying, "Fair."
A hunger consumes me. And it's not the kind of hunger that this slice of pizza can cure. These hormones have had me crawling out of my skin every time Peeta is near me.
I should tell him.
I want to tell him.
I mean, he saw me naked in the shower. His bare hands roamed my flesh as he washed my body. Maybe he thought that I just haven't lost the extra bit of weight from my pregnancy with Rye. I feel like it's extremely obvious, but then again only I know what lies beneath my bloated gut.
My mouth opens to share the news, but the words don't get a chance to be heard before Peeta speaks.
"I got us tickets to a show at the theater," he says, proud.
"A movie?"
Peeta shakes his head, "a musical."
Music.
I wish I was far enough along to feel this kiddo move so I wouldn't have to wonder if this baby will like music like their siblings.
"It's called Jagged Little Pill," Peeta adds. "And then I may or may not have a little romance planned for when we get back to my room tonight."
"Oh, you're going to bring me back to your room again tonight, Mr. Mellark?"
Peeta nods.
I set my pizza down and get up on all fours, crawling my way over the top of Peeta. I straddle him, his hands rest on my thighs as he lays back.
"And what will your wife have to say about that?" I wink.
Peeta chuckles, and I feel his belly rattle with laughter, "I don't know, Mrs. Mellark. What do you say?"
"Hmmm, maybe."
I chuckle before I lean down to kiss him. He pulls away, preventing our lips from meeting.
"Save it for later," he whispers. He kisses my cheek and relaxes his head to the side. He quickly taps his hands against my hips a couple of times, signaling me to get up.
I scoot back so my body is no longer on top of his and he joins me in sitting up.
He and I haven't been deeply intimate since I've been here. We've shared kisses and cuddles, and there was the steamy shower this morning, but nothing more. And at first I was understanding because I know he's dealing with the huge mental aspect of it, but now I'm starting to have self-sabotaging thoughts fill my brain. Fears that he's no longer attracted to me that way. Or that he's scared of having sex with me. I fully expected him to rip my clothes off the second it was safe to be just the two of us.
I catch him intensely starring at something, his stillness gets my heart beating a little faster and panic starts to overcome me. My eyes follow the path of his stare and find the picture frame I brought with updated pictures of this kids.
"Gosh, I just can't believe how much bigger they look to me already," Peeta finally says, picking up the frame and bringing it closer to him.
"I know," I say, my hand rubbing his upper thigh as I lean in to look at the photos with him. My head relaxes against his shoulder. "Rye is so chunky, it really makes me wonder."
"Wonder what?" Peeta asks me to clarify, looking at me with his eyebrows knitted together.
"If he would still be that chunky if he was born back when things were different."
Peeta kisses my forehead.
"We never have to worry about that, Katniss."
"I know," I shrug my shoulders. "My mind has just been going back a lot to when we were sixteen. This place isn't helping," I say, siting up straight.
Peeta is silent. He puts the frame back, and squeezes my hand.
"Shit," I curse. "Peeta, I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
"No, it's not. You're literally re-living those moments. I—"
"Katniss, seriously. It's fine."
My hand reaches across him, resting against his cheek down by his chin, and force him to look at me. My eyes dance back and forth between his before I slowly lean in for a kiss. It's soft, gentle.
"I love you," I speak delicately.
"I love you, too." Peeta replies.
"But like an immeasurable amount," I tell him with a smile.
"Like you wouldn't believe," Peeta adds.
. . .
The musical was so amazingly incredible! Our seats were perfect, the singers were so talented, and I have never been so happy to sit and watch a live piece of art. Such a stunning way to tell a story, and a deeply emotional one at that.
Peeta told me he discovered that the music from the show was compiled from the works of one artist that lived centuries ago. Back before Panem was ever a country.
I don't think either of us expected a musical to be so dark but it was beautifully done.
We went back to the hotel where Peeta had arranged for an intimate dinner to be set up in his space. There were flower petals and candles everywhere. A private chef to serve us our meal.
Peeta was being such a flirt, too.
When we finished eating, the main living area flooded with staff to clean up after the meal. Peeta whisked me away to the bedroom so we could unwind privately.
"I'm so full," I commented, falling onto the bed.
Peeta chuckled, crawling up and laying beside me. "Too full to..." he draws out, "...make our last night together a memorable one?"
I giggle, biting my lower lip. "Thought you'd never ask."
And then I pounced.
The sun peered in through the crack in the middle of the curtains, waking me up. My head turns to check the time on the nightstand clock. I don't need to be up just yet, but I don't have long until before I need to leave to catch my train. And I can't help the out that overcomes my face.
I look back over at the man sleeping beside me, and watch as his chest rise and fall with each breath.
For the first time this pregnancy, the fire crawls up my throat insanely fast. I toss the covers off my body and sprint to the bathroom. I don't even have time to slam the door shut behind me, and almost don't even get the toilet seat cover up in time.
I flush the toilet after I'm finished emptying my guts, close the seat cover, and wipe my mouth with one of the washcloths sitting on the bathroom counter. I sit on top of the toilet and half expect to see Peeta standing in the doorway, but he's not there.
I toss the soiled washcloth in the laundry hamper and tip toe my way back to Peeta's bed. He hasn't moved an inch.
I crawl back under the covers and cuddle up to Peeta. He rolls over from his side to his back and wraps his arms around me.
I sigh, content. And then my alarm goes off.
I crawl out of bed, away from my husbands warm embrace, and suddenly feel compelled to tell him about our third baby.
I put a robe on so I can walk down the hall to the room they had been putting me up until I could stay with Peeta. I walk around to Peeta's side of the bed to kiss him goodbye. I need to go pack up my stuff so we can go to the train station in an hour or so.
"I have two hearts inside me that love you," I whisper to him while he continues to sleep.
He hums and starts to stir. "What?" he asks groggy before clearing his throat.
"Hmm?" I question, pretending I don't know what he's trying to inquire about.
"I thought you said smiting," he mumbles, curling up with his pillow.
"I said, 'I love you'," I lie through a smile.
I lean in and press a kiss to his cheek as he continues to try and sleep. His lips pucker up, sensing me lean in for another kiss.
"I have to leave for my train," I tell him quietly.
He whines, his facial expression quickly changing from peaceful and relaxed to pinched up and sad. "Don't go."
"Trust me, I don't want to leave."
Peeta pulls one of his arms out from underneath the covers and grabs my wrist, pulling me back into bed with him. He kisses the back of my neck where it meets my shoulder and snuggles me close. He hums and lets out a big breath. His hand rubs back and forth along my belly.
Tell. Him.
"Hey, Peeta?" My head turns so I can look back at him. His eyes are still shut and his breathing is starting to slow. He's still half asleep.
"Hmm?"
I struggle to say the words 'I'm pregnant.'
"I have a surprise for you when you come home."
I was worried he wouldn't be able to handle the news while he was going through treatment, but now that I've seen him I know that he would be just fine. But now there's something stopping me. An invisible force that once gave me encouragement is now physically stopping the words from ever escaping the back of my throat.
"Yeah?" his tired voice croaks.
I nod. "Yeah."
I place my hand over his on my belly and I smile.
.
.
.
.
.
AN:
Hi everyone!! Hope you are all doing well! Sorry it's been such a long time since the last update!
Pictures of the kiddos are at the top! And I linked my favorite song from the musical I mentioned! It's a real life one and I love it so much!
Until next time!
xoxo