We all sit around the round, oak table each of them drinking some type of alcohol. Except myself and Effie, both of us are pregnant, I smile each time thinking about Effie having another baby. She deserves all the happiness Haymitch can give her. She holds a baby Michael in her arms.

"So is it gone? The cancer?" Peeta asks.

"Virtually." He speaks. "One or two more treatments then I should be one hundred percent cured."

Effie smiles proudly next to him. Someone knocks on our door, and Peeta stands to answer it. He says a quiet thank you, and closes the door. "What is it?" I ask softly.

"Three year anniversary dinner of the winning of the war." He tells me with pain in his eyes.

"A party?" I ask.

"A dinner with a band, in the Capitol in a month. We're the guests of honor." He tells me.

"Rightfully so..." Effie smiles. "Sure the others helped the process, but you two really sparked the war. If it wasn't for you two we wouldn't have won."

"That's not true." Haymitch speaks. "I would have made a fabulous mockingjay."

We laugh along with him. And for the first time in a while, it feels like a normal family setting. Two kids, and their kinda parents laughing. My baby on my lap cuddled into my arms, and another one in my belly, waiting to see the world.

"Oh, Katniss, they called my house this morning to tell me you have an appointment in a district two hospital on Wednesday. I think they said three or four to be exact." Haymitch tells me.

"Why'd they call you?" I ask.

"Probably a miss dial, you know how alike all of the victor's numbers are." He shrugs it off, and so do I.

"Alright, could you two watch Rye that day? I hate to throw him at you but we really have no other option."

"Of course!" Effie squeals. "We love watching him. He's a precious angel" She gushes before kissing Michael's forehead and laying him in the crib in the doorway of the living room. Peeta does the same with rye, and they cling to each other in an instant. I smile, our little babies have grown up.

"He'll be one in three months." Peeta reminds me softly into my ear with an arm around my shoulders.

"I know." I smile turning around in his arms and wrapping my arms around his neck. The cast on my wrist makes it a bit tricky, but I make it work. "I really do love you." I breath into the crook of his neck softly. "More than you'll ever know. And I never meant to hurt you like I did. It's the last thing on this earth I want." I look into his eyes. "I just wanted to make you and everyone else proud. And I thought by fighting again .... I could do just that."

"No baby.." He whisper brushing a strand or two of hair behind my ear. "We've always been proud of you, ever since we won the games the first time. There's always been at least one person prouder than hell of you."

I wait a few seconds, then ask: "How proud is hell Peeta?"

Playfully he pushes me back, and into my wheelchair. Then pushes me into the kitchen with everyone else. "Wait." I start. "Are you and Haymitch not going to the dinner?" I ask them.

"Not if we have to watch the kids, no." Effie replies taking a sip of lemonade. "But that's alright with me at least."

"No, you guys were important. I can ask Annie to watch them, because I think you two should be there. You were our escort and mentor after all..." I smile.

"That we were my girl." She puts her hand over mine and holds it there. "It will be an honor to represent you for the night."

***

"Do you have all of you stuff?" Peeta asks through clenched teeth while brushing them early in the morning.

"Yes, yes I think so." I nod looking around the room from my wheelchair. I wheel myself to the nightstand and place the locket around my neck. "Okay, now I'm good." I answer just as he exiting the bathroom.

"Okay, good. Let's get going." He lifts me and carries me downstairs, then goes back up for my wheelchair. "You know, I'm thinking we should start sleeping in the den. No stairs or anything." He answers breathlessly as he sets me in my chair. "Is that okay?" He asks me.

"Yeah, if it'll be easier for you."

"It will, then I can do stuff downstairs and not have to worry about you." He explains.

He guides me through the house and onto Haymitch and Effie's doorstep. He gently takes Rye from my hands and takes him inside to his grandparents. "Ready to go?" He asks me.

"Yeah."

As we're walking my mind plays back all of the possibilities for what could happen today. "They won't like cut me open or anything will they?" I ask him nervously.

"They have to operate, yes." He nods.

"Operate?" I repeat.

"Yeah, on your ACL." He informs me.

"Why didn't you tell me? I hate surgeries." I shriek looking up at him. "Turn around Peeta! I don't want to go! Please!" I cry tears stinging my eyes suddenly.

He sees my tears, and stops coming around in front of me. He places his hands on my knees as he bends down in front of me.  "It's gonna be okay. Their trained doctors. What could go wrong?"

"I'm pregnant." I blurt. "And the baby could die from oxygen deprevation." I say. He looks at me with pained eyes.

"Nothing will happen to that baby Katniss, I promise you."

"How can you promise something like that?"

"Because you are in good hands everywhere you go. The hospital, our house, any of our friends houses. They'd never let anything happen to you. They love you too much." He tells me with great confidence. I feel my eyes begin to water, and we sit in silence for a few minuets like this. Both of us looking at each other and wondering if our lives will be like this forever. Casualty after casualty. Problem after problem. Will we ever win the damned games? Probably not. We may be 'safe' like they used to tell me every two minuets that I was perfectly safe now. I never was safe. I never will be safe. "Come on." He replies as he stands to push me into the train. The entire way there he reminds me I'm safe, I can't help it when I snap at him to shut up.

We sit silently on the train, my head on his lap looking up at his face as he concentrates on a ancient Russian novel he found hidden away in the library at our house. He propped my foot up, it began to go numb from it being down.

"What's your book about?" I ask him as I run my fingers through his golden locks.

"It's about the poor expectations of society, and the downfall of diplomats and tyrants."

"Well that's a mouth full." I joke.

"Look. It's on the cover." He shows me and I nod briefly.

"I see." I wait a few seconds. "Can you even read russian?"

"It was translated from Russian into English for American readers." He explains. "But if you want to tell people I can so I sound smarter that'd be fine too." He shrugs and taps my nose quickly. I catch his finger and bite it, not hard, but with force. "That was uncalled for!" He shrieks.

"Sorry baby." I smile placing my hands on his cheeks, pulling him toward me, and placing a kiss on his lips.

"No, I'm mad now." He fake pouts and crosses his arms around his chest. "I don't want to talk to you anymore."

"Stop." I laugh lightly.

"Who do I sound like?: stop! You hate me!"

"Knock it off." I grumble knowing he's talking about me.

"See!" He exclaims. "You just did it!"

"I didn't say I hated you, nor did I say anything that sounds like that."

"Okay Kat, I'm sorry. I was just teasing you, I love you." He says kissing me slowly.

"I love you too Peet, can I call you that?"

"No." He frowns.

"Too late Peet."

We both laugh. Little did we know, the mood for the day would take a dramatic turn for the worst.

***

So hey y'all. I've got a Joshifer story in the making, and I was wondering if you guys could give me a hand with the title. The two choices are:

• can it be?

• behind the cameras.

Let me know in the comments below!

Thanks!

- Kylee