Chapter Text
Epilogue
Peeta
I wish we had more time. There never seems to be enough and most days pass so quickly I can scarcely remember what happens between sunrise and sunset. I blink awake in the pale grey morning light. There's a knee in my back and a soft breath in my hair. A tiny fist clenches my shirt. I smile.
Wren.
I wonder if Katniss has realized our bed has been invaded yet. She probably hasn't, or Wren wouldn't be here. At seven, she's getting too old to be sleeping in our bed, and usually, she's good about staying in her own, but she's sneaky with light footsteps and agility like her Mama. She waits until we're asleep and creeps into the bed without waking us. Katniss or I will eventually wake up and carry her back to her room, but not last night.
I gently pry Wren’s fingers from the fabric of my shirt and turn over. Her blue eyes stare back at me.
“Hi, Papa,” she whispers, grinning. Her front teeth missing.
I press a finger to my lips, and she smothers her grin in my chest. That's when I notice another small, chubby fist and a head full of blonde curls.
“Did you sneak Rowen in here too?” I ask, pressing my cheek into Wren’s dark hair.
“Nope. He was here with Mama already,” she says softly.
I chuckle and look at my sweet boy nestled under Katniss's chin, her breath drifting into his hair. Haymitch used to say I was lucky, and I would always disagree. I didn't feel lucky. I was born an accidental third child, a boy that my mother didn't want. I fell in love with a girl that I never thought I could have. Then a war tore our world apart. I lost my father. I lost my oldest brother. I lost my will to live, and I lost my leg.
None of that felt like luck. But Haymitch insisted that I was lucky. He said I could be dead, that he could be dead, that a whole shitload of people could be dead, but they weren't, and he wasn't, and I'm not. He called that luck. I refused to agree with him. I accepted my fate, and I forgot about luck until I stood in the halls of the Justice Building, and my luck changed completely.
It hasn’t been easy, but the things that are worth it rarely are. It took us years to get used to the cameras and the questions, especially after Wren was born. Katniss would hide in the woods or in a closet with the baby wrapped tightly around her chest. But it's been relatively quiet here for the past year, since Rowen's second birthday. The country is healing. The lottery is working, and OPM has used the years to make the system better and partners more compatible. The population is growing, slowly but there's hope. And we all can use more hope.
We've become close with Finnick and his family, especially after their third child was born shortly after Rowen's birth. We take trips to the ocean with the kids at least once a year, sometimes more. Finnick reminds me of my brother, and it's nice to have a friend.
Katniss and I are still growing with each other, still learning, still healing. There are days when we barely speak to each other out of anger or frustration or hurtful words. I told her once that sometimes we hurt the ones we love the most, and I still think that's true. But on those hard days, there is always a glance, a touch, a kiss, a hug, an apology. And we try to learn from those days. We try to make sure we don't repeat them and that we always make sure we let each other know how much we love one another, even when that is difficult to do.
I wouldn't change any of it, though. Not one single day. She is everything I've ever wanted, and she's given me a life I could only dream of. I know she thinks I save her life, and that may be true, but what she doesn't realize is that she saved mine. She's been with me through every difficult thing I've ever experienced, keeping me sane, reminding me to breathe. She's been there even when she didn't know it, saving my life over and over again.
I ease out of bed, scooping Wren into my arms. "Want to help me finish Auntie Prim's cake?" I ask as we tiptoe down the hallway.
“Is she coming to stay?”
“For a little while. Uncle Rory too. Then they have to go back to the Capitol for just a bit more, so she can be a doctor.”
“Will baby Vick be here? And Uncle Haymitch?”
I nod. “Aunt Prim and Uncle Rory wouldn’t leave Vick behind. And when has Uncle Haymitch ever missed the opportunity for cake?” She giggles and nestles her head on my shoulder as I traverse the stairs down to the bakery below.
“Will you show me how to knead the bread first, Papa?”
“Of course, my love. Of course.”