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Katniss was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. So much had changed over the last 15 years. She had gone from a young girl in District 12, to a competitor in the hunger games, an unlikely victor, a fiancee, another hunger games, and then a leader of the rebellion. She had taken lives, she had watched lives be taken from her, she still has nightmares. Except they are no longer all from the Games. She has nightmares of losing Peeta, of losing Haymitch, or losing District 12 again. Her sister had been stripped away from her, her mother distant, Gale had never returned from District 2, but she didn't miss him as much as she thought she would. She didn't hate him, war made monsters out of everyone, but she could never look at him quite the same. Her nightmares would never go away, Haymitch had told her that, but they were getting fewer and easier. She knew now that the games would not be back. They were free.
Peeta had wanted children for a while. He loved the idea of a mini Katniss running around the meadow, practicing her archery, not for survival, but for fun. He had known Katniss did not want children, and happily accepted that. Short conversations had opened up over the years about the possibility, but she had never felt ready, and he was willing to wait. He spent most of his days baking and painting, he thought he had gotten quite good, and Katniss agreed. He had taken it upon himself to feed Haymitch's geese when his white liquor came in, he helped him take care of himself as well. Overall, Peeta was happy. He had settled into a nice routine with Katniss, there were not many people left in District 12, but those who were had filled it with colour and laughter. Sometimes he watched Katniss looking out the window at the children playing and dancing, but he never said anything.
Katniss came out of her bed, walking slowly into the kitchen where Peeta was sat, reading a newspaper from District 8. She needed to talk to him, but couldn't find the right words, so she just sat next to him and nuzzled her head on his shoulder. He put down the paper and rested his hand on her, smiling softly.
"Peeta?" She looked up at him, her usual-steel grey eyes had become much warmer.
"Yes?" He asked softly.
"We need to talk."
"Okay Katniss, what do you want to talk about?"
"I think... I think I'm ready." She sighed, sitting up to look at him properly.
"Ready?"
"For children."
Peeta could hardly stop himself from beaming and jumping with joy. He had started to doubt this day would ever come, and, as happy as he was right now, he really did want a child. He hugged her tight, his head on her shoulder as he kissed her neck, "Are you sure? If you're not ready, we can wait."
"I'm sure, Peeta. I want us to be a family, a family that we never had."
He grinned even more, standing up to give her a proper hug, and ending up picking her up and swinging her around like they were two teenagers in love again. They may never have had a lovely teenage romance, but he knew their children would. Peeta put her down, holding both of her shoulders, his eyes flickering with doubt.
"You want children. Real or not real?"
Katniss was used to these questions, even though the quantity had faded over the years, "Real." She assured, looking up into his eyes. They had always been warmer than hers. Not just the colour, but he always had a kindness to them, to him. She had spent the first couple of years after the revolution wondering if he actually loved her, or if he was with her to placate her after her own rebellion. She had cried to a drunk Haymitch many times, and he would say the same each time:
"He loves you like all-fire."
She had never fully understood what he meant by that, but it calmed her down nonetheless, and now she knew that he loved her, and she loved him. The games were gone, they weren't coming back. Snow wasn't coming back. But with that realisation, she also realised that all she had lost would not be coming back. Buttercup was getting much older, her only link left to her sister, Finnick, Rue, Cinna, they were all gone. Peeta always tried comforting her by saying that it was because of her that their deaths were not in vain, but she only wished that they never had to die at all. Katniss was brought back to their conversation by another hug from Peeta, followed by a kiss. He was always so gentle, as if he was afraid that she would break if he kissed her too hard, but Katniss needed gentle. It brought her back to earth, comforted her, made her feel that, just for a moment, she shared some of Peeta's warmth.
Katniss had been terrified to have children. She never wanted them in the games, never wanted them to live the life she did. Her nightmares had become worse over the last nine months, Peeta blamed it on her hormones, but she saw it as a warning, and her baby constantly moving made her worry that it was trying to escape. She would never know another days peace, constantly worried about the Games coming back, but Peeta stuck by her and reassured her, made her feel better. Now that her baby was here, a daughter, she knew that it had all been worth it. Haymitch had become infatuated with her, neither Katniss or Peeta ever thought that Haymitch would like children, but he loved her. He said that she had his old love's eyes, and that looking into the eyes again brought him comfort he had only ever found in a bottle for the last 40 years, he loved showing her his geese, which always made her cry and Katniss would have to shield her from their pecking beaks, but she grew to love them.
It took another couple of years for Katniss to agree to a second child, but watching her daughter play alone in the meadow made her realise what she was missing. This child was easier than the last, Katniss was able to let go of a lot of her worries, and her and Peeta were able to get through relatively stress-free. The movements no longer scared her, instead they were a comfort. Knowing it was alive and healthy, and when he came into the world, they knew that their world was complete.
Haymitch began to take care of himself more, "for the kids" he would say. Katniss thought that he viewed them as a hope for the future, but Haymitch insisted it was a love for the past.
Perhaps it was both.