Pure Torture: a Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 96

Katniss

"My happy little pill, take me away
Dry my eyes, bring colour to my skies." -Troye Sivan

When we get home, I run upstairs to shove my medications into the cabinet in the bathroom. I put the medicine Peeta isn't supposed to know about way in the back, behind the old vitamins I said I would take when I was pregnant with Willow but never touched.

When I come back downstairs, Peeta's sitting on the couch. I join him.
"We're really lucky, Katniss." He says.
I nod my head and tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear.
He's right.

"I've been thinking," Peeta says, "That maybe we should start thinking of names."
"Peeta..." I say, about to tell him how I think it's too early.
"I want them to have a name no matter what happens. I don't think it's too early to start talking about it. Even if something were to happen, they deserve to have a well thought out name." He explains.

And with that, all of my resistance to the idea disintegrates. He's right again. Funny how that always works out.

"Do you think it's a boy or a girl?" I ask him.
He placed a hand on my stomach.
"Feels like... Another girl." Peeta says.
"You sure?" I ask.
"Father's intuition. Remember how it went with Willow?" He asks.
I roll my eyes at the thought of me being wrong.

"What do you think it is?" He asks.
"Boy." I say.
"You're sticking to your guns, I see." He jokes.
"And you aren't?"
It's my turn to be right.

We sit in silence for a little bit before Peeta starts up the conversation again.
"Girl names..." He starts.
"Any you like?" I ask.

A little smile creeps across his face and I know he's got some sort of idea.
"I told Haymitch what girl name I liked when we were picking Willow's." He says.
"Celia." I say immediately.
I give a little grin to him, proud of my outstanding memory.

"Huh," he says. "I can't believe you remember that."
"I like that name, too. I think it's pretty." I tell him.

"What about boys?" He asks.
"I've always liked the name Mullen." I say. It's different.
"Mullen?" He repeats.
"It means fighter." I explain.
It does, and we all know that this baby is a tiny little fighter.

"What about Rye?" He asks.
"You want to name your kid after a bread? Peeta, I know you're passionate about your work, but that's going a little too far with the whole bread thing." I say.
"That's not what it means." He says.
"Then what does it mean?"
"It means island meadow, but I was just thinking about the meadow part, you know?" He says.

"Meadow..." I say, thinking.
"The meadow, where all the windflowers regrew after the bombing." He explains.
"Where Prim used to come to me in dreams." I whisper, mostly to myself.
"A safe haven. And I want you to find a safe haven in your family now. No matter what happens with this baby." Peeta says.

"I love it." I say.
"Middle name?" He asks.
We're both quiet for a moment, but when we speak, we speak together,
"Finnick."

Yes, that will be the baby's middle name if it's a boy. It seems only right to name our son after Finnick, one of the few people in the world I loved. He was my friend. I trusted him with my life. He was our friend. He was brave and charming and always had that golden sense of humor. If our baby could grow up to be half the man Finnick was... I would be more than happy.

"What about a middle name for a girl?" Peeta asks.
"I don't know. What do you think?" I ask.
We both sit, thinking. In a way, middle names are even more important than first names. It's the opportunity to name your child after someone without it being their first name, so they can be their own person. That's why we would never have named Willow after my sister.