Katniss

It's been three weeks since the meeting with my advisors in which I sent them away to deal with cleaning up the mess. Three weeks since I contracted the horrible illness of Spanish Flu. Three weeks since I lost Peeta's child and it died within my belly. 

He's been kind to me, so loving and promising. But a miscarriage barely two months into a marriage has put a lot of strain on both of us. I feel as though I can barely look at Peeta and I don't want him to look at me. I feel disgraced, and even if we didn't publically announce the pregnancy nor my illness. I lay by his side each night and at times, he does seem to aim to move on, but I can't. I don't want let him down again. He had such high hopes that were both found out and crushed in the same blow. So each night, when he reaches out and tries to initiate any shred of the intimacy we had discovered our first night together, I roll over to face away from him.

The saint that he is, Peeta hasn't pushed any further. He would like to hold me and I would want him to, but I just can't. I don't want anything to go further and if I start opening up like that, we may only get hurt again. And I absolutely will not let him hurt like that again.

I scribble something in my book, an absent minded thought in the fog of my hurt feelings. I hear my ladies talking amongst themselves and a I look over at them sternly. "If you've nothing better to do than talk among yourselves, you can go out and aid in preparing supper. I'll be fine on my own for a few hours." Lady Latimer gets up to protest but I hold up my hand and she nods, setting down their needlework and going to leave, shutting the door tight behind them. I look at my trembling hands before clutching them together and standing up. 

I am a queen of my own right and working towards the same title for my husband. I need to keep my head on straight and keep my heart focused. I can't let my crushed heart make me loose sight of the direction I am striving for. What my country needs from me. I keep my hands folded over my chest and look down. Someday, maybe. But not yet. Not until my business is done. 

My long hair falls down my shoulders and I look at the brush on my vanity. I take it and rip at the ends to get the knots out, angrily working the ratsnest I have called my hair for the last how many days. I pull out a hard chunk and clench my hand angrily. I feel my nails digging in and blood seeping from the wounds. I relish in the feeling of something, anything when I've been numb for so long.

I feel my hand release suddenly and I gasp as I look at my arm and Peeta's gentle grip on my arm. I look up at him and the deep wounds on my palm. He looks so hurt  and he grabs me, holding me close to him. I fight him a moment before realizing I'm crying. I see the streaks of blood left on his clothing and start sobbing. 

"I'm sorry," I whimper and he shakes his head. 

"I should have seen how bad it was for you," he says. "You're in so much pain for something that wasn't your fault. I pushed you too hard." He brushes my hair from my face and I shake my head.

"I only did it because its the only thing I've felt in weeks, Peeta," I whimper. He shakes his head and kisses the wound on my hand. He looks up at me and then kisses me gently, yet so intensely. I look up at him as he pulls away and tangle my hands in his hair. He leans his head against mine, his eyes looking at me so intensely. 

"Then let me make you feel again, Katie," He says. "I don't care about having any children. I just want you to know, I still love you and I don't blame you." I look down.

"I know," I whisper. His hands brush my cheeks and  I feel my heart beating faster. "And I want to feel, but I don't know how." He places his hands on my hips and picks me up into his arms, carrying me into the back and onto my bedhe sits me down and lays over me. I look at him and then down, shaking my head. "Peeta, this isn't going to fix it." 

"But it will help," he says. "You're holding so much in and you need to let go of this resentment you have for yourself. You are so beautiful and brave and I need you to see that. We can't live like this. With your heart locked away a million miles from me." I look at him and feel his arms sliding down my skirt and lifting it up. 

"What are you getting at?" I ask nervously. He carefully unlaces the skirt's ties and pulls it off leaving me in just my petticoat. He kisses me gently and I place my hands up on his chest as his arms pull the strings off my bodice. I feel it loosen and  he pulls it away and kisses at my chest. I tremble and his gentle fingers trace the length of my arm. 

"Just trust that men talk and I want you to feel better," he whispers. He clutches at my chest and I groan. "I may have learned a thing or two from gossiping fools among my groomsmen, if you trust me to do it." I look at the sincerity in his eyes and nod. He runs his hands down my body and slowly moves to my feet. He kisses my ankle and trails his fingers up slowly underneath my white cotton skirt. I breathe deeply and he pulls me closer to the edge of the bed. I feel his hand on the inside of my thigh and I move my leg up onto his shoulder. He looks up at me for permission and I reluctantly nod. He touches the junction of my body and I gasp a little. His firm hand rubs up and down my leg and I hook my leg at the knee. tighter to him. He kisses me just below my belly button and I realize what he's getting at. I move my other leg up and spread myself open for him.

I feel the nerves in my body sparking to life as he kisses and sucks on my tender skin. It feels so raw and emotional. He presses further and I feel something, a finger most likely , pressing into me and continues to kiss my body. I feel something deep inside me and I clench my fingers into the sheets. Its so intense and strong and beautiful and makes me feel like I am weightless. Satisfied with the result, Peeta lets my leg down and crawls back over me. I hold my hands to his cheeks and kiss him gently, still crying.He cups my cheek and I run my fingers through his hair. I carefully roll over onto him I feel his arms holding onto me and I reach for the tie of his pants. 

"Katie," he says quietly. "You don't need to do anything." I shake my head as I kiss him again. 

"Women talk too," I whisper. "and  besides, I never do anything I don't want to do. Which means if I want to return the favor you just granted me, I will." I kiss his neck and reach my hand down into his pants. I pull out his member and gently work him with my hand. I move down and take him into my mouth. I suck and lick him gently and then aggressively, working to get him ready. I want him, so terribly. I want to try this time. To carefully, willfully and safely carry a child to term for him.

And this time, I refuse to fail.