Pure Torture: a Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 111

Katniss

"I believed I found a way around it. I will leave this better than I found it."
-Andrew Belle

Within a week, the doctors decide Rye is okay. He had a mild spat with Jaundice, but it quickly resolved itself and he returned back to a flush, newborn pink color. I cried and cried as soon as I saw his yellowing skin. I knew it meant something was wrong, but thankfully it wasn't serious. The nurses tried to console me by telling me that it's a common occurrence in premature babies. Once he started to return to normal, I felt better.

Peeta and I cried tears of joy the night we saw him get better. Sure, it was just Jaundice, but luck is always against us in these things. As for me, I'm feeling much better and am recovering on schedule. The doctors are pleased with how far I've made it. I'm feeling better and better by the day.

On the day we're finally discharged, I hold Rye in my arms protectively. He sleeps soundly, like any newborn baby should, in his blue blanket. Since everyone already knows that we were expecting a boy, we don't need to hide it the same way we had done with Willow. I know the cameras wait outside, but instead of traveling to the Capitol to show off Rye, we've been requested to do it at home. It's going to be similar to our interview the morning before the Tour, on live TV but from the comfort of our home.

My heart is full of dread, but still I carry on. I can't stop now. If I stop now, I will never get back on track.

"You two are old hat at this," Effie says happily, debriefing us on the situation that awaits us outside. She arrived here three days ago, the day we were finally able to really hold Rye for the first time.
Peeta and I stand quietly as she talks to us.
"A car has been arranged to take you home, just like last time. You guys will have security guards by your side as you walk out, just in case anything happens,"

"What do you mean 'in case anything happens?'" I ask.
"Crazed fans, excited people... You know what I mean, right?" She says breathily.
My stomach churns.

"Nothing's going to happen," Peeta says, putting his arm around me.
"How can you know that?" I ask him.
"I just do," he says.
I shake my head inconspicuously.

We're thrust out into the crowd. There are screams and applause. The camera flashes strobe all around us, making this feel nothing like reality. Peers doesn't let go of my hand as we walk. I keep my eyes down, looking only at the sleeping baby in my other arm. I only look up when Peeta quietly prompts me to, just so the paparazzi can get a picture of both of us smiling with our new baby.

Once we're in the vehicle, we're sped home.

"Look at him," I say to Peeta.
I watch as Peeta's eyes look proudly at his son. Rye's eyes open slowly, causing Peeta to gasp a little. Since he was hooked up to so many machines in the NICU, he was rarely ever awake. He had his eyes covered. This is one of the few times we've ever seen his eyes.

"They're just like yours," Peeta says, his gaze shifting quickly between his wife and his baby.
"Really?" I ask, taking another look at Rye's grey eyes.

You'd think I'd be able to recognize it, considering all the time I spent gazing at my eyes in the mirror, trying to combat my anxiety.

"I'm serious," he says. "They're yours. They're exactly yours."

My breath is taken away promptly as I think of how this baby came from me. The miracle of his life, the way it grew inside of me.... it's indescribable. Every time I look at my children, at Willow, and now at Rye, it takes my breath away. I made these two humans. They came from me. When life gets hard, when darkness falls upon me and Peeta, I just think about them. I've always carried the guilt of the war on my shoulders. It's a back-breaking, unbearably heavy weight to bear. The amount of death and suffering that came from me, from my actions, is innumerable. At least, to me it is. But I look at my children, and I can realize that there are at least two beautiful things that came from me. I made something good happen.