Hey guys, so I was asked by TributeAndProud to continue this, so I can explain a little bit of what happened to Katniss. I've always had a bit of an idea, and this is what came out of it. Unfortunately, it turned out similar to another story I wrote that I haven't posted yet. Oh well...

This will probably be the last part to this, unless I can think of more. I almost split this up into chapters, but I thought that the short drabbles fit the story better. I might put a short epilogue from Prim's perspective if you guys want though.

Disclaimer: I still wish I owned it... Too bad I don't. And let's face it, if I owned the Hunger Games, I would have killed off either Katniss or Peeta to make it more tragic than it already was.

Peeta leaned over the bed, placing a hand on his wife's slightly swollen belly. He smiled as he felt a flutter, beginning to hum softly.

Hush little baby, don't say a word

Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird

He didn't know how it was possible to love someone he'd never even met so much. Yet still, his heart raced every time he felt a kick. His little girl was right there, so close.

He could picture her already, tiny chubby arms, and an infectious smile. Her footsteps as gentle as a late night drizzle of rain.

She was perfect, golden and glowing, a unique mix of both her parents. She was everything that he'd ever wanted.

He finished his song, moving up to place a delicate kiss on Katniss's forehead.

He couldn't wait to meet his daughter.

Katniss Everdeen had never planned on having children.

Mind you, she'd never planned on falling in love, and getting married either.

Somehow, Peeta Mellark changed everything.

He brought a smile to her face, maybe even a chuckle to her lips. He lit up the room like a flame, determined to make everyone happy.

He sure did make her happy.

She watched him slave away to make sure that his daughter would want for nothing, would never feel how much an empty belly could hurt, and most of all, he made sure she would always be surrounded by love.

She couldn't believe how lucky her baby girl was to have him for a father.

Peeta wasn't there the night she lost the baby.

He was picking up an extra shift at the restaurant, immediately volunteering to clean and close-up shop.

They'd been forced to cut corners, to watch every dollar spent. He'd even sold his father's old truck: a gift for his twenty-first birthday.

It had been worth it though; he would have done anything to keep his daughter safe.

His neighbor, Madge Hawthorne was the one that called him, her voice blurring into a muddle of words. Only one phrase was within his comprehension.

Katniss lost the baby...

He drove to the hospital in a frenzy, tears obstructing his vision. He couldn't even face it. Everything he'd done had been for nothing.

His little girl was gone.

She started digging through his drawer, searching for his only formal attire, a pale blue dress shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes. Instead, she found the worn plaid shirt that she'd worn continuously during her pregnancy.

That was enough to make her break down.

She clutched the shirt close, hating the now flat plane of her stomach. It mocked her, reminding her of the daughter that fell from her grasp too easily.

She'd been just out of reach.

Katniss walked down the hallway in a trance, making it to the threatening, closed door.

She hadn't been in there since it happened.

She pushed the door open, listening to the awful creaking noise. Somehow, the warm orange room had been drained of colour, as if turning gray the moment it lost its future occupant.

The shadow of the baby mobile danced on the wall, the sparrows stuck in a ceaseless motion, with no child to entertain.

Peeta had made it himself, along with the neat wooden crib. He'd prepared so much for the child.

They'd finally been ready.

Katniss fell to her knees, finding herself sobbing uncontrollably. Why did it happen? Why had she been taken away from them?

She just wanted to stop hurting.

Peeta was hurting too.

He drove away from the house that held so many hopes and dreams, leaving his wife to cry alone.

He wasn't sure he would be able to compose himself in front of her. Just a glance her way could bring him to tears, and he couldn't put that kind of burden on her.

She shouldn't have to know how much it hurt him.

He'd wanted nothing more than a child, but it seemed God couldn't even grant that wish.

He stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He'd stopped out on the bridge, the moon shining bright.

Looking over the edge, he watched the water swirl beneath him, beckoning for him to join it in an elegant dance.

He contemplated for just a moment what it would be like to tumble over the edge and not have to feel anymore.

He would stop hurting.

A moment later he snapped out of his trance. How could he even think of doing something so selfish?

His wife was isolated at home, concealing her grief while he even dared to think of leaving her alone forever. What kind of a man would do that?

He was selfish, and cowardly, and weak.

He realized then, that he'd never been fit to be a father.

Her first day back on the job was rough.

She was stuck behind a desk, her thoughts constantly lingering to the family that she would never have.

Was it her fault?

Had she done something wrong to cause this catastrophe?

Her husband had grown away from her, punishing himself for a crime he didn't commit. He was distant, as if afraid that he might break her if he came too close.

Too bad she was already broken.

The one thing she'd never wanted had become the thing she loved the most, but now she'd lost that.

What else did she have to lose?

She tapped the end of her pen on her desk, completely lost in thought.

The fire started down below, but it moved upwards. People started running, frantically trying to escape the burning building.

She didn't even try to leave.

She just sat at her desk, realizing that it might just be easier to give up.

She became the girl on fire and Peeta Mellark's world was engulfed in flames.