Mentors (An Everlark Fanfic)

Chapter 39

Katniss's POV
(Intensely important A/N in the end of the chapter!)
~One Month Later~
I wake up from a popping sensation between my legs. Then, a liquid follows. Then comes the pain.
Shit.
"Peeta -- Peeta, wake up," I mumble out in the darkness. He shifts uncomfortably, and I blink a couple of times to get used to the darkness. When I do, I can tell that Peeta's face is contracted in what I can only describe as discomfort, but then his expression soon changes to something far worse: fear.
"You would have a nightmare right as I go into labor," I mutter, and just as I do, a surge of pain rips through me. I hiss involuntarily, and wrap my arms around my stomach. I look over to Peeta, to see his form paralyzed with horror, and I shake him harshly. "Peeta.. Peeta.." I try, but he doesn't react. I try again, a little louder this time. Still nothing. Another fit of unexpected pain rushes through me and a pleading scream disguised as Peeta's name falls from my lips. He finally jolts up into a siting position, his blue eyes staring directly into mine.
"What's wrong Katniss?" He asks in a shaky voice, his arms already finding their way to my body.
"I think I'm going into labor."
---
Peeta's POV
"Okay, Mrs. Mellark, just do a few more pushes, and we're there. The head is almost out, " the doctor tells Katniss calmly. Katniss pushes again, her grip on my hand tightening so much I'm certain it'll leave bruises. But in the moment, I don't care. I encourage her to keep pushing and pushing, and suddenly she lets out a loud moan of satisfaction and just seconds later, the room is filled with crying.
"Congratulations, it's a girl."
My eyes fly from Katniss to the doctor, and I suddenly realize that he's holding a baby.
My baby.
Our baby.
The doctors perform some different things on the baby that I don't get a particularly good look at, and suddenly the doctor stretches his arms toward me, handing over the baby.
The moment my skin gets in touch with hers, warmth fills my body. It starts at my fingertips, where my skin meets hers, and then spreads out in my arms, up my neck, down my back and stomach, down my legs, out to my toes, to the very tips of my being. It's only now that I realize that I'm crying. I pull the little person close, rocking her soothingly in my arms, trying to get her to stop whining. My eyes skim over her little being, focusing on her face. She's all chubby cheeks and soft, curly blonde hair that resembles mine. I stroke her soft hair, which there surprisingly is a lot of.
"Hey you," I whisper, suddenly realizing that I'm smiling from ear to ear. As the words leave my mouth, she stops crying, and for the first time looks into my eyes. Her eyes are the current blue that every baby starts out with, but I realize that they have a shape that looks more like Katniss's than mine.
"I'm your daddy, and I already love you so much," I mumble, completely lost for words. After a while of rocking her back and forth, and talking to her in a low voice, I finally remember that I'm not her only parent. "You wanna hold her?" I direct myself towards Katniss, who looks shocked by my question. "But what if I- what if I drop her?" She stammers.
"Of course you're not gonna drop her."
"But what if I do? What if she'll get really mad at me?"
I raise my eyebrows in question. "Katniss, you're lying on a bed, and she is tiny. You're not going to drop her. Besides, she's only gonna be mad at you if you never try to hold her." Katniss sighs, and then unsteadily holds her arms out towards me. I walk over to her, and carefully place our child in her arms, placing a reassuring kiss on her forehead.

Katniss's POV
When he starts closing the distance between us, with her in his arms, every fear of being a parent that I've ever felt comes shooting up through me. What if I'm the worst possible mother? What if I'm not ready for this? What if she'll hate me? What if I actually drop her?
The nightmare I had in the early months during my pregnancy suddenly flows through my head in a sped-up version. Every little detail. Exactly how the girl looked, exactly what happened during her Reaping day, exactly how she was killed. Every little detail is remembered. But when I lay my eyes on her, something isn't right.
The little girl from my dream didn't have blonde hair, but dark, like myself. This little thing that just came out of me, doesn't look like the little thing in my dream. She's different.
Peeta softly places her in my arms, ripping me out of my thoughts, as I start to concentrate on not dropping her.