Title: Send Me A Sign, Turn Back The Clock
Author: Missi Marie
Rating: M (okay... I reread this and still don't think it really needs an M rating. There's nothing explicit and really the references are mild, but someone informed me it should be higher, and I don't want to make people uncomfortable, so there you have it.)
Warnings: Suggestiveness. Mentions of sex. Nothing explicit.
Characters: Peeta, Katniss, Gale and mentions of other characters
Summary: AU. I suppose this is the third part to "There's a Part of You That Cares For Me" and "Don't Underestimate the Things That I Will Do" so read those two first. Katniss wasn't ready to deal with the consequences of a night with Peeta, but she doesn't have a choice. Everything has changed.
Author Notes: Check out "Brand New Day" by Ryan Star. Legit, I don't like this one. But hopefully someone else does.

I awoke to something soft and warm pressing softly against my cheeks, my eyelids, my nose, and finally my lips. It was the kiss that told me it was Peeta's lips against mine.

"Good morning," he said quietly.

I rolled my shoulders a little and stretched out my limbs, my toes straightening, my arms lifting up over my head. When they came down they landed naturally on Peeta's bare shoulders. I opened my eyes to see his smiling, happy face. It was contagious and in my half-awake state, I couldn't help but smile back, a strange feeling of contentment filling me. He kissed me again with a little more emphasis this time. I kissed him back, because I had no reason not to and it felt nice. He felt nice. Warm and comforting.

"How did you sleep," he asked huskily and suddenly I was awake.

That rough, throaty tone to his voice had sent a shock down my body and I realized what was going on. What had happened. Where I was. Where his hand was. Lingering on my naked hip, our skin the same temperature because our bodies had adjusted to one another.

"I, um, good. I slept good."

His smile widened. "Good." And he kissed me again.

I tried to keep my response genuine, but I was suddenly very uncomfortable. This wasn't something I should be encouraging. And this was something I should be encouraging at the same time. But the reasons were different and I couldn't figure out which one was right and his lips were so soft and my hair was a mess and I could feel him pressed so close against me and I knew he wanted to do it again and...

"Katniss, are you okay?" His smile had dimmed a bit in concern.

"Yeah, I'm just..." If my face wasn't lit up like a torch then it was a miracle. "A little... um..."

His smile returned. "You don't have to be embarrassed," he told me, misreading my alarm. I was grateful. "Last night was... I mean, it was my first time, too."

My heart dropped into my stomach after swelling to the size of a melon and I let out a groan, burying my face against his chest because there was nowhere else to hide.

He laughed at my reaction. "I think we did pretty well."

I kept my face hidden. "Yeah, well... It was..." Good. Yes, it was good. I had liked it. There was that... discomfort at first and the awkwardness, but it melted pretty quickly under the fire that had been lit. I still couldn't place how things had happened last night. How it had all come about. I hadn't even been trying that time. There had just been a sudden intensity that I couldn't shake. A feeling that I wanted to plunge headlong into. Last night all I had wanted was to feel.

"I thought you didn't want to," I mumbled.

He pulled me back until I had to look at him and saw the incredulous expression written across his face. "You're kidding, right?"

I shrugged. "You were pretty adamant."

I could tell he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Well, that was different..."

How, I wanted to ask, but didn't because I was afraid of the answer and the questions that might spawn from it.

"I wasn't even wearing one of those stupid nightdress things."

"You were wearing my shirt," he said simply.

My brow furrowed. "I didn't realize... I just grabbed something comfortable."

He smiled at me—he was doing a lot of that this morning—and pushed my hair back behind my ear. "You always do that," he whispered. "Every night since we got back. You just grab something, but it's always one of my shirts."

I blinked at him, surprised. I hadn't honestly even realized I had been doing that. It just seemed to me that everything in my drawers was silky and pink—all Capitol provided, probably to encourage our foray into married life. I had probably subconsciously looked through one of his drawers—I wasn't used to sharing space with him—and grabbed one of his shirts thinking it was one of my old ones.

Really, I should have noticed, but I didn't. Maybe I didn't want to. Then I would have to stop doing it, wouldn't I? And for whatever reason, Peeta's shirts were always so much more comfortable than even my old ones had been. It wasn't that they were softer or larger than mine. The coloring was pretty much the same. They were in better condition, sure, but they were thick and heavy, lacking the comfort that came when things were thoroughly broken in. There was something else that made them feel better.

Heat crept into my face as I realized what it was.

They smelled like him. They felt like him. Everything about his shirt screamed Peeta and it had brought comfort to me even when I hadn't been consciously aware of it.

"Oh," I finally mumbled in response. "Sorry."

He stared at me a long moment, his smile fading into something softer, tender. "It's okay. I don't mind."

"You minded last night," I pointed out. My cheeks were on fire now as I mentioned our clandestine activities. "You told me to take it off."

He laughed fully. I felt the rumble in his chest sending tickling reverberations through my body. It wasn't helping to cool the flush that was quickly spreading down from my cheeks.

"Well, technically, you asked if I wanted you to take it off and I said yes." He grinned cheekily at me. "And that didn't really have anything to do with me having a problem with you wearing it."

I noticed again his large hand on my hip, fingers tracing lazy circles there. My breathing started coming quick and short. He felt warm, too warm maybe. Suffocating, even. We were here, together, stripped of our clothes, lying beneath the sheets that were soaked with sweat and other things and...

And it was too much.

This was all too much.

I wasn't ready to deal with any of this. And Peeta was just lying there grinning cheekily at me, incredibly pleased with himself, his hand making absent patterns on my skin. It was tying new knots in my stomach and I couldn't decide if I liked them or not.

Would we do that again?

Air caught in my throat.

I wasn't ready to do that again. Suddenly, having the feel of Peeta everywhere in my life was more than I could handle. I needed space, privacy. Somewhere where I felt like me. Just me. Just Katniss. The Katniss I had been before.

"Katniss?" Worry had crept into Peeta's voice. "Katniss, are you okay."

No. I was definitely not okay. I was all but hyperventilating. What had I done? This wasn't okay. I never should have pushed; I wasn't ready for this. Tears stung my eyes and I tried to keep them in, determinedly blinking them back. What had I done? I started pulling away from him, curling in on myself, my hands going to my hair, my knees pulling up towards my chest.

"Katniss, please, talk to me!" Peeta sounded like he was starting to panic.

Well, 'bout time. I was already panicking. About everything. And then it hit me.

Was I already pregnant?

That's when the tears finally came. "Oh god."

After my complete breakdown that morning, Peeta had been keeping his distance. Initially he had tried to soothe me, to figure out what was wrong, to stop the shaking that wracked my body. But I think he figured out what was going on—or at least some small part of it that was probably the worst and least important part—because he stopped abruptly. I could see the hurt in his eyes, but I couldn't help but be grateful for the reprieve that came with his absence.

I knew that come morning I would tear us apart.

He went to the bakery; I stayed inside, sitting on the bed with my knees pulled to my chest. I was supposed to be out today, spending time with Prim since it wasn't a school day. But I couldn't. I didn't want to go outside where surely shame would be written plain as day on my face. I didn't want to have to face everyone and have them know what I had done the night before.

It wasn't any of their goddamned business. I didn't have to share this, did I?

Peeta was better with this stuff. He could keep a straight face, act as though today was just like every other day, but I couldn't. Everyone would know the first look they got of me. I couldn't take it today. Couldn't deal with the stares and the whispers. I didn't want a reminder that I had taken something precious from Peeta that I couldn't give back.

I just couldn't deal with that today.

At some point in the day, there was a knocking at the door. I firmly ignored it. It persisted for a while still, but I refused to get up and answer the door. I didn't want to see anyone. I just wanted to wallow in my own private depression. Even Haymitch got that most of the time.

Eventually, the knocking stopped and silence descended again upon the house.

My mind kept replaying events, much to my dismay. The night before was like a ghost haunting me, except it wasn't the kind that sent chills down your spine. It was the kind that made heat rush through you. The kind that was like fire, not ice, and it kept igniting within my body. I didn't want to do that again, I had already decided, but my body was disagreeing with me. It liked the things Peeta had done to me. It liked the way he had touched me, the way I had touched him. It wanted more.

It scared me.

Especially since I couldn't get the thought out of my head. The idea. The nagging little notion in the back of my head that it had finally happened.

That I was pregnant.

I knew this was what I had to do. Having a baby was the ultimate goal. It was the only thing that was going to satisfy Snow, to quell the uprisings, to keep everyone I loved safe. But it had always been an abstract idea. Never concrete enough to get a grasp on. But now... Now I could be pregnant and that baby suddenly became a hell of a lot more real.

An image of a smiling face that looked so much like Prim—because she had Peeta's blue eyes and blonde hair, but my dusty skin—floated through my mind and now that it was there I couldn't banish it.

What if it was a beautiful child? What if I loved that child? What if Peeta was a great father and made her laugh all the time and taught her how to bake and told stories about how he fell in love with a Seam girl who made the Mockingjays listen...

A sob escaped my lips and I quickly smacked a hand over my mouth before I realized no one was here to hear it.

"Catnip?"

Or at least, I thought no one was here.

His voice came from just outside the door. Obviously, the knocking had been Gale, and when I didn't answer he just came right in anyway. I made a mental note to lock the door next time and remind Peeta to do the same. I didn't need surprise guests just barging in.

"Can I come in?"

I scrubbed at my cheeks trying to erase the tracks my tears had left and took a moment to steady myself. Deep breaths, deep breaths. I combed back my hair and got up to open the door for him. He was already here after all. But then I glanced back at the bed. It screamed to me of last night. My face burned and I just knew I couldn't let Gale see it.

Quickly, I darted back to the bed and hastily made it. It didn't look perfect, but it no longer screamed of sex.

Sex. I didn't want to think about it.

With another deep breath, I to the door. I opened it to reveal him, his face masked in a curious expression that I couldn't quite decipher.

Without waiting for even a hello, Gale swept me up into his arms. "Katniss, are you okay?"

And I wondered what Peeta told him, because suddenly I knew, without a doubt, that the two boys had spoken. It couldn't have been pretty.

"Gale," I breathed. Clearing my throat, I tried again. "Gale. I'm fine. Really."

Hesitantly, he loosened his grip on me, pulling me back to search my face for the truth. Well, I wasn't fine, but I wasn't... destroyed. Well. Maybe a little. Maybe...

I didn't know what I was feeling anymore.

I shouldn't have slept with Peeta.

"Katniss, this isn't okay anymore," he told me shaking his head, his hands still on my upper arms. "You don't have to do this. We'll think of something else. We'll find another way."

I couldn't help it, I laughed. It was stark and without humor. "Another way? I think it's a little late for that Gale."

His grip on my arms tightened, just this side of painful. "No it's not!"

I shook him off angrily. "Yes. It. Is. I can't run. I can't take it back. You know that."

Turning away from him, I marched back to my bed and plopped down. It was soft and cushy; I sank in a little bit despite my efforts to sit straight and defiant. Gale followed me, taking a seat by my side, though he was perched on the edge and didn't sink that much. It irritated me a little bit for unknown reasons.

"I just... I can't even deal with the idea of him... of his hands..." He let out a strangled sound. "I can't believe he would do that to you. I'll kill him. God, Katniss, I'm sorry."

I frowned. Do that to me? Suddenly it occurred to me that Gale's reaction to what had happened was... off. Sure, I had expected him to be upset. Infuriated. Partially at me, mostly at Peeta. I expected that he might throw the whole thing back in my face, because I'd hurt him with my actions. Again. Maybe he'd show a little concern about my reaction this morning (which was surely what had caused Peeta to speak to him at all). I had anticipated half-baked plans of escape. Maybe a declaration of love. Maybe a forceful kiss that I wasn't intending to return.

Those were normal reactions.

But Gale... he was taking this as though...

As though Peeta had forced me.

"It wasn't like that," I mumbled, annoyed and flustered and unsure that this was a conversation I wanted to be having with Gale of all people. Jeez, my mother was probably a better choice at this point and I hadn't trusted her for years. "It was my fault actually."

This did not have the intended effect. Instead of quelling his worries, it only served to inflame his anger. "Katniss, this was not your fault."

I realized we were still talking about very different things. I could understand why it was that Gale thought what Peeta had done last night... what we had done together had been... Well, rape. Half a year ago I wouldn't have believed the idea of me willingly giving myself to anyone like that ever, much less to Peeta Mellark. But a lot can change in very little time. Half a year ago I hadn't even been kissed. Now...

Now I was worried about pregnancy.

Am I pregnant?

Am I not pregnant?

Which one is going to kill me faster?

Which one's going to end in disaster?

Am I pregnant?

I decided there were no good or right answers for any of those questions, so I didn't voice them. Instead I focused again on Gale and tried to figure out how to make him understand.

"You don't understand," I told him irritably. "Peeta didn't make me do anything."

"Catnip—" Gale started, but I ignored him.

"I'm the one who's been pushing things, Gale." It came out harsh, even to my own ears, but it had to be said. Gale needed to understand that whatever he felt for me was a complete impossibility and not just because I was married to Peeta. People needed to believe the lie and it seemed as though maybe sometimes we had them convinced. (Sometimes, I had myself convinced, but that was between me and my inconstant heart.) I couldn't have him coming here and waltzing into my house, my bedroom as though he belonged. As though I didn't share my nights and my bed with Peeta. A sacrifice the two of us had made for the sake of people like Gale (and Gale himself in my case). That sacrifice wasn't going to be in vain just because Gale couldn't move on.

It wasn't fair, it was just reality.

"I... I've been..." It was suddenly harder to say now that Gale was here with that hurt expression in his eyes that was begging me to give him a different explanation. "...trying to..." I didn't want to hurt him. Gale. My best friend. My hunting partner. This boy... this man covered in soot, dead and dirty from the mines, hardened and tough from the weight of his family hanging on his shoulders. Gale whose eyes were mirrors of my own.

We were the same, Gale and I. A perfect match. We knew, just knew, how to read each other so easily. Gale was the easy choice.

Gale had been the easy choice just half a year earlier. But like I said, a lot can change in half a year.

"I've been trying to seduce Peeta." I held his gaze, even though I knew this would hurt us both.

"You wanted this." Gale's voice was curiously even and that's what had me concerned. Gale didn't do even. He got spitting mad and determined and hurt and sad. His face was like an I Can Read book, emotion spilling across the pages instead of words.

"I was asking him for it," I replied, because I was still hung up on whether or not I wanted anything, much less any of this. He could go talk to Madge if he wanted a better explanation. She probably had one.

Abruptly, he got up off the bed and turned away from me. "I should check on the kids," he told me, though we both knew his siblings were fine with his mother, Hazelle.

I didn't stop him, didn't call after him. The time for childish ideas of fairness had passed. If Gale couldn't handle being just my friend, then we couldn't be anything at all. I felt something inside me break. A deep crack ran along my heart, as though I had been gutted.

But I still didn't stop him.

The door to my bedroom hung open, but I heard the front door slam.

The tears streaming down my face were silent and I brushed them away easily. I hadn't considered that Gale was going to be one of the prices I was paying.

The first thing I noticed was the glaring bruise that was beginning to form around his eye and the swollen cut on his lip. I let out an unintentional cry and rushed to him, reaching out my hands to touch his face. Peeta pulled back from me. He looked away.

"It's nothing," he said evenly.

I stood there frozen in place as he moved towards the kitchen, putting down the bread he had made that day on the counter.

Although I knew I deserved the cold shoulder from him, I couldn't help the hurt that welled inside me. I didn't want him to be cold to me.

"That doesn't look like nothing," I told him, annoyed. I wouldn't be hurt. That would be stupid. Annoyance was easier to deal with.

He still didn't look at me. "Don't concern yourself with it."

It was the way he said it. With a degree of apathy and a little bit of a sneer. As though I were some little princess that didn't have to "worry her pretty little head" over such things. It pissed me off if for no other reason than he said it like Haymitch would have.

"Well, I'm concerning myself with whatever punched my husband in the face, so just spill it!" I fumed at him angrily.

He froze. He just stood there at the counter unmoving. Something subtle had changed in his demeanor. When he finally looked over at me there was something startling in his eyes. I thought... I thought it might be hope.

"That's the first time you've called me your husband."

All the anger drained out of me, replaced by a torrent of everything I had been feeling rushing through me until I was dizzy enough to collapse to my knees. I tried to breathe, tried to calm down, tried to hold back tears and anguish and helplessness.

I tried not to think I was pregnant.

I hadn't heard him move across the room, so I must have been out of it, but there he was. He knelt down beside me and rubbed a strong hand along my curved back, whispering that everything was going to be okay.

It made me sob a little louder.

After everything, after all of this, here he was. Comforting me. Sometimes I just hated myself.

"I'm sorry," I managed to hiccup amidst my tears. "I didn't mean to do this to you."

He shook his head and continued to rub my back. "This isn't your fault, Katniss."

I didn't know how he could so easily forgive me. If our roles were reversed, I didn't think I would have ever forgiven him.

I don't know how long we were there on the floor of the living room, me trying desperately to pull myself together as he shushed me gently. But by the time I had settled down it was night. The room was dark, the sounds of District 12 had faded to a dull hum that told me people had settled in for sleep. Sleep. Now how would we ever sleep? We had already established that I needed Peeta at my side to deal with the torturous night, but could I ever lay beside him again without remembering our heated exchange?

I didn't think I could.

"You never should have loved me," I finally whispered, voice hoarse and raw from crying.

He let out a sigh and sat fully on the floor beside me, his hand moving away from my back. "It's not really something I decided to do, you know. It just happened."

Everything just happened with us. His love, our Games, the marriage, the... what happened after. Everything was just a huge accident that no one could have really foreseen. Even my own growing emotional attachment to Peeta was an accident. I certainly had never intended for it.

"If you could change it... would you?" I asked him, half-dreading the answer.

It was a long moment that he thought about it, considering his words. When he answered, it was with another question. "Would you want me to?"

Again we were back to what I wanted. Like it mattered. Like I had any say over what transpired from here on out. I straightened up, scrubbing at my face again. I wiped at my nose, sniffling. Did I want him to? My immediate answer was yes. Yes, of course I would want him to change it. If he just weren't in love with me, all of this would be different. It wouldn't matter. It would be unfortunate, sure, but it wouldn't be devastating. Not for him; not for me. But then my treacherous heart spoke up with a tiny no. Such a small word, but the implications were huge.

No, I wouldn't want him to change it. Some selfish part of me wanted Peeta Mellark to love me as he had forever. I wanted to keep this one small beautiful thing to myself. I didn't want to see him with someone else, happy and glowing and twirling her around in his arms, because he loved her so damn much. I never wanted to see that.

Even though I knew it was what was best for him.

"No," I told him honestly, because I knew it was pointless to lie.

His hand reached out to touch my face. Gently, he applied pressure to force my gaze to him. "Why not?"

I shook my head. I wasn't ready for this.

"Katniss, please, you have to tell me why. I don't know what to do, how to make you happy if you don't tell me why."

Maybe it was the pleading tone he had taken, or maybe I was just too tired to fight about all of this anymore. I had already made my choices, inside and out, whether I had intended to or not. It was time to face things.

"Because I was never beautiful, until you looked at me," I told him, feeling more naked than I had last night. "I didn't know I ever wanted to feel anything until you made me want things. Because I don't want to face everything alone and you're the only one... You're the only one who... who can..." I stumbled, because that's what I do. I stumble. When it comes to words and feelings I need someone there to hold my hand and walk me through it. I needed Peeta to tell me what to do.

"I guess I just need you," I finished lamely.

He sighed again and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against mine. "Well, I'm here," he told me heavily. "I'll be here in whatever way you need me. If that's as your husband, then great, of course. It's everything I've ever wanted. But, Katniss, if you... if you only need me as someone to chase away the nightmares, to help you through the bad times, I'll be that, too. Whatever you need, that's what I want to be. Don't make yourself do things you don't want."

His voice broke on that last line and I knew he was thinking last night. I wanted to tell him it wasn't like that. I hadn't made myself do something I hadn't wanted. Maybe I didn't understand this kind of want. Maybe I was scared of it. Maybe the idea of needing Peeta was more than I was ready for. But I would never think of our love-making as something that had been ripped from me unwillingly. I would take the responsibility for my actions, and his, too, if he needed me to.

Love-making. I didn't know when I had started thinking of it like that, but I had. I didn't want to face it, or think of it, but if Peeta was willing to stand with me through everything, then the least I could do was accept this one fact.

I had made love to him last night. And you can't do that if you don't...

Damn it all. I had never wanted to be married; Snow forced me into that. I had never wanted to have children; Snow had made it clear I would have to. And I had never wanted to be in love; but Peeta's ever-present, unrelenting, unexpected adoration had forced me to consider it. Now that I had, I couldn't help it.

I hadn't wanted to love him, but I did.

If I had thought acknowledging it would lift some weight off of my shoulders, then I would be disappointed. It didn't. Instead, I found a new burden came with it. I would have to find a way to protect him, to keep him if I could. To lose him if I must. To save the child that could be growing within me, when I knew I couldn't. Not as things were. Not with the threat of the Hunger Games there hanging over our heads. Because the truth was I hadn't wanted to feel anything for him or any child we might have together. The target painted on their backs would be too rosy red.

But it was too late for that.

I was in love now; that changed everything. It wasn't just about Prim anymore, or Gale. To save this family I had unintentionally started, I was going to have to change the world.

I was going to have to stop the Hunger Games.

"Peeta," I said, staring him right in the eye. "I love you. And I'm sorry for what that means."

A/N: I apologize for the little pregnancy rhyming poem thingy. Also, it occurs to me that this must have been an exceedingly long day. x)

Katniss: I hate you.
Missi: O.O but, whhhhyyyy?
Katniss: Longest. Day. Ever.
Missi: Oh. Yeah, that...