A/N: Not to be one of those annoying authors who beg for reviews, but if you guys could toss a few my way that would be greatly appreciated! I love reading your suggestions or criticisms or just general comments! They are an inspiration and they make me want to update as fast as possible, so please, please, please throw a few my way? I'll even try to respond to some of them if you guys want. Sorry about the long wait on this, my schedule has been a bit crazy. Anyway I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 3: Feeling the Sting

I stare out across the capitol rooftops, taking in the city. The buildings are all painted in bright colors, their designs' more for aesthetic purposes than functional. The buildings stand tall and the skyline is beautiful, but not nearly as beautiful as the woods back home. I miss the feeling of my toes sinking into the dirt, moist from the morning dew. And, how after a rain, the leaves of the trees sparkled as though they were encrusted with precious gems. The natural beauty back home beats the synthetic one of the capitol on any day.

While I ponder these thoughts, I notice a presence behind me. My hunter's instinct hears the slight sound of air escaping as the door to the roof closes. I feel my hopes rise, as I listen to the familiar clunky footfalls and labored steps. I hold my breath as he comes to a stop at my side.

"Couldn't sleep?" I venture, hoping for a response.

"No." His answer is short and clipped, filled with unspoken hurt.

"Peeta, please talk to me." I beg, turning to face him. He looks terrible. He has deep purple bags under his eyes, and it looks as though he hasn't shaved in days.

"What's there to talk about? We're in the same place we were a year ago. I love you," after this, I barely register the rest of his speech. "But you don't love me, you jerk my feelings around, and not to mention we're going to have to fight to the death in just a few days."

"You still love me?" I say softly.

"Katniss," he sighs, running a hand through his thick, blonde hair, "of course I still love you. I've loved you since we were little kids rutting around in the same sandbox. I don't understand what I have to do to convince you of it."

"But the other night, a few weeks ago, you were so mad."

"I know, I just—I can't keep throwing myself out there and you shooting me down." He says, his eyes hardening.

"I don't know what you remember, but I didn't exactly turn you down last time," I point out with a smirk.

His face reddens, "I just don't think we did that for the right reasons. Let's face it, you love Gale, Katniss."

"Gale and I have barely spoken since I got back! He understands that I choose you, why can't you just pull your head out of your ass and see that?" I say throwing my hands up in the air in exasperation.

"Do you mean it?" his voice is barely above a whisper. In response to his question, I lean forward and press my lips against his, showing him just how much I love him.

After several moments, we both come up gasping for air. We look at each other for a moment and then he puts his arms around me, we lay on our backs, wrapped in each other's embrace.

"I miss the stars back home." I whisper after awhile.

"I know, here they just seem so—so,"

"Fake." I finish for him.

...

It feels odd to be standing back in the training room, but this time surrounded by different, much stronger, tributes (although Cato did come pretty close to their skill level). All eyes seem to be on Peeta and me and their stares make me feel uncomfortable.

Peeta must sense my discomfort, as he places a hand on the small of my back and guides me towards the foraging station. The woman there greets us with a smile as we spent most of our time at her station last year due to Haymitch's rule on hiding our talents.

We stay at the table for about an hour, learning about different berries and edible roots. I decide to head over to the archery station. I mean, what's the point of not practicing if everyone here has already seen what I can do?

I pick up an oak bow that resembles the one I use back home. After notching an arrow, I aim, take a deep breath, relaxing all my muscles, and let it fly. The arrow strikes the target in the head. I repeat this process several times, but eventually I get bored.

"Can we do anything else?" I ask the man that's supervising this particular station.

"I was hoping you would ask." He says with a grin, "We had this specially fitted for you, Miss Everdeen." With that he flips a small switch on the wall that I hadn't noticed before.

As soon as he does, the targets come to life. The human cutouts begin to move around in different patterns. I grin to myself at this challenge.

I notch another arrow and let it fly, striking a cut out in the center of its head. After several more minutes, each target has an arrow in its head. The man flips the switch, and the targets jerk to a stop. I turn around and place the bow back on the rack.

When I turn back around, I see that the rest of the room is staring back at me, their eyes wide. I regard them coolly, trying not to show emotion as, in a few days, we will all be attempting to kill each other. I spin on my heel and go to the hand-to-hand combat station.

...

"Sweetheart, I don't know what you did down there, but I just got a bunch of requests from the other trainers for you to be in an alliance." Haymitch says as he pours himself a drink from the bar.

"I just did a little target practice." I smirk.

"That's my girl," He says with a laugh, "So what do you think about an alliance?"

"I mean, that's what got me and Peeta through the last time, so I guess so." I say with a shrug. He nods his head at my statement and I hesitate before speaking again. "Haymitch, I need to ask you for something."

"I already know what you're gonna say, honey, and I'll do my best."

"Just make sure he's the one that comes home. I don't want to live without him."

"As I said, I'll do my best."

...

My eyes fly open the next morning and I throw myself out of bed. I barely make it to the toilet before the contents of my stomach come flying out of my mouth. I heave for several minutes, before standing up and rinsing out my mouth.

I open the bathroom door to find Haymitch staring at me with hardened eyes. He cuffs me by the back of the neck and leads me out of the room and down the corridor. I open my mouth to protest, but the look on his face makes me stop dead in my tracks.

Effie sees us and her eyes widen in shock, "Haymitch I—" She starts.

"Shut the fuck up, Effie." He snarls.

"Well I never." She stands up and leaves with a huff.

Haymitch leads me to the first aid center, each floor is equipped with one, as the capitol wants their tributes in tip top shape for the games. He rummages through several drawers and then grabs a small rectangular box from one. He then leads me back to the bathroom.

"Piss on this." He says, shoving the box at me.

"Haymitch, what the hell—

"Just fucking do it." His voice is hard.

I shut the bathroom door and lean up against it, taking several deep breaths. I then glance at the box Haymitch gave me; a pregnancy test. I stare at it in shock and disbelief. I turn to tell Haymitch he's mistaken when I pause, my hand on the door handle, mentally counting back the days since my cycle. 7 weeks.

It's always been irregular, though. With food being so scarce back home, it's always been a bit off. But seven weeks. There's only one way to find out, I think to myself.

I follow the instructions on the box and then wait an agonizing two minutes. After I've counted back from sixty, twice, I turn to the little stick on the counter. The two little lines seem to stare back at me, mocking me.

A little squeak escapes my throat and I put my hand over my mouth, tears streaking down my cheeks. I hear the door click open.

Haymitch walks over to me and peers at the test, "What have you done?" He says. It sounds more like he's talking to himself than to me, "Whose is it, Gale's?"

"Peeta's" I choke out, "It was always Peeta, Haymitch."

"As glad as I am that you've realized that, sweetheart, you've got one hell of a mess to clean up." I let out another sob as I realize he's right.