Woo hoo! A hundred reviews! This is awesome. :) Thanks again for all of the lovely thoughts and comments. I would like to go ahead and point out that I am not following the novel completely. There are just some things that I feel like wouldn't happen if Katniss found out that she was pregnant. And I would also like to apologize for this being so late. This chapter was exceedingly difficult to write for some reason. Regardless, I hope you enjoy what I could manage. Happy reading!

Chapter 10

"Pull Yourself Together, Katniss"

My last month at home goes by quickly. Peeta and I spent our time relaxing, eating way too many cheese buns, and not talking about anything of importance. It was perfect. So perfect, that I almost, almost, forgot that I would ever have to be in the Games at all. That is, until a train with one hundred Peacekeepers arrive the day before the reaping. There is no way to overlook them.

The day of the reaping is smoldering hot. I stand in a small, roped-off area by myself; Haymitch and Peeta stand similarly to the left of me. Everything is the same, except there is no anticipation, no sweaty palms and queasy stomach. Everyone knows who will be District 12's female tribute. Effie stands on stage in a metallic wig, making a big show of shuffling the one slip of paper around the girls' reaping bowl. The only thing different is that she seems to have lost her sense of vigor, as if she is holding back sadness. She calls my name, I go forward.

Haymitch's name is called, but almost instantly Peeta volunteers. No one is surprised. We expect it to be the same as always, but we are mistaken. Without even letting us give the crowd so much as a smile, we are whisked off. The Peacekeepers lead us through the back door of the Justice Building and onto a train. It is nothing like last time. There is one to see us off. Haymitch and Effie are escorted onto the train just as quickly. The door is slammed shut, and we are off, leaving District 12 and everyone we love behind us.

The train sways slightly. I sit at the window, thinking of everything I had planned to say to my family. I had no hope of ever returning, but I wanted to say…something. I wanted to kiss Prim's hair and hold her. I wanted to tell her that everything would be ok, and that she would be safe. I wanted to tell my mother thank you for being so supportive. I needed her to know that I really did love her. I also wanted to see Gale. I needed to know that no matter what he felt for me or my situation, that he would help Prim and my mother through this. I needed him to know that they were not only losing me, but their future grandchild and niece. But everything going through my mind was meaningless. The Capitol had robbed me of my parting words to my family as well.

Peeta sat down beside me, placing his hand securely in mine. "We will write letters." I merely nodded, knowing that I would never actually write to them. While it may give them something physical to hold onto, I could never make it personal enough to actually give to them. I am not great at writing things on paper—I need the physical aspect to help me.

I lay my head on his shoulder and lapse into a strange state where nothing is actually real and I feel no emotion. I feel comfort here. I feel myself falling asleep and know that I have become too comfortable. I have to snap out of this. I am no good if I keep mulling over what is to be lost. I need to focus on protecting Peeta. I pull myself upright and notice that Peeta's hand rests on my abdomen. I know where his focus lies, protecting me and the baby. I smile softly at him and begin walking to my room to think.

Once inside, I shut my door and sink onto my bed. I rest my hand across my belly button, still not sure exactly where the baby is. My stomach seems to have shifted upward, making it look as if I have put on weight in my stomach and I am not pregnant. I still feel no sense of protection over it. Maybe I would be protecting Peeta if I stayed alive and gave birth to our child. The thought stuck for a moment, but was immediately cast aside. I could never bring our child into a world where he/she would inevitably face the same fate in the arena as Peeta. Besides, I would never be able to go on if that boy weren't around to smile or hold me when I needed comforted. It just wouldn't work. Peeta must live.

Effie interrupts my reverie, knocking and calling me to dinner. Emotional exhaustion is setting in. I feel it weighting me to the ground every time I stand. Pull yourself together, Katniss. Be strong.

I pull my shoulders back, take a deep breath, and head to dinner. No one really feels like talking. The first time was too much, but to be here again seems to be overwhelming everyone beyond belief. Occasionally, someone tries to start conversation, but nothing really sticks.

"I love your new hair, Effie," Peeta remarks across the table. I looked and noticed that it was a metallic color for the first time. I really do need to get myself together. Her face lights up momentarily. "I dyed it to match Katniss' mockingjay pin. I have been thinking about getting you and Haymitch something to go along with it to look like a team. What do you think?"

I shift uncomfortably. Effie apparently is not aware of the rebel's use of my mockingjay pin. In her world, it is only the reminder of an especially riveting year in the Games. Everyone nods, and Peeta fakes enthusiasm. "That sounds like a great idea, Effie."

"Thank you. I was thinking about an ankle band for you and maybe a bracelet for Haymitch." I look at Haymitch. He isn't drinking, but I can tell that he wants to be. I laugh a little. "Maybe we can get Haymitch a wig, too." He shoots me a "leave me alone" glare and returns to his meal. Still fun.

"Shall we watch the recap of the reapings?" Effie asks as she places her fork down lightly and moves the napkin from her lap to the corners of her mouth. We all nod. I would rather not, but I know that I need to. I need to know who I will have to kill in order to save Peeta. Peeta grabs his notebook that he has been using since we began training and moves to the compartment with the TV to join us.

The anthem plays and we watch as the living fifty nine of seventy five victors face the same fate as I do. Some are old, which is reassuring and sad at the same time. They thought they were safe, too. Every district produces a male and female tribute. We watch, Peeta marking the names of our opponents.

They are over quickly. Effie and Haymitch retire, leaving Peeta and myself alone. He begins ripping out the pages of notes that he has written on the victors that we will not be facing. Everything becomes more and more real every time he rips out another page. He looks up at me momentarily. "You should sleep, Katniss."

"I won't be able to." He doesn't even look up from his notebook. "You should try." I don't want to leave him, but I know that he is right. I move to my room and still my thoughts long enough to fall asleep. But of course, I woke up screaming three hours later from a nightmare where Peeta died protecting me. He threw his body on top of mine, protecting me from the knife that plunged deeply into his back. The last thing I remember is screaming for him and feeling his warm blood ooze onto my body. I leapt from my bed and walked to the TV room. I was surprised to find Peeta there.

He was watching some of the old Games. "Nightmare," I put in before he could ask. He shifted a little, making it easy for me to snuggle in to his body. I did so, and wished that I had never gone to bed. I feel so much safer than when I'm alone. We watched several of the Games in silence, but then a thought hit me.

"You know, I have never seen the Games where Haymitch wins." I notice by the look on his face that he hasn't either. "You think he would mind?" He seems to really think about it, scrunching his brow for a moment. "I don't really know. I would never want to watch our Games again." I look around to make sure Haymitch isn't lurking anywhere. It feels like we are infringing upon Haymitch's private life. However, the games were public.

"Maybe we just won't tell him." Peeta shrugs and we put in the tape in anyway. It opens with the anthem as always. Then a younger still-awful Snow comes on-screen, informing the citizens that every district will offer up twice the amount of tributes in honor of the Quarter Quell. I take that in for a moment. It sounds near-impossible. The editors move right into the clips of the reapings. It is terrible to know that all of these children are being sent to their death.

We watch intensely as the tributes from 12 are picked. A girl who is obviously from the Seam is picked. "Maysilee Donner." The name is familiar. "That's my mother's friend." Then the camera cuts to Maysilee clinging to two other girls. Peeta points to the girl on the right. "I think that's your mother." I nod, but can't seem to pull my eyes away from the television. She was so beautiful. My gaze then falls on the girl to the left. She looks exactly like Maysilee, and someone else but I can't place who. Peeta knows exactly who it is.

"That's Madge's mother. They were twins." "How do you know that?" I ask, but never move my eyes from the emotional scene. "My dad mentioned it once." I feel my heart sink a little. This is why Madge's mother is always in bed. We watch as Maysilee breaks from her friends, and moves to the large platform. "My pin was hers." Peeta nods, but I know that he understands the magnitude. It means so much more to me now.

Haymitch is called last. He looks young, strong, even handsome (as hard as that is to admit), but still looked dangerous. It really throws us both off to see him. Then a horrible thought hits me. "You don't think he killed Maysilee, do you?" He shakes his head and pulls me a tiny bit closer to him. "The odds are against it. They were in the arena with forty eight players." It helps the strange nagging I feel at the thought.

Then it moves to the chariot rides. District 12's tributes look hideous as coal miners, and then the interviews. Of course, the other tribute's interviews have been cut, except Haymitch. His tactic is to remain arrogant and quippy, which works. He manages to capture a few laughs from the audience, and then the tape cuts to the Games. The tributes are about to rise into the arena when I quickly hit pause.

"Is this a good idea? What if we find something we don't like?" Peeta shrugs. "I don't know. I feel like we can deal with it after what we've been through. We might even learn some stuff." I let that sink in for a moment. He's right. I hit play once more. Let the 50th annual Hunger Games begin.

Ok, so this was running a bit long. I'll divide this into two chapters. Tell me what you think so far. I had a hard time writing this one so reviews would be much appreciated. It just didn't seem to flow as easily as the last chapters have been.

Thanks for reading!