A/N: This is going to become a three-part chapter! Next chapter is going to be called, "Misadventures in Parenting: with Platinum!"

Platinum's POV

I wake up to my sister crying by my bedside.

I'm in a hospital. Monitors beep around me, IV's are hooked up to my arms.

She holds onto my hand tightly.

I groan. My head is killing me. My whole body aches, in fact. My heart's still beating.

I'm alive. It didn't work.

It didn't work. I'm alive.

So I guess I'm stuck here. I'm stuck on this damn planet until the day I die: naturally.

"Why the hell are you so upset?" I groan at my sister.

"It's a damn good thing you're awake! Didn't waste all this time worrying for you to die."

"Why do you care!?" I try wording the question in a more direct way that she'll understand.

"Because I can't take this baby. And I'm not aborting it. So you get to take it."

My eyes pop open. How the hell does she think this is Ok!?

"I'm not taking it! It's your kid, you're the one that slept around and got knocked up. Not me." But the reality is that I just don't feel ready to be a father.

"You've got money, and food, and your own mansion!"

"The Victor's house is just how I like it. Nice and alone."

"Fine. Then try to imagine me being a Mom for a second."

It's a little bit of a scary thought. Paradise is going to be the worst Mom in the world. Then again, me as a single Dad won't be much better.

"I don't care. Your'e taking this snotty thing with it comes out of my vagina, and that's final. And you're going to raise it."

"Para-"

"I don't care! You had better get ready for it. And prepare for the worst."

She stomps away before I can protest any further.

I can't be a father. I'm not ready yet! I don't even know what a good father… Does!

Paradise sticks her head back in the room. "I'm telling all the Capitol reporters that you're taking it. There's no chickening out now!"

"PARADISE!" the scream is strained as the drugs start to pull my tense body to a relaxing state and I start to black out.

I'm going to have to be a father.

Whether I'm ready or not.

THE DAD DIARIES

Entry #1

Paradise is making me raise her baby.

I'M FREAKING OUT.

As I've said umpteen times before, I'm not ready for this yet! I am currently horrified.

So, I've decided to keep this journal, to help me organize my thoughts and to keep track of my misadventures in parenting. Perhaps that would be a better title for this journal.

I think the first thing that needs to be done is this. Right here and now I'm making some promises to myself. I'm a man of his word, so I'm going to make myself heed to these promises, and to do that, I have to have it in writing.

First of all, after the suicide failed, I've begun to cut. Yes, it hurts, yes, it's ugly, and hell yeah it bleeds, but it's the only thing I can think of to continue to punish myself for all these deaths. They were all cut, too. They all bled, too. And you know what? I think that the razor brings me closer to them. Sure, I don't feel closer. If anything, I feel farther away. But it should bring me closer, right?

Anyways, the first promise I'm making to myself is that, when the baby is born, I'll QUIT. I have to write it in big capital letters to make sure that I heed to it in the future. I WILL QUIT. Then the cuts will become scars and it'll all be over.

The second promise is directed towards the baby. I solemnly swear to this child that I will really try my best. This means no cutting, no alcohol, no smoking, and no drugs. I swear that I will never abandon him, never let him starve, never leave him crying… And I solemnly swear that I will love him/her no matter who they become. This kid is a person, not a toy. They're my biological nephew/niece, adopted son/daughter. I'll love them no matter what they do, no matter what stupid name Paradise gives to them. I promise this.

I promise to adhere to both of these promises. Yeah, that's right.

I'm going to be a father, and I'm going to be a good one.

Entry #2

Paradise just got an ultrasound and they finally told us that they think it's a boy! I'm going to have a son! Oh, what a relief it is… I really was hoping for not a daughter because I don't deal with girls very well. I mean, I'm way too awkward to explain why bleeding out of your girly area is a good thing!

Anyways, today, I'm spending the day shopping for my future nephew. And son, I suppose.

Paradise has given him the name Valiant. It's not the worst name in the world, I suppose.

So far, I've gotten a crib (which, goddammit, I just can't put together), a pretty blue teddy bear, a pillow and a soft, plushy blanket. I've bought so many diapers that they fill almost the whole downstairs bathroom.

Hm… Maybe now that I'm a single-father-to-be I won't be prostituted quite as much. Just a random thought.

Anyways, back on topic, I went to the store after that and got so many jars of mashed up baby food peas that I was actually getting weird looks. But, hey, one of the promises I made earlier was that he would never go hungry. And with the number of peas I got, he should be good for probably a year or so, (but I'm bad at estimating.)

There are jars of mashed peas everywhere and I see them even when I blink.

If I even just see another jar of mashed up baby food peas, I might just faint. Now, to get back to working on that damn crib! It'd better be a hell of a good crib or else I might just have to smash a jar of peas against my head in the pure frustration of being a new father with a bad crib that he CAN'T FUCKING PUT TOGETHER!

Also, uh, it kind of just came to me that maybe I shouldn't swear around the kid. Uh, yeah, I'll really have to get used to that one.

But, hey, nobody ever said that being a single dad was gonna be easy.

Entry #3

Might. Go. Insane.

So. Many. Jars. Of. Peas.

This baby had better be born soon: and hungry.

Paradise was due yesterday, and so far nothing. Come on, baby…

I've been a nervous wreck for the past two weeks. I don't know why, because everything is ready.

The bedroom downstairs has been turned into a nursery, the crib's been put together, finally, and the house is 110% baby-proofed. I checked, checked again, got Paradise to check for it, and checked it one final time. I think I'll check it again when she finally goes into labor.

The nursery turned out really pretty. The walls are soft pink and powder blue. The scratchy carpet in there has been replaced by a soft pink, pushy carpet that I really like to play with in my toes. A wooden dresser has been set up with a monitor on it and diapers everywhere. The blanket and bear are set up in the crib and there's a toy box in the corner of the room just waiting to be filed. A pretty wooden rocking chair sits in the corner of the room opposite the toy box. The changing table is by the closet, with everything you'd need to change him.

I've done everything I need to. It's all up to you now, Valiant.

And Daddy's ready for you.

Entry #4

Paradise is in labor! She has been for about an hour now or so.

It's terrifying.

I stayed with her for about half an hour until she screamed at me to get lost and not come back until the baby's born. So here I am, pacing and writing in the waiting room at the hospital, waiting for him.

Reporters and photographers from the Capitol are popping in to interview me. Usually, they're nothing but annoying, but today, I like to have someone to talk to every now and again.

I have to go for one last interview and then I think I'll get to see my child.

"Thank you, Stacey!" says the man dressed in sky blue, black, and gray, "I'm Walt Lassiter and I'm here, in the hospital waiting room with our very first Victor, Platinum Krietzer, as he waits eagerly for his nephew and son-to-be. So, Platinum, we're dying! What is your sister going to name him!?"

The Victor, no more than 20, thinks carefully before finally deciding to tell the truth, "Valiant," he says. He still isn't sure if Walt's smile is genuine or fake.

"What a name!" the Capitolite gushes, "Do you think we'll see him in the Games!? Surely with the first Victor for a father, he'll only be the best of the best in the Arena!"

They stormy-eyed boy thinks this through carefully. He's surely thought about this. His truthful answer? Something along of the lines of, I really hope you won't. But he doesn't want President Augustus to lay a finger on his son ever: or his sister: because of him saying something stupid, so he answers with a lie. "Of course he you will! And he's going to win!"

Walt laughs, "Such spirit! Really, Platinum, that's amazing. You are so devoted to the Games! Truly someone for District 1 to strive to be like!"

Platinum's been planning the response to something like this for a long time. For sleepless night after sleepless night. "Well, Walt, you see, the Games have done so much for me. I mean, the Games have helped me find who I am. They've made me braver, stronger, and they got me away from my parents. They proved that I am strong and brought me more fame, glory, and riches than I ever could've imagined. They showed me a group of people that accept me for who I am. Because of the love they showed me, I can pass on that love to Valiant and he can be whoever he wants to be, too."

Walt puts a hand on his heart, looking touched. "So sweet. You're such a winner! Mind answering one more question?"

Of course, the response from the Victor is, "Of course not!"

Walt takes a pause and says, "Someone who I think we can all agree was valiant was your friend and fellow Victor Nate McIalwin. Have you thought about taking a name from there?"

Platinum freezes. That remark hurt his heart. All he can do is say quietly, "Well, it's her choice, not mine."

After another pause, Walt continues, "Do you hope that Valiant will have the same good qualities as Nate?"

Platinum simply nods and says, "Yeah."

Walt turns to the camera and says, "Well, there you have it, folks. I'm Walt Lassiter and we'll check in with you later!" Platinum wears a winning smile as Walt finishes with a cheery, "Back to you, Stacey!"

Platinum's POV

As soon as Walt finishes, the boy in purple turns off the camera and Walt breaks the impeccable character he had before. "Sorry for that. God, the Capitol is such a stupid place full of stupid people!"

"True that," says the cameraman. He sits next to Walt.

Walt is a tall, skinny Capitolite with light blue hair and bright gray eyes. He wears a nice blue shirt with a gray and white striped scarf and a pair of light blue jeans, with blue tennis shoes on his feet. His cameraman is shorter than Walt and he wears a lavender shirt with dark purple pants and a pair of heavy boots. He has shaggy, dark red-violet hair that's half-covered in a purple ball cap and bright red-violet eyes that have to be contacts.

"Wait… What?!" I ask, confused.

"I figured you'd be shocked."

I can only nod.

"I'm Walt, as you've heard. This is my baby brother and my cameraman, Jericho."

The boy in purple waves. "We're some of your biggest fans!" he says.

"I figured we'd come over here and try to prove that not all Capitolites are airheads."

"Walt's real smart like that!" Jericho adds.

The older Capitolite smiles affectionately at his brother.

"Look, I'm really sorry about Nate. I think it's so incredibly stupid, what the Capitol did to him."

"Real stupid!" Jericho echoes.

"You think that's stupid? They dyed my bangs without my consent!" I remind them.

"It was cute, though," Walt points out.

I'm still not used to people complimenting me like that. I blush and laugh nervously, running a hand through my hair.

Both of the brothers just laugh. "That's as funny in real life as it looks on TV!" Jericho remarks.

I blush harder but don't object. It won't do any good, I decide.

"Good luck with the kid, Platinum," Walt says. "And if you ever need an ally in the Capitol, feel free to give me a call." He takes a magic marker from his pocket and scribbles a number on my hand. "You can wash that off, by the way" he adds.

"Real easily!" Jericho adds.

Walt looks at my wrist. "What is this?" he asks, pointing to the drawing on my wrist.

"That's a butterfly, Walt," Jericho says, "Duh."

"I, uh, drew it because it's some trend I saw and I like it. I have the butterfly on my wrist, and if I cut myself then I kill it. And it has to fade off on its own, you can't wash it off. The point is to remind me that I have something to live for now and that self-harm isn't the answer anymore."

Walt looks sympathetic. Jericho throws his arms around me and says, "Oh, but Platinum! You're so wonderful, though! There are so many people that look up to you!"

"All for the wrong reasons, though."

Jericho lets go of me and Walt hugs me next. I lay my head on his shoulder and sigh.

"But there are some who look up to you for the right reasons," he whispers.

"Like what?" I ask quietly.

"For being strong. For being brave. For putting on a smile even though you're dying inside. For carrying on for so long, for surviving. For showing so much love for the blonde "outcast" from your District and the sullen boy from District 4. For showing love to that little boy from 2, when you realized what had happened. For showing love for Nate. For not being afraid to cry on national television. For trying to make things right where you went wrong in the past. And even for your coming out of the closet in front of the whole world and getting kicked out." His words make me feel better. There's no way they couldn't.

"Do people really think that?" I ask quietly, trying my hardest not to cry.

"Of course they do!" Jericho says.

"We do," Walt says quietly, running his fingers through my hair.

"Thanks," I choke out.

"No problem!" Jericho says.

Walt whispers, "You know what? I think you're the bravest guy in the whole world. No joke. And I think that Valiant will be lucky to have someone as wonderful as you for a father."

Why hasn't this wonderful person entered my life until now!? These are the words I've been dying to hear since I won the stupid Games!

"Thanks," I say with a small smile. Walt strokes my hair rhythmically for a while and we all sit in silence.

Eventually I feel like I'm about to fall asleep, and I can't have that with my son on the way, so I sit up. "Thanks, you too. For everything."

Both of them smile widely. "It was a real pleasure!" Jericho says.

"And, it was really nice to meet you." Walt winks and I smile back at him.

"Real nice!" Jericho says enthusiastically, tugging the purple ball cap over his dark, red-violet hair.

"It's nice to know that not all Capitolites are idiots," I add with a smile.

"Aw, thanks!" Jericho says with a smile.

A nurse comes out just then and says, "Your sister and nephew are ready for you, Mr. Krietzer."

"I'll talk to you later," I tell Walt and Jericho, before getting up and walking to my sister.

I sit next to where Paradise is lying on a bed.

"Hey sis," I whisper, sitting next to her. Her green eyes smile playfully. She never wears that look unless she's up to something.

"…How's Valiant?" I ask, ignoring her expression.

"He's not Valiant," she says, "I decided not to name him Valiant."

"Why not?" I ask.

She shrugs, "He's your kid, not mine."

I become hopeful, "You're letting me name him!?"

She smiles. "No. I named him after you."

There's a pause.

"What?" I ask dumbly.

"His name is Dutch Valiant Krietzer. Congrats, bro!"

My middle name!

Oh, how I hate my middle name!

And she named this child after it!

I know that she did that to piss me off!

Paradise smirks at me as the drugs pull her back to sleep.

Dutch.

His name is Dutch.

I copy Walt's number from my hand to a slip of paper, and then go to the sink to wash it off. Can't have Paradise seeing the number of another boy written on my hand. She'd take Dutch back and scream at me about how boys flirting with me isn't Ok.

But, no, Walt wasn't flirting with me… Was he!? I'm much to naïve for these things!

Anyways, I write down the number because I figure that I could use an ally in the Capitol. Then I wash it off and take off my jacket to pace around the room.

Suddenly the door opens and I hear the shouting of eager Capitol reporters as a doctor walks in.

She's holding a little object very carefully in her arms. Just like I practiced so carefully with a sack of flour.

She smiles widely at me. "Good evening, Mr. Krietzer. You'll be glad to know that Dutch is perfectly healthy."

"He is!?" I ask. A smile spreads across my face, "That's great!"

She grins at me and asks, in a gentle voice, "Would you like to hold him?"

I nod eagerly, "Yeah!"

She puts the wad of cloth and child in my arms and exits the room. I look down at the baby in my arms.

His skin is soft and tender, his eyes are closed and he breathes the tiniest breaths in his sleep. Tears spring to my eyes.

Such a delicate, quiet, fragile thing… Human being… In those arms. My arms are rough, strong, powerful… I still have a bleeding wound that is caught by some of Dutch's cloths. It's been a long 9 months and this is one habit that's going to be hard to break.

This baby is lying in my cut-up, slashed at, scarred arms. Ugly, rough, arms… Beautiful, tender child.

And my new life begins when Dutch's huge eyes open.

It's a surreal moment. Dutch's eyes open and a smile spreads across his face when he sees me there. I want to reach up and wipe the tears out of my eyes but there's no way I'm letting go of him. Instead the tears drip down my face and hit the wad of blankets wrapped nice and snug around Dutch.

His eyes smile before his lips do. They're a deep teal color, specked with blues and greens and even a little gold.

He blinks up at me and smiles. He makes no noise and he doesn't move at all except for his pleased, teal eyes.

"Hi Dutch," I whisper.

Upon hearing my voice, his smile widens.

HE LIKES ME! HE REALLY LIKES ME!

I walk around the room with the baby in my arms. I laugh softly at how big his eyes get when he smiles. "Yeah. Daddy's here. Daddy's right here for you."

He looks as if he's trying to move but the blankets hold his limbs in place. I laugh. A true laugh, full of happiness, the first real laugh I've laughed since those times back when Nate was around.

Upon hearing my laugh, Dutch's smiling lips open and he makes a happy-sounding baby noise. The grin on my face widens as I sit down. I unwrap my son slightly to take his little hand in my big one. It's the gentlest I've been in a long time.

"Dutch…" I whisper to him. He looks up at me, quiet but looking quite pleased.

"Now that you're in my life, a lot is going to change. I'll become happier. But I'm telling you now that I will mess up. And I'm sorry in advanced for that. But I'm confident that there are going to be a lot of happy times, like this one. Smiley times, that will make both of us laugh. And I think even this is one of those times. I already love you, and I love you for the Dutch that you are and the Dutch you are going to become. I promise I'll really try to be the best Dad in the world. I won't humiliate you…" a smile spreads across my face, "Well, not too badly, anyways… And I won't be too overprotective… But I promise that I will always be there for you no matter what and I promise that I'll stand with you every step of the way. I'll protect you from President Augustus, and I'll try my hardest to protect you from the Games. But, no matter what happens, no matter how many foods you spit on my face, no matter how many times you pee on me or puke on the carpet or on my shirt, I promise I'll never stop loving you. And I'll never get tired of seeing you smile."

He waves his arm around awkwardly when I let go of his hand and he looks up at me, very content, with a smile on his face. He makes another quiet but happy baby noise that I don't understand and blinks at me sleepily.

Here's test number one of being a good parent: the Putting it to Sleep test.

I stand back up and walk around the room with him, gently. Under my breath, I hum a song quietly as I cradle the sweet child in my arms. He's asleep in five minutes and this makes me feel quite accomplished.

I smile.

I made new friends, one of them being a potential boyfriend.

And I'm a Dad.

And now I have three things to live for, one of them being my beautiful little son.