SERIOUS QUESTION: One of my readers has suggested that after this, I write one more Resistance story about the Capitol Hunger Games/Finnick and Annie's son/all that good stuff. I'll only do it if you guys want me to. PM me or give me and answer in your reviews, please. Thanks!

Cold Feet

(FINNICK)

"OW!" I shout as the hammer smashes my thumb. "Son of a bitch!"

Annie laughs.

"Why does this kid even need a crib?" I ask. "This is a perfectly nice floor. It can sleep on it quite comfortably."

Annie smiles. "I'm sorry, but if anyone's sleeping on the floor, it's you." She picks up my hand and lightly kisses the injury. "Better?"

I nod, smiling. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"It's been a month, Finnick." She drops my hand and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm fine. I promise."

I swallow. "It's not just . . . that."

See, Annie knows that I know. She also knows that Telemachus is dead. But she doesn't know I killed him. I'm sure she has her suspicions, though. And she'll still have nightmares about it. That is something I know to be a fact.

I pick up another bit of wood and try to figure out how it connects to the bedframe. I continue, "Are you all right with the Games?"

"Obviously not. They're going to slaughter twenty-three more children and ruin one's life. Just to prove a point."

"Is that what you think?" I ask in a low voice. "That the Games ruined your life?"

"No. Not mine. Mine brought me to you."

"And Broadsea," I mutter under my breath.

"What?" she asks.

I smile. "Nothing." I go back to assembling the cradle as Annie tugs uncomfortably her dress. "What are you doing?"

"This stupid thing doesn't fit right!" she says angrily.

"Then why do you wear it?"

"Because dresses are the only thing that fit." She puts her hands on her abdomen and frowns. "I'll be a whale, soon."

Annie has started showing. She's nearly four months in, and that doctors say she's doing well.

I know nothing about kids or childcare – and the only thing I know less about is pregnancy. My mother was pregnant before I went away to the Games; she had the baby while I was gone. Her husband took care of her. All I did was bring her food to satisfy her ridiculous cravings.

But now it's just me and Annie. And I'm scared out of my mind.

"Are you okay?" Annie asks, running her fingers through my hair.

"Of course I am," I lie.

[LATER]

"So, what?" Britton asks. "You don't want a kid?"

I hand him a tumbler. "No, it's not that. I just . . . I don't know what I'm supposed to do." The look he gives me says he doesn't get it. "I don't know how to take care of a pregnant woman or how to be a dad. And I don't want to screw it up."

He smiles. "Do you know why I married Io?"

"It was politically advantageous?" I say. "Or love. I'm guessing the latter."

He shakes his head, ruffling his hair in the process. (Damn, that boy needs a haircut . . .) "It was a shotgun wedding."

I'm taken aback. It's not that I've got a problem with that, but Britton and Io always seemed . . . I don't know. I always supposed they'd get married first chance. But they waited till they were nineteen or twenty. And . . .

I don't know. It just doesn't seem like them.

"You conceived a child out of wedlock?" I tease. "Shame, shame."

He gives me that same eye-roll look that Annie does. "Anyway. I was absolutely terrified. But it's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Well thanks for sharing, but I've heard that before."

"You'll understand soon."

Soon? I've heard that "soon" Annie will be on bed rest and completely dependent on me. But she already is. And soon some kid will be, too.

"I know you don't believe me," Britton says. "But try to relax. You'll figure it out as you go along."

"But how can you be sure?" I ask.

He takes a last sip of his drink and begins to go. "You figured it out with Annie, didn't you? Nobody had any idea how to handle her and you figured it out all on your own. Finnick, this is going to be an absolute cakewalk for you."

And with that, he's off.

The next morning, I find myself locked out of the bathroom as Annie gets sick.

"Annie?" I call. "Please let me in."

"No," she groans. "Go away."

"You leave me no other choice." I shove the door hard with my shoulder and it flies right open.

Annie is sitting beside the toilet, resting her head against the wall with her eyes shut. "Go away," she says weakly.

"No." I sit down beside her and wrap my arm around her shoulders.

"If I smell anything, it makes me sick." She groans, leans against me, and puts her hands on her baby-bump. "I don't like being pregnant." She turns her head and looks up at me through her thick lashes. "Does that make me bad?"

"No," I say, rubbing her back. "No, no . . ."

"What are you thinking about?" she asks quietly.

"The baby."

She cuddles up close to me. "You don't want it." I look at her, but she keeps her eyes down. "You don't hide it well."

"A-Annie, I, uh, I –"

"It's okay to admit it." That's when Annie looks into my eyes. She doesn't look as relaxed and carefree as she usually does. She looks . . . tough, I guess. Determined. "But I want it. I want it more than anything in the world. And I will never forgive either of us if we give it up. So whether you like it or not, this is happening."

For a second, I'm too stunned to speak.

Once I recover myself, I say, "Annie. I honestly don't know if I want a kid. But we're having one, and I've made peace with it. My problem is that I have no idea how to do this."

"And you think I do?" she says. But he eyes have softened up and she's smiling.

I kiss the top of her head just as the doorbell rings downstairs. I go down to get it.

Guess who's on the other side?

Dodge smiles like it's just an ordinary day. "Howdy, boss."