"What?" I squeaked. Peeta frowned. "What is that suppose to mean? Is that bad?"
"Well, it could mean a few different things." Dr. Longarden was talking while he typed my information into the computer. "It could mean you are indeed five or six months pregnant. It could mean the symptoms sped up and that your child will most likely die inside of you," I held onto Peeta's hand tightly. "It could mean that he already did," I found myself crying. Peeta wiped away tears on my cheeks while staring fixedly at the doctor. "And judging from the development in your abdomen, I could make several more guesses."
"Then make them." I begged him, mopping my eyes with the hem of my gown.
Doctor Longarden laced his fingers in his lap. "The size of your stomach is relatively bigger than a person only one month in, so I could again say that you are five or six months in. I could say your baby has had a major growth spurt and will come early, which will also lead to his death. I could say you are more than five or six months in, and the baby is waiting for a growth spurt right before the birth, which would be safe and okay." He paused, and I took the opportunity to talk.
"Well, aren't there tests you can do that would determine if one of those options is true?" I abandoned my earlier conclusion of how upset I would be if I had any more tests done.
"There are." He nodded.
"Which ones do you want to do on me?" I protectively curled my arms around my stomach, bringing Peeta's hand with me.
"One to determine how far you are in, one to tell me when it it—or was—due, a DNA sample to tell me who it's parents are, and one to tell me when it was conceived." The doctor rubbed his eyebrows and began tapping away on his computer again.
"I know who the parents are, and I already told you when—"I started, but the doctor cut me off.
"I need to know the exact date." He said, still typing.
I felt myself blush. Again. "Fine. When are the tests?"
"Three of them can be done today, but the other will have to be done tomorrow. That one I will have to sedate you for."
I looked up at Peeta with sad eyes. "Are you up for spending the day I the hospital with me?"
"Of course I am." He bent down and kissed the top of my head.
I saw the doctor pretend to not notice, and he turned back to the screen. "Excellent. I will need to get a second bracelet for you, and a different room. I'll be right back." He unplugged his laptop and carried it with him out of the room.
Peeta sat down next to me on the hospital bed and sighed. "So… He seemed pretty convinced that the baby isn't Gale's. Kind of weird, isn't it?" He was trying to act casual about it, but it was easy to hear the worry and confusion in his voice.
I had held myself together long enough, so I let the pressure of the moment brake over me and I let the threatening tears fall and I allowed myself to choke and sob. Burying my face in my hands, I curled my body up in a little ball and pressed myself against the pillow.
Peeta brought my head on his lap and smoothed my hair back. "Don't cry, Katniss. We will gert this fixed, I promise." When I didn't say anything, and continued to cry, he said, "Well, how bad could it really get? What is the worst possible outcome to this?"
If this was meant to cheer me up or calm me down, Peeta failed miserably. I covered my mouth with one of my hands and hiccupped, "I-I don't k-know."
"Well—"
"I don't w-want to talk a-about the worst p-possible o-outcome." I wrapped my arms protectively around my swollen stomach. "I-I don't want t-to think about m-my baby dying," My voice broke on the last word.
Peeta carefully lied down next to me on the bed and I put my head on his shoulder. With the edge of his sleeve, he wiped away my cheeks. "Then tell me, what do you want?" his voice was so soft and quiet I could barely hear him through my wet hiccups.
"I-I want…" When I took a deep breath, it sent me into a dramatic coughing fit which I quickly recovered from. "I want him."
Peeta's browns furrowed. When he didn't say anything, I took his hand and put it against my stomach.
"Peeta, I want my baby. I want him to have the best life possible, even if that means if it's with… with someone else. I want him not to be Gale's, but—"I choked on the last word and had to stuff my fist in my mouth to stop myself from crying again.
"But what?" Peeta used his other hand to brush away a stray piece of hair that had fallen into m face.
Before I could answer, the door opened again and Dr. Longarden strolled in. He always seemed to come in at the worst of times. Maybe he had been eavesdropping and his timing was purposeful.
Peeta and I sat up immediately and I tried to scrub the evidence of my breakdown from my eyes.
"It's all set, Katniss. I arranged the tests to be sent over to room twenty, and I signed you in properly. If you are ready now, we are going to get you transferred to that room," he said cheerfully, putting a second little plastic bracelet on my wrist. Maybe I'll start a new trend.