I'm pregnant.

The doctor leaves me in the small room, promising she'll be back in a minute to talk about options.

I don't care though. My heart is erratic and my breath short. My legs shake and my body wobbly as I grip the table and try to steady myself. I know she's wrong. This is food poisoning and she is incompetent. There's no way I'm having a baby. The very thought surfaces a chuckle from somewhere inside of me. Me, have a baby? Didn't I always swear I wouldn't? Of course. So why would I? How could I?

That's the part that makes no sense to me. We used protection for heaven's sake! I know something is wrong in this picture, but no matter how hard I try to pinpoint it I keep coming up blank.

Cato. I freeze up, realizing I can't even tell him right now. Could I tell him, even if he were here with me? Would I? Everything is confusing and painful to think about as I drop my head into my hands and shake further. I shake my head back and forth and tug at my hair.

Before I can stop myself I actually let out a laugh which quickly transitions into sobs. What happened to me? How did I get here?

My hands fall to my stomach, still flat but if the doctor was right, with life growing inside of it.

I can't stand this as I jump from my seat and begin to pace. This isn't right, something has to be wrong. But what? This has to be a dream. No way was it real. A dream, for a moment I allow myself that luxury. A terrible, horrible nightmare that would eventually end with me waking up.

This is the state the doctor returns to, her face in a scowl as she closes the door. "Are you ready to talk?"

"Do it again." I demand, crossing my arms and glaring at her.

"The test was positive and I can guarantee no mistakes."

"I said, do it again." My voice comes out in a hiss, my glare deepens and I begin to shake with anger. Or fear. Doesn't matter, I come off as imposing as I need to be because she relents and has me roll up my sleeve.

"No major injury today, this will only take a few minutes in the lab." She tells me once she's gotten enough blood. She sends it off and then sits across from me, tapping her knee and waiting for me to speak.

She's in for quite a wait.

A minute, two minutes, almost three go by before she finally relents and begins to talk.

"Now, do you plan on keeping this baby?"

There are the whispered rumors in Twelve. The girls who become pregnant and have it 'taken care of.' Gale once mentioned that some of them swallowed some sort of poison you could only get in the Hob. It would explain the occasional blonde teenage girls sneaking in and out of a Seam building. Other girls, I heard, threw themselves down the stairs of their homes.

I never really thought about what I would do if it was me. Mostly because I never saw myself in this position. Now that I was I guess I did have to come to a decision quick. Time was not a pleasure I possessed.

On one hand, I needed to fight in this rebellion. I had to destroy the Capitol for good and if I got rid of it, I could continue fighting. For a moment I try to picture my life in this world.

I'm sure the doctor would keep this a private matter. And if I got rid of it... nobody would know. Ever. This is the part that sticks with me. It would always be my secret. Cato, my mother, my sisters... None of them would know about the hindrance I had for a short period of time. Just me, always me. My burden to take to the grave and one they could stay blissfully unaware of.

It's not that I don't love children. Just the opposite in fact. I was ready to give my life for my sister, chances are I would give my life for Rue if it came down to it. But it's this that scares me. How I put myself in danger for these two girls, surely I would do this for my own baby. How many times can you jump in front of the train before you are hit?

But if I got rid of it… it would be like a little tribute. Thrown into a game and killed when it had no chance to begin with. It is the image of Prim and Rue, ascending onto a stage that would mean death, that I finally make my choice. I don't want to be a mother. I don't know if Cato wants to be a father. I do know that this baby deserved a shot, and if it was going to die it would not be by my hand. That I would never be able to deny it to the ones I love.

"I- we used protection." I say, my voice is hollow and my legs still shaking. I'm trying once last time to justify that this can't be true.

She nods slowly. "There's a conspiracy theory you know? About Thirteen. Successful births rates are so low that on some occasions the President orders that birth control be tampered with."

I wince. Same thing with District Twelve and the Capitol.

A sharp knock on the door as the doctor leans back and accepts a clipboard from a small girl on the other side. She looks over it quickly, flips a few pages and slowly nods.

"Well mommy, will you tell your commander that you're going home? Or shall I?"


It's just past noon when I make my way back to the tent. The doctor said she would let me tell my commander (Boggs) who would be in charge of having me sent home. She did however, file me inactive for duty. The computers that schedules duty will no longer process my name.

Whenever I feel the tears sting in the back of my eyes I swallow and look straight up. I can't remember who told me this, probably Prim, but if you look straight up it can get rid of the waterworks.

I still feel sick though, I'm not sure if that's the shock of the news or the baby itself.

I rid my mind of that word. Baby.

Twice I have to stop and take a deep breath and clear my mind. Once I feel like I might just get sick. Isn't morning sickness limited to the mornings? I don't know. I don't know anything that's happening to my body right now. I hate this, all of it. I can't stop the tears at some point and I'm forced to kick into a hurry, tumbling into the tent and hoping to throw myself on my cot, curl up and take a nap. If the doctor doesn't tell Boggs I'll just do it later.

I pause when I see Marvel resting on my cot, Clove and Peeta on the other with not an inch between them.

They all snap to attention and wait for me to say something. What could I possibly say though? Don't they get that my world has ended, that life grows inside of me?

A tremor waves through me.

"Boys said you were sick Twelve…" Clove says slowly, scrutinizing my every move.

I shrug it off, though the burn of her eyes seems to penetrate right through me, gripping onto my heart and slowly squeezing it. I press my lips together and force them to stay this way. But the truth is I need help. I need somebody to unload all of this on. My hands twitch to rest on my stomach, so much so that I have to dig them into my pockets to restrain that urge.

I feel exposed. They see everything.

I try to find an excuse to yell over my shoulder as I exit, none comes though as I leave the tent in a hurry. I'm blinded as I walk in a confused state through camp, the sun is bright and my eyes blurred. My breaths come in short bursts and my nose runs. I know my chin is wobbling and before anybody can catch me like this, I turn quickly behind another camp that appears empty. I collapse behind it as the tears break free and I let a sob escape me. I whimper and cry, rocking back and forth and trying to hold myself together.

My hands fly to my stomach as I try to imagine something in there.

I think of my sister, of Rue and Rory and all the children who were candidates in a game for slaughter. How could I do something so horrible as let this child come to existence? It would be born with a target on the back of its head, with the world always watching and the odds never in its favor.

A shudder shoots through me as my mind wanders and the world blurs.

Grim, barely rebuilt District Twelve and Effie Trinket's replacement calls out a name of a child, hardly twelve, who is dragged by the hair to the stage, nobody lifting a finger as it screams for help. And where am I? Buried beneath the coal covered District, powerless to so much as cry for it.

The world is still fuzzy when I finally open my eyes.

Disturbed by the images that still float in my mind, I have a hard time finding the courage to sit up.

I want Cato.

That's all I want right now. I want him to tell me, even if it's a lie, that we'll be okay. That this baby won't grow up in the world we did. That he actually wants this child. It's after this thought that I feel the first inkling of hope.

If he wants it… Maybe things won't be so bad.

He could be a good father. I think of Lani, who bolted straight into his arms and looked at him as though he were the greatest person in the world. When he gave Rue a piggy back ride up the hill during the ridiculous promos. Or how quickly Prim took to him.

While I still feel petrified, there is some relief. He can help me. If- when this rebellion succeeds, we can pull this off.

I try and find that vision but come up blank.

Slowly I stand up, rubbing my eyes clear of tears and wiping my cheeks to rid the evidence. I'm sure most people will assume my eyes are red because of exhaustion. I stand there for a moment, enjoying the last moments I will have as a solider in the rebellion. After this it's District Thirteen and trying to explain things to my mother. My entire body sags at the thought. And Prim and Rue-It would be a disaster. And telling Cato. However that would happen, I'm not positive. I'm sure there's a way the word could get out, somebody could get into contact with him somehow. Still, I want nobody to know of this. The idea of him finding out secondhand is unimaginable.

I shake my head, taking a deep breath and slipping from my hiding place.

Boggs is usually sleeping, eating, or in the Command Center. Lunch has come and gone and I doubt he's sitting around a table and laughing with friends. More than likely the Command Center.

It feels as though there are weights in my shoes as I drag myself to one of the only concrete structures in the camp.

Despite my heaviness, I arrive there far too quickly. It's as though everybody cleared a path just for me.

Two soldiers stand post, guarding the door with stern faces and eyes straight ahead. The coward in me hopes they push me away and refuse to let me in. The other part of me rolls its eyes and thinks, really? What could these two possibly do if something actually happened?

When I tell them I need to speak to Boggs the coward loses as they part ways and let me inside.

The room is small and filled with computers, in the center is a table that Boggs and another man sit at, on it are a stack of papers. Most written with tiny printed words and large graphs. Both stare at me, waiting for me to state the purpose of my intrusion.

I clear my throat and try not to sound weak, "I need to speak with Commander Boggs about something personal."

The other man nods without a word and leaves the room after shaking Boggs's hand.

I watch the interaction in silence and try to find the words I need to say.

I made a mistake.

Something terrible happened.

I'm selfish.

Against my better judgment, I love this baby.

None of these things are a lie as Boggs stands up.

"What is the purpose of this unscheduled meeting Solider Everdeen?"

You might as well say it. What choice do you have?

I say it for the first time aloud. The first time I've admitted it to anybody else.

"I'm pregnant."

There are no tears left. I've probably cried more times today than in the last five years.

And suddenly, amongst Boggs's blank gaze, I feel angry. Furious. Violent. Annoyed.

How dare Coin do this to me? If that doctor was right about the conspiracy, and I'm almost positive that she is, than this is all her fault. Coin also nuked District Eight, something I haven't forgotten. She really is no better than Snow. Hate feels me, I could kill her in this moment. If she were in this room I'm almost positive I would kill her with my bare hands. Nothing would stop me from choking the life out of her. Nothing would make me happier.

Boggs eyes flash to my stomach and back to my face but I no longer care what he says or thinks. I'm only trying to sooth the rush of emotions running through me.

Before he can respond, before my nails can penetrate the flesh of my palms, both of our attention flashes to the blinking red lights on one of the screens.

The ground shakes and I have to grab onto one of the railings to steady myself.

An alarm sounds and there's movement and screaming.

The rooms fills quickly as the screens all show one thing. The Capitol was striking back.


I know many of you were reluctant to the idea of pregnant Katniss, because she is cliché and over used, but the plan was for her to have a baby from the very beginning. But think about it, we don't have many chapters left. I'm not sure how many but a good estimate is five plus an epilogue. So do you really have to deal with pregnant Katniss? No.

I want to (hopefully) have this story finished by the end of winter break. Maybe by next Spring Break (when I started Lux) I can have a new story going. That's my ultimate goal with Catoniss, original plot lines. The idea of actually concluding Lux is sort of terrifying and exciting and downright thrilling.

New poll on my profile, one I've always wanted to have. Do you want the baby to be a boy or a girl?

Now, admittedly, I am a sucker for babies. There would probably be a Catoniss baby in any story I did.