Chapter 29:

We are still positioned in our embrace an hour later; Peeta is snoring softly, but I remain awake, half-cherishing and half-agonizing over our spooning.

It is then that the shrill buzz of an alarm clock sounds, sending my palpitating heart somewhere to the back of my throat and the rest of me airborne at least six inches. By the time I've landed and turned around to face Peeta, he is wide awake with his hand slapped over his mouth in shock and a deep red flush covering his cheeks. Presumably because he now realizes exactly the position in which we'd been sleeping.

"I'm so sorry, Katniss," he mumbles through his hand, avoiding eye contact, clearly mortified. "It was just….habit, I swear."

Before I have the chance to tell him that I really didn't mind, Peeta jumps up and heads to the bathroom to get dressed.


This doctor's appointment is nothing like the one in my dream. Actually- it started out worse. I had been extra anxious because Effie wasn't the one to wake us up and I still hadn't seen her; it was Snow himself who escorted us from our room on the twelfth floor of the Training Center to the elevator (after insisting that I put my prosthesis back on before we walk out the door). Not only did he ride underground with us to the hospital and accompany us to the waiting chamber at the end of the hall, but he insisted on following us back to the examination room when my name was called. Clearly, he was not completely convinced that I had told him the truth about my pregnancy and was in fact waiting to see actual photographic evidence of a fetus growing near my nether regions. And he wasn't the only one- a cameraman followed us in too, in order to prerecord everything on film so that it could be spliced, edited, and broadcast at any time. Though he will obviously be privy to the secret that I'm not nearly as far along as advertised, I can't say I would be entirely surprised if he more or less 'disappeared' after his recording was finished.

Thankfully, the nurse that appears at the start of my appointment is more normal-looking than in my dream- at least by Capitol standards- which is at least somewhat reassuring. She can't pull off the look of a gifted healer like mother or Prim, but she is wearing generic clothing- a simple matching cotton top and pants- and she doesn't have any strange piercings or tattoos, either, just the typical Capitol makeup and hair. She approaches me with a few medical contraptions that I've never seen before, though none of them look particularly threatening.

"Hi there. We're just going to take a few vitals to get started," she explains brightly, putting some this Velcro-cloth material attached to a metal gadget around my arm. After squeezing this rubber ball my arm starts to feel compressed, but before it gets too uncomfortable, the nurse unfastens it and announces that my blood pressure is normal.

She does a few other basic measures- body temperature, pulse- declaring after each that I'm perfectly healthy- before getting to the part of the appointment that I'm both most curious and terrified to experience (at least according to my dream)- the ultrasound. She directs me to expose my stomach (and she doesn't act surprised when I remove my prosthesis, indicating to me that she was given some sort of story about it beforehand), and then begins applying this weird cold gel all over it.

"This is for the transducer," she explains, as though it actually explains anything. I nod even though I have no idea what she's talking about- but it's bound to be better than a chainsaw, right? She places this strange thick wand-like apparatus on top of the gel and starts to move it around. After the initial wave of relief I experience upon realizing that it's not going to hurt me, I begin to hear something, a sound very faint but distinct, and very rhythmic. It takes me a few seconds, but I think it finally occurs to me what it is, and I hold my breath to listen more carefully to that amazing little sound as I wait for the nurse to confirm it.

"What you're hearing is your baby's heartbeat," she says.

I gasp, though the news comes as no real surprise. But actually hearing the heart beat from a life that I created strikes me emotionally like a bolt of lightning. I am no longer pretending to be pregnant, wearing a prosthesis- this is real. And it's almost as though my maternal instincts turn on like the flip of a switch- because in that instant I feel the first true connection to what is growing inside of me- and strangely enough it is far more powerful than I would ever have predicted.

I realize in that instant that there is only one person with whom I want to share this moment. I sneak a sideways glance at Peeta, beaming. To my surprise, he's looking right back at my face and not at the nurse or at my stomach, and he gives me the faintest of smiles in return before reaching out to squeeze my hand. I'm sure he means for it to be friendly, just a brief reassuring gesture, but the instant his hand makes contact with mine I squeeze it so hard that he can't pull it away- at least not without drawing obviously unwanted attention from both the nurse and Snow. So he continues to hold my hand as the nurse directs our attention to the image that has now more clearly presented itself on the screen before us.

"There it is," she points at the miniscule blob in the center of the image, "your baby, and based on its appearance I would guess that it is roughly 8 weeks old. We're lucky that we're able to see it this way so early on," the nurse comments. I nod silently, transfixed by the sound of my baby's heartbeat and what I see on the screen.

"I'm afraid we won't be able to distinguish the sex of the baby for at least another 8-10 weeks," she continues cheerfully, "but what I can say right now is that there appears to be a single fetus- as far as I can tell you didn't conceive twins or triplets. There's no issue with the location of the placenta, and it seems to be developing perfectly so far."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. All of this sounds like amazing news, and so far this appointment is going much more smoothly than I could have dreamed. And then she continues.

"Now, if you would like, I am able to collect blood samples now- I was told that you may wish to better determine the paternity of the child? I could have the results in as early as a few days."

Okay, maybe I could have dreamed a scenario in which this appointment could have gone more smoothly- Peeta being the father, with there being absolutely no question about it. I look to him- it's his decision, after all. His face has fallen and the smile that he had a minute ago has been replaced with a scowl; even so, he adamantly shakes his head to the nurse. My heart swells with admiration. But in looking at him I become distracted enough to ease my firm grip on his hand, and he uses the opportunity to slyly pull his hand away. The nurse then tells me not to forget about scheduling follow-up appointments and leaves me to finish getting dressed.

Despite the awkward last couple of minutes, I walk out of the appointment feeling relieved. Snow, too, apparently. He lets out a sigh as soon as we're out of earshot from the clinic. "Well, Mrs. Mellark, you and Mr. Mellark have passed Part I in staying alive, the most crucial step. You are indeed pregnant. Congratulations." There isn't an ounce of sincerity in his last word. But we've appeased him, at least. "Now, for Part II. I asked you two last night to come up with an explanation as to why you're only eight weeks pregnant, when you should be nine months. So?"

"Can't we just say that she miscarried?" Peeta volunteers immediately. "It would be a completely reasonable explanation. She lost baby number one recently, but it didn't take long for us to conceive baby number two."

"Mr. Mellark, we're talking about babies here, not bakery orders," Snow admonishes him harshly. To an outsider, it almost might have sounded like Peeta was the insensitive one and Snow was simply calling him out on it. But of course we know better. "And I refuse to allow the mention of a subject as melancholy as miscarriage to the people of Panem," he continues. "It's too depressing."

"More depressing than twelve-year old children fighting to their death?" Peeta fires back. Snow gives him a look of warning, and Peeta glares back but doesn't add anything else.

I interrupt, desperate to diffuse the situation. "Aren't there any drugs at the Capitol that could prolong a pregnancy?" I wonder. I know this sounds slightly ridiculous but I'm grasping at straws at this point. "Or isn't there a machine or something that you could say we hooked me up to? Couldn't we just say that there were some issues with the pregnancy so you were doing everything you could to keep me from delivering? They don't know exactly how far along I was, right? We can just pretend like this was one single pregnancy, drawn-out due to unforeseen complications and state-of-the-art Captiol technology."

"Or who's to say that they even need to know?" Peeta interjects. At this point we're just throwing anything out there that we could possibly conceive of to make Snow happy. "Why can't the people of Panem think that Katniss delivered? You don't have to show them anything yet, televise anything yet. Katniss can hide from the cameras for a while. Once the baby is a little older no one will notice the small age difference."

"Peeta, the Reaping is in less than four months, and as a Victor Katniss needs to be there," Snow says matter-of-factly. "If we tell the people of Panem that she delivered they will want to see a child. Plus, she'll likely be showing by that point and people may question it during the Games." Snow looks thoughtful, turning to me, "Though, Mrs. Mellark, I do like your idea of perhaps allowing the people to believe that we were able to extend your pregnancy, and that we did so for the health of your baby. No one saw you until the Victory Tour and you're right, they don't know exactly how far along you were then. We can say that upon your ultrasound today we realized you weren't as far along as we originally thought, which should buy us a couple of months, at least. And later we can say that we needed to delay delivery as long as possible to ensure your baby's optimal health."

Peeta and I nod fervently- it sounds like a good enough plan to us. Anything to help us leave the Capitol in the same condition we were when we arrived. And I suppose it will happen soon- since it is now obvious, to Snow anyway, that I am no longer in the late stages of pregnancy, surely they won't need us for any more filming? I would think that they would want to wait until my pregnancy was really showing.

Snow sighs and speaks again. He seems to echo my thoughts. "I suppose we're no better off filming your baby shower now than in a couple of months down the road," he muses. "Perhaps as a nice side story during the Games." He turns to me. "I would ask that going forward, you try to stay the same size that you are now, maybe just get a hair larger," he instructs. "So when your waistline begins to expand, just decrease your prosthesis size. I'm assuming you have several different models," he adds dryly. I look at him in acknowledgement but don't respond; he doesn't have to know how right he is.

He looks to both of us. "I think we have enough footage to put together something covering your ultrasound. We'll edit the film to show with a brief news segment that will announce your new due date, a couple of months from now." Snow takes a deep breath. "So it appears that your business here has concluded, at least for the time being. I'll call the hovercraft to deliver you back to District 12." He adds in a warning tone, "Though I will be periodically calling you back for filming. Don't get too comfortable. Not to mention, while you're here I will want you to have at least a few more doctor's appointments prior to your delivery to ensure that your fetus is continuing to develop normally."

So we're returning to District 12 today, but we're going to have to come back to the Capitol several more times in the coming months.

Up until now, I have abhorred any thought of coming to the Capitol, no matter what the reason. But when I think of hearing my baby's heartbeat again, and spooning with Peeta on a heart-shaped bed in the honeymoon suite (versus the uncomfortable nights I know I'll be spending in the guest room at home), strangely enough I realize that I'm actually looking forward to it.