Reaching Out Chapter 34, a hunger games fanfic

The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins.

"Absolutely not," says Peeta flatly. His blue eyes are full of anger, and Haymitch's look back steadily.

"It's the only way she's effective," argues Haymitch. "You heard them. Volunteering for Prim, burying Rue in flowers, drugging you so she could get your medicine, reaching out to Chaff on interview night. What do those moments have in common? No one was telling her what to do."

"She's six months pregnant," says Peeta through gritted teeth.

"She's only going to the hospital in Eight," snaps Haymitch. "And we'll be in the air, ready to extract her if anything goes wrong. Peeta, we need her, and we need her to be real. That's what the people respond to. You'll be there. So will Johanna and Gale. No one's going to let anything happen to her."

"Peeta," I interject, touching his shoulder gently. "Haymitch is right."

"How can you say that?" hisses Peeta. His hand goes to my stomach protectively. "You could get hurt. Or the baby."

"You heard Plutarch," I reason. "District Eight is quiet. They've been bombed to rubble. After the bombing this morning, there aren't any military targets left."

"I'm with Katniss," agrees Johanna. She turns to Plutarch with hard eyes. "But you better keep your word. Anything happens, get her out of there." She looks at Peeta steadily. "Peeta, you care about this rebellion. This is the only way we can fight them. You know that."

After a minute or two, he nods, and Plutarch and Coin, who look bored to death, glance over at me undecidedly. The idea of sending a pregnant seventeen year old girl into combat is controversial, but Haymitch has a tight case.

"We can't guarantee her safety," Boggs points out. "She could be a target—"

"I want to go," I break in, shooting a look at Peeta, who was about to interrupt me. "I want to help, and I'm no help to the rebels here. If this is all I can do, I want to do it."

"And if you're killed?" asks Coin. I roll my eyes.

"I won't be," I scoff. "I've lived through too much to die in District 8. But if I am killed, just make sure to get it on camera." The muscle in Peeta's jaw starts jumping, but I put my hand on his leg and squeeze. I lean in and whisper, just to him, "You know me. I won't get myself killed." He nods, but he still looks angry and upset.

Johanna, Peeta, and I are whisked away to the Remake Room, where Portia helps me into my Mockingjay costume. "When's Cinna being released?" I ask her as she slips a thick, flexible, but sturdy band over my head and fits it to cover my round stomach.

"Just another layer of protection," she explains. "Beetee designed it. Anyway, Cinna should be released within a week or so." When my costume is on, Beetee comes in to fasten a gas mask to my belt, the white wire for the earpiece to my collarbone, and finally, to hand me the beautiful black bow he designed for me. It's something else. Regular arrows, incendiary arrows, and explosive arrows. Gale has a bow sort of like mine, except it's heavier and deadlier-looking. Peeta is carrying a heavy, scary-looking gun that he tells me can shoot bullets and an explosive charge. Johanna carries a gun as well, but it's sleek and Beetee tells me it only shoots bullets, because she has a set of axes that he designed for her as well. From what he tells me, Johanna's special axes are his pride and joy. Apparently they have a range of capabilities. Each axe—there are six in the set that she wears in a sling on her back—is black as night and razor sharp, but also has the ability to detonate when Johanna presses a red button on a bracelet that she wears on her wrist. Another button on her wrist returns the axes to her hand after she's thrown them. And on each of the axes, there is an emergency switch that can be flipped. When it's activated, Johanna can slam her axe into the ground and it sends an electromagnetic pulse—or something like that, I didn't pay much attention when Beetee explained it—into the ground that kills anyone that stands in front of it. It poses no risk to anyone behind the axe, like Johanna, but can kill anyone within thirty feet of the front of the tip.

When we were with Beetee in Special Weaponry two weeks ago—before Johanna and I went hunting—Johanna and I trained with guns a little. Neither of us had ever held one, but Beetee told us that if we were to go to the Capitol—if and when we took all of the districts—we'd need to know how to shoot one. I agreed, because after I give birth, Johanna and I will have to catch up fast in training. It was odd for me at first, but soon I could hit the center of the target every time. Johanna wasn't as good as me, but competitive as she is, kept going down to Special Weaponry until she was.

Peeta is flourishing under his military training. He's bigger and stronger, and looks healthier than he ever has. When he walks out of Remake, he smiles at me, and I'm struck by how handsome and strong he is.

"Hi," I say, smiling widely. He kisses me on the nose. "Johanna still getting ready?"

"Yeah," he tells me. "Your belly looks bigger."

"Beetee made me like a two-inch thing bulletproof band that covers my entire stomach."

"It suits you," he says, smiling so that his eyes crinkle at the corner. After a moment though, he adds, "Katniss, I'm nervous."

"I am, too. But you know as well as I do that Haymitch is right. This is the only way that I can help," I explain, lacing my fingers through his. "You and Johanna might be brilliant naturally, but I need something to coax it out of me."

"You're always brilliant to me," he smiles. "Just stay close to me while we're there. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I was going to stay close to you anyway," I roll my eyes. Johanna finally comes out of Remake at the same time that Plutarch and Haymitch stroll down the hallway towards us. We follow them silently into an elevator that moves up and down, even sideways, until we get to a hovercraft hangar. When I see row after row of different kinds of hovercraft, I feel a twinge of hatred against 13. I don't say anything, but it seems appalling to me that they had all of this and left the rest of the districts defenseless against the Capitol. We mount the stairs to one of the smaller hovercraft, which is packed with my television crew and equipment. I greet my crew, but there's a warning of the upcoming takeoff, so I strap myself in a seat between Peeta and Johanna. Gale sits to Johanna's left.

As soon as we're in the air, I start to worry because I realize that I have no idea what I'm actually facing on this trip to District 8. In fact, I know very little about the state of the war, other than every district is in rebellion except for One and Two. I also don't know about what it would take to win the war. Or what would happen if we did. So I ask Plutarch.

He tries to explain it in simple terms for me. One and Two have always had a favored relationship with the Capitol—so had District Four, but there weren't quite as brainwashed as One and Two—despite their participation in the Games. After the Dark Days and the supposed destruction of District 13, Two became the Capitol's new center of defense, although it's publicly presented at the home of the nation's stone quarries, in the same way that 13 was known for graphite mining. District 2 not only manufactures weaponry, it trains and supplies Peacekeepers.

"You mean . . . some of the Peacekeepers are born in Two?" I ask. "I thought they all came from the Capitol."

Plutarch nods. "Yes, that's what you're supposed to think. Some do come from the Capitol. But its population could never sustain a force that size, and there's the problem of recruiting Capitol-raised citizens for a dull life of deprivation in the districts. A twenty-year commitment in the Peacekeepers, no marriage, no children allowed. Some buy into it for the honor of the thing, others take it as an alternative to punishment. For instance, join the Peacekeepers and your debt is forgiven. Many people in the capitol are swamped in debt, but not all of them are fit for military duty. So District Two is where we turn for additional troops. It's a way for people to escape poverty and a life in the quarries. They're raised with a warrior mindset. You've seen how eager their children are to volunteer to be tributes."

"What about One?"

"Much of the same, except for Peacekeepers don't come from One," he explains. "They're raised with the same type of mindset. Brainwashed."

"But all the other districts are one our side?" I ask.

"Yes. Our goal is to take over the districts one by one, ending with District Two; thus cutting off the supply chain to the Capitol. Then, once it's weakened, we invade the Capitol itself."

"If we win, who would be in charge of the government?" asks Peeta.

"Everyone," Plutarch tells him. "We're going to form a republic where the people of each district and the Capitol can elect their own representatives to be their voice in government. Don't look so suspicious; it's worked before."

No one says anything, because I'm sure we're all thinking the same thing. Our ancestors essentially destroyed the planet. Clearly, they didn't care about what would happen to the people who came after them. But this republic thing sounds better than what we have now.

"And if we lose?" I ask.

"If we lose?" Plutarch looks out at the clouds, and an ironic smile twists his lips. "Then I would expect next year's Hunger Games to be quite unforgettable."

District Eight is like another world.

Plutarch wasn't lying when he said it'd been bombed to rubble. There's debris everywhere, but the sturdier warehouse structures are still standing. There are wounded everywhere, being brought in on stretchers, wheelbarrows, carts, even slung across shoulders. Bleeding, limbless, unconscious.

My stomach turns and I wheel around to face Boggs. "This won't work. I won't be good here."

"You will," he says, placing his hands on my shoulders. "Just let them see you. That will do more for them than any doctor in the world."

A woman directing the incoming patients catches sight of us, does a sort of double take, and then strides over. Her dark brown eyes are puffy with fatigue and she smells of metal and sweat. A bandage around her throat needed changing about three days ago. The strap of the automatic weapon slung across her back digs into her neck and she shifts her shoulder to reposition it. With a jerk of her thumb, she orders the medics into the warehouse.

"This is Commander Paylor of Eight," says Boggs. "Commander, Soldier Katniss Everdeen-Mellark, Soldier Peeta Mellark, and Soldier Johanna Mason."

She looks young to be a commander, maybe early thirties. But there's an authoritative tone to her voice that makes you feel like her appointment wasn't arbitrary. Beside her, in my clean, new outfit, I feel like a recently hatched chick, only just learning how to navigate the world.

"I know who they are," says Paylor sharply.

"They insisted on coming by to see your wounded," says Boggs.

"Well, we've got plenty of those," says Paylor.

"You sure this is a good idea?" asks Gale, frowning at the hospital. "Assembling your wounded like this?"

"I think it's slightly better than leaving them to die," says Paylor.

"That's not what I meant," Gale tells her.

"Well, currently, that's my other option. But if you can come up with a third and get Coin to back it, I'm all ears." Paylor waves me towards the door and when she opens it, I try to ignore the corpses lying side by side in the corridor. "Come in, Mockingjay. And by all means, bring your friends." She finds a slit in an industrial curtain and opens it wide.

My fingers wrap tightly around Peeta's wrist. "Do not leave my side. Not for a second."

"I'm right here."

When we step through the curtain, my senses are assaulted. The first thing I want to do, impulsively, is cover my nose to block out the scent of soiled linen, putrefying flesh, and vomit, all ripening in the heat of the warehouse. Peeta's fingers twine through my own tightly.

"Just let them see you," Peeta breathes. "I'll do the talking."

Sweat starts to run down my back, and I try to breathe through my mouth in attempt to get rid of the smell. Black spots swim across my field of vision, and I think there's a really good chance I could faint. But then I catch sight of Paylor, who's watching me closely, waiting to see what I am made of, and if any of them have been right to think they can count on me.

So, not letting go of Peeta, I move deeper into the warehouse, walking in a narrow strip between two rows of beds.

"Katniss? Peeta? Is that really you?" a voice croaks out from my left, breaking apart from the general din. A hand reaches out for me, and I hang on to it for support. A young woman with an injured leg is looking at me, her face full of joy even though she must be in agony.

"Yeah, it's really us," I say. Peeta crouches down next to her and smiles.

"What are you doing here?" the girl asks.

"We came to see you," says Peeta, taking her other hand.

"But I have to tell my brother!" She struggles to sit up and calls to someone a few beds down. "Eddy! Eddy! Katniss and Peeta are here!"

A boy, probably twelve years old, turns to us. Bandages cover half of his face. The side of his mouth opens as if to utter an exclamation. I go to him, push his damp brown curls back from his forehead. Murmur a greeting. He can't speak, but his one good eye fixes on me with such intensity, like he's trying to memorize every detail of my face.

My name, Peeta's name, even Johanna's name, ripples through the hot air, spreading through the hospital. The sounds of pain and grief begin to recede, replaced with words of anticipation. We begin to move, clasping the hands of those extended to us. Peeta makes his own way through the people, never straying far from me, speaking to the people with smiles and the clasp of his rough hands on their own. Johanna, too, speaks to people. She is surprisingly gentle, and assures the people that we're fighting back, that we're with them. I don't say much, just hellos, how are yous, good to meet yous. Nothing important. But it doesn't matter. Boggs is right. It's the sight of me—of us—alive, that is the inspiration. I belong to these people.

People are truly overjoyed when they learn that the baby is alright. They stretch out eager hands to feel my stomach through the uniform, ask me when it's coming. I tell one woman who asks about the gender, "It's a boy. Haymitch Mason Everdeen-Mellark. Maybe after he's born and you've taken your district, I'll bring him out here to meet you." Her eyes fill with tears and I look over at Peeta, who is shaking the hands of some of Eight's men, no doubt congratulating him on his unborn son. I feel a rush of affection for these people; I had never realized how truly important we were to the people of Panem until now. How much they believed in me, believed in us. How much they rallied around us.

I also begin to understand the lengths to which people have gone to protect Peeta and me. What we mean to the rebels. Our ongoing struggle against the Capitol has not been undertaken along. We've had thousands upon thousands of people from the districts at my side. I was their Mockingjay long before I accepted the role.

"We've got a problem," says Boggs suddenly. We're standing outside of the hospital, and Boggs is clutching his earpiece. "Incoming bombers from the north."

We take off running along the front of the warehouse, heading for the alley that leads to the airstrip. But I don't sense any immediate threat. The sky is an empty, cloudless blue. There's no enemy, no alarm. Then the sirens begin to wail. Without seconds, a low flying V-shaped formation of capitol hoverplanes appears above us, and the bombs begin to fall. I'm blown off my feet, into the front wall of the warehouse. There's a searing pain, just above the back of my right knee. Something has struck my back as well, but doesn't seem to have penetrated my vest. My hand flies to my stomach, but Haymitch Junior's feet rap against it, like he's reassuring me that he's alright. I try to get up, but Peeta's pushing me back down, shielding my body with his own. The ground ripples under me as bomb after bomb drops from the planes and detonates. I look to my left. Gale has Johanna backed against the wall, arms spread out, swearing so loud I can hear him over the bombs. He's protecting her.

It's a horrifying sensation being pinned against the wall as the bombs rain down. What was that expression my father used for easy kills? Like shooting fish in a barrel. We are the fish, the street the barrel.

Haymitch and Plutarch tell us that we can't be spotted, that the raid was already scheduled. They also tell us that there's no way they can extract us during the bombing, so we'll have to make our way to a bunker in a warehouse that's three down from us.

When we're almost there, another round of bombs start to fall, and Peeta pushes me down, hard, and throws himself over me.

That's when we realize—both at the same time, I can tell from the look in Peeta's eyes—that they aren't targeting us. They're targeting the hospital. Johanna must realize, too, because she's on her feet, trying to get out from behind Gale, screaming every foul word she knows. When she finally breaks free, she doesn't run towards the hospital. She runs towards the machine gun fire coming from the roof of the dirt brown warehouse across the alley. "Katniss, don't you even think about—" Haymitch's voice cuts out as I yank my earpiece free and push Peeta out of the way so I can follow Johanna. I hear him and Gale swearing behind me, but I'm too fast for either of them. Soon enough, I'm right behind Johanna and I'm yelling "Climb! Climb!" and we clamber up an access ladder.

When we make the roof, we drag ourselves onto the tar. I look behind me and see Peeta climbing behind me, so I pull him onto the roof after me. Gale eventually get up behind him and I know that we are going to pay dearly for our actions later. Peeta probably won't speak to me for a week, and Coin will rip our heads off. But in this moment, I really couldn't care less.

"Boggs know you're up here?" To my left, I see Paylor behind one of the guns, looking at us quizzically.

I try to be evasive without flat-out lying. "He knows where we are, all right."

Paylor laughs, "I bet he does. You been trained in these?" She slaps the stock of her gun.

"We have, in Thirteen," I say. "But I'd rather use my own weapon."

"All right," says Paylor. "We expect at least three more waves. Stay low!"

I string one of my explosive arrows—I don't think the fire will do anything—Johanna pulls out one of her axes, free hand hovering to press the red button on her wrist, Gale aims his bow, and Peeta stares down the sight of his huge gun and flips a switch.

"Geese!" I yell at Gale, just as they appear in the sky, two blocks down, a hundred yards above us. He'll know what I mean. During migration season, when we hunt fowl, we've developed a system of dividing the birds so we both don't target the same ones. I take the far side of the V, Gale takes the near, and we alternate shots at the front.

Johanna lets one of her axes fly first. After a lifetime of throwing heavier axes around, she finds her mark easily. As soon as it's stuck in the wing, she presses down the red button and it explodes, sending the hoverplane careening into a warehouse. I rip a hole in the wing of one, Gale just misses the point plane, and Peeta manages to bring down one in the back with one of the explosives from his gun.

"Useful, these are," mutters Peeta, referring to the weapons Beetee made for us.

"Positions!" shouts Paylor. The next wave is appearing already, and I stand up to get better aim. I rip a hole in the belly of the point plane, and Gale blows the tail off a second. Johanna just misses with her axe, and Peeta blows the last plane out of the sky.

When the next wave appears suddenly, Paylor's gunfire takes a plane down. I miss by inches, Gale blows up the point plane, and Peeta and Johanna each take one. When the air is silent for minutes afterwards, Paylor says, "Alright, that's it."

Johanna presses the second button on her wrist, and three completely undamaged axes come flying back towards us. She catches the first easily and swings it back in her sling, and catches the other two in each hand.

"Did they hit the hospital?" I ask.

"They must have," Paylor says grimly.

When we turn back around to get off the roof, we're surprised to see that Messalla and one of the insects followed us up here to film. I'm impressed with their courage, to say the least.

I scramble down a ladder. When my feet hit the ground, I find a bodyguard, Cressida, and the other insect waiting. I expect resistance, but Cressida just waves me toward the hospital. She's yelling, "I don't care, Plutarch! Just give me five more minutes!" Not one to question a free pass, I take off into the street.

The hospital is completely destroyed. I sink to my knees, and Gale's rants from the woods—which seem like hundreds of years ago, echo in my ears—along with Peeta's. Johanna's. Haymitch's. When I get up and turn my back to the hospital, and Cressida—her manner cool and unrattled—says, "Katniss. President Snow just had them air the bombing live. Then he made an appearance to say that this was his way of sending a message to the rebels. What about you? Would you like to tell the rebels anything?"

"Yes," I whisper. The red blinking light on one of the cameras catches my eye. I know I'm being recorded. "Yes," I say more forcefully. "As you all know, my name is Katniss Everdeen-Mellark, and I'm right here in District Eight, where the capitol has just bombed a hospital full of unarmed men, women, and children. There will be no survivors. I want to tell people that if you think for one second the Capitol will treat us fairly if there's a ceasefire, you're deluding yourselves. Because you know who they are and what they do." My hands go out automatically, as if to indicate the whole horror around me. "This is what they do! And we must fight back!" I move in towards the camera now, carried forward by my rage. "President Snow says he's sending us a message? Well, I have one for him. You can torture us and bomb us and burn our districts to the ground, but do you see that?" I point to the planes burning on the roof of the warehouse across from us. "Fire is catching!" I am shouting now, as if I'm actually speaking to him, and I don't want him to miss a word. "And if we burn, you burn with us!"

When I wake up again, I'm in the gray, sterile hospital of District Thirteen. Peeta's in a chair next to my bed, his head leaned forward on my bed, resting on my leg. My heart hurts something vicious. Johanna is nowhere in sight.

"Peeta," I say roughly. I touch his hair gently. "Peeta, wake up."

His head jerks up violently, and his eyes are wild for a moment before he remembers where he is. Then he gets up and takes my face in his hands and kisses me roughly. "You're an idiot," he whispers between kisses, sounding close to tears. "You're so stupid, Katniss, so stupid."

"I'm sorry," I say, letting him kiss me over and over again. "I'm sorry."

"You could've," he kisses me again, barely able to speak, "been killed, Katniss." He kisses me again.

"I'm sorry," I whisper again. "I couldn't just let them get away with it. I wanted to show them that I'm more than just a piece in their Games."

He kisses me roughly one more time before backing up. He sits on the edge of the bed, my face still in his hands. He laughs, but his eyes are still full of tears. "The doctor said that your concussion from the Games hadn't healed fully, and the explosions in Eight just made it come back, worse this time. You'll be in the hospital for a while."

"The baby's okay?" I ask, crossing my fingers.

"Baby's fine," he says, his hand moving to touch my stomach reverently. "You threw up all over me while I was carrying you to the hovercraft."

"Sorry," I whisper. He looks fine, so deliciously unharmed, that the sight of him is like a feast for the starving. "What else happened to me? I remember my leg hurting."

"They pulled a piece of shrapnel from your knee," he says. "Nothing else. Johanna's in the hospital, too. Concussion is even worse than yours and she had a couple of pieces of shrapnel in her arms."

"And you?" I ask. "You were standing in front of me."

"My minor concussion from the Games had healed, so I'm fine in that department. I had five or is pieces of shrapnel stuck in my body, but it wasn't anything too bad. Gale, too."

"How long have I been out?" I ask. He looks at his watch.

"Fifteen hours," says Peeta. He pulls a tray from a side table and sets it front of me. "There's a meeting in Command soon, but I don't think Coin is expecting either you or Johanna. I'll tell you everything that happens."

"Alright," I say, and honestly, I'm thankful. My head hurts something awful, and my stomach feels rocky. I'm not in the mood to deal with a room full of people. "Can you arrange for Johanna to be moved in here?"

"Yeah, I'll talk to someone," he tells me, smiling gently. Someone raps on the door and Peeta says, "Oh, I bet that's your mom." He stands up and slides the door open. She gives him a hug, and Peeta moves to leave the room but I glare at him until he returns to my side. Slowly, I eat the meal Peeta put in front of me.

My mother comes and checks my vital signs, then presses a kiss onto my forehead. "How do you feel?"

"Beat up," I admit.

"No one even told us you were going until you were gone," she says. She looks over at Peeta, and adds, "We've been worried sick about you two."

I feel a pang of guilt. When your family's had to send you off twice to the Hunger Games, this isn't the kind of detail you should overlook. "I'm sorry, Mom. They weren't expecting the attack. We were just supposed to be visiting the patients," I explain.

"I'm sorry, Paula," says Peeta quietly. "Next time, we'll have them clear it with you." My mother sits on the edge of the bed and touches his hand gently.

"You don't have to clear it with me," she tells us. "You're adults. You're married. I just want to know, so I don't have to spend hours panicking."

"Okay," I say. "I'll have someone notify you next time."

"Good," my mother nods. "Your family know you're alright?" she asks Peeta.

"Yes, I spoke to them last night," he tells her.

"Well, I'm just glad you're okay," she says. "Prim is working. I expect she'll be by during lunch."

"Alright," I tell my mom.

She leaves, and Peeta and I are alone. We're quiet; he fiddles with my hair while I eat, and when I push my tray away from me, he comes to sit next to me. We kiss and talk and kiss some more until he's called away to Command.

Peeta was true to his word; he must've spoken to someone, because fifteen minutes later, they're wheeling Johanna's bed into my room. She looks terrible, pale and clammy, with stitches on her arms and cuts on her face. I wonder if I look as bad.

But she grins at me and says, "It seems Peeta's good for something."

"Shut up," I tell her. "Wheel her right next to my bed, please," I tell the nurse. He nods, wheels her so close to my bed that they're touching, and moves her IVs to the far side of her bed.

When the nurse closes the door, Johanna looks at me and says, "You look awful."

I grin at her and say, "You've looked better, too." I push the plastic guard on the side of my bed down and scoot closer to. "I feel like shit."

"Yeah, it feels like someone is hammering the inside of my skull," says Johanna, pushing her guard down, too, and moves so that are shoulders are touching. "As soon as he heard I was awake, Peeta came and yelled at me."

I frown. "Why?"

Johanna rolls her eyes and says, "Why do you think, brainless? Because I ran for that roof. He said that I should've known that you'd follow me."

"You did know I'd follow you," I say.

"Yeah, I guess," she says, biting her fingernails viciously. "I didn't want you or the kid to get hurt, but I just wanted to do something. I figured you did, too."

"Yeah," I agree. After a few minutes of silence, I ask Johanna the question that's been bothering me since I realized the bombers were targeting the hospital, "Why would they do that? Why would they target people who were already dying?"

Johanna doesn't hesitate. "He did it to scare other off. Prevent the wounded from getting help," she says angrily. "Those people were expendable to Snow. If the Capitol wins, he has no use for a bunch of wounded slaves."

"Our lives will never matter to him," I say, my voice hushed.

"They never have," snaps Johanna.

"I'm going to kill him," I tell her. "After the baby is born and we invade the Capitol. That's all I want to do, Johanna. Watch the light leave his eyes."

Johanna laughs, and touches my hand gently. "I'll hold his hands behind his back while you do it."

"What are you going to do after the war? If we win, I mean," I ask. I've never really let myself think of the future after the war, and it unnerves me a little that I don't know what Johanna will do or where she'll go.

She sighs. "I don't know," she admits. "I don't want to go back to Seven. I don't have anyone there. Just the ghosts of everyone I loved." She's quiet for a minute and asks, "What about you and lover boy?"

"I suppose we'll go back to Twelve," I answer. "Live in our old house. Raise Junior the best we can. Try to forget. There's nowhere else in Panem I really want to go. Just home. You can come; live in one of the empty houses next to us. Or with Haymitch," I joke.

"I guess I could," she muses. "I feel like the only home I have left is with you guys."

"After all of this, I think it would feel wrong not seeing you every day," I say. "I miss Finnick."

Johanna's eyes drop to her lap. "So do I," she whispers. "It kills me not knowing what they're doing to him."

"Hopefully they'll keep him alive so they can use him," I say. I hate the way it sounds, but it's the only hope we have left for Finnick. Maybe the women in the Capitol still love him too much to see him get killed. I tell her that.

She snorts. "I don't think they'd care if Finnick blew up the president's mansion," she chuckles. "They'd still love him. No, I don't think Snow will kill him yet. Just torture him so he'll say the right things on television. Hopefully they'll keep him alive long enough for us to rescue him."

"We're still in the game," I whisper to her. Her eyes cloud over, and she takes my hand.

"We're still fighting."

As it turns out, Finnick is alive. There's a short interview a couple of days later, which Johanna and I watch in the hospital. He looks a little worse than the last one, but it isn't too drastic. He just looks pale, tired, and shaky. Chaff is next to him, looking beaten down.

All they do in the interview is detail the 'savage' and 'inhumane' attacks by the rebels, and ask the people in the districts to lay down their weapons. I breathe a sigh of relief, because at least they're doing and saying the right things now. It won't make much difference in Chaff's district, because the day before, the rebels took Eleven.

Peeta comes storming in a few minutes after the broadcast is over and says, "Did you see it? Did you see the broadcast?"

"Yes," I say, grinning so much I feel like a fool. "They're alive. And they're trying to stay alive."

"Coin says if they can hang on for a few more weeks, we could probably rescue them," says Peeta.

"Finnick's been hanging on for ten years," says Johanna fiercely, a smile on her face. "He can handle a few more weeks."

Peeta frowns a little bit, and I ask him what's wrong. "I feel bad for Annie Cresta," he says. "She's still in the hospital, because no one thinks she's stable enough to be released. She has no one here."

"Did you go see her?" I ask, and something mean colors my voice. I think it might be jealousy. I can't really help it, because Annie is heartbreakingly beautiful. And even though she's insane, she's still strong enough to kill someone with her bare hands if she wanted to, and still look gorgeous while she's doing it.

"Yeah, why?" he answers, surprised.

"No reason," I snap. "I didn't know you were visiting her. Must've been while I was unconscious. I bet she didn't threaten to kill you. You have blue eyes just like her dead boyfriend."

"Katniss," says Peeta sharply. "That really isn't fair, I was just—"

"I didn't know it was appropriate for married men to go see other women while their wife was sleeping," I say scathingly. I don't really care if I'm being unfair. I'm in the hospital with a concussion and I'm more than six months pregnant. Meanwhile, Peeta is sneaking off to visit Annie Cresta while I'm bedridden. "Guess I do now, though."

Peeta looks at me disbelieving me, opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again. After a few rounds of this, he just gets up and walks out of the room.

"Was it something I said?" I say flatly to no one in particular.

"You know how to clear a room," laughs Johanna. "When are you going to realize that he's so in love with you he can't even see other women?"

"You really think he can't see Annie Cresta?" I ask her, eyebrows raised. "She's about the only person on the planet as attractive as Finnick."

"True," muses Johanna. "Well, I guess he's a lost cause then. You'll give birth and we'll have to raise Haymitch on our own."

I laugh, even though it's a little brittle. I've never thought of myself as particularly beautiful, not in the way that Annie is. I'm good-looking, but not so beautiful that people would sponsor me in the Games just because of how I look. Annie and Finnick are that beautiful. I think it's only natural that I feel insecure about Peeta going to see her. And I won't lie; it stings that he didn't even try convincing me otherwise. He just left. Peeta doesn't leave when he's upset, I do.

"Why do I feel so hurt?" I ask Johanna, tears stinging the back of my eyes.

"You're pregnant and hormonal," she answers, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You probably feel unattractive and insecure."

"I guess so," I agree. "And Annie's so . . ."

"Yeah," Johanna finishes for me. "It doesn't help with Annie looks the way that she does."

Prim visits us over lunch, and Gale stops in, too. He doesn't stay long, just long enough to make sure we're feeling alright. I want to ask him how things with Madge are going, but I'm sure if he wanted to talk about it with me, he would. I haven't seen Peeta since this morning, and I'm starting to worry about it. Maybe I shouldn't have snapped the way I did. Still, I can't say that I'm sorry.

My worries are erased when Prim brings in a wheelchair towards the end of her lunch. "Johanna, we're going to go for a walk," says Prim.

"What about me?" I ask indignantly.

"You're staying here," says Prim. "I was supposed to get rid of Johanna for an hour. Sorry." She smiles at me and kisses me on the forehead before wheeling Johanna out. Peeta doesn't even wait for Prim to close the door, he just comes in and slams the door. I wince.

"You need to stop," says Peeta, throwing himself into the chair by my bed.

"You do," I counter.

"No, Katniss, I mean you need to stop getting jealous. Annie holds absolutely no appeal for me, and you should know that."

"Right," I scoff. "She's only the most beautiful woman either of us has ever seen. No appeal. Right."

"Jesus, Katniss, you don't need to be so sarcastic," storms Peeta. "I only went to see Annie a couple of times, and I only did that because I feel bad for her."

"You heard the way she talked to you in that hallway," I spit out. I mimic her low, rough voice, "'You have blue eyes. I knew a boy with blue eyes like yours.' You remind her of her dead boyfriend, do you expect me to be comfortable with that?"

"Katniss, you know that isn't fair," he says in a low voice. "Annie has issues, okay? Yeah, she watched her boyfriend with blue eyes be decapitated in front of her five years ago. That's probably number one on the list. But she's also totally alone. Finnick always helped her with her episodes, and now he isn't here. I was just trying to do the right thing."

"Do the right thing with someone that doesn't look like her," I shoot back at him.

"When are you going to understand that you are the only woman I'm ever going to see?" he asks, frustrated.

"When you don't leave your hospitalized, pregnant wife while she's sleeping to go see someone else," I say stubbornly. "How would you feel if I snuck out while you were sleeping to go see Gale or something?"

"That's a low blow," argues Peeta. "Annie isn't in love with me. Gale's in love with you. It's different. And don't try to hurt me with Gale."

"Annie's probably projecting her feelings for her dead boyfriend onto you."

"Annie is in love with Finnick," says Peeta, throwing his hands up in the air. "And I'm in love with you. I don't even see her, Katniss! Whenever I look at any woman, all I see is you!"

I ignore him and say, "What if I acted crazy like her? Would that get you all worked up?" I'm being petty and mean, but I don't really care right now. I'm jealous and upset and I don't want to be nice to him.

"Katniss, you know that's crossing a line," says Peeta. "When did you turn into Johanna?"

"When you started sneaking out to see another girl," I spit back at him.

"I don't care about her!" he yells, finally losing his patience. He gets up from the chair and starts pacing around the room. "I spent eleven years watching you, hoping that you'd talk to me, Katniss! I could never get over you, never. Even after you broke my heart after the Games, I still couldn't get over you. And believe me, I tried!" He stops short and pales a little bit, like he said something that he shouldn't have. I pounce on him.

"Wait, what does that mean? You tried?" I ask venomously. I don't raise my voice. Instead, it's low and mean. "What'd you do, Peeta? Throw yourself at other girls? Sleep with them? Tell me."

"No, I didn't sleep with anyone," he says, his voice hard. He points his finger accusingly at me and says, "You didn't want me. You didn't."

I laugh derisively and say, "Oh, so you think all those months without you were easy for me, is that what you think? Fuck you, Peeta, I missed you every single day and now, it seems you were . . . slutting around, trying to find someone that would help get rid of me!"

"You really have turned into Johanna," he remarks, referring to my foul language. "I hung out with one person. Once. Nothing happened, because when I looked at her, it wasn't her face that I saw, Katniss. It was yours."

"I don't care," I spit. "I could've run to Gale, but I didn't. Because I missed you and wanted you and loved you. You tell me that you love me so much and you've loved me for so long, but in reality, you ran to someone else the first chance you got!"

"Because you. Weren't. There." He separates each word, his voice stony and cold, just as mean as me now.

"You weren't there either, Peeta," I tell him, crossing my arms. "At least what I felt for you wasn't so feeble that I tried to lose you in someone else."

"Sometimes you are so hard to love," he practically shouts. I look at him, and tears creep into my eyes. I never thought I'd hear Peeta say that to me. It isn't that I don't know I'm a difficult person, because I do. But of all things in my life, loving Peeta and being with him is the easiest. His words leave a dull ache in my chest, and I'm wondering how something so small turned into something so big. I don't even bother trying to hide the tears that drop onto my face. When Peeta finally looks at me, his face falls.

"Katniss," he says, reaching out for me. I move away from him. "Katniss, I didn't mean that."

"Yeah, you did," I say. "It's fine, really. I think I always knew you'd say that. Sooner or later."

"Katniss," he kneels by my bed now, his demeanor completely changed. "You aren't hard to love, I swear I didn't mean that, I really didn't—"

"Yes, you did," I say harshly. "Go away."

It isn't until twenty minutes later that I hear the door slam, that I hear quiet voices outside, that Johanna pulls me into the wire cage of her arms, that I let myself cry because Peeta has finally seen me for who I am. Someone that's hard to love.

Johanna and I are released two days later. I don't really want to go home, not at all. Peeta and I haven't spoken since our argument. Every time I think about his words, I start to hurt again. You are so hard to love. Yeah, I know. I'm too hard to love. The only people that can love me are the dark, closed off people like me. Like Johanna. Like Gale.

Dr. Borley saves me and Johanna from getting a schedule for a week, citing our susceptibility to further head injury. So we go home, and I don't go into Peeta's and my room. I walk straight into Johanna's, not even bothering to look if he's here. Johanna gets us both a cup of coffee and plops mine on her side table. She doesn't say anything, just sits down next to me on the bed.

"Am I hard to love?" I ask her suddenly.

She rolls her eyes at me. "No. You're not. Stop worry about what that idiot said."

"It really hurt," I admit. "Because loving him is so easy. It makes me think he has to try to love me every day."

"He said that because he was angry, brainless," says Johanna. "If you were hard to love, he wouldn't be here."

"He isn't," I protest. "I haven't seen him for two days."

"Don't be stupid," scowls Johanna. "He's asked how you were about twelve times in the last two days."

"What did you tell him?"

"That he was stupid and you were upset," she answers. "That's all."

We don't say anything after that. We drink our coffee and lounge around, lost in our own thoughts. When lunch time rolls around, Johanna makes some excuse to the kitchen about our health, and our lunch is brought to the compartment. She does the same for dinner. We don't see Peeta, and he doesn't see us.

I'm standing in the hospital of Thirteen, but I don't know why. What drove me here? I try to rack my brains, but I can't remember. My concussion must still be bad. So I wander until I find myself in front of a hospital room with a whiteboard next to the door that reads 'Annie Cresta.' I sigh. Slide the door open.

Annie isn't alone. Peeta is sitting on the edge of her bed, laughing at something she said. I tense up, because I don't want to see this. He brushes a long clump of wiry, rough hair out of her eyes, and I can feel something splinter off inside of me.

Haymitch kicks my womb in protest. Like he's just as outraged that Peeta is doing this as I am. It's his little foot, kicking indignantly, that spurs me forward. "You," is all I say. I'm not looking at Peeta. I'm looking at Annie. Her head jerks up, like she didn't know I was in the room until now. Her cheeks color, but Peeta's don't. He looks at me steadily.

"You're supposed to be in love with Finnick," I say. "He's away, being tortured, in the Capitol. You have some nerve."'

"Katniss, I'm sorry," she says. "It's just nice having someone here."

"Someone that's married," I retort. I still don't look at him. "Someone that's going to be a father."

"I'm sorry," she says again, pleading look in her eyes. Like she's begging me to understand. Like there's something more to it, but I just can't remember what it is.

"And you," I say, turning to Peeta. "You said you loved me. Your child is inside of me."

"Katniss, you don't understand," protests Peeta. "You really don't."

"Then enlighten me," I challenge.

"Annie's going to be a mother, too," he says, looking down at her proudly. Wait, what? I look from Peeta to Annie, Annie to Peeta in panic. Then I see it. The reverent, proud look in his eyes as he looks down at her. No, this can't be real. This can't be real. "That's right. Annie and I are having a baby."

I'm crying so hard I don't even remember where I am. I don't go anywhere. I just curl up on the floor and cry so hard I can't feel my body. Sobs rack my chest and I can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe, and I know I've been lying here crying for hours, but I can't move. I can't do anything. Someone is shaking me, and I think that Peeta's trying finish me off, to kill me and the baby so he can have a life with Annie and the child he wants.

"Katniss!" he says, but I know he's just taunting me, he's about to strangle me so me and Haymitch can die. "Katniss? Katniss! Johanna, help me out here!"

Johanna? Johanna's here? Is Johanna trying to get rid of me, too? She probably wants Peeta to be happy with someone who is easy to love. Someone who can give him a stronger, more beautiful child. I don't blame her, really.

I feel someone strong crawl on top of me, pinning my arms and legs down. This is it, I think to myself. This is where I die. But in all honesty, I'd rather die than see Annie have Peeta's child. I'd rather die than see him love someone else. So I welcome it.

But the hands on my face don't belong to Peeta. They're thin and oddly strong, like they're made of steel. Johanna. "Johanna, you don't understand, he's in love with her, he's in love with her, he wants to kill me because she's having his baby, you don't understand. Don't kill me," I sob.

"Katniss, I'm not trying to kill you," she says, and her voice is oddly soothing. Not at all what I expect from Johanna. "Peeta's right here, and so am I. Open your eyes. Neither of us is trying to kill you."

Her fingers dig into my cheek, and I crack my eyes open. I didn't even realize they were shut. I'm expecting to be in Annie Cresta's brightly lit hospital room, but I'm in the dim light of Johanna's bedroom. Peeta is hovering over me, looking like his heart is going to shatter. Johanna is on top of me, pinning my arms above my head with one arm, and using her other hand to grip my face. "See? No one here but the two of us."

"Why do you have me restrained?" I ask.

"Because you punched Peeta in the face when he tried to wake you up," she says. I look at him emotionlessly. I don't apologize. The look of pride on his face when he looked down at Annie is seared into my memory.

"Katniss," he says softly. He still has that look on his face, like he's made of glass and he's about to break into pieces on the floor. I look back at him, not really caring what emotions show on my face. Annie and I are having a baby. "Please talk to me."

I look at Johanna then. For the last few nights, I've been staying in her room, avoiding Peeta. I'm now nearly twenty-six weeks pregnant, and even though she's been understanding and kind and Johanna, I know she wants me to fix things with him. If for no other reason that she doesn't want to share her bed with a fat, pregnant woman anymore.

I look back at Peeta and nod emotionlessly. I try to stand up, but he sweeps me into his arms before I can get my feet on the ground. In seconds, I'm sitting on the edge of our bed, and he's kneeling in front of me.

"Katniss, I-" he starts. His eyes are clouded over and I know he's going to cry. Which isn't fair, because I should be crying. "I never want you to think that it would ever, in a million years, be possible for me to love anyone but you. You're the reason I can wake up every day and put myself through miserable hours of training. So you and I and Haymitch can have a life free from the Capitol and free from suffering. You. You're what I live for, Katniss, and you're the only thing I'd die for." There are real tears on his face now, and he makes no effort to wipe them away. "And you're the easiest thing in the world to love, baby, you're so easy to love. You're the bravest person I've ever met and you're so strong and you have the will to move mountains and you've got this fire in your heart that I've never seen in anyone else and those are only four reasons out of thousands I have to love you. It's never been a choice, Katniss," he says, taking my hands and leaning his forehead on them. "Loving you was never a choice. Every day, I wake up and see your face and it reminds me that you're the reason I can keep breathing. Every day, I fall in love with you more and more and yours is the only face I really see, Katniss. Your face is the only one I'll ever be able to see."

"You'll never love anyone else?" I ask, my voice so small and weak it doesn't even sound like my voice.

"This," he pulls my hand to his chest. I can feel the steady beat of his heart under my fingers. "This has only ever belonged to you." I look at him, and feel something hot and desperate rise up into my chest. But I don't say anything or do anything, I just look at him.

"Haymitch told me once that I could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve you," I breathe. "Maybe that's why it's so easy for me to convince myself that you don't really love me. Because I've never felt good enough."

"Haymitch is an old, nasty drunk," says Peeta, his eyes still locked onto mine. "And I love you," he leans his forehead up against mine. My hand is still on his chest. "I love you so much, so much, sweetheart, that I can't find any words to tell you how much. So much my heart seizes up in my chest whenever I see you. So much that whenever you're in pain it feels like the world is ending. So much that my blood ran cold when I heard you crying in there. So much it felt like my heart was going to break in there when you were saying that I was in love with Annie and she was having my child. I felt like I was going to break into a thousand pieces, because I could never, ever love anyone but you. I don't want a child with anyone but you."

"Are you sure?" I whisper.

"More sure than I've ever been in my entire life," he breathes, and his breath tickles my face.

"Okay," I murmur.

"Okay," he mumbles back, and his lips finally find mine.