((Peeta's POV))
"I guess the "baby bomb" was more than just a stroke of genius…" Haymitch drawls, and I barely have the energy to notice that he must have found alcohol.
At the moment, I am numb to my surroundings. All I feel is crisis. Katniss is pregnant. And according to the doctor, it's mine. No matter how much I have always longed for a family, especially with Katniss, my immediate response is panic.
Once. That was all it had taken. The memories resurfaced, though this time I remember our drunken mistake not with dread but with an odd sense of regret. Even if it had been an accident, before this moment I had kept the memories close to my chest and treasured them. Realistically, I had always known that she wouldn't choose to do that with me sober. I couldn't even imagine it.
And the impossible had happened. She was pregnant. No one else could have ever wanted children any less than her. I never put much thought in it, instead just longing for her guaranteed company. But now whatever was between us has been embodied. Literally.
All of these thoughts are a quieter hum of my subconscious as I actively focus on one sole thing.
Katniss is pregnant with my child; Katniss doesn't want kids; Katniss currently wants to kill me.
And the thing that haunts me the most: Katniss could be dying.
The doctors tried to hide it, but I can tell they were really concerned. I don't have to have a medical license to know that in her condition she wouldn't survive childbirth. And neither would the child.
I suddenly find it very hard to breathe. I cannot accept a world without her. And… and… our child. The term is foreign to me as is the concept of how this is all real.
I would wait forever for a better future with her. But I know that this changes everything. It takes all of my resolve to not go running through 13 until she is in my arms.
This really pushes up the timeline of her recovery.
Haymitch clears his throat, clearly irritated that I keep zoning out. I try to focus on him and quiet my turbulent thoughts.
"Peeta… she doesn't know yet. When she was talking to Dr. A she said it was a lie."
I exhale, having expected this. Of course Katniss didn't know. She would have had an absolute-
She's going to completely relapse if, no when she finds out. She would have had a meltdown before, I can only imagine how she would react right now.
The thought horrified me. I reached for my neck, massaging what was left of the bruising from where she had tried to choke me. It's a cruel reminder of just how lost she is to me.
I could still hear her husk of a voice saying my name, haunting me with all I had lost. My biggest dream has become a nightmare I cannot escape.
And it terrifies me that Katniss was alone all that time, receiving torture I can't even begin to imagine. It makes me sick to think that she was… was pregnant that entire time. That she had tried to sacrifice herself in the arena for me.
I am lit ablaze by a hatred for Snow when the thought finally surfaces…
He tortured her and our child. Probably knowingly.
It disgusts me beyond belief, and I find myself hurling. I am barely able to stumble close enough to a sink to not puke all over the floor. Haymitch makes a sound of disgust, the first thing he has said in several minutes.
I never forgave him for rescuing me over Katniss, but in this moment I am toeing the line of enraged. But of course he hadn't known, he couldn't have.
I can feel an all-consuming panic come on as my brain processes what this could mean. Babies don't fix marriages and they definitely won't fix months of hijacking and torture.
They're dying. She can't die. She can't die, I won't let her. If she dies I can't- I can't-
All I feel is a prick in my neck before I am lost to this waking nightmare.

When I wake, the first person I see is Primrose. Her gaze is gentle, but beneath the care is an undeniable pity. Though she is only thirteen, her baby blues reflect a maturity far beyond her years.
As the drug induced haze fades, I am reminded of the world-changing news they had thrown at me before knocking me out.
My voice is raspy when I am able to ask the question that weighs so heavily on my mind.
"Have they told you?"
Prim's brow furrows, her confusion obvious in every part of her body language. "Told me what? Is Katniss okay? I was telling them the IV wasn't-"
"She's pregnant."
She gasps, suddenly tense. Her hand is suspended in air from where she had been adjusting the blankets. Her lips quiver as a thousand realizations form at once."W-what? That's impossible."
Her voice is quiet and full of disbelief, but I can see her processing the news, the gears turning in her head.
"I thought so, too." I cannot bear the look on her face, turning my eyes to the ceiling, instead. We are so many levels down, and I can almost feel the weight the ceiling holds pressing down on me.
"Is it yours?" An angry voice demands, accusatory in tone. But the voice does not belong to gentle, loving Prim. Sitting up, I am shocked to find a furious Mrs. Everdeen in the doorway.
I do not know how long she has been there. But I know that it is long enough for her to be furious at the news. I catch her eyes and they are hard, far removed from the silently determined healer I am used to. She is no longer a nurse, but a mother defending her daughter. And I know that I am on the other end of her wrath.
When I look over, Prim is not accusatory, but I can see the same question reflected back at me and her curiosity keeping her from denouncing her mother's aggression.
I look at my hands when I respond, anxious energy needing to be released. Because I know that Mrs. Everdeen's response will be hostile and negative. Taking a deep breath, I force my answer out.
"Yes."
She doesn't even gasp, likely already having come to this conclusion. How, I do not know. But she does not throw any venomous words at me, instead choosing to leave the room and slam the door behind her. I watch her back as she walks in the direction of Katniss's hospital room. Tears prick at my eyes at her reaction, though I can't process my emotions enough to know why it bothers me so much.
Maybe it's because the tentative trust we built up before the Quell is gone, and I'm the boyfriend she never wanted her daughter to have again. The fears about me that she voiced to the Capitol reporters have come true and now her daughter is left with an undeniable, permanent burden that she is far from capable of handling in this state.
As my thoughts go down a rabbit hole, I forget that Prim is still next to me. She gently places her hand on my shoulder and attempts to reassure me.
"Mom will get over it. She doesn't mean to upset you, her judgement is just clouded with whatever maternal instincts for Katniss that she still has left. Don't blame yourself, Peeta. I know I don't. You guys obviously didn't intend for it to turn out this way."
She smiles at me gently, but my tears still work their way down my cheeks.
"Plus if anything, I can thank you for making me an aunt. We both know Katniss likely wouldn't have agreed to it if this hadn't happened."
And though her words are teasing and meant to be light hearted, I find that they strike a nerve. Because I don't just blame myself for the pregnancy. No, I'm infinitely mad at myself for causing some of Katniss' greatest fears to come true.
Marriage, pregnancy, and children in a world that wants nothing more than to kill them just to have the last laugh.
Prim seems to realize this a moment too late after the words are out of her mouth. "Peeta… that's not- you know that's not what I meant. Katniss is strong, but beneath that shell she is just as caring and loving as anyone else. Even more so, with how fiercely protective she is. You know that, right?"
I nod numbly.
"The truth is, Peeta, this would have happened no matter what. Maybe the first games were an act, but for all her confusion she did care about you. And before the Quell, I wondered… it doesn't matter," she speaks softly, but she is quick to brush off something private, "Peeta, she fell in love with you before and during the second games. You must see that."
I cannot keep the confusion from my face. Though she had let me into her bed during the Victory tour, she was not affectionate. Not in the way one loves someone else enough to die for.
Afterwards, she returned to spending more time with Gale and avoiding me. It's impossible that she had grown to love me so deeply when she couldn't even be near me.
"She's always been scared of loving people. Because her entire life has been spent having those she opens her heart to hurt, killed, or having abandoned her. I think when she realized how deep her care for you was becoming, she pulled away to try and protect herself. But even Snow must have known how much she loves you, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to turn her so against you. Can't you see that? And whatever happened to cause…"
She pauses, looking at me pityingly. I'm so focused on listening to her, that I don't follow where she is going with this. She seems desperate not to have to say it.
"I know that it was a mistake. And the timing suggests that you guys were drunk. But no matter how drunk you were, you realize that the want has to have been there, right? I've only seen it once or twice, but Katniss is a more honest and open drunk. She wouldn't have done anything that she wouldn't want to do somewhere deep down and sober."
I can feel heat rush to my cheeks as the implication of her words hits home.
But that's… that's not-
"Katniss isn't like that."
"Are you claiming to know her better than I? Because," her tone is teasing, but her words offer no rebuttal, "no matter how much Katniss hides it, she is still as romantic as the next. She just doesn't know how to show it. And I have confidence that if she were in her right mind, she wouldn't blame you either."
Her eyes are sparkling, no longer pitying. Instead, they are full of love and understanding for her sister. Her next words are deeply personal, and though I see them coming it still sends a shot through my heart and lets butterflies loose in my stomach.
"No matter how she denies it, she loves you, Peeta Mellark. And no hijacking can change that forever."
I look away from her, the words too private to process while looking at their speaker.
"You're too good to me, Prim. You're like family to me."
"Even if you haven't married her yet, you will always be like a brother to me."
I hug her and sob, unable to keep it inside any longer. I may have lost my brothers, but even though they are irreplaceable, I cannot help but feel that Prim is as much my sibling as they ever were. Even if the engagement was fake, her words mean infinitely more than that.
"Thank you."
She pats my back, and moves to leave the room. I stay in the hospital bed, and she turns to wave before leaving. As she eases the door closed, she makes one last witty remark.
"Just don't give baby Mellark a sibling any time soon. She may be 17, but Katniss is still my sister and I'm not ready to share that many slices of her yet."
She leaves me chuckling and red in the face.

((Peeta's POV))
When I see Katniss, my heart aches. I find myself wringing my hands, staring at her hospital gown as if I will be able to see the child in her.
Four months.
She's laying in bed, her hands shaking in their restraints. Though she isn't violent towards the doctors, her episodes cause reactions that could lead her to harm herself.
She stares at the doctor emptily, obviously not interested in the treatment exercises he has in store today. Slowly, I've been watching as her reactions to what they talk about become less and less apparent. But I am happy to see the trapped-animal look fade. Even if in its place is an all consuming confusion.
I don't know when they're going to tell her about our unborn child, but it definitely doesn't seem to be coming anytime soon.

The next couple of weeks fly by, much a repeat of the last. Peeta sleeps in the room adjacent to Katniss, his night terrors barely better than what they had been when she was gone.
Not that she was really back.
But there was hope festering in his chest. At first, her improvement was minimal after the relapse. She was quiet and cruel, violent towards everyone she talked to. But then she slowly opened up, allowing Prim back in her heart again. Sometimes she would whisper please and thank yous to the nurses, who always smiled kindly back.
When Coin came looking for Peeta to force him back into making propos, he refused. All that mattered to him was Katniss. Seeing her, being near her. Even if it had to be behind glass.
Katniss, Katniss, Katniss.

((Peeta's POV))
For the first time since she got back, I tear myself from the room adjacent from her and force myself to sleep in my own compartment for the night.
I find myself staring at the ceiling, empty without her next to me. Her absence was painful when she was in the Capitol, but now it leaves me aching. Because if they had not hijacked her, she would be in my arms.
Even if I'm protecting her from her nightmares, having her with me is more comforting than I will ever admit.
Tonight, the sheets feel too cold, my chest too light, and my arms too empty. Hours pass as I lose track of time.
A knock sounds at the door, and I rush to open it, nearly tripping in the process. My prosthetic seems determined to make removing myself from the sheets impossible.
Cursing, I am finally able to throw the sheets away and limp towards the door. I'm not sure what I expected to see on the other side, but a crazed Primrose Everdeen was not it.
"Hi, Prim-"
Next thing I know, she is dragging me behind her. She is practically running, and I stumble along as what's left of my leg wakes up. Her grip on my wrist is punishing, but she does not seem angry. Insane, but not angry.
"Prim, if you don't mind me asking, where exactly are we going?"
She practically shoves me into the elevator. When she looks at me, her eyes sparkle with excitement.
"Katniss asked to see you."

((Peeta's POV))
Hesitantly, I open the door to Katniss's room. I do it slowly, trying not to disturb her. But she is already awake, her haunted eyes staring off into a space beyond the ceiling above her. It is like she is blind to this world.
But when the door closes behind me, she makes eye contact with me. And I am frozen. With great apprehension, I approach her and sit on the corner of her bed. If you can even call it that.
Her eyes are almost clear of the murder they screamed last time. Her voice is hoarse when she speaks my name, barely above a whisper.
"Peeta."
I find that my hands are shaking at my sides, and I stare into her eyes, waiting for them to be filled with that hatred. They are half lidded, heavy from a restless sleep.
But I am shocked to hear her voice hollow but with a hint of affection. I can feel myself tense when she sits up, her half asleep gaze meeting mine.
"Katniss?" My voice is quiet, echoing my fear of shattering this moment. Breaking whatever peace or progress that she has made. But I know that she expects a response.
"Your favorite color is orange like sunset. Real or not real?"
She finally looks away as she says this, sending a portion of her loose tresses falling in front of her face. She whispers the words, and it takes me a moment to respond.
"Real."
"And… and what is mine?"
This shocks me. I am quiet for a moment, trying to process this. She can't even remember her favorite color. Or at least, she isn't sure.
"Green. Like the woods outside of 12."
She seems lost in thought, her jaw beginning to tighten. There is a silence between us for a few moments as I wait for her response. She is sinking further into her bed, without the energy to keep herself up.
"Peeta… I don't know what's real anymore. I just… I get so confused," silent tears begin to fall from her eyes, and it's all I can do to not reach over and brush them from her cheek.
"It's okay to be confused," I keep my voice as quiet as possible, "if there is anything I can do to help you, I will do it. I promise."
"Can you just… will you visit me and help me sort things out?"
"Anything for you, Katniss."
She meets my gaze one more time before falling to unconsciousness once again, likely aided by the morphling the IV in her elbow is administering. I have to drag myself away from her bed.