Chapter 5

Gale and I only hunt for a short while that morning. I'm worn out from all of the crying and he seems to be feeling a thousand things all at once, but saying hardly anything. We head back into District 12 with a rabbit and a couple of squirrels. Slow day, but both of our minds are clouded with too many other things for either of us to care.

I walk into Victor's Village, past a few vacant houses, reminders of how Victor's in District 12 are far and few between. No wonder two in one year is a problem. I hear what sounds like pots and pans being tossed around at Haymitch's, but the lights are off and everything seems quiet at Peeta's.

I feel much better and worse than ever after my conversation with Gale. When he told me about the merchant woman who can help me, he gave me power back over my own life. The feeling of doom and certain suffering had lifted. I had control over my own life again, which I needed so badly. I felt strong again.

When I wake up from a long nap that evening, I find myself rubbing my stomach in bed. It is only since I'd realized I could end this pregnancy that I started thinking about it as a person; started almost caring about it. Walking quietly through the woods all morning, I had found myself thinking about it as a boy, but mostly just because I imagined it as Peeta. Peeta's baby, not mine. I've only been able to think of it that way. Part of me wants to get rid of these thoughts. Why is it only now, that I have an escape, that I'm thinking of it this way?

But how easy the choice would be. No one besides myself, Prim, and Gale would have to know. I might just have to tell Prim I lost the baby; I couldn't hurt her by telling her the truth. And I'd never have to tell Peeta. He wouldn't have to watch his child die in the Hunger Games, and he wouldn't have to know that I extinguished its flame that lived inside of me. He could live in peace.

I'd be disappointing Panem, of course. The Capitol especially. How they'd fuss over this pregnancy. Nothing better to do than follow the troubled lives of the Star Crossed Lovers from poor, sad District 12, I think. But they would never have to know either. No humiliation at the reaping. No Capitol officials taking the infant away, ensuring it a life of suffering, so they can kill its mother.

I know what I'm going to do, I think both sadly and triumphantly. Yes, I have made a decision. It's just that I owe Peeta's child a couple of days to think it over.

I hear a knock on the door, but from the back of the big house where I sleep, I can't hear who Prim is talking to. The conversation is quick and she shuts the door. I assume it was someone looking for my mother. I haven't eaten since this morning and hunger finally washes over me, strong and demanding. I meet Prim in the dining room.

"Mom will be home from town soon to make dinner," she says. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay. Sick on and off. Really tired."

Prim gives me an understanding nod, and I'm continually impressed with her maturity. "Hungry?" she smiles.

"Yes. Very."

"Oh, by the way, Haymitch stopped by a little while ago. He looked drunk. I told him you were sick and hadn't left the bed all day. I figured with all that's going on, he'd be the last person you want to talk to,"

"Oh, thanks, Prim…" I trail off, because Prim doesn't know that I saw Haymitch at the Hob bright and early this morning. I was acting strangely, yes, but I was going hunting and obviously not sick in bed. I panic a little, but try to hide it from Prim. She was right after all, he is the last person I'd want to talk to.

My mother comes home, and she and Prim are readying dinner when the phone rings. They look at me expectantly.

"Hello?" I answer reluctantly.

"Well hey, there. I see you made it out of bed- for the second time today!" The laugh that follows is loud and obnoxious. My stomach drops and I roll my eyes simultaneously.

"Yes. I'm feeling better," I say, not wanting to worry Prim or my mother.

"Well, why don't you come on over? Don't give me that sick bullshit, either. And Katniss, I suggest you do come over. I know something is going on," He struggles to sound sober and serious. "Don't make me come over again and get it outta you in front of them, either. Come over."

Prim knows I'm pregnant, but my mother doesn't, and I'd like to keep it that way. Maybe he'll just forget and pass out, I think. But it's not worth the scene he could make if he doesn't, and Peeta is just a few houses away. If Haymitch comes over demanding to get in, he'll hear the commotion for sure. Against my better judgment, I go to Haymitch's.

"Katniss, what about dinner?" My mother asks.

"There's something I have to take care of," Is all I say, closing the door.

I walk the short distance to Haymitch's house, without a plan. There wasn't time to think about what I'll say or do. I'll have to think on my feet. I suck a deep breath in and walk inside.

"Hey, sweetheart!" he says and struggles to get out of his chair. "Great to see you. It's been too long."

I care about Haymitch, drunkard and all, mostly because of what he did for me and Peeta in the games. But with the seriousness of the situation that I am in, his antics make my blood boil. Rage bubbles up in me with every word.

"Get away from me," I recoil when he tries to give me a hug.

"Alright, have it your way," and he flops down again, taking a big swig from his liquor bottle.

"What do you want, Haymitch?" I say, my voice bitter.

He smiles. "Well, I see you came over here ready to convince me that everything's fine!" He says sarcastically. My heart pounds in my chest, but I roll my eyes and stay quiet.

"Have a seat," he starts. I pull out a chair next to him. "Now, where shall we start. First, you've abandoned me this week, and it shows," He moves his hand around, showcasing his house which is more disgusting than ever. "Then there's your bizarre behavior this morning. And your faked sickness. Poor little Prim covering for you. You think you could avoid me and I wouldn't figure out something's going on? I'm a drunk, Katniss. Not an idiot," He says, and takes another long gulp to convince me.

Haymitch is drunker than usual today, just as he was this morning at the hob. But there's somehow still a serious tone to his voice and demeanor. He knows more than what he's saying.

"Oh, and the last thing. I know you had sex with Peeta on the train," He said, loudly.

"Haymitch!" I sneer. "Lower your voice!"

"Oh, Christ. That's your concern. Don't you want to know how I know?"

"There's nothing to know," I say unconvincingly.

"Please," He laughs with delight. "I heard it. Actually, I heard you," Now his tone is lightened and his drunk giggle is back.

"Pig. You are a pig, Haymitch," I say. But my face is burning up with redness, and I can't make eye contact with him. I feel silly for being so embarrassed when I have much bigger problems than how loudly I moaned on the train.

"Oh, stop. Not like I was listening for anything. I was just wandering the halls. Couldn't sleep. Remember, bastards cut me off that night?"

That's true. Effie had declared Haymitch wouldn't have another drop until we returned to District 12, which caused quite the commotion of course. She demanded the bar car close and poured his bottles out of the train window. I was so upset about the events of the day I hadn't bothered to pay attention to the aftermath.

"Yeah, I remember."

"Of course, we all knew you slept in the same room. But I could tell by the look on his face every morning that nothing else had happened. But sure enough, that morning he looked giddy at breakfast. That was short lived, huh?" He laughs.

"And by the way, could you be any more obvious about avoiding him? You're supposed to be in love. Which, I thought was lookin' good after that night. You messed it up I'd imagine. Poor kid sulking around here everyday," he slurs. "Anyway, something's going on. And if you expect to be around awhile, I need to know. What's wrong, sweetheart?"

His voice has actually softened, in a half-hearted attempt to be empathetic. I know I have to make a decision now. I tell Haymitch and take his advice. Or I lie, avoid him as long as possible and try to pretend the whole thing never happened. If he weren't such a drunk that would be a viable option. But him making a scene about this around town would be worse.

"What's wrong, is I, somehow…." I shake my head. "Somehow, I got pregnant."

Haymitch's eyes widen, but then return to their normal size, signaling that he's at least thought it was possible. He laughs. "Somehow, eh?"

"It's not funny," I say, and look down. "Listen. I heard about someone… a merchants wife who… takes care of these kind of things," I figure if there's anyone I can count on not to judge me by my morals, it's Haymitch.

This is when I see the shock I was expecting to see when I told him I was pregnant. "Are you out of your mind?" He stands up and slams his fist into the table, and I jump. "That baby could save your life!"

"What?" I want to talk, but I stammer and stop, not knowing what to say. "I—"

"All this worrying about Snow, about what will happen if you can't convince him. And the rest of Panem. Worrying about your family, me, Peeta, blah blah blah… The solution growing inside of you and because you're a coward, you're not going to work with what you have," He says indignantly and practically chugs his liquor.

"Not wanting to bring a child into this does not make me a coward," My voice is raised, now. "Haymitch, do you think being pregnant will really help me? I've thought about it, and it just doesn't seem like it will be enough,"

"Is this about that seam boy?" He says, too drunk to follow the conversation. "Don't wanna have Peeta's kid so you can keep him around?" He shakes his head. "I didn't know you were that stupid. Stubborn, yes, but stupid too?"

"Shut up Haymitch. No, it has nothing to do with him," I demand. "Listen to me. About the Capitol. If I had the baby, would it be enough? Could it save my family… would it keep us all safe? How do we make it believable, that I wanted the baby? What do you really think?"

He's so drunk now that his eyes flutter open and shut. He laughs idiotically. "Huh. What do I think about that? I thought I just told you being knocked up could save your life, but you want to keep asking me what I think!"

Exasperated, I stand up and push my chair to the side. Too hard, because it hits the stove and then bangs against the wall, loudly. But I'm too angry to care. Haymitch has made me rethink everything, but is now too far gone to give me any real advice. To explain, if I should keep the baby, what our plan of action would be. To tell me if he's heard anything from the Capitol while I've been avoiding him. If he knows anything I don't.

I'm mad, and I'm going to show it. I yell, "This is why I never should have told you at all. You're useless to me like this. This is my life, my future, my family's future! I can't believe they've kept you as a mentor so long. What a joke!" I'm shaking with anger, but I still feel guilty about what I've said about him being a mentor. He probably won't remember tomorrow anyway.

I stare at him, waiting for a response, but he's not looking at me any more. He's looking behind me, toward the door, smiling drunkly… at someone.

I turn around. Peeta.

"What's going on over here? I heard a bang." He asks.

"How long have you been here?" I ask tentatively.

"Just a second. Guess you didn't hear me over your screaming," His voice is half playful, half mocking. Lately whenever he talks to me his voice is so full of confliction.

"Hey, speak of the devil!" Haymitch comes to. "Come on in. Katniss has something to tell you. Hope you're ready, cause its pretty heavy stuff," Haymitch says, lying on the couch now, using one hand to talk emphatically and the other holding the liquor. "Pretty heavy indeed."

Peeta's eyes immediately dart over to me. He looks worried and curious, but he doesn't say anything, just stares.

I want to run out of there. I want to run home, curl up in my bed, and tell Prim to tell everyone I'll be on strict bed rest for the week… longer, maybe. I'll tell my mother what's going on, if only I can hide from the rest of the world. I don't want to visit the merchant's wife, and I don't want to have the baby. I just want it all to disappear.

Because when I look into his inquisitive blue eyes, I have no idea where to start. I didn't want to do this now—I needed more time. But I can't abandon him again, and I definitely can't let him hear it from Haymitch. The room is quiet for a while until Peeta speaks again.

"Katniss?" His voice is the softest I've heard it since the day in the bakery. "What's he talking about?"

Even Haymitch is quiet now. "It's true, Peeta. I do have something I have to… talk to you about."

"Well, okay. What is it?"

Haymitch is still quiet, which makes me wonder if he's even alive. I can't tell Peeta this here. "Can we go to your house?"

Peeta looks increasingly confused. "Yeah. Sure."

We walk out together, and when I look back at Haymitch, I see he's passed out. That's for the best.

"We really need to find something for him to do," Peeta laughs as we walk to his house.

"There's the geese," I say, trying to sound casual.

"If only they needed more help." He smiles, but his voice is uncertain. I'm glad Peeta understands that whatever is happening is serious.

When we walk in, I marvel at what I see. I haven't been to Peeta's new house, since we haven't been talking. Inside, there are paintings on almost every wall. Nothing from the Games. Sunsets. The ocean, even though neither of us have ever seen it. On one wall there's an elaborate city littered with skyscrapers and dwarfed by mountains in the background. It's different enough from the Capitol to look beautiful.

"I know," he says, seeing me look around. "A little narcissistic to have my own paintings hanging everywhere. I want to give them away eventually. Just don't know to who," he explains.

"No," I say. "Not narcissistic. They are beautiful. And I don't have to hate them like the ones you painted on the train," I smile at him, and he returns it knowingly.

"I couldn't look at them either after awhile. You were right about that." He pauses. "Want tea or something?"

"I'm fine," I say. I sit down and my shoulders slump forward. I stare at my hands in my lap; play with the callouses left over from the games. When he sits next to me, instead of speaking I sigh loudly. His brow forrows.

"What's wrong?"

"Peeta," I say, holding my head in my hands. "You won't believe what happened,"

"What happened?"

"I'm…." I'm so close to saying it, but I stop. I want to look at his face one more time before I tell him. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes urge me on.

"I got pregnant." I lack so much eloquence; I can't even say it right. I stare at my hands. I can't look. From my peripheral vision, I see him lean back, as if the couch is catching him from falling.

When I finally look up, I see shock and confusion all over his face. I realize he doesn't know exactly what I'm saying. I've tried not to let Peeta see me with Gale, because I knew it would hurt him. I think about Gale telling me he ran into Peeta and Haymitch on his way to the woods. I followed shortly after. I'm sure somehow, Peeta knows Gale and I have something more. So I clarify.

"On the train, Peeta," I say softly, my voice wavering.

"But… you and…," I've never seen Peeta like this. He's stumbling over every word, and he speaks in a choked, tense manner. I don't know what he's feeling. "You and Gale. You're together."

"I haven't slept with him," I say slowly.

"You haven't?" He asks me.

"No," I say. "Not even close." I'm not sure why I add that. I couldn't be pregnant by coming close. It must be that part of me that can't stand to see Peeta hurt.

He leans back and pulls his hands through his hair. A glimmer of happiness appears on his face and disappears just as quickly. He inhales, exhales and looks at me. His eyes widen, and shut. His breathing deepens. I'm waiting for him to say something, to tell me what he thinks, what he's feeling.

"Is there more than you're not telling me?"

I don't know how he knows this. I can figure out how Prim suspected I was pregnant, how Haymitch knew something was up with me that I wasn't telling him. But I can't figure out how Peeta knows there's more that I have to tell him. I was hoping he'd react to my pregnancy first. I know he'd love the child, no doubt, but I assumed he'd be confused. And hurt that he and I aren't together, that the child isn't a product of my real, certain love for him.

His eyes are bluer when he's feeling something intense. He knows I'm not going to say something he wants to hear.

"There's someone in town who takes care of these things. Peeta, I'm—I'm thinking about…"

"Who?" He asks, urgency in his voice. "Is it safe? Do you know for sure?" He's still looking out for me.

"I don't know. Well—you know Thom from the seam? When his sisters' boyfriend died in the mines, she helped her. Gale said she was fine after, no problems…"

"Gale," He says. "I bet he did." He looks at the ground, squeezing his fist with his other hand, anger seeping into his eyes.

"Peeta, it's not like that…"

"Really? You don't think it's like that, Katniss? You think Gale's so thrilled that I got you pregnant? Don't you think he'd like it if…" Peeta trails off, and I know he's too kind and good to say what he's thinking.

"I don't think so, Peeta. I don't think it's that. He just told me because he knows I never wanted this. Not with anyone," I look deep into Peeta's eyes when I say it. I don't want him to think I'd want this with Gale.

He raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms tighter. He says nothing until I see one lone tear roll down his cheek, like the one I saw the night after we slept together. The only two times I've seen him cry, and both because of me.

"Peeta," I say. "Peeta. Haymitch said the baby could save us. Me. That maybe having it will convince the Capitol. That's what we were arguing about… he got drunk, and stopped answering me coherently. I need to talk to him again, but I'm rethinking everything now," My voice starts to catch in my throat, and I realize I'm crying now.

"I'm so sorry, Peeta. About everything."

He's staring intently at the floor. But when he looks up and sees me crying, he moves toward me and wraps me in his arms. Instinctively I tuck my head in the crook of his neck and pull my legs up onto his lap. He puts one arm under my legs and the other around my back. He cradles me like that while I cry softly. I don't realize he's still crying, too, until I feel another one of his tears, crawling down my cheek.