Katniss

"Katniss! Katniss, help me!"
The scream tears at my heart and I turn around to see Peeta in the grip of two Peacekeepers, hands held behind his back, his face bloody and bruised. Even as he says my name, a Peacekeeper raises a short, thick, black stick in the air and brings it down with a sharp crack between Peeta's shoulder blades. With a cry of pain, Peeta falls to his knees.

I watch in horror as a Peacekeeper pulls a gun from the side of his hip and places the tip of the gun directly against Peeta's head. I start to run forward, desperate to save him, but I find myself suddenly trapped in a clear glass tube, much like the one that transported me into the arena. All I can do is slam my hands against the glass in a frantic attempt to free myself, but it's useless. I'm screaming so loud that my blood is thundering in my ears and it feels like my heart is going to burst out of my chest any minute now, which I would welcome if it meant erasing the sight of the Peacekeeper pulling the trigger, the bullet entering Peeta's brain, or the look of satisfaction on the face of President Snow, who has suddenly appeared beside the Peacekeepers. His eyes lock onto mine, a twisted smile on his face as Peeta's lifeless body falls at his feet.

"Peeta! No, Peeta, Peeta! No, no!" I wake up suddenly, my limbs tangled in sheets, my throat raw from screaming. I'm thrashing around in the sheets, my head swinging wildly from side to side, my hands gripping the sheets, unsure if what I just witnessed was a dream or reality, when the door to my room suddenly flies open. Peeta stumbles into my room, his robe half on, his hair tousled from sleep, his eyes wide open in panic.

"Katniss! What's wrong?" Peeta makes it to the side of my bed in two strides and I fling my arms around his waist and bury my head in his chest, pressing my cheek to the place where his heart beats, the strong, steady beats that reassure me.

"Hey…what's wrong?" Peeta asks softly, his arms around me, his hands on my back, his fingertips gently stroking.

"They killed you. They killed you right in front of me and I couldn't save you." I mumble into his chest. I feel his arms tighten around me and he leans his head down and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

"I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere." He whispers.

I want so badly to believe him. But I know, as well as he does, that we are not in control of our own lives. We are at the mercy of the Capitol, merely players in a game that has no rules and never ends. What precious little freedom we did have disappeared the moment I pulled out those berries, maybe even before that, maybe it happened the second Effie pulled those names out of the Reaping Ball. Had volunteering for Prim been my last act of free will? And even that had not been a choice. I could have not stopped myself from volunteering for Prim any more than I could stop the Reaping itself from happening. There was no choice at all.

I look up to find Peeta's brilliant blue eyes resting on my face. The look in his eyes brings that unfamiliar warmth to my chest, the hunger I'd felt only once before, as we waited for our deaths in the cave.

"Stay with me?"

He gives me a wistful half smile before pressing me back down against the pillows and bringing the covers up to my chest, before climbing in beside me. I flip onto my side and study his face, taking in his blue eyes, the blond curls that fall over his forehead, his pale complexion, the set of his lips. I'm looking at him, his face full of something I can't quite identify and I'm suddenly filled with rage at the Capitol. How dare they do this to Peeta, take away his choices and give him a life sentence with me in return? How dare they do this to Peeta, one of the few genuinely kind and decent people, whose only crime was to love and protect me.

I don't even know what happens next, but I'm suddenly desperate to do something of my own free will, something that wasn't controlled, scheduled, and dictated by the Capitol and the Gamemakers. In the next breath, my lips are pressed against Peeta's and I've circled my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. If he's surprised, he doesn't show it. Instead, he responds to my kiss, bringing his hands up to gently cup the sides of my face. It's only when my hands find their way to the hem of his shirt and begin to pull it up, my fingertips dancing across his abdomen, that he jerks back, staring at me with wide eyes that blaze a furious blue.

"Katniss. What are you doing?" He says this slowly and carefully, as if each word has weight and needs to be used carefully

I look down at my hands, clutching the hem of his shirt. The truth is that I don't know what I'm doing. I'm not thinking about the future or what affect this will on our relationship. I'm just desperate to prove that I'm not the Capitol's show pony, someone who does whatever is demanded of them without questioning.

"I want to be more than just a piece in their Games." I say, echoing the words Peeta said to me on the roof of the Tribute Center the night before we entered the arena. I press my lips up against his once again, trying to convey all the emotions that I will never been able to express in words.

I break the kiss and look straight into the blue blaze of his eyes.

"I want this, Peeta. Please."

He draws in a ragged breath and apparently decides to throw caution to the wind because in the space of a breath, he's looming over me, his lips fused to mine, his fingers running through my hair.

My breath catches in my throat as that warm, unfamiliar feeling enters my chest again. My fingers find that hem of his shirt again and this time I succeed in tugging it up to his shoulders. As he sits up to fully remove the shirt, my eyes take in his upper body. His skin is pale, with a dusting of blond hair on his chest and it is evident that lifting those 100lb bags of flour in the market have kept him in shape. His muscles are well defined, his arms long and muscular, his shoulders broad. Unlike so many of the boys in the Seam (and even a few in town) Peeta's body glows with health and vitality. Clearly, being the baker's son has its perks.

He lowers himself back to me and begins to kiss a slow, sweet line, starting at my ear and continuing down. At the same time, he slides his hand under my nightgown and his palms burn like a brand on my skin. I feel him lifting my gown high and higher, as my hands go to the waistband of his pants. And then we are bare before each other and Peeta is looking at me and his eyes are shining.

"You're perfect." He whispers as he picks up my hand and twines our fingers together, placing a kiss on the back of our join hands. As usual, I have no words, nothing that can possibly express what I feel in this moment.

Thankfully, Peeta is too busy to notice, as he gently lowers me onto the pillows. And then we are a tangle of arms and legs, our mouths pressed together, our hands exploring, charting the topography of our bodies.

I didn't know that it was possible to feel like this, I've forgotten about everything, the world has ceased to exist beyond the two of us. There is only here, there is only now,

When the moment arrives, there is pain, yes, but it seems very distant. I take no notice of it, completely caught up in this experience and the boy experiencing it with me. Afterwards, Peeta tips his forehead against mine and asks if I'm okay, his face is bright and happy, the apples of his cheeks are flushed, his teeth are white and flashing as he smiles.

I simply nod because there is no possible way to describe the feelings rushing through me.

He reaches down and retrieves our clothes from where they've landed on the floor and we dress again, because even on this train back to District 12, on the last night of our Victory Tour, we are not guaranteed privacy.

After we've righted our clothes, I turn and lay my head on his chest, listening for that steady heartbeat. I can feel sleep reaching towards me, pulling me in and before I let it, I whisper, "Thank you for staying with me."

Peeta drops a kiss on my head and tightens his arms around me before whispering a word I can't quite hear because sleep is wrapping its warm arms around me. I drift off, secure in his arms and when I wake in the morning, it does not surprise me that I had no more nightmares that night, my first peaceful night of sleep since the Reaping.

I crack my eyes open, expecting to awaken to Peeta's smiling face and the warmth of his arms. Instead, I'm blinded by a brilliant white light and I'm aware of cool sheets underneath my hands and the low murmur of voices around me. I strain my ears, hoping to hear some of the conversation taking place around me.

"Pregnant…didn't know…Peeta.."

At these whispered snatches of conversation, I suddenly remember the last words I heard and my eyes fly open.

They told me I was pregnant. But that's not possible, is it? I've never…and then I remember the dream I just had, not a dream but a memory…the last night on the train after the Victory Tour, knowing that I hadn't been able to convince President Snow of my love for Peeta, terrified of what came next…Peeta came running in when I woke up screaming from the nightmares and then…

Oh no…..

"Katniss, you're awake." My mother appears in my line of vision, a strained expression on her face. She peers down at me, her eyes filled with worry. She presses one hand to my forehead, as if feeling for a fever. I push her hand away and struggle to sit up. I have to figure out what's going on.

"Mom…did you say that I was pregnant?" I ask, my eyes glancing around the room. I see that Mom, Haymitch, and Prim are all gathered around my hospital bed, identical looks of unease and uncertainty on their faces. I stare at them, waiting for someone to answer me.

"Well? Someone talk to me!" I demand. I'm glaring at my mother and Haymitch, but still they stand frozen at the side of my bed. Prim is the one who steps forward and as she starts to speak, I'm struck by how grown up she suddenly seems. She speaks clearly and calmly, there is no trace of the 12-year-old little girl who clung desperately to me at the Reaping as the Peacekeepers led me away.

"You're a little over three months pregnant, Katniss. Blood tests and an ultrasound confirmed it. The baby survived the explosion in the arena and seems fine." Prim says this steadily, as if there's nothing abnormal about this situation, as if she tells people they are pregnant every day.

"Oh God…" It's the only thing I can say as I let out the breath I hadn't even realized I was holding. The world has turned upside down and now there's going to be a baby added to the mix.

What am I going to do?

"Katniss, why didn't you and Peeta tell us before you went into the arena?" Haymitch seems to have found his voice and is staring down at me, waiting for an answer. As I look up at my mentor, I feel my anger return. How dare he do this to us, how dare he rescue me from the arena first when he had sworn to me that he would save Peeta, no matter what.

He lied.

"Peeta. Where is he?" I know the answer even before the question has fully left my mouth. He's still in the Capitol, he must be. Nothing else would prevent him from being at the side of my hospital bed.

"He's still in the Capitol, along with Johanna, Enobaria, and Annie Cresta."

My heart sinks, not only for Peeta, but for Johanna and Annie as well. I can't find it in myself to care about Enobaria's fate, as a District 2 tribute, she's unlikely to be in any danger. I doubt she or Brutus, any of the Careers for that matter, knew about the rebellion. But Johanna almost certainly did and as for Annie…I doubt Finnick would have told her anything in the hopes of protecting her if a situation like this ever arose. But Peeta didn't know anything about the rebellion either, and they took him anyway.

"Katniss!" I'm jerked from my thoughts by the sound of Haymitch's voice. "Katniss, why didn't you tell us about the baby?"

Oh God, the baby…I'd forgotten all about the baby. I lean back against my pillows and stare at the white blanket covering my legs, trying to find the right words.

"I didn't know until you all told me. What Peeta said to Cesare Flickerman… it was just an attempt to stop the Games. We didn't know…it was just once, on the train to the Quarter Quell…" I fall silent, not wanting to share my private memories of Peeta, not even with my mother, Haymitch, and Prim, who are without a doubt three of the most important people in my life. These are all I have left of Peeta and they are no one's business but mine.

My mother, Haymitch, and Prim stand silently for a minute, as if they need to absorb what I've just told them.

"So Peeta doesn't know about the baby?" Prim asks me, her face a mask of sadness.

I feel the burn of tears pressing against the backs of my eyes but I will not let myself cry. Now is not the time for tears.

"No. He doesn't know." I whisper, staring at that white blanket again. I can't look at the people gathered around me because it's becoming harder and harder to hold back the tears.

"Oh, Katniss..." Prim sits down next to me on the edge of my bed and takes my hand. "I'm so sorry, Katniss." Her eyes are wet with tears and she throws her arms around me and suddenly my face is in her hair and it's taking everything I have not to burst into tears. Poor Prim, I'm supposed to be the strong one, I'm supposed to protect her, not the other way around. But even so, just this once I let myself feel how good it is to be the once receiving comfort instead of giving it.

I could hold onto my sister forever but we're interrupted by Haymitch clearing his throat and we break apart, although Prim doesn't move from her spot on the bed, one hand still gripping mine.

"Katniss, now that you've been medically cleared, they're not going to leave you alone for much longer," Haymitch says. "Plutarch and Alma Coin, the President of 13 and leader of the rebellion, want to meet with you. They've been harassing the doctors about weaning you off sedation for days. They'll want an update." He pauses suddenly as if he's lost his train of thought. He shuffles his feet awkwardly before looking at me again.

"They'll want to talk about the baby and how it will affect the rebellion."

I don't know how to respond to that and luckily l'm saved from figuring it out by my mother, who suddenly speaks up, her voice firm.

"Well, they can't have her tonight," She declares. "She's just found out she's having a baby and her body is still weak from being under sedation. She needs a good night's rest before she discusses anything with anyone."

She marches past Haymitch and shoos Prim off my bed. She smooths my sheets and adjusts my pillows, before taking a small vial out of her pocket. After telling me to open my mouth, she tips the vial into my mouth. The taste is sweet and instantly familiar. Sleep syrup, the same thing I tricked Peeta into swallowing in the first arena so I could go to the feast and get the medicine needed to save his life. I feel instantly drowsy and know that I only have a few minutes before the syrup takes me under. I'm faintly aware of my mother ushering Haymitch and Prim from my room and turning off the lights before following the out the door.

I turn onto my side and only then do I let myself briefly think about the baby. This baby, Peeta's baby, that survived the arena with me, I don't know how to feel about this baby. I know how Peeta would feel. He'd be excited, happy. He'd know what to do, how to handle this.

I can feel sleep beckoning me and I try to summon up the image of Peeta's face to take with me into sleep.

Oh, Peeta…you'd be so happy about this baby…if only you knew…