Two short chapters in a week because I was lazy this weekend…

Katniss -

I feel like my stomach is going to explode. I'm off the rocking chair and racing for the bathroom even before my mother and Prim can say a word about what we've just seen on the Capitol's Announcement.

The contents of my evening meal and a thick mucus fill the toilet as I hurl. My stomach clenches tight and I vomit over and over until I'm resorted to dry heaves. I've never felt so sick in all my life.

There's a gentle rap on the door. "Katniss?" Prim's sweet voice calls my name through the wood, but I don't have the strength to get up.

My hands are braced to the porcelain, my legs curled beneath me as I quiver uncontrollably. I've lost all control of my muscles. I can't even speak. My voice has been taken from me.

"Katniss?" Prim asks more urgently and the knob twists open. I forgot the lock.

I don't want her to see me like this. I'm a mess. A weak mess. I'm supposed to protect her, but she's the one wetting a washcloth and wiping the bile and sweat from my face.

Prim, my little sister who has grown decades in a span of months. She's older and seen more than I've given her credit for. She's becoming a woman, but I still feel the need to protect her. To shelter her and give her the childhood I never had. I'm failing at that too.

"Let me help you," Prim persists as she kneels down beside me and eases me so that my back is against the wall, my legs stretched out towards the bathtub.

When she's done wiping my face, she pours a glass of water and makes me swish it around before spitting it into the toilet where she flushes it and my sick away. She has the stomach of a healer. The temperament of one too. I wonder when that all started. Probably while I was away, unable to fend for my family.

"It's going to be all right," Prim tells me.

I shake my head. "In what world are things going to be all right, Prim?" My words are so venom filled that she actually recoils from me and I hate myself all the more.

The announcement from Snow proclaimed that the Quarter Quell would reap tributes from the pool of existing Victors. For me, that means I am heading back into the Arena. There are no other women from District 12. There is no doubt in my mind that this was Snow's decision. He wants me dead more than ever. Now he has the opportunity. I'm not coming back alive.

"They can't seriously make you compete," Prim says and this catches me off guard.

I actually scoff at her. "Right. So, he's just going to change his mind because I was just in there?"

"No." Prim shakes her head and her eyes lock onto mine. "Because the Capitol will rebel sending a pregnant woman to her death."

I don't know what's taken me more by surprise. The fact that I'm heading to my death, or what my baby sister has just proclaimed so matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me?"

"Didn't you know?" Prim looks just as shocked as I am. She gives me an impish little smile. "Katniss, you can barely keep anything down but cheese rolls - which, I'll add, you've had a craving for for the last month. It's like, all you ever eat anymore."

I close my eyes, letting my head fall back against the wall. Prim's gone mad.

"Don't shake your head at me." Prim's small hands grab onto mine. They feel warm and soft in contrast to my callused hands. I've made sure that Prim has never had to work hard in life. She's a child.

"You're nuts," is all I can tell her.

"No, I'm observant," she retorts hotly. "Do you have any idea how huge your breasts have mysteriously become?"

I open my eyes and look down at myself. I can shove aside the craving for cheese biscuits - Peeta makes the most amazing bread. But it's hard to hide the fact that my shirt is tighter around the chest than it's ever been. I eat better than most in District 12 because of my new status, but I haven't been eating any more than usual. Yet my body seems to have been reshaping itself without my knowledge.

"Oh, Katniss," Prim sighs, a wistful smile on her lips. "You really had no idea, did you?"

I shake my head. "I… I had no idea."

Prim snorts. "Well you can't be -that- surprised. So, who's the Daddy? Gale?"

That shakes me back to my senses. Am I really talking about sex with my baby sister? I give her the stern, older sister/mother look that used to pacify her to behave. She's not buying it though.

"No. Not Gale."

Prim's mouth falls into what would be a comical O if it weren't for the seriousness of the situation. She seems so adamant that I'll be safe. Snow can't possibly send a pregnant woman to her death. Not for sport. I can't get her hopes up. I know who Snow is. If he has no issue sending 12 year olds to their deaths, what's an unborn child to him? What are any of us to Snow and the Games? Lambs to the slaughter.

"You have to tell Peeta."

There's the other bomb going off in my head. My stomach heaves and I'm back on all fours with my hands on the bowl, but nothing comes up. Of course I have to tell Peeta. But how? When? Peeta…

I take another glass of water and scrub my mouth with my toothbrush as something greater rises to the forefront of my mind. There's more to worry about than just myself now. It's not just me who will be sent into the Arena.

"Katniss?"

I shake my head and head for the door, brushing off Prim's hand. "I have to go see Haymitch."

"Haymitch?" Prim sounds perplexed. "What? Why? He's not-"

"No, Prim," I roll my eyes at her question. As if there were any way in hell I would ever let Haymitch touch me like that. But he's who I have to see. "It's Peeta's," I tell her hastily as I grab my coat and boots and head out the door.

It's spring, but the air still has a bite to it in the evening. It feels so good on my sweat soaked body that I don't button up my jacket as I race towards Haymitch's house. But I can tell I'm not his only visitor. Peeta's beaten me to the punch.

He's standing on the porch when I arrive at the bottom steps. There's that look in his eyes that I've seen many times. It's determination. He's already made up his mind.

"It's already decided," he tells me before I can even say a word.

"Peeta-" I start but he doesn't give me a chance. He's down the stairs and his arms are reaching out for me. He cradles my face with his hands and his blue eyes stare resolutely into mine.

"No, Katniss. I'm not losing you." His voice quavers and I lean in, pressing my lips against his.

"You don't have a choice," I whisper against his lips. "If Snow wants me dead, I'm dead. But you, Peeta, you can stay out of this."

And I know then I can't tell him. I can't tell him because he's stubborn like I am. If he wants to protect me now, there's no way in hell he'll let me go once he knows I'm carrying his child. I can't tell him.

I've never wanted children. No child can be born in the Districts and live a happy life. Any child of mine will only be another pawn in the Games. Another waif left to starve even if, by chance, they aren't chosen. But Peeta. He's a man of great words. He can move people. They need him more than they need me. I'm willing to sacrifice myself if it means that he can have a chance to live in a world free of Snow's madness. But me? I'll never get the chance.

I'm the Spark. I've got a red target on my back as the face of rebellion. Snow has me in his sight. No one can save me. No one can save us.