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Katniss –

Every bone in my body aches, and my stomach is growling ferociously. Ever since the announcement of the Quarter Quell, Peeta has been on my (and Haymitch's) butt. He expects us to be prepared - like the careers. He's determined that one of us will come out alive. There is little time for rest, but my body is disagreeing with me. I'm sore and I'm hungry. Seriously hungry. And there's only one thing on my mind. Cheese biscuits.

The buns Peeta makes are warm and soft. He seems to always have a new batch in the oven and I never complain. The cheese is salty with a slight bitter after-taste, but it goes deliciously well with the savory dough. It's not the hard grain that we've been accustomed to as tessera rations. This is whole grain - real wheat and barley kernels scattered throughout the mix. But he isn't baking cheese biscuits when I show up at his door two days before the Reaping.

The kitchen smells of cinnamon, sugar and vanilla. Sweet smells like cake or cookies. Is he seriously celebrating our last two days of freedom?

I can't hide the disappointment as I call up his stairs, "Peeta? Are you here?" Of course he must be. The oven is still going.

I hear the soft padding of feet - more than just one set - and I hear someone shush another. My hand grips the banister. Is there someone else here?

The pang of hurt I feel is whisked away to the back of my mind as annoyance jumps to the forefront. Why isn't he answering me?

"Peeta?" I call again, this time louder.

I hear voices whisper again, but they're too soft for me to hear. Annoyance is replaced by fear. I'm without my bow and arrows in the District - they are far out of my reach with the electrified fence between us. I grab a knife from the kitchen counter and I'm running up the stairs. The door at the end of the hall is cracked open and I slowly edge my way towards it.

"Peeta?" I grasp the knife tight in my hand and push open the door and brace myself to pounce. But I'm not prepared for what I find.

Haymitch is standing frozen in the middle of Peeta's room, dressed in his finest suit. He's even got a tie on; but it's not his appearance that knocks me for a loop. It's the man standing beside him in front of Peeta's floor length mirror.

I wouldn't have recognized him, except for the coy smile he gives me when he turns to face me. Dressed in one of Haymitch's sleek black shirts and dress pants, with his dark hair neatly combed and his olive skin cleaner than I've ever seen, is my best friend - Gale Hawthorne.

All the words have gone completely from my brain. I stare, like a dumbstruck child at the two of them. But what are they doing here? And where is Peeta?

"I told you she'd skip out on training," Haymitch snorts when I don't speak. "You planning on stabbing us, Sweetheart? Cause that'll cost you. These are my best outfits." That snaps me back to my senses.

"What are you two doing here?"

"Oof," Haymitch looks at the ceiling and then back at me. "You weren't supposed to see us."

Haymitch is obviously not being of help. I look to Gale for my answers. He hates Peeta. Why is he here, in Peeta's bedroom with Haymitch of all people. "Gale?"

Gale's chissled jaw flexes into a scowl. "Can't he do anything right?"

"Sure he can," Haymitch butts in. "He's just got a lot on his mind right now. You would too if you were in his position."

I think I hear Gale mutter, "But I'm not" but I can't be sure because none of their words are making sense to me. I close my eyes and grit my teeth. "Okay… where is Peeta?"

The door downstairs opens. There are voices, excited voices. I guess half a dozen people have just come in. I look back to Haymitch.

"What is going on?"

Haymitch grins at me. "Surprise."

I'm angry. They've all been conspiring behind my back. My mother, Prim, Haymitch, Madge, even Gale, they were all in on it. Helping Peeta to pull it off without my knowing.

"How long have you known?"

I'm sitting on Peeta's bed, hiding from the group of people downstairs. They're all down there, dressed in their finest clothes. Their conversations cut off the moment Peeta shut the door, but I can feel them staring, even if it's from below. They have me trapped like a rabbit in one of Gale's snares.

"Months," Peeta admits. He's dressed in a blue silk shirt and a gray suit jacket. They make his blue eyes sparkle. His blond hair is neatly combed and smoothed back from his face. I don't object when he joins me on the bed.

I dreaded this day. From the moment I knew I was destined to step back into the Arena, I knew I couldn't tell him, but he knows already. He's known and said nothing - waiting for me to come to him, but my time is up.

"You weren't going to tell me, were you?"

I shake my head. I didn't want to give him one more reason to try to protect me. It doesn't matter what happens on Reaping Day, I am going back. I am as good as dead. I don't want to hurt him more than I have to.

"Katniss, let me do what's right."

"What's right?" I snort venomously. "Peeta, I've got Snow's target on my back. How long do you think I'm going to last in the Arena?"

"You might not even have to set foot in the Arena," Peeta argues. "Maybe they'll make an exception for you, for the baby. Maybe they'll send Haymitch and I in your stead."

I laugh. An honest to God laugh. Snow would never make such an exception for me.

Peeta takes my hands in his. "Fine. If you won't consider the possibility, consider what I'm asking of you."

I look down at his hands. They're soft but strong. They encompass the both of mine in their warmth and I'm drawn back in my mind to the nights on the train. Those hands wrapped around me in the dark. "And what are you asking me?"

Peeta places his right hand under my chin and he gently guides me to stare up into his blue irises. "I love you, Katniss. I love you more than anyone else in my life. I would die for you."

"I know that…"

"Then marry me."

I've been expecting the words ever since I shooed Haymitch and Gale from the room, but they still catch me off-guard. Marriage? In two days I will be on the stairs of Hall of Justice watching Effie pull my solitary name from a giant glass bowl. It is my death warrant. All pretense of a Capitol Wedding will be gone, but Peeta still wants to go through with the charade anyways?

"We don't have to keep playing their game," I tell him and I quickly regret it. I've hurt him again, I can see it in the way that his eyes dilate and then refocus, resolutely on me.

"This isn't for them, Katniss," Peeta tells me, lowering his face towards mine. His lips brush my ear. "This is for us."

I feel a ripple run from my head to the tips of my toes. It's a fire burning through my veins. A headiness that I recall easily because I've yearned for it every night since our last in the Capitol. It's a longing that I can't quench on my own. It's a hunger for the man in front of me. I'll never get enough and our time is too short. So why am I fighting it?

My hands rise up and wrap around Peeta, drawing him into me. His hands are in my hair as I lean in and press my lips to his.

"Is that a yes?" Peeta asks timidly, his breath hot against my cheek.

"…yes," I whisper before his lips find mine again.