Still a wee bit busy, but I hope the wait is worth it!

Katniss –

"Stop fidgeting!"

I glare daggers at Cinna as he finishes putting the final touches on my Interview costume. I've been patient for the last nine hours while my styling crew diligently worked me over - scrubbing, buffing and polishing every inch of my skin. It's a real testament of their loyalty to Cinna (or could it be to me?) that not a single one has let my secret slip. I imagine Cinna gave them each a stern talking to prior to accepting them again as my crew. He did about their constant wailing at my lot in the Quell.

"I can't help it. I'm hungry."

My stomach is rumbling again, despite the snack of dried apricots and cashews I snagged before Cinna stuffed me into this foofy get-up.

"You'll make it," Cinna tells me encouragingly as he mists hair-spray over the elaborate do he's constructed on my head. "Just remember, this is your night. Both of yours."

I get his meaning.

This is the night of the Interview. My one and only chance to save myself and my baby. It's been Haymitch's master plan for the big reveal to take place tonight when the whole of Panem will be tuned into the broadcast. Millions of people who will have no choice but to stare at my stomach and know what a monster Snow really is. I thought Cinna was supposed to be helping us, but he's stuffed me into a white dress with so many plumes of taffeta and lace that you'd never even know I had legs.

"Right… and this dress is going to do that for me, how?"

Cinna locks his eyes on mine. I know that he means business when he asks, "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then there's nothing to worry about."

Cinna leads me down the elevator and to the backstage area where the Tributes slowly filter in, all dressed to the nines. It's the night for everyone to shine, but it's obvious that all eyes are on me.

"A wedding dress?" Joanna Mason snorts as she passes me in the queue to the stage.

"Snow made me," I tell her as I grit my teeth. I really don't like Joanna. There's something… off about her.

I have to keep myself from flinching back when she leans in to me and whispers, "Make him pay for it." We share a look, a fleeting truce of understanding. She doesn't want to be here either. No one does.

A pair of arms slip around my waist and I stiffen. Hot breath hisses against my ear. "You look amazing."

I spin on my high-heel and slap the smarmy and stunned face of Finnick Odair - Tribute from District Four. He's been playing this game with me since I arrived. Always trying to fluster me, to find a chink in my armor. He's handsome, I'll give him that, but no one has the right to touch me like this - save one.

"I'd advise you to let go of my fiancé."

Finnick flashes me a smile as Peeta appears behind him. He gives me a wink before patting my belly and turning to face Peeta.

"Just giving Katniss a friendly hug." He raises his hands up in a sign of surrender. "No harm meant."

I glare at Odair's retreating back as he disappears into the crowd. I'm relieved only when Peeta slips his arm into mine.

"Did he hurt you?"

I shake my head. "He just caught me off guard. You know how he likes to poke fun at me."

I chew on my lower lip and Peeta's brow creases. I know that look. He knows I'm worried about something and that makes him worried. Ordinarily, he'd tell me I'm overreacting, but I know what I just saw. Finnick knows. How does he know?

"Katniss Everdeen!"

I hear the crowd erupt with cheers and I barely register that it's my turn. Peeta nudges me gently and my legs wobble for the stairs.

I'm blinded by the flash bulbs of cameras in the crowd and the glare of the set lights. Not to mention the shimmer of Caesar Flickerman's get-up. The moment of truth has arrived. There's no going back.

Gale -

"She looks amazing!"

I snort, barely able to contain my laughter as I shove a few kernels of popcorn into my mouth. I've never seen a more ridiculous costume on a Tribute in my entire life. And I've seen a lot of games.

It's Friday night, the eve of the Hunger Games Interviews with host Caesar Flickerman. Everyone in Panem is clustered around their televisions or gathered in the town square to watch it on the big screen. District 12 is silent. Everyone is inside, no one dares to gather after what happened at the Reaping. We are a subdued people. Just the way the Capitol wants it.

Mrs Everdeen and Primrose have invited my family and I to their place to watch the games. I have no reason to refuse and I'm eager to see Katniss. Knowing that her time may be running short, I can't pull myself away from the sadistic events playing out on the television.

There she is, Katniss Everde- Mellark, dressed in a gown of white. Her torso is wrapped in swaths of satin which appears to be floating on a cloud of lace and taffeta. She looks like an angel… and nervous. I get nervous for her as well when I see her hands shake.

"Would you like me to spin for you?" Katniss beams brightly, a young woman putting on a show for the rabid crowd.

"Oh, do!" Caesar claps his hands like a jubilant child.

Katniss is on her feet and she begins to spin. And then it happens. The white burns away revealing an ash-colored gown beneath. It clings to her figure, revealing every mature curve and when she spreads her arms wide, they are draped by a cape designed to look like…

"Wings," Katniss tells Caesar Flickerman. "It's a Mockingjay."

But that's not only what has the crowd talking. Caesar's eyes flicker from her wings to her belly as though he, for once, is at a loss for words. But a stage hand swoops in and sweeps Katniss off. Her interview is over and the cameras purposely close up on her top-half. Did the audience at least notice?

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Caesar laughs as he addresses the crowd. They seem rowdier than usual.

"They know." Prim is beaming with joy.

"They know her belly is swollen," I agree. "But they purposefully didn't let her get another word in to confirm it."

But Katniss doesn't need to tell them. Snow has forgotten who the final Interviewee is.

When Peeta takes the stage, I feel my heart skip a beat. I want to howl and cheer. Prim saves me the indignity of it by whooping as Peeta lets the cat out of the bag.

The whole crowd is in an uproar. People are on their feet shouting at Caesar to cancel the games! Their fists are pumping in the air and I can even make out what some of them are saying.

"Barbaric!"

"The shame!"

"Let them go!"

The Tributes are on stage behind Caesar as he tries to quiet the crowd, but they won't be silenced. One by one, the Tributes link hands in a sign of solidarity. All save one. Peeta stands at the end of the line, slightly askew. His arms are crossed around his wife's belly as though in protection. When he lowers his head against hers, the screen goes black.

"What the hell?" Prim jumps to her feet.

I shakes my head, a grin that no one can wipe away is plastered on my lips. "It's too late. Everyone saw."