A/N: edited 29/12/14

At this point I reached 100 reviews. Thank you so much :) This is another combined chapter of what used to be chapters 11 &12. Enjoy!

Chapter 11: Blessings

Katniss

After coming home and sobbing for hours, I fell asleep by the fireplace only to be tormented by nightmares of Peeta being beaten to a pulp by his mother, being disowned from his family. Nightmares of him being tortured by anonymous figures until he's nothing but a skeleton. And all the while I'm stood there, watching it happen and screaming for it to stop, for his kind smile and eyes to reappear out of the blood and bruises, but I'm stuck behind a wall of glass. I can bang on the glass as hard as I like and scream until my throat is raw but they never hear me, never see me.

Darkness filled Peeta's eyes when I finally told him, his pupils dilating so much that the blue around them was nothing but a thin band. It happened so quickly it was almost terrifying. Yet I recognised those eyes from somewhere. I've seen his eyes do that before, but I can't figure out where.

I roll onto my back, stretching my limbs like a cat. The floor is uncomfortable, but I can't find the energy to move. I feel drained, as if all the motivation to do anything has been sucked out of me. Just when I thought I was feeling good enough to go back to school, Peeta arrives and I'm weak again. I give up on sleeping and just lay there staring into the darkness until my eyes come out of focus. All I can think about is Peeta. Whether he's okay. If he's angry. If he'll ever forgive me.

What is he doing right now? Is he asleep? Being screamed at by his mother? Being beaten? I shake my head, trying to think of something else, anything else. As my eyes stay fixed on the warped boards of the ceiling, I let my hands rest on my stomach. There is no evidence of a baby yet, but if this winter is harsh and I lose weight, I'll show much earlier than other woman who can eat properly.

Something tugs at my heart. A pain, a strange feeling. I realise after several minutes of silence that it's fear. Fear that I won't get enough nutrition to support the life inside of me. I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms. Why am I feeling this way? Surely I shouldn't have any emotion when it comes to thinking about what has happened. I should be feeling disgust. Anger. But not fear. Not fear that I could lose this baby.

Mom's words bounce around in my head.

'I think you'll love him or her.' Does she honestly think that? I'm a cold person. I only show emotion to family and very few select friends like Gale. And even then, I don't let the barriers I built up down, in the worry that if I do that I'll get hurt. I learned that when Dad died and I turned to my mother, thinking that she'd take care of Prim and I but was instead met with a ghost who just stared and stared and stared at nothing all day. I don't want to be a ghost.

The stark pain resulting from Mom's rejection forced me to grow up and take charge – leaving no room in my heart or time in my life to focus on my feelings. And now I'm pregnant and Mom has started to come back and everything I've kept locked up inside has come flooding out. I can only hope that this time round I'll have people to fall back onto when get rough. And I know it'll get rough. This was never destined to be an easy ride.

"Oh, Katniss," Mom says, spying me on the floor. "You'll do yourself no good if you lay on the floor."

"I'm fine," I shrug. Mom bites her lip, pulling her thin shawl tighter around her shoulders.

"You want something to eat?"

"I'm going hunting today," I blurt out. "And you can't stop me."

"Katniss-" Mom protests, her brow furrowing. I push myself upright and fix her with a stubborn look.

"I'm going. It's the only place I can think clearly."

"Please, please be careful."

"I will," I promise, standing and wrapping the blanket Prim threw over me around my shoulders.

"I don't want either of you to get hurt," Mom adds. I nod, head spinning. Either of you. It's going take a while to get used to saying that.

An hour later, I'm pulling on my father's jacket and heading to the forest, stepping lightly through the meadow, checking for Peacekeepers and the hum of electricity surging through the metal fence, before sliding under the gap and disappearing into the forest. Instantly my mind feels clear, as if the forest has pushed all the worry from my mind away for the time being. Dad always said that the forest made him feel in touch with nature- as free as a bird. I know what he means.

Fishing my bow and quiver full of arrows from the hollow tree I hide them in, I follow my usual route past a small stream until I reach Gale and mine's meeting place overlooking the valley. I sit down, my legs swinging out over the rocky outcrop. I wonder why Gale and I don't sit up here instead of down below the rock. The view is way better from here, the looming mountains in the distance holding up the sky.

My calm, Peeta-less thoughts are disrupted when something grabs hold of my ankle and tugs downwards, causing me to shriek and attempt to yank my foot away. A deep, bellowing laugh sounds from below and I scramble onto my hands and knees, peering over the rock to find Gale lying on his back and clutching at his stomach as he laughs.

"Fuck you Gale."

"Your face!" he says, gasping for breath.

"I know, I know. Hilarious," I roll my eyes, jumping down to the grey rock below and kicking my him in the legs. Once he's composed himself, he sits upright and bumps his shoulder to mine and offers me a piece of his breakfast, though he's unable to remove the smirk from his lips.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better. Why?"

"Your Mom told my Mom and she told me that you were feeling unwell," Gale explains, picking at his shirt again.

"I'm fine. Just a stomach… bug," I shrug it off. "You?"

"I'm alright," Gale replies. "But Posy keeps getting sick and don't want her to be ill over the winter."

"I'm sure she'll be okay."

"I hope so," he says. We fall into a comfortable silence, and I pull my knees up to my chest, watching the trees covering the land in front of me rustle and sway in the breeze, and the clouds skidding across the sky, miles and miles away, out there, past the boundries of what I know as Panem. Gale and I have never ventured out to the mountains, the trip being at least two days to reach the base, so we have no idea what is hidden beyond the forest.

"What do you suppose is out there?" I ask gently as to not disturb the peaceful atmosphere.

"Out where?"

"Out there," I say, spreading my arms wide in a grand gesture, motioning to the valley.

Gale thinks for a while, narrowing his grey eyes and scanning the land. "District 13." He finally answers.

"That's likely," I snort.

"I can hardly believe the Capitol killed everyone. There had to have been survivors."

"The Capitol keeps watch. They'd destroy anything they didn't like and you know it."

"Darius reckons that they've rebuilt underground," he says. I picture the young Peacekeeper with flame coloured hair. "Right under Snow's nose."

"Like moles?" I suggest. Gale laughs.

"Yeah, Catnip. Like moles," he chuckles.

"No, I mean further than District 13. Further than the Capitol. Further than Panem." This causes Gale to go into deep thought. During school, we've only been taught about a select few subjects that all tie in together. Maths, Basic English and Coal Sciences. And then, there are things about Panem's history, it's birth, it's near-downfall, it's miraculous rebirth. But nothing has been told about the time before the Dark Days. All we were told was that it was a land of greed and wars and hatred. Days darker than the Dark Days themselves.

"I have no idea. I can't imagine anything else beyond those mountains."

"But there has to something. Other people. Other places," I say, thinking about how strange it is that most of the people in Twelve will never see beyond the fence, never have to think about what and who is outside the confines of the horizon. "Surely there's something outside of Panem?"

"But where's Panem, Catnip?" he asks. I frown.

"Good question."

For a few more hours Gale and I hunt and gather berries and other edible plants. We chat to fill the quiet, only falling silent when there is possible game nearby. We're a balanced team. Gale's better at tracking than I am, and at snares, but I'm a better shot than he is, and I have my father's plant book memorised. This baby is going to disrupt us. We will no longer be balanced.

At the Hob I'm grateful that the florist has returned and set her stall back up. It means that I won't be able to see the back of her booth – the place where everything fell apart. Gale and I trade with Greasy Sae, Gale chatting enthusiastically with the older woman as I stand beside him, trailing my finger over the grain of the wooden stool I've often sat upon. Sae's wrinkles skin creases as she shoots glances at me. She knows something's up.

"Are you gonna go trade at the bakery?" Gale asks me as we leave the Hob a good half hour later, pouches half-filled with coins bouncing against our hips, only a few animals left in our game bags.

"No!" I exclaim, my eyes wide. Gale frowns at me, and I try again, softly this time, to cover my tracks. "No, I'm not."

"You seem jumpy," he observes.

"I'm fine, Gale." I snap.

"And moody."

"I'm just gonna head home now."

"Alright… See you around?"

"Yes. Bye." I nod, before spinning on my heel and leaving Gale behind. Nice going, Katniss, I think to myself. Good job at making everything seem normal.

Peeta

I wake hidden in between stacks of boxes in the basement of the bakery with an aching stomach and bruised face.

Mom didn't make a sound or come back downstairs as I explained everything. Dad refused to reopen the bakery, and told Fen and Rye to take the rest of the day off while he spoke with me. His disappointment was clear in his eyes, but my confession shocked him so much that he was in a daze for much of the afternoon.

By the time I had explained as much as I could I rested my head on the table and tried to block out everything and everyone, waiting for Dad's response. He just stood up, made himself something to drink, and stared out of the window, leaving me hanging from a thread. I could handle my mother's rejection after years of putting up with it, but my father had always been there for me. His rejection would be the final straw. I wouldn't be able to live with it.

Everything had been going rather smoothly except for my father's excruciating silence, and then Mom burst into the room, a fresh wave of rage ready to be released upon me, and I ended up with a slap across the face and a hot poker jabbed at my stomach before she could be pulled away, leaving me with yet another scar to add to my collection.

"You deserve it!" she screeched like a banshee. She had obviously put her time upstairs to good use by becoming angrier. "Get out of my house! Now! I don't want to see you or that little whore or your bastard child!" Dad hauled Mom upstairs, and I listened to them as they argued.

Mom's words, however, have helped it sink in. In a few short months, I'm going to be a father. I can only imagine the vicious rumours that will circulate the district, the taunts I'll receive, but it's nothing compared to what Katniss will go through. I scrub at my face until my nails scrape at my skin. I should be worrying about her, not myself. She's the one who has to have my child. The one who has to carry it for nine months. I could easily just ignore her; pretend that I had nothing to do with and move on without a thought. I'm sure anyone else would be able to that. But I can't. I can't abandon the girl I love.

I fled to the basement and hid myself behind towering piles of boxes, blocking my ears with my hands, and tried to sleep. I'd be cranky without sleep, and won't be able to think clearly. But to no avail. Mom and Dad argued throughout the night, only ceasing in the early hours of the morning.

"Peet? You awake?" A hushed voice calls out from somewhere behind the boxes.

"Yeah." I croak in response, my throat dry after all the crying and yelling of the day before.

"Where are you?" It's only Rye.

"Over here."

"Where's here?" my brother asks. "Are you coming out or not?"

"I'm planning on staying here for the rest of my life," I say. "Mom's going kill me."

"She hasn't already?" he jokes, trying to make the situation lighter. When I don't respond he sighs and continues speaking in a more serious tone. "She's got a headache. She isn't going to kill you today, at least." Whenever Mom has a 'headache' she stays in bed, the curtains drawn, all day. It's a horrible thing to say, but we all have better days when she isn't around and breathing down our necks and snapping at our every move.

"I'm coming out," I say, using the wall as leverage to stand up. I brush my pants off and climb through the boxes. Rye's standing in the doorway, waiting for me with a sympathetic smile.

"Jeez, Peet. You look rough."

"Thanks," I roll my eyes, walking past and up the creaky stairs that lead to the ground floor. I can tell he's trying his best in making me feel better, but he's desperately trying to avoid the subject of my impending fatherhood. Rye has never handled serious situations well, using humour to avoid saying what needs to be said. He cares though. He just doesn't know how to show it.

Once we enter the kitchen, Fen surprises me by throwing his arms around me and patting me roughly on the back in a rare display of brotherly affection. "You're alright, Peet." He says. I nod into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," I mumble.

"Why are you apologising?"

"Because I ruined everything for everyone."

"No," he shakes his head; his trademark Mellark curls falling into his eyes. "You haven't. You've ruined it for yourself, we're just the awesome uncles-to-be on the side-lines."

I roll my eyes and sit at the kitchen table, grabbing the non-wobbly stool surrounding the table. My brothers stare at me. "Aren't you bothered at all?" I ask them, finding it hard to believe that they aren't mad at me.

"I'm just having trouble processing the fact that you're sixteen and have already knocked up a girl and that the unlucky girl was Katniss Everdeen, of all people," Rye snorts.

"That's only because you didn't even get to second base till you were sixteen," Fen reminds him.

"Because you were lanky and awkward," I add. Rye grinds his teeth together.

"Unlike you, who seem to have the best genes in this family," Fen says, pointing to me.

"Alright, I get the point!" Rye mutters, jamming a slice of toast into his mouth.

"I'm sure you'll be okay," Fen reassures me. "Mom will warm up, and you know what you've got Dad and us two on your side."

"Thanks, guys."

Rye chases his breakfast down with some water. "Have you spoken to Everdeen yet?"

"No, Mom kind of dragged me out of the Hob by my hair after I told her," I sigh, placing my head in my hands. "And I know I have to go and talk to her, but… but how do I approach her after all of that. I've ruined her life."

"You'll be alright, little brother," says Fen.

"You've got the Mellark charm to fall back on," Rye puffs out his chest.

"And if that doesn't work?"

"Thank the Gods that you've got brothers like us," he winks, pulling on his apron.

Katniss

The stars are blazing in the night sky, blinking against the black expanse above me. I look up, resting my head against the wooden posts that are holding up the porch surrounding the porch.

After dinner, I sat outside to get some air. Mom and Prim stayed in the kitchen, darning clothes and chatting. Prim still doesn't know about the baby. I fear of her reaction when I tell her. She's a kind-hearted person and I doubt she would react in any other way that being supportive, but she's had to grow up so fast. At twelve, I've tried to shelter her as best as I can, but there are some things that I cannot stop from her seeing or hearing or experiencing. And I really don't want her to think less of me. She's my sister, my world, and I need her support like I've supported her these past few years.

The night air is crisp against my clammy skin. Although the weather is changing, from the sweltering heat of summer and early autumn, to the humidity of late autumn and the crisp bite in the air of winter, I find myself wearing a dress. Mom insisted, claiming that it was about time for my hunting clothes to be washed properly. So now I'm stuck wearing dresses until Hazelle sends my clothes back, which I fear will be for longer than anticipated if Mom has her way.

I inhale, breathing in deeply, filling my lungs. Despite my situation and the thoughts whirling around my head, I find myself feeling strangely calm.

After the commotion of telling Peeta, his mother overhearing and him being dragged away, I've been drowning under the pressure of what my future holds, so I came outside to bask in the heat, the night, and the silence. If this is going to be anywhere near successful, I'll need to take it one step at a time, and being outside helps me clear my head enough to figure out what those steps are going to be.

I'm so preoccupied with my thoughts that I don't hear the sound of heavy, uneven footsteps advancing over the parched ground. My head lifts from the post behind me, and my eyes widen when, out of the shadows of the Seam, where there are no working streetlights, two blonde heads appear, bobbing up and down as they walk.

I jump up, balancing on the balls of my feet, and step back into the shadow of my house to watch the people approach. Why would a Merchant be here? My stomach lurches and I inhale sharply as the people come into view.

It's Peeta and his father.

I smooth my hair down and try to natural; slipping onto the rickety stool perched on our front porch and back into the shadow of my house where they won't be able to see me until they're closer.

"We shouldn't have come here," I hear Peeta's soft voice ring out from the street.

"Yes we should have," Mr Mellark's deep voice replies. "You need to talk to Katniss. And we all need to work together instead of putting up walls and pretending there isn't an issue."

"She's angry with me," Peeta says. "She won't want to talk to me, or look at me…" he trails off, and I frown. Peeta thinks I'm angry with him? I'm not angry with him. If anything, I'm worried.

"I'm sure that if you just talk it through, you'll be able to come to some agreement," his father insists. They stop, looking at my tiny home. "This is the house, right?"

"This is it," I speak up, and I'm greeted by two pairs of piercing blue eyes as both Peeta and his father whip their heads up to see where my voice is coming from.

"Miss Everdeen," Mr Mellark says, pulling his cap from his head. Peeta's arms hang limply by his sides.

"You might as well come in," I reluctantly say, standing and pushing the front door open. Mom and Prim look up from their work when I enter the room. "Mr Mellark and Peeta are here," I say, unable to keep the shake from her voice. Mom's eyes widen, and she tries to clear up what she and Prim have been working on.

"Prim, I think you should get some sleep," she says hurriedly.

"But I'm not tired," my sister says, eyeing me suspiciously. She's going to guess what's going on, I'm sure. But not now. Not yet.

"Can you please go to your room, Primrose?" Mom repeats, giving my sister a pointed look. Prim rolls her eyes, but gets up and leave the room. Mom quickly tidies the table, pushing the clothes she was working on to the side along with her needles.

"Dahlia, you look well." Mr Mellark says, his looming presence filling up the room.

"Farrell, the same to you." Mom says, giving Peeta's Dad a smile. I grip the top of a kitchen chair, glancing quickly up at Peeta. He's standing behind his father, his hands deep in his pockets. The both of them look too blonde and too big and too male to be in our kitchen, which has been inhabited by women for five years now. Peeta is taller than his father, but only by a little, his head almost touching the lower beams in our kitchen. Both of them have to duck through doorways, whereas the rest of us can fit through just fine.

"Would like some tea?" Mom asks, breaking the tense silence.

"Yes, please. If you can spare it."

"Sit, please. Katniss, bring over another chair for Peeta, will you?" Mom instructs, bustling over to the kettle and filling it with water, the sound of teacups clinking seeming too loud. I bite my lip, and move over to bring over the chair in the corner of the room.

"I can do it," Peeta whispers. I jump, not realising that he was standing just behind me. I move away, letting him bring the chair over, but I still see his eyes. They're pained. Deep purple shadows hang under his eyes, showing he's barely slept recently. My heart aches when I catch sight of his red-rimmed eyes and the bruise on his cheekbone.

Once we're seated at the table, Mr Mellark and Peeta sitting opposite Mom and myself, the only sound to be heard is the sound of Mom and Peeta's father sipping tea. I fold my arms over my chest and stretch my legs out under the table, my ankles aching after spending much of the day standing. Peeta seems to have the same idea and his boots touch mine. I jerk my legs away and his cheeks grow red. He still doesn't look up at me.

"I think it would be better to sort this out now, rather than later," Mr Mellark says, setting his teacup on the table.

"I agree," Mom says, mimicking his actions.

"I'm aware of the, err… predicament Peeta has put Katniss in," Mr Mellark says, glancing between Peeta and I. "Do you have any idea of what you would like to do next?"

"I'd like to take this one step at a time," Mom says, mirroring my own plan. "I hope that we will be able to come to some agreement about how we shall go about this."

"Peeta is an honest boy. I'm proud to call him my son. He's willing to help you in any way possible."

"I'm sure he is, Farrell. Katniss is the same."

"Peeta will be seventeen in December."

"Katniss in May."

"Has marriage, Dahlia, crossed your mind?" Mr Mellark asks, and I feel my mouth fall open involuntarily. Peeta still doesn't look at me. "Peeta would be a loyal husband to your daughter. It would save everyone from being under the impression that this ever happened."

"I have to admit, the idea hasn't crossed my mind, but now you've mentioned it, I can see why it would be a good thing-"

I stand up, my chair scraping loudly over the floor.

"Stop!" I exclaim. "Just stop it!"

"Katniss!" Mom hisses. "You are not in the position to argue!"

"I don't care!" I cry. "You can't sit there and organize our lives. You can't sit there and expect me to just fall into place. I won't marry Peeta just to save everyone some embarrassment!" I run my hand through my hair, rage coursing through my veins. "Peeta doesn't want to marry me. No-one wants this. Just stop thinking that you can plan my life out."

Peeta has finally looked at me, his eyes wide. Mr Mellark and Mom have been apparently stunned into silence. I feel tears fall from my eyes, warming my cheeks. "I'm sorry." I whisper, before running out of the room.

Peeta

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Dad looks at me. I look at Mrs Everdeen. She purses her lips, her cheeks sucked inwards, making her look thinner than usual.

"I'm going to go and talk to her." I say, standing and exiting the stifling room before anyone can stop me. I find Katniss sitting on the porch steps, her knees tucked under her chin, her beautiful grey eyes staring into the distance as silent tears run down her pale cheeks. "Katniss?" I call out softly. Her shoulders tense when she hears my voice.

"What do you want?" she asks. I take a deep breath and step forward, before sitting beside her, the wood below my feet creaking and groaning beneath my weight.

"I want to tell you that I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Katniss asks monotonously. "When your father said that it was your fault for putting me in this situation, I wanted to scream. This is my fault."

"No, Katniss. I'm the one that caused this-"

"You should be angry at me. I'm surprised, Peeta."

"Why?"

"Your reaction… when I told you. You looked frightened, but you kept calm and spoke to me. So, thank you."

"How else would you have wanted me to react?"

"I don't know," she grumbles. "But I'm glad that you've actually spoken to me."

I pause before speaking, wanting my next words come out right. "I will marry you," I say, and her head whips around so fast to face me that I'm sure I hear her neck cracking. "If you don't want to, we won't, but I want this to be as easy for you and the, uh, baby, as possible. I'm not going to leave you."

"Okay," she replies, and I don't allow myself to push for a clearer answer.

"Are you going to keep it?" I ask, fearing her reply. If Katniss gets rid of this baby, I don't know how I would react. It would fill me with sadness, though I'm sure that after time, I would realise that it would probably save us from so much pain. I put my head my hands, rubbing my eyes with my palms until it hurts. I realise that Katniss has been silent for a long time. I turn to her, and find that she's staring at me, her eyes locked on mine. Oh no.

"I nearly did," she whispers, her eyes shimmering. My heart skips a beat.

"Nearly?"

"So, very nearly," she nods her head. "I asked Mom to help me. She gave me Pennyroyal to take," she swipes her hand over her eyes, a choked sob erupting from her throat. I shift closer, putting an arm around her. She leans into me to my surprise instead of pulling away. "But I couldn't do it. I had the bottle of Pennyroyal on my lips, but I just thought about it. About the fact that if I swallowed the Pennyroyal, it wouldn't just be killing part of me. It would be killing part of you too."

I pretty sure I can feel my chest splitting into two pieces. "Oh Katniss. Katniss, Katniss." I sooth.

"And I already owe you so much," she mumbles. "This is the least I can do."

"What are you talking about?" I ask her, my eyebrows knitting together.

"The bread. When I was eleven and starving."

"You remember that?"

"You don't forget the face of the person who was your last hope."

And that's when it clicks.

"You kept it… because you think you owe me?" I ask her, my blood turning to ice. Katniss stays silent, proving that I'm right. "No! Katniss! You can't!"

"It's done, Peeta. I'm almost three months along. It's too late," Katniss says, pushing me away.

"But I can't let you doing this!"

"You should go home, Peeta. I'm going to get your father and then you can go. I'll see you later, after I've had more time to think." I'm left standing outside feeling worse than I did when I arrived here as Katniss disappears into her home. Dad comes out moments later, Mrs Everdeen close behind.

"I'm sorry. I'll try and reason with her, get her to see sense," Katniss' Mom says, her eyes sad.

"I hope she can see why this would be a good thing," Dad nods solemnly. "But until then, I hope you all remain well."

"The same to your family," she replies, catching my eye. I look up at her.

"I'm so, so sorry, Mrs Everdeen. I promise that I will try and help your family in as many ways as I can," I say. "I'm not going to abandon your daughter. Even if she doesn't want me, I'll be there."

Mrs Everdeen's smiles is mournful but grateful. "Thank you, Peeta," she whispers and I nod. Dad places a consoling hand on my shoulder and we walk away. Once the darkness of the Seam engulfs us, I feel that it's a little safer to speak.

"She said that she was going to get rid of it."

"But she didn't. I know," Dad says, replacing his worn cap and shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

"You do?"

"Dahlia – Mrs Everdeen, I mean, told me," Dad corrects himself. "Katniss cares about you, you know."

"No she doesn't," I say, unable to hide the bitterness in my voice.

"Maybe not in the same way that you do for her, but enough that she didn't get rid of your child," Dad says. "And to me, that is a love strong enough. You'll see."