A/N: edited 31/12/14

Happy New Year. Hopefully 2015 will be better than 2014 :)

Chapter 12: Begin Again

Katniss

Prim finds out that evening. I've just collapsed into bed when she rolls over and stares at me, her hair almost white in the moonlight and her eyes hard.

"You're pregnant?"

"Prim-"

"The walls aren't that thick, you know. And I suspected something along those lines what with all the whispering and you staying in bed and Mom being so attentive and then Peeta and his Dad coming round? I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were," I say, pulling her to me and hugging her tightly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't want to scare you. You're so brave, Little Duck, but I know you get worried that we won't have enough food over the winter and this baby is nothing but another mouth to feed."

"Oh."

"I was going to tell you. I just needed to figure out when."

"Are you okay? There was a lot of yelling."

"I'm okay," I whisper.

"Peeta would be a good husband, Katniss," my sister says, reverting from a medical standpoint and back to my little sister, who believes in happy endings and fairy tales and likes to have ribbons in her hair. "He'd take care of you."

"That isn't everything you need a husband to be," I remind her, even though often, that is the aim of marriages throughout this district. Merchants marry into whichever business can support them, and Seam folk marry anyone who can give them food and a roof above their heads. "A marriage is more than taking care of each other. You have to trust each other, be loyal, kind, truthful, gentle, and love each other."

"Since when did you become such an expert in husbands?" she asks, beginning to drift off in my arms, tired from such an emotional day. "And what makes you think Peeta wouldn't be all of those?"

I always run away from the things I can't handle, and last night, with Peeta's promise that he'd never leave me on my own, that he'd marry me if that's what I wanted, there was too much going on at once for me to process.

The look on his face when I told him I nearly aborted his child, when I started to become grouchy with him was a mismatch of pain and disbelief. And I walked away and left him to deal with it by himself. Some wife I'd be. How could everything have gone so wrong in a matter of just a few days?

Reluctantly, my mind flickers to Gale. Poor Gale, who's completely unaware of the situation his best friend is in. I wonder how he's going to react. I look down at my stomach and grimace.

At around 3 and a half months, I shouldn't be showing as much as I am but my thin frame makes my barely-visible bump stick out. My ribs are still visible. My collarbone has shadows beneath it. My wrists stick out from under my skin. Any womanly curves I'm supposed to have have never shown. Instead, I'm just a skeleton with a ballooning stomach. It won't take long for people to notice. I'm almost glad that winter is coming, as it allows me to wear bulky clothes and hide this problem for just a little longer.

It's early the next morning when Prim gives up on trying to persuade me to eat something.

"I told you, Prim. I'll eat if I'm hungry," I snap, pushing away the bowl of stew that's starting to cool and congeal before my very eyes. Prim sighs, standing up from her seat, collecting her Maths book, and moving towards the door.

"Think about the baby," she says before exiting the room.

My head falls onto the table and I let a breath out I didn't even realise I was holding. Prim played the baby card to try to guilt me into doing something I don't want to do.

"She's right, you know," Mom says. I jump and look up. I didn't even realise that she was there, standing in the doorway, her bony arms folded over her chest.

"I know she's right, Mom. I'm just not… hungry."

"You're going to have to talk to him. And if you don't approach him, you're going to end up bumping into him. At school. In town. Everywhere you go. District 12 isn't a big place and-"

"I know, Mom. I know!" I yell, my hands flattening against the table top. "Do you think that I don't realise that I'll have to face him?"

"Katniss-"

"The look on his face when I shout at him is heart-breaking!"

She tries again, valiantly. "You really-"

"I can't go on with my life because I know that he can't get on with his!"

"I understand-"

"And I could live a thousand lifetimes and still not deserve him!"

"Katniss! Stop!" Mom exclaims, finally shutting me up. "I didn't know you felt that way." We fall silent; the only sound shattering the quiet is our heavy breathing from all the yelling.

"Felt which way?

"That you could live a thousand lifetimes and still not deserve him," Mom repeats. "I know you care for him Katniss. I don't know how much… but you care. And you do deserve a good boy like Peeta."

I don't meet Mom's eyes. She's right, and I know it. Ever since I was eleven, when Peeta threw me that life-saving bread, I had kept an eye on the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, kind-hearted boy. Of course I caught him staring. Of course I noticed him hiding behind the banister of the stairs, watching when I came round to trade with his father. I noticed him, even when he thought that I hadn't. And now, in a twisted series of events, I'm carrying his child. It feels like a game. A game we can't escape from.

"Schools back in session tomorrow," I finally say, deciding to ignore my mother's words.

"You're going."

"I know," I nod. "I was just reminding you."

"Please eat something," she says. I run my hand through my hair and say nothing. Mom leaves after a minute or so with a basket of washing on her hip to hang up outside. I force myself to eat some porridge and spend the rest of the day with Prim in the garden, playing with Lady and organizing the small vegetable patch we have by the fence. We've just brought in a basket of fresh vegetables for dinner when my stomach lurches. I cover my mouth and race to the bathroom, fall to my knees and vomit up everything I've eaten today into the toilet bowl.

"Katniss?" A frightened Prim calls.

"She's okay, it's just morning sickness!" Mom exclaims, running towards me with wide eyes. She drops to her knees beside me and rubs her hand over my back. I sit upright, leaning back against the bathtub, breathing through my nose. "Primrose, can you get some ginger please?"

"Roots or crystals?"

"Either. Either will do."

"When will this be over?" I groan, clutching at my stomach. I'm already sick of morning sickness, and this is the first time I've really felt its effects enough to need to vomit.

"Morning sickness normally ends around 3 months."

"Then surely it should've stopped by now?" I frown. "Why hasn't it?"

"Sometimes you can have sickness all through the nine months… it's different for each woman," Mom says. I grasp my spinning head in my hands, breathing shallowly through my mouth. Prim comes back in with the ginger.

"Chew on this, Katniss," she says, handing the light brown roots to me. "This should ease the nausea." My jaw aching, the taste of vomit lingering in my mouth, I chew dutifully on the ginger. Prim brings me a glass of water and I gulp it down, desperately trying to wash the taste away.

Pretty soon the nausea fades into a dull ache in my stomach. I climb to my feet, wave away Prim's fussing hands and Mom's suggestions of not going to school today, and disappear into the bedroom to braid my hair and change out of my pyjamas. I'm going to school no matter what. I'm sick of staying inside.

"Are you sure, Katniss?" Mom asks.

"Yeah," I nod, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I'll be okay."

"I don't want you just to go to school for the heck of it. You're pregnant, Katniss. I don't want you or the baby getting ill," Mom says. I bite my lip. I still flinch at any mention of the… thing… growing inside of me. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea? Maybe Peeta was right about me not owing him anything; maybe I should've just taken the Pennyroyal and forgotten that this ever happened.

"I'm pregnant, Mom. Not dead."

"Go on, then," she relents after a while. "I'll see you later."

"Bye!" Prim says, before disappearing through the door. I follow close behind, inhaling the fresh November air. Prim babbles on about Lady and Buttercup all the way to school, swinging her arms by her sides, her golden braid shining. But when we reach the school, she grips my hand. "Will you be okay?"

"Prim, I'll be fine. And if there are any problems, you know to just walk home with Gale," I say. Prim smiles and run towards her friends.

I spend the rest of the day wondering where Peeta is because he doesn't show up. During lunch, I scour the cafeteria for the familiar blue eyes and golden locks, but to no avail.

"Who are you looking for?" Madge asks me as we walk down the corridor to the last lesson of the day.

"No-one," I answer, twisting the end of my braid anxiously. Where is he? As the teacher drones on about the history of Panem, I find myself staring out of the window, missing Peeta's presence in the seat next to mine. I blink. What?

I'm missing Peeta?

Shaking away those thoughts, I tap my fingernails against the wooden desk in front of me, glancing at the clock repeatedly until the lesson finally draws to a close. I let the crowds of students flooding towards the doors push me out of the school building. I've gone through various situations in my head as to why Peeta isn't at school. Did his Mom beat him so badly he couldn't attend? It's not such a far-fetched idea, seeing as how many times he's been seen with bruises, scrapes, scratches and broken bones.

Fenton and Rye have never seemed to have suffered as much. Surely Peeta's father would've protected his youngest? What if the kindly baker wasn't at the bakery? How would Peeta have gotten away? Maybe he did get away. I shake my head. I'm going crazy.

The ground turning from concrete to dusty ground forces me to look up in search of Prim, but instead, I'm met with a different set of blue eyes and short, curlier golden hair. Standing by the school gates, his hands in his pockets, is Peeta.

Peeta

Where is she? I've been waiting outside the school gates for what seems like hours, scanning the crowds, searching for the shining dark braid that I'm so fond of. And I still can't see her. I spot Primrose bouncing down the steps of the school, chatting animatedly to her friends before standing beneath the tree she and her sister always meet at.

And then, flooding down the school steps along with the rest of our History class, I spot her. She looks around and then spots me too, her grey eyes narrowing. Shit. She looks pissed.

"Where have you been?" she exclaims, drawing the attention of the people flooding past.

"I can explain-" I start, but Katniss marches towards me, jabbing a finger into my chest.

"I've been looking for you all day!" she hisses. "The day I come back and you aren't here!"

"Katniss! People are staring!" I tell her. She whirls around, her braid almost smacking me in the face and her eyes widen when she sees the small crowd of people that are watching her yell at me. "Come with me," I say, taking her hand and pulling her along. She resists, digging her heels into the dry ground.

"Why?"

"Katniss, you've been wondering where I've been all day, and now you won't follow me?"

"I was told never to go anywhere with a stranger," she replies, and I let go of her hand.

"Considering what's happened, we're anything but strangers…" I remark, watching as Katniss' cheeks redden and she squirms.

"Katniss?" I look up over Katniss' shoulder. It's her sister, watching the two of us with narrowed eyes.

"Go walk with Gale, Prim," Katniss says. "I need to talk to Peeta." Prim looks up at me, her eyes accusing. Does Prim know? She must. Despite not looking very similar to her older sister, her piercing blue eyes sure know how to make you feel uncomfortable, just like Katniss.

"You don't have to go with him, Catnip," a new, deeper voice joins in. Hawthorne.

"Why doesn't the entire District find out all at once?" Katniss mutters from beside me.

"I'm going to the bakery, Gale," she says firmly. Gale's grey eyes narrow, and he gazes from me to Katniss, and back again. Seam eyes have always seemed slightly unnerving to me. Merchant eyes, being big, round and baby blue, don't have the same affect.

"Why?"

She turns to me, trying to come up with an excuse. "I'm… err…"

"We're partners in the Games. She's coming round to do homework."

"And you couldn't do homework by yourselves?"

"No. We can't," Katniss snaps. "You're not in charge of me, Gale." With that, she pats Prim on the shoulder. "I'll see you tonight," I hear her whisper, before she turns and walks away. I follow quickly, watching the sway of her hips and the – no. Stop. This is a serious matter and you're focused on her body. I catch up with myself and find that Katniss is the one leading the way to the bakery.

"Is your family home?"

"I don't think so. Mom's probably at Mrs Stark's house."

"But isn't she across the road from the bakery?"

"Yeah, but if we're careful, she won't see us." We reach the bakery and I take Katniss round the back. I reach my hands out when we get to the edge of cobbled street at the back of my house, and she stares at them with a confused expression.

"It's muddy," I say. "I don't want you to slip," she looks at me for a second, before taking my hands. I help her over the mud.

"Thanks, Peeta," she says, sounding surprised that I've helped her. I'm just as surprised that she didn't reject my offer.

"It's okay," I shrug it off. "Wait here a second," I say, before unlocking the door of the kitchen and stepping inside. "Dad?" I call, "Fen?" Pause. "Rye?" Pause. "Mom?" I'm met with silence. Good. I return to Katniss. "No-one's home. Dad roped Fen and Rye in to help deliver stuff. I'm meant to look after the shop." I tell her.

"Oh, I don't want to disturb your chores," she steps into my kitchen, twisting the strap of her bag in her fingers.

"It's fine, really," I say, closing the kitchen door behind my guest. What next? I think to myself. It's quite awkward, just Katniss and I standing in my kitchen, unsure of who should speak first, who should do what. "Do you want a drink? Something to eat?" I blurt out.

"Water, if that's alright."

"Sure, sure," I nod. "Sit down, please." I pull out a stool from the table as I hurry to grab a glass. The kitchen is too quiet. I take a deep breath and turn back, handing Katniss her water.

"Thanks," she says, taking a sip before setting it down in front of her, her handprint emblazoned on the glass from the difference in temperature between her hand and the water. She pulls her bag from her shoulder and lets it fall to the floor. I flounder. "Are you gonna sit?" I nod my head like a puppet, pulling out my own chair and cringing at the scraping sound it makes on the stone floor. "Where were you today?" she asks, drawing on the glass with her index finger.

"Well, I was helping Dad with the morning rush."

"And the morning rush took all day?" she asks before looking down, red blossoming over her cheeks like a sunset. "I'm sorry. I'm being annoying, aren't I?"

"No. Not at all," I shake my head. "You have every right to be angry with me."

"Please, Peeta. Tell me where you've been." Inside, I'm screaming at myself. Why did I bring her here? This was the wrong thing to do. Of all the things I could've done to speak to her, I did this.

"I was here."

"I figured that much."

"Mom just got angry and… and you know what? It doesn't matter." I say. Katniss looks up, surprised.

"Peeta-"

"You should go, Katniss. We'll talk some other time."

"You asked me to come here, Peeta. You grabbed my hand and practically demanded that I come with you and I've only been here two minutes-"

"But I-"

"I'm not going to leave," Katniss interrupts me. "You can't keep changing your mind," She bites her lip, her forehead creased into deep lines. "What did she do?"

"Who?"

"Don't pretend to be stupid."

"I'm not, I just don't know-" Katniss stands, moving around the table surprisingly fast and placing her hand on me. I trail off at the feeling of her hand on mine, and suddenly I remember. After the party, when I offered her a glass of water and everything escalated from there.

"Please, Peeta," she whispers. "I know you may not think I care, but I do."

"You do?" I ask, my voice unsure. She nods.

"Did she hurt you?"

"Nothing bad. The usual."

"The usual?" Katniss asks, her voice high-pitched. I stare at her hand on mine, my skin buzzing at where it's touching hers. My heart almost stops when she begins moving her hand around, her fingers probing and pressing against my skin.

"W-What are you doing?" I ask.

"You'll wince eventually," she says, her fingers pressing into my shoulder. I freeze. She moves around, pressing her fingers over my shoulders. Despite my attempts at hiding it, I wince when she presses into the middle of my back, in between my shoulder blades along the ridge of my spine. "Found it," she says and I stand quickly, facing her. She stumbles forward slightly, not expecting my sudden movements.

"I brought you here to talk to you," I say slowly. "Not to do… whatever this is. We need to talk, Katniss. Time is kind of running out."

"Peeta. What did she do?" she persists.

"Nothing, Katniss. I'm fine."

"I'm warning you," she raises an eyebrow and steps forward, her hands out in front of her. "Let me see."

"No, Katniss-"

"Are you really going to deny the girl carrying your child something?" Katniss asks. My mouth falls slack.

"That isn't fair." She just stands there, unrelenting, and I realise that I'm not going to get anywhere without doing as she says. I pull my shirt off, turn around and wait for her reaction.

"Oh, Peeta!" she gasps. Her cold fingers graze over my back. "How? Why?"

"I'm fine, Katniss."

"How much does it hurt?"

"I've had worse." I shrug. Katniss is silent. I turn around.

"This is my fault," she stammers, her eyes wide and kitten-grey.

"No, Katniss. This is my fault," I shake my head, moving to put my shirt back on and cover the bright red cuts lacing my back, wincing as my skin stretches. Katniss stops me, taking the shirt away and moving around to my back once again. My heart breaks when I see that she's is just slowly shaking her head, her hand over her mouth.

"Peeta-"

"Don't cry," I plead. "Please don't cry." Katniss bites her lips, her eyes sad, before flinging herself toward me, crying into my chest. Startled, I raise my hands, hesitant as to where I should put them. I settle for placing them on the middle of her back.

"I'm so scared," Katniss sobs, her voice taking on a tone of confession. "I never wanted children. And now this has happened and I don't know what I'm gonna do when it arrives," her hands are cold against my hot skin and I wince. "How am I gonna afford to buy anything? I need to make sure it has enough to eat a-and clothes and a c-crib."

"Hey, I'm not gonna give up on you," I tell her, pulling her shaking form closer. "I'll help. You're not gonna have to do this by yourself."

"But it's m-my responsibility," Katniss hiccups. "I can't burden you. I can't rely on you."

"Uh, as the… uh, the father, I think I share an equal amount of responsibility," I chuckle. "It takes two to tango."

"That's what Haymitch Abernathy said."

"What?"

She smiles a little through her tears. "I was at school and he said that. That's how the whole idea of me possibly being pregnant came into my mind."

"Thank god he did."

"That would've been one hell of a surprise," Katniss giggles. I laugh along with her. Katniss' juddering cries slow down, but she makes no effort to move away. I rub her back in what I hope is comforting motion.

"Wait. Did you know that we…err… you know…"

"What are you talking about?" Katniss asks, her words muffled against my chest.

"After the party… we – you know.." she pulls away from me.

"Oh, that," she cringes, her cheeks pink. "Well, I woke up the next morning and kind of ran away," she says, not meeting my eyes as she folds her arms over her chest.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry."

"I do. If it weren't for me you wouldn't be here. But I still don't understand why you kept it."

"He or she," Katniss says, a small smile brightening her saddened features.

"Alright, why did you keep him or her?"

"I have my reasons."

"I sure you do, but I want to know what those reasons are," I say, frustrated. Katniss wavers, the cogs turning in her head.

"I don't know. Mom gave me the Pennyroyal and I was on the brink of swallowing it, but I just remembered what my Mom had said – about this baby being not just half of me, but also half of you. And just thinking of how kind you've always been to me- to everyone- despite how things might be behind closed doors, made me think that killing this baby would be like killing you." Katniss releases a big breath, looking up at me expectantly.

"You were under no obligation to keep the baby, Katniss. If you had taken the Pennyroyal, I would've understood," she nods her head solemnly. "You told anyone yet?"

"My Mom, obviously, but Prim overheard when you came round with your Dad."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I told my Dad that we should wait, but he insisted." I apologise.

"No, it's probably best that we got the first meeting over with."

"What about Gale? And everyone else?"

"I don't know what to do," Katniss sighs, sitting back on her stool, resting her head on her palm. "I guess when I feel like it. Or they'll see the melon that's replaced my stomach and guess it for themselves," I grin. Katniss rolls her eyes. "How'd your family react?"

"Mixed emotions," I say. "Mom's gonna be fuming for at least a year. Dad's disappointed in me because he thought he taught me well enough to keep it in my pants," Katniss blushes again. "Fen and Rye? Well, I'm sure they'll get over it. You'll have to get used to sarcasm from both my brothers."

"You'll have to get used to death glares from Prim."

"I thought she was giving me a funny look at the school gates," I say. "Is she mad?"

"Mad, confused, surprised, excited," Katniss recites. "They're just a few of the words I could use to describe my little sister's reaction."

"I don't want another bossy Everdeen in my life."

Katniss laughs, before schooling her features into a mock scowl. "I'm not bossy… You know Gale's probably gonna kill you when he finds out."

"Kind of expecting it, to be honest."

"I'll tell him not to. That it's my fault."

"Like he'll believe that."

"He's just stubborn."

"Yeah…" I say, raising my eyebrows.

"Among other things."

"I guess we're going to have to face a lot in the next few months," I say, and Katniss nods, chewing on her bottom lip. I reach a hand out to stop her. "You'll get chapped lips," I say softly, and she swallows, staring at me. The room suddenly feels a lot warmer. "Sorry," I mumble, moving my hand away and sitting back from her, giving her space.

She blushes, standing up from her seat. "Let me clean your back," she says, moving to the sink and picking up a rag. "Can I use this?"

My heart swells in my chest. "Sure," I say. "The first aid box is in the furthest cupboard to your left."

Katniss gets to work, ignoring my comments that she appears to have more of her mother in her than she thought and tending to my back. She cleans the cuts with a soft, dabbing motion as if she's afraid of hurting me, though the antiseptic on the rag makes them sting anyway. It's quiet as she works, the only sounds being my hisses of pain when she moves over to deeper wounds and her shushing and scolding to stop me being such a baby.

Not once does she ask how exactly these wounds came to be, though I'm sure she's got plenty of ideas. I'm not about to divulge the facts about what happened mere minutes after Dad and my brothers left to help with deliveries. Mom came downstairs so quiet I couldn't hear, and wacked me in the ribcage with her rolling pin so I was winded and on the floor, and then lacerated my back with a belt, only stopping when blood seeped into my shredded shirt.

"This is what happens when you go near Seam rats, Peeta," she spat, as I coughed and wheezed at her feet. "Now clear up. I don't want blood on my floor."

My mother may be slight in stature, especially compared with her husband and sons, but boy does she have power behind her. Her reputation around the district is well-deserved, though usually not severe enough. I'll protect Katniss and our unborn child from her at all costs, and if it comes to it that she will never meets her daughter-in-law or her grandchild, then so be it.

"You can't let her do this, Peeta," Katniss eventually says, her voice so soft that I strain to hear it even in the silence of the kitchen. "It's not fair."

I say nothing in reply because I can't. I just hang my head, and close my eyes until Katniss hands me my shirt back. She washes her hands and puts the first aid supplies back into their box and the box back into its cupboard, and faces me.

"I'm sorry for yelling," she says. "I was just expecting you to be there and you weren't and you're always at school."

"It's okay," I shrug. "Thank you for fixing my back."

"It would've become infected otherwise. I had to help."

"Okay."

She smiles at me. "Okay,"

"Let me walk you home," I tell her, and she doesn't resist this time, simply slinging her bag over her shoulder and walking through the sunset with me.