I am finally catching up to my own brain! This is great! Anyhoo, there is something I need you guys to see. Go to YouTube and look up "Let's Not Play Pretend". My best friend showed it to me and we cried together, it is just that touching. Here is a piece from it:

Remember the time,

I held your hand in mine

It felt just like solitude

When in reality, the whole world was listening

Just pretending

And entertaining

The world I hold

Why it had been like this,

I guess I will never know

I would like to fall in love again

And just start as good friends

New camera, no lens

Let's not play pretend

I could hear the screams even before I opened my eyes. Thrashing and shrieking, I woke up (again) in a nasty cold sweat. My hands scrabbled around, whipping stray hair around my face as I reached out for Peeta. Just empty bedspreads met my fingers.

Rising hysteria clogged my throat as I jerkily looked around the empty room. What happened? What hadn't happened? I was just about to cry and jump off the bed, running around the room like a madman, but the bathroom door swung open and a very frantic-looking Peeta dashed into the room, dripping wet and in a pair of backwards sweatpants.

"What is it? Are you okay?" He jogged over to the bed and pulled me into his lap. "Was it just your night terrors?"

"Um…" I shook my head to clear it. "I-What happened?"

"Which time?" Peeta frowned at me.

I wrinkled my nose. "Just reassure me that Gale didn't come and visit me from the dead and you didn't just hop into the shower while I was having a nervous breakdown."

"Well… We did just wake up an hour ago, but walking out of the bathroom you tripped over your own feet and knocked yourself out."

I frowned deeply. I don't remember tripping over anything or passing out. It was a slight relief that I only imagined that whole scene. "So Gale didn't come and visit me from the dead?"

"I'm afraid not." He blinked sympathetically at me. It was obvious he thought the experience in my "dream" was nice and pleasant, and that it was a shame it wasn't real. Honestly, the whole thing freaked me out big time. Although, I guess I should admit I was somewhat disappointed that I hadn't gotten to say goodbye one last time. I felt Peeta's hand on my shoulder and I looked up, brought back into reality.

He brushed his thumb across my cheekbone and I realized it was wet. I had been crying without even knowing it.

"I didn't know I was crying," I said half-defensively just because I could, looking away. There wasn't anything I had against it or anything. "I didn't mean to."

There was no response from Peeta, so I looked up again. Before I could say anything else, he took my hand and pulled me into his arms.

The millisecond of my surprise was over, and I pressed my cheek against his, thankful for his comfort. To be honest I was actually very disappointed I didn't get to say goodbye to Gale, because it was my fault he was gone in the first place.

I opened my eyes and found one of them not an inch away from Peeta's and to my amazement the insides of his eyelids were rimmed with wetness. I closed my eyes again and hugged him tighter.

Something cold fell onto our touching cheeks, making them both wet. I couldn't tell if it was him crying or me. A small sob came from somewhere inside of me and I buried my face in the material of Peeta's shirt. Okay, so we were both crying like little babies, but—wait. Babies. The odd word popped up into my head and I was brought back down by remembering our goal in the first place. An hour ago Peeta and I had gotten up for the sole purpose of going to the hospital to see (and hopefully bring back) our baby daughter. Something about saying "our baby daughter" made me a little proud.

I drew away from Peeta and looked up at him, our hands still clasped. His face was indeed just as wet as mine. I lifted up my free hand and wiped the corner of his eye gently. "Whether you're crying because of Gale, or because I'm crying because of Gale, I'm glad I'm not the only one."

He laughed and caught my hand, cupping it to his face. "Maybe it's both."

"Yeah…" I took a deep breath. "We should get ready for the hospital."

After bending down towards him and kissing Peeta gently on the lips, I stood up, but paused. "It's really a big pain having to go back and forth to rooms."

"If you're saying you want to get an actual room together, just say so." The corner of Peeta's mouth twitched as I cleaned the wetness from my face. "It's not as if we aren't married or anything."

"I wouldn't ask that of you. Guys need their own space."

Peeta snorted. "Look who's talking. You're a girl. Girls need twenty times more privacy than us manly men."

"Then fine!" I threw up my hands in mock exasperation. "I've moving my stuff into your room tonight and there isn't a single thing you can do to change it! You will be stuck with me and my crap for the rest of your life and you're going to like it."

After sticking his tongue out at me, Peeta tugged his shirt—which had been on the floor—over his head. "Fine."

I rolled my eyes at his childishness and went into the bathroom. To my relief, there wasn't some big ugly gash on my head where I hit it on the bathroom door. There was just a faint purple bruise on my left temple. My hair was askew, flying out of its braid.

"I'm a mess." I grumble to myself, fishing the band off of the end of my braid and redoing it.

"It isn't that bad." Peeta materialize in the mirror behind me and took the half-done hair from my hands and began—to my surprise—to plait it himself. "It just needs to be redone. You had a rough night; no one can blame you for waking up a little shaken."

"A little shaken?" I mumbled. "You can say that."

Peeta said nothing. Instead, he took the hair band from my hand and twisted it around the end of my braid.

I watched him in the mirror as he used his careful hands. Of course, I always knew they were used to do delicate things like paint detailed pictures and ice tiny cookies, but I would have never imagined him as a hair stylist. The thought made me laugh quietly.

"There you go." Peeta let go of the braid and it bumped lightly against my back.

"Thanks…" Lost in thought, I took advantage of Peeta's position so I leaned against his chest and closed my eyes.

His arms went around me. "If you're done in here, we should go get Alexis."

I cracked open my eyes to complain at him, but he realized this before it happened.

"Or we could stand here like this for a little while longer." Peeta said quickly. Smart guy. "And then go get Alexis."

I smiled a little bit. "You know, it is kind of horrible that we put this first instead of checking to see if she is even alive."

Peeta suddenly turned all serious. "You're right. What awful parent we are." He straightened up and gently removed me from his chest.

The little voice inside my head was very insulted, but the other, slightly louder voice agreed with him. "Yeah…" I sniffled and went back into the bedroom.

"That was a joke." Peeta was right behind me. "It's only seven-something. It isn't necessarily bad to not be there the second we wake up."

I said nothing, just cursed myself because I felt my eyes moistening.

"Katniss?"

I hastily wiped my eyes.

"Are you okay?" Peeta tried to pry my hands away from my face.

"I'm not crying." I insisted, turning back away from him.

"Yes you are. You can't hide that from me. What's up?" He crossed his arms and turned his stubborn face towards me.

Well, there goes my sanity. "What do you think?" I snapped. "I am eighteen. Eighteen, Peeta. And I have a kid. That is not making me feel any better."

"Come on." It was obvious he is trying to cheer me up, with his jovial tone of words. "You make a wonderful mother."

"I make a wonderful mother? I have had her for a total of, what, one day? I can't have a kid! I am not cut out to be a parent this young." I felt hysteria rising in my voice.

Peeta frowned.

"You are all fine and dandy about being a father because it makes no difference to you!" Now my hysteria was unwillingly becoming anger. "You are fine with it, because-because you had a say in it! Well, I didn't, Peeta. And I am afraid because it isn't just another life in my hands." The adrenaline rush of my rising temper went away as fast as it had come. "I can't do it."

I felt Peeta's hand slip into mine. "What are you saying?"

"I'm so stupid, Peeta." I wrenched my hands away from his and hugged my arms tightly to my chest. "I shouldn't have done what I did last night. I'm so stupid!"

Peeta wrinkled his eyebrows. If I wasn't so upset, it would have been a cute look for him. "Katniss…"

I wheeled around and pointed a trembling finger at him. "Don't do that!"

"Don't do what?"

"You always act as if everything is fine and you say my name as if it is me who has the problem. I'll tell you what my problem is." I was getting pretty pumped up again. "I am eighteen years old with a newborn baby who has serious medical issues, there are murderers that killed my best friend who do no doubt want to kill me, and to top all of that off, it would be just my luck to get pregnant for a second time because of my stupid thoughtlessness last night!"

There was silence for a second. Peeta just stood blinking at me.

I suddenly felt horrible for screaming at him. And I had told him just a day or two ago that I wouldn't do that anymore, but here I was. My throat closed up and stinging tears blurred my vision.

"I'm sorry, Katniss."

I lifted my head to look at Peeta in awe. He was apologizing to me? How come he always put the blame on himself, when I was the one screaming?

He laughed once without amusement. "You're standing there blaming yourself for last night, when it was me and my—"

"I don't care whose fault it is. The point is, if I am pregnant again, there is going to be a very angry pregnant lady with a heavy metal pole terrorizing the helpless people of District 13."

He shook his head sympathetically. "I don't think you will be."

I turned my back to him and sat down in the center of my bed. "Eighteen. Eighteen. I can't be a mother."

Before Peeta could make it to the bed next to me, I began crying. If I had a dime for every tear I shed in the past two weeks….

He crawled up onto the side of the bed and put his arms around me. After only a millisecond of hesitating, I bunched my fists into his shirt and huddled against his chest. Thankfully, Peeta didn't say anything at all, which was probably a good thing. If he did, it would have been something like "its okay, Katniss" or "but you're a great mother". I would have to get him real good if he did that.

I felt his lips press gently on my forehead. It was as light as a small breeze, but I felt it nonetheless. He bent over a little more and kissed me again lightly on the tops of my cheekbone.

Hands pressed against the small of my back, lifting me up to be at eye-level with Peeta. I could see his blond girl-like eyelashes that framed his lidded eyes as our noses brushed. But I had to draw the line when he pressed my body against the pillows with his.

"Peeta, I can't." I put my hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him away. "You know I can't."

"Yes I do. That is why my shirt is staying on." Peeta arched his eyebrows, amused.

I frowned. "Your shirt has nothing to do with this."

He laughed, teasingly twirling a bit of my hair around his finger. "So it doesn't have to stay on?"

"Jeez." I rolled my eyes at him. "You're such a boy."

"Be glad I'm not a girl."

Ugh. It took forever to actually end that chapter. Sorry I didn't update sooner. I left my laptop cord back in my car when I went to Oklahoma. Stupid, huh? I had to get my mom's friend to mail it down here. But anyways, please review this chapter because I put too much time into this for no one to review. :D soo….. look for the next chapter!