A/N: This one's up quick. I'm a horrible person that doesn't pay attention in class.

Remember: backwards

August 17

8:24am

"No!" I say.

"Yes," demands Coin as she rearranges her papers. "And that's final." She stands up, pushes in her chair, and leaves the room. I run my fingers through my hair, then hold my head in my hands and sigh.

"Katniss, this is for the best," Plutarch says from across the table. "We'll work the propos—"

"Plutarch," I say, "shut up." He does, but I can almost feel the scathing look that I know he's shooting in my direction.

"Well," says Boggs, who is sitting a few seats down from me, "That's it, I guess." He stands and shuffles out of the room. Cressida, Fulvia, and Plutarch follow. Plutarch lingers next to the door, though.

"Katniss," he tries again.

"Fuck you," I say. The door slams shut behind him. I bring my forehead down to the table and let myself relive the conversation that just occurred. Argument would probably be a more accurate term.

This morning's command meeting had been devoted to discussion about the propos that were to be filmed. I would star in them, of course, because I am the mockingjay. I'd protested. "Who says I'm being the Mockingjay?"

"I do," Coin had answered. "The war is as good as lost without you. We'll never get the districts on our side. The Capital wins. End of story."

"What if I don't care?" I'd shot back.

"The Capital wins, Peeta dies," Coin said shortly.

I was stuck there. I let the dialogue continue without disruption. Plutarch introduced me to Cressida, the film director, and they explained about the sound stage and the fake combat and not harming the baby.

"And what does that accomplish?" Gale interrupted.

"Winning over the districts with messages of strength and hope—" Cressida began to spit out the carefully formulated answer.

"Yeah, but what does that get done?" he insisted. "Fake combat? Why the hell would you do that? Waste resources and get nothing done. There are plenty of real battles going on, and you're ignoring them."

I immediately sided with Gale. "I want to fight," I said.

"You're pregnant," Plutarch said indignantly.

"And what kind of help am I sitting around feeling fat and craving salt?" I shot back.

"We cannot endanger the fetus," Coin pronounced in her commanding voice.

"So get rid of the goddamn fetus!" I yelled. "Let me have the abortion!"

Coin acted as if she hadn't heard me. "Katniss, you will report to the sound stage for filming."

"Let me have the abortion!" I said again.

"You will report for filming at 0900 hours," Coin continued in a measured voice.

Then I'd refused. And she insisted. And I've created a mess that will never be cleaned up.

Gale pats my shoulder. I sit up and face him. "That went great, don't you think?" I ask sarcastically.

"Yeah," he says. He's not smiling. "I can't fucking believe this." He pushes the hair off his forehead. "It's so fucked up. You're right. You've been right since the beginning," Gale fumes.

The words burst out of me before I can get a grip on them. "Gale, do you want me to have the abortion because it's Peeta's?"

He stares at me. "What? I—no, Katniss. No. I don't," he says. I can practically see the 'why?' on his lips, but he doesn't ask. I'm grateful for that. I just hope that he's telling me the truth.

"Okay," I say. I stand up and head for the door.

"Want your shoes?" Gale asks, gesturing at the boots under the table where I'd kicked them off earlier.

"Not really," I say. Gale shrugs and follows me out.

"What is it about the shoes?" he asks. He's smiling a little now.

"They don't fit right. Whoever had them last broke them in all wrong."

"Might be you," Gale says. "Being pregnant makes your feet weird. My mom went barefoot for months before she had Posy."

"Yeah, well," I say. "I'll add it to the list of things that I hate about my life right now."

We reach an elevator. Gale pauses, but I continue on. "Where are you going?" he asks. "I'm not sure it's such a good idea to blow off orders from Coin today."

"Kitchen," I say. "I need cheese toast."

Gale rolls his eyes, but he good naturedly escorts me to the kitchen before departing for training. I want to go with him, and I say so to Greasy Sae as she hands me a hot, oily slice of bread. I mouth off about Coin between bites of the salty, fatty snack.

By the time I'm finished, I have barely a minute to get down to the sound stage. I jog to the elevator, feeling my breasts bounce and ache. Yet another thing to hate about the pregnancy.

When the elevator doors open at the sound stage level, I see Plutarch and Cressida waiting. I'd hoped to see Haymitch as well; he would be more likely to side with me. But I guess he doesn't want to get involved in this battle any more than he already has.

Plutarch is still seething. He doesn't speak to me as I approach him. Cressida starts yammering about the propos, the settings, the cameras, the lines. I'm not listening. I would rather be anywhere else but here.

Cressida turns me over to my preps, who immediately begin to squeal. I try not to listen to this either, but I can't help hearing the word "baby" repeated several times.

My beautification seems longer and more painful than usual. I feel disgusting in my body. I want to pull a robe tightly around myself and turn away, denying the preps access to my skin. But I grit my teeth and force myself to stay still as my mind wanders.

Is aborting the baby the best option. Yes, of course it is. I fight. I kill Snow. I get Peeta back.

Would killing the baby hurt Peeta? I don't know. And I won't know unless I get Peeta back. And I want him back. I want him a hell of a lot more than I want this barely formed burden of a child growing inside me.

I suddenly feel like crying. I blink desperately to keep the tears from falling.

"Katniss," Flavius complains. He's holding a mascara wand close to my face.

"Sorry," I mutter. I look at my reflection in the mirror in front of me. I see the perfectly painted Mockingjay. Not me. I sigh.

I don't want to do this. I don't want have any part in this plan. But I still have to hope that it works.

A/N: Sorry this is so short. It felt a lot longer when I was writing it. Probably because of all the dialogue.

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