A/N- Just in case there is any confusion, this chapter is supposed to take place before chapter fifteen. My timeline can get really out of order sometimes, so I'm sorry about that! I'm going to try to get better with that.
Chapter Nineteen
Clove's point of view
"So, how do you feel?" My voice catches in my throat, and I swallow hard. I know that nothing's changed in last few hours, as it turns out that they didn't have to go back to take out the scar tissue just yet, but I'm really just stalling time. So Cato only smiles and confirms what I already know.
"I guess it's time for me to tell you, then." I smile a little bit, nervously. "Okay. You remember how I said there was something I needed to tell you, right?" He nods.
"It's about the last night before the arena... Remember that? I'm sure you do, what am I saying." I stand up and pace the room. "They had me come in today for a general exam, just to make sure I'm healing right. And we found out that when they restarted my heart, it wasn't just me they saved."
His eyes widen. "You mean... When we... You're..."
"That's right." I smile again. "You and I are having a baby. You should know that they say I'm high risk, considering what happened. But I have a good feeling about this."
Even with the last part, there is a cloudy, guilty look in his eyes. "They wouldn't have had to," he starts dangerously slowly. "They wouldn't have had to count the risk if I made it faster."
"You can't seriously blame yourself!" My voice comes out higher than usual. "Please don't. As of right now, everything is better than it has been for the last few weeks. Can't we just enjoy that?"
We stare at each other. Here, with our worlds rocking beneath us, I am trying to start a fight. Not good.
He grips my hand and squeezes softly. The texture of the palms is rough with calluses and scars, and in some positions I can feel the IV line that they're keeping in his wrist. But it is a weirdly familiar, oddly comforting sensation. We continue to look at each other, and I notice just how nervous I am. Maybe it would be best to change the subject. "When are they letting you out of here? You seem to be doing fine to me."
"A few days, maybe." He shrugs. "And I do feel fine, really. They're going to wait a day to take out that scar tissue, and they want me here until then. Other than that, there's some muscle and tendon-type stuff. So it could take a few days of convincing."
I nod. "Do you want me to stay with you when they're getting that tissue out?"
"Can you?"
"Under one condition." I pause, regain full eye contact, and speak slowly and clearly. "Promise me you won't blame yourself. And don't worry about anything going wrong. We will take care of that if it happens. Okay?"
"Okay." We wrap our hands over my stomach. Right over where our child is.
"Mark my words, Clove," Cato grins. "This baby will be the hope of Panem. I can feel it."
