Hai. Great cliff hanger, huh?

Glad you liked the first part, and I am super happy that you aren't mad at me for being so bad at updating.

I honestly have NO idea when the next chapter will be available. I am re-reading Catching Fire and then Mockingjay, upon hopes that my inspiration will spark once more!

So. Until then, I hope you enjoy what is already posted here.

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Now I was confused. How could he possibly know?!

"Well. I didn't know for sure, but I'd suspected." I just looked at him. I think before the war, they would have called this look the 'deer-in-the-headlights.' "Oh come on, Katniss. All the warning signs were there!"

"W-warning signs?"

"Getting sick, dizzy spells… You know."

"My mother never talked to me about what it would feel like. She didn't think it would ever happen to me… Hell. I didn't think it would ever happen to me." I said quietly.

"Oh. I-I just know because of my mother. She was pregnant once after she had me. I was thirteen. She lost the baby though…." He trailed off.

Well this is awkward… *nudge* You aren't making things any better, you, I inwardly scolded.

Peeta started towards me, and I instantly knew he was coming in for a hug. I let him, and I held on tight. We were both crying, sobbing like children who'd dropped their candy in the dirt.

"W-what are we g-going to do?" I hiccupped.

"I don't know…" He said, much calmer than me. He pulled away from me and wiped the tears from my face, careful not to bother Cinna's masterpiece. "We will think of something. We always do." He said, taking my hand.

He leaned in and left a ginger kiss on my lips, then led me to the elevators in silence. The whole way down we had to focus on looking as if nothing could be wrong.

When the doors opened, I instantly located Cinna and the rest of our group. They were waiting for us. Cinna raised his eyebrows at me questioningly. A slight nod from me was the only thing he needed to understand.

Effie thought nothing of our little exchange and led us to where the other tributes were gathered, so that they may find their seats before the interviews began.

The other Tributes were gathered offstage talking softly, and when Peeta and I arrived, they fell completely silent. Everyone is staring daggers at my dress. Are they jealous of its beauty? The power it may have to manipulate the crowd?

"I can't believe Cinna put you in that thing." Says Finnick, breaking the awkward silence.

"He didn't have a choice. President Snow made him." I say defensively. I won't let anyone criticize Cinna.

Cashmere tosses her blond curls back and spits, "Well you look ridiculous!" as she grabs her brothers hand, pulling him in place to lead our procession on stage. The other Tributes begin to line up as well, and I am confused because while they are all angry, some give us sympathetic pats on the shoulder. Johanna Mason even stops to straighten my pearl necklace.

"Make him pay for it, okay?" She says.

I nod, but I don't understand what she means until we are sitting out on stage, and Caesar has done the opening spiel and the interviews have begun. This is the first time I realize the depth of betrayal felt among the victors and the rage that accompanies it. But they are so smart, so wonderfully smart about how they play it, because it all comes back on the government, President Snow in particular. Not everyone though. There are the old throwbacks who are just here for another Games, or the ones who are too drugged or lost to join in on the attack. But there are enough Victors who still have the wits and nerve to come out fighting.

Cashmere starts with a speech about how she can't stop crying every time she thinks about the Capitol losing us. Gloss recalls the kindness shown to him and his sister by the Capitol. Beetee questions the legality of the Quell. Finnick recites a poem about his one true love. When Johanna gets her turn, she's asking if something can't be done about the situation. Seeder talks about how everyone in District Eleven assumes Snow is all-powerful, so why doesn't he change the Quell. Chaff comes right out on her heels insisting that the President could change the Quell if he really wanted to.

By the time I am introduced, the audience is an absolute wreck. They have been weeping and collapsing, and even calling for a change. The sight of me in my bridal attire nearly causes a riot. No more me, no more star-crossed lovers from District Twelve. No more wedding. I can see that Caesars professionalism is showing signs of cracking as he attempts to quiet the audience, and my three minutes are ticking by slowly.

Finally there is a lull and he gets out, "So, Katniss, obviously this is a very emotional night for everyone. Is there anything you'd like to say?"

When I speak, my voice trembles. "Only that I am so sorry you all won't be able to be at my wedding, but I am glad that you at least get to see me in my dress. Isn't it just…the most beautiful thing?" I don't have to look to Cinna for a signal; I know this is the right time. I begin to spin slowly, raising the sleeves of my heavy gown above my head.

When I hear the screams of the crowd, I think it is because I must look stunning. Then I notice the smoke rising up around me. From fire. Not the flickery stuff I wore last year. This is much more real that devours my dress. Charred bits of black float in the air and pearls fall to the ground. Somehow I am afraid to stop, so I keep spinning and spinning. For a second I am gasping, completely engulfed in the fire, and then as if on a cue, the fire stops completely. I slowly come to a stop, wondering if I am naked, and why Cinna has arranged to burn away my wedding dress.

Thankfully I'm still fully clothed, and in a dress the exact design of the wedding gown. Only, it is the color of coal and made of tiny feathers. Wonderingly, I lift my long flowing sleeves into the air, and that's when I see myself on the projection screen. Clothed in black, except for my sleeves. No, not sleeves. Wings. Cinna has turned me into a Mockingjay.

I am still smoldering a little when Caesar reaches over a tentative hand, touching my head piece. "Feathers," he says. "You're like a bird."

"Yes," I exhale. "A Mockingjay I think." And there's a little nudge in my belly. Instinctively, I go to place my hand just over where the little one would be, but catch myself at the last second.

"Well. Hats off to your stylist. I don't think anyone can argue that that's not the most spectacular thing we've ever seen in an interview. Cinna, I think you better take a bow!" Caesar gestures for Cinna to rise. He does, and makes a small gracious bow. Suddenly I am terrified for him. What has he done? An act of rebellion in itself. And he's done it all for me.

The audience, stunned into silence, break into wild applause. I can barely hear the buzzer going off, indicating that my three minutes are up. Caesar thanks me, and I return to my seat, my dress feeling lighter than air.

Peeta's up now; he and Caesar have been a natural team since our first interviews last year. Effortlessly, they open with a few jokes about fires and feathers and over cooked poultry, but everyone can see that Peeta is preoccupied. Caesar see's this, and directs the conversation to what is really on everyone's minds.

"So, Peeta. What was it like when you found out about the Quell, after all you've been through?"

"I was shocked. We both were. I mean. One minute I am seeing Katniss looking absolutely beautiful in these wonderful wedding gowns, and then..."

"You realized there was never going to be a wedding?" Caesar finished for him.

Peeta sat quietly for a few moments, debating. "Caesar, I have a secret. Do you think our friends here can keep it?" He half whispered.

Caesar looked out off the stage, and the audience let out a collective uncomfortable laugh. "I'm feeling quite certain of it." Caesar said, playing along.

Peeta leaned in closer to the host. "We're already married." He said quietly.

The crowd gasped, and I buried my face in the folds of my skirt to hide my confusion.

"It's not official or anything, I mean, we didn't go down to the Justice Building with our families and sign any papers. You see, we have this little tradition in District Twelve we like to call the Toasting." He explained, going in to more detail. The crowd sat and listened attentively. Surely we would be the talk of the city. Again.

"And this was before the Quell?" Caesar asked.

"Of course. I'm sure we'd never have done it if we knew," Peeta said. "But who could have seen this coming? We went through the games, we were victors and everyone was thrilled to see us together, and then out of nowhere... I mean, how could anyone anticipate such a thing?"

The crowd applauded Peeta's words. "You couldn't," Caesar said, putting his arm around Peeta. "But I for one, am glad that you both at least shared a few months of happiness."

Enormous applause from the audience. As if encouraged, I looked up from my feathers and let them see my tragic smile of thanks.

"I'm not glad." Peeta said, pulling the crowd back in. "I wish we had waited."

Caesar gaped at Peeta. "Surely some time is better than no time?"

"Maybe I'd think that too, Caesar. If it weren't for the baby."

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A note to my lovely readers:

I'd just like to let you know how amazing you all are.

Your reviews (most of them) inspire me to continue writing, and for that I am grateful.

This story really started out as nothing, and you all have helped me to turn it in to something.

And, I know I haven't been the most reliable with updating regularly, so I would just like to thank you for sticking with me.

Well. Yea. THANK YOU. You all are amazing.

I just thought you should know.

Be a sport and leave me a review? All feedback is greatly appreciated!

And, as always, thanks go out to my beta, mage-luna. She is wonderful, and you are committing a crime by not checking out her work.