Another kind of short chapter but I wanted to get one out so you guys wouldn't be left hanging. It's been a busy weekend with Easter and my 18th but I managed to squeeze this one out so enjoy!

p.s check out my other hunger games story 'real or not real'.

Chapter 8

My first instinct is to look for the wound. Have I been shot from a tribute nearby?

I lift my head and there is no one around us, no other sound other than the furious beating of Finnick's hands on Peeta's chest. I feel lightheaded and maybe that's the dehydration or the unidentifiable wound but I find I can't even crawl back to Peeta's side. Not even when his eyes open and he takes a sharp inhale. I can only double over in pain, waiting for it to pass.

Finnick leans back and looks over at me, a triumphant smile on his face. But it quickly disappears when he sees the red down my legs. He practically trips over his feet getting over to me. He looks down and quickly looks back up. "Lie down," he instructs urgently. I'm too weary to fight him. I drop to my side and he pushes me onto my back. I find that it's hard to keep my eyes open. They open and close many times between the voices in the background.

"Mags, can – can you do something?" I hear Finnick whisper. Do something about what? Me? Why am I bleeding?

The reply is garbled and almost unintelligible but I hear a distinct 'no'.

"Katniss?" It's Peeta's voice next. Then his head is hovering over me and he's pulling my head into his lap and stroking my hair. "Finnick, what happened?"

No answer. Just silence. I look up into Peeta's blue eyes and in the shimmering light that hangs above us, they reflect a little grey.

Grey. Grey Seam eyes. Gale. Thoughts rush inside me head. Gale. The woods. Snow. Gale. His mouth. His voice. The woods. Gale…

Peeta looks down and meets my gaze. His eyes lower and he frowns. It seems in the exact same moment, both of our breaths catch in our throats. He reaches out a tentative hand and touches my cheek.

By the time he bends down and kisses my forehead and whispers my name in my ear, I have realised.

I am pregnant.

I was pregnant.

The mood swings – me refusing to train with Peeta and Haymitch, chucking a fit on the train.

The constant sickness – vomiting nearly every morning, unable to keep any food down.

The outfit Cinna designed not fitting right - I was just over 2 months pregnant without even realising it. Or maybe I did and I just pushed those thoughts and feelings down because they were impossible to consider, unnecessary to think about when I had to focus on convincing Snow and saving Peeta.

He's silent then for the longest time. It feels like nothing is happening in the world. Mags and Finnick are as far away as they can be without deserting us. But they are unmoving, statues out of respect, weapons ready for any attack. Peeta is just holding me in his arms and I have to sit up a little. I am fixated on the growing pool of blood in my lap. I am having a miscarriage. I have lost my baby, Gale's baby. One who might have had our grey eyes and dark hair.

I have to keep reminding myself to breathe, but my mouth is so dry, and the air is so hot that it's hard. And then a sob escapes my mouth. And then another. And then I am shaking uncontrollably, so furiously that even Peeta cannot hold me still in his arms.

When he finally speaks again, it's not what I expect.

"It's okay Katniss," he says, and his voice is so heavy and sad that it sets off another round of grief marred howls. It is not okay. He should kill me now, drive a knife right through my heart. I promised him honesty and last night, I practically threw myself at him, all the while being pregnant with someone else's child. And now, he has seen me for who I truly am. A selfish, heartless human being who doesn't deserve a wonderful person like Peeta. He knows that there is only one other person besides him who I would trust and be with in the most intimate way. He knows that the baby is – was - Gale's. And yet he's telling me it's okay?

"Don't you dare," I growl In between my tears. "It's not okay. It's – it's not –"

"Shhh," he whispers, clutching me tightly against his chest until I cannot speak anymore. I want to tell him I had no idea. I want to tell him that I didn't lie to him. I want to tell him that I wish it had been his, because it would be so much easier, made so much more sense. But I can't, not with the world watching. I cannot tell him how sorry I am, how much he means to me. How much I regret being with Gale. I know the audience will be as much of a wreck as I am now, thinking that I really have lost Peeta's child. Maybe they will show them the unfairness of it all.

I think of Gale watching this back home. Gale realising that I was pregnant with his child. Gale flying up in a rage at The Capitol for having me taken away from him. Gale being punished by Snow. And this sends me off into another crying fit.

Peeta holds me until I can stop, until I have stopped the hysterics. He helps me up shakily and I won't let go of him. I cling to his clothes, remembering how he very nearly left me only a few moments ago. I could have lost more than Gale's child.

"We should get her to the water, clean her up," Peeta says mechanically. His voice is entirely devoid of emotion, so unlike the Peeta I know. I hold onto his eyes with mine, though he won't even look at me.

Finnick shakes his head. "The bloodbath is still going on. It would be suicide going back there. Let's find somewhere to set up and then we'll look for water."

Peeta's the one who technically died and yet he has to help me along when we start walking again. We hold on to each other, taking tiny steps until Finnick finds a place to set up for camp.

Finnick volunteers for the first shift as guard with Peeta to relieve him later. Neither of them ask me and I don't even care. Peeta helps me lie down and he gets down next to me. But he is careful to keep his distance and it's all I can do to keep from crying again. I have lost him, I know I have. He will never forgive me. He breaks a leafy branch off a tree and puts it over me for cover. I am uncomfortable in my soiled jumpsuit. But I cannot bring myself to argue that I need to get out of these clothes. I cradle my stomach and rock myself to sleep. There's a myriad of emotions inside me. I don't know if I feel sad, or even relieved, because children have never been a part of my future plans. I just feel….empty. I have lost something I didn't even know I had and I actually miss it.

In the middle of the night, when my eyes snap open through a flood of tears, I whisper to Peeta. "I'm so sorry. I – I just. You have every right to be angry with me." I choose my words carefully. Let the Capitol simply think I'm apologising for not beings strong enough to carry our baby. That I'm telling him he is allowed to be angry for me letting our child die. Only he will know the real meaning. And maybe Snow and Haymitch.

Peeta doesn't say anything. I want to know what he's thinking. Is he raging on the inside, screaming profanities at me? Is he falling out of love with me more with each second that passes? Can he ever forgive me?

He closes his eyes and I can see tears glistening on his eyelashes in the moonlight. "I'm sorry too."

Gale haunts my dreams. I have visions of Peacemakers descending on his house in the middle of the night, breaking down the door and ripping him from his bed on Snow's orders. Bringing him to the square, putting a bullet in the back of his head…..

I open my eyes, wide awake. The heat has disappeared only slightly in the course of the night but I am still covered in my own sweat and blood.

"Morning," says Peeta curtly. He kisses my forehead but I know he means none of it. He must keep up the charade for the Games. After all, I am the love of his life and I have supposedly lost our baby; he cannot turn on me.

There is a package waiting when I awake. Finnick is gently snoring a few feet away, arms wrapped around his trident but Mags is sitting upright, weaving a basket from some branches she found. Peeta opens the parachute and hands what is inside to me. It is a small metal pipe. "Do you know what it is?"

I stare at it, long and hard until the object has a name. "It's a spile. You stick it into a tree and sap comes out."

"Sap?" Finnick asks, rocketing upwards. He stretches backward and lets out a large yawn. "Why would we need sap?"

Peeta glances around. "What if sap isn't the only thing in these trees?" Finnick's eyes light up and he snatches the spile from Peeta's hand.

"Water!" he exclaims, standing up excitedly. Along with Mags, the two of them disappear in the thick of the trees. I can hear Finnick hammering a knife into the tree and inserting the spile. Then I hear some laughs and happy yells and I know they have found water.

Peeta grabs my hand and pulls me upright. He rubs my back, asking, "How are you feeling?"

Sick. Hurt. Nauseated. "Fine," I answer quietly. I cannot look at him and those blue eyes after knowing what I have done.

"Don't lie to me Katniss," he tells me coldly. "You're not fine." Before he can say more, Finnick and Mags return with a tightly woven basket of water. Peeta takes a sip from it and puts it to my lips until I finally take a drink as well. The water is warm but we can't be picky. It soothes my dry throat.

Peeta holds the half full basket in one hand and helps me up with the other. "Come on," he tells me.

He takes by the arm and helps me a few metres away from Finnick and Mags. His shirt rides up a little and I can see the blade tucked into his belt. He gestures for me to sit down on the ground and I comply. With the basket of water in his hands, he asks, "Do you want to do it yourself or will you let me?"

"You can," I reply meekly. He helps me out of the jumpsuit until I am only in my undergarments. I close my eyes tight, unable to look at him and he bathes my body with water. He grabs some soft moss leaves and hands them to me. I wipe away the murky red water dripping over my legs before chucking them away. He washes my jumpsuit as best he can before I slip it back on, still soaking wet.

"Do you feel better now?"

I nod. "Thank you." When I am fully dressed again, we head back in silence to Finnick and Mags. "I'll go hunt now," I say firmly. Some of the feeling within me has returned and it is evident in my voice. I am walking a little stronger and I am not so mentally weak. I refuse to be. I will not let Snow or anyone else in The Capitol make me weak.

I can see both Finnick and Peeta want to argue with me. But neither of them do. Peeta offers to come with me but I decline him. I grab my bow and arrow and walk as fast as my still wobbly legs will take me. My whole body is ginger but I am determined to push through the ache that troubles me with each step. Being a broken down almost mother will not help my cause. I must be strong. I tell myself this over and over to keep myself from breaking down and crying again. Stupid hormones. I've never cried so much in my life as I have these last few days.

Hunting makes me feel in control. I pick a spot concealed by bushes and pick off several birds and groosling. As I scoop my game under my arms, I hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps. I leap back behind the bushes but there is no need. It's only Peeta. I emerge and he immediately takes my bow and arrow from me. I want to protest but I don't.

"You should be resting," he says lowly, pretending to examine my bow. I wonder when he will again look me in the eye, or if he ever will.

"I can't afford to rest," I say. "We can't afford to."

"Damn it Katniss, you had a miscarriage. Don't act like it was nothing. Don't act like it didn't kill you." The anger should not be surprising after what I've done to him. But it still strikes me across the face like a whip.

"It did Peeta," I croak. "Is that what you want to hear?"

"Katniss, I –"

I never get to hear the end of his sentence because during our conversation, a fog has been rolling in towards us. The sickly sweet odour in the air has been getting stronger and I recognise much too late what is happening. When I grab his hand and pull him back towards our camp, our skin has already begun to blister.