"You wished to speak with me, Miss Everdeen?"

…..

"It's Mellark," I spit out, because it's practically a reflex by now. President Snow looks amused by the vehemence of my statement. "Um, we should wait for Peeta," I say weakly.

President Snow waves his hand dismissively. "I believe Mr. Mellark is currently occupied with Plutarch Heavensbee, our new Head Gamemaker. I'm sure we can discuss things between ourselves, aren't you?"

This isn't how it was supposed to be at all. Peeta and I should never have separated. Now I have no choice but to follow the president as he leads me away from the ballroom, around a corner into an empty hallway. "That was quite a stunt you pulled today," he says.

"We had to get your attention somehow," I say.

"Well you've certainly done that," he says. "So, what did you wish to discuss?"

I take a moment to try to steady myself. I should be able to do this. I don't have Peeta's ability to sway an audience, but I can make a deal. I haggle with Cray over the price of a turkey even when he could have executed me for being caught with the bird. This situation isn't any different.

I try very hard to convince myself of that.

President Snow is staring at me expectantly. I take a deep breath. No sense in trying to finesse the topic. That's Peeta's forte, not mine. "The Victory Tour. I think you've been using the wrong strategy from the beginning."

"Is that right?" President Snow says. "I've been running this country longer than you've been alive. Are you going to start teaching me strategy?"

"You've been trying to convince the districts that we're so much in love, that everything we did was purely out of love, and not a rebellion against you," I say.

"Yes," is all he says.

"That's not going to work. It doesn't matter if we defied the Capitol because we were crazy in love, we still defied the Capitol. Nobody cares about the why, the why isn't going to help calm anyone down. By promoting how in love we are, you're just promoting the fact that we defied the Capitol because of that love. And sometimes love itself is a defiance: We were supposed to kill each other in the arena, so the fact that we fell in love instead is itself a huge defiance of Capitol authority. So by promoting our love in the districts, you're taking two huge rebellions against the Capitol and rubbing them in everyone's faces."

President Snow pauses for a long moment before replying. "You didn't seem to be of this opinion when we last met."

"The last time we met, I was operating out of ignorance. I hadn't seen the conditions in the districts yet. I was also scared to death so I wasn't exactly thinking clearly."

This last seems to amuse him. "And you're not scared now?"

There's no point in not being honest with him. It's not like I'm any good at pretending, anyway. "When we met at my mother's house I was afraid that you'd harm my family, and I was desperate to try to avoid that by doing whatever you wanted me to. But doing whatever you wanted me to do has failed. Doing whatever you want me to do isn't good enough, because you don't really know what to make me do. You have problems you don't know how to fix. And if I want to continue to mollify you, if I want to keep my family safe, then I need to help solve your problems, even if blind obedience isn't the way to do it."

We're quiet for a long moment. Finally President Snow says, "Well then, by all means, what would you suggest?"

This is the point where I was depending on Peeta to come up with something brilliant. Left on my own, I have nothing to offer him but the truth. "Stop flaunting us in front of the districts. Our continued existence is a giant, walking, talking defiance of the Capitol. So stop promoting us. Let people forget about us. Taking us off television for six months would do a lot more to calm people down than having us kiss on camera every day. By then they'll have a new Victor to focus on and we can just fade into obscurity."

Amazingly, the president seems to actually consider this. "You may have a valid point, Mrs. Mellark," he says. "However, interest in the star-crossed lovers will never wane if you're still everyone's ideal vision of a glamorous young couple in love. Everyone will be too eager for updates about your love story. In order to fade into obscurity, we need to give people an ending to the story. We need to make you more… relatable. More mundane."

Making people less interested in us sounds like a great idea to me. "And how do we do that?" I ask.

Snow says one word, and it makes my blood run cold. "Children."

I can't speak. I can't even breathe. I never wanted children. Even before I was enemy number one for the absolute ruler of Panem, I thought the world was too risky to subject children to. And yet, at the same time, the now-familiar image of a young boy with Peeta's curls toddling across our kitchen springs to my mind, and it makes my heart ache in ways I've never let myself examine.

"The young, glamorous co-Victors will still attract a lot of attention. We need to bring you down to earth by making you more relatable to people," the president continues. "We've done it with other victors. Cecelia from District 8 has three children now."

I'm finally able to force words past my throat. "We were given shots before the Games. Neither one of us can have children for five years."

"What was easily taken away can be easily restored," President Snow says smoothly. "You can both be fertile before you leave the Capitol. If you want, you can be pregnant before you leave the Capitol."

"We'd prefer to try the old-fashioned way first," I bite out. Who knows what they might put in my womb if I give them the chance?

"Of course. So is that an agreement?" President Snow asks.

I shock myself with the steadiness of my voice and the audacity with which I continue to speak to President Snow. "I've always said I would never have kids so long as they might be reaped," I say.

The president gives me a small smile. "My dear Mrs. Mellark, are you attempting to… negotiate with me?"

"I guess I am," I say. "If I'm bargaining for my family's safety, then I need to know that they're truly safe. Not just that they won't be killed today."

President Snow just stares at me. "Look," I say, "You saw today how eager the audience is to follow wherever Peeta and I lead them. And you saw on the Tour how little control we have over people once they get riled up. If the goal is for Peeta and me to fade from people's minds, then the last thing you want is us mentoring a family member, doing endless interviews and breaking every rule there is trying to get them home. So it really costs you nothing to guarantee their safety."

President Snow narrows his eyes at me. "Define 'family member.'"

I consider my response for just a moment, and mentally shrug. Haymitch did say to go for broke, and irrational audacity has gotten me this far. "Our kids. All of our kids, any kids we ever have. And my sister, Prim. And her kids. My 'cousins' the Hawthornes, and their kids. And Peeta's brothers' kids."

The president does the last thing I expect. He actually laughs at me. A deep, rumbling laugh that comes from his belly. "Is that all? Every member of two generations of three different families? Are you sure you don't want to include your grandchildren? Or find more fake cousins to rope into this arrangement?"

I find now that I'm sure I'm going to die, dealing with President Snow is surprisingly easy. "We both know how this works. If I get you to agree not to reap my kids, you'll reap Prim, just to show that you can. If I get you to agree not to reap Prim, you'll reap Rory. Or Vick. If I get you to agree not to reap anyone, you'll wait twelve years and reap their kids. Or you'll set off a bakery fire. Or a mine explosion. So if we're going to come to an agreement about my family's safety, it has to cover everyone. Otherwise you may as well just kill them now and leave me with nothing left to lose." I'm gambling an awful lot on the idea that the president wants to maintain leverage over me.

President Snow stares at me for a full minute. Then another. I stare back and try to keep my face impassive, betraying neither terror nor revulsion. Finally he says, "I wish Seneca Crane were still here just so I could kill him again for unleashing you upon Panem."

"It was the Games that unleashed me on Panem, not the Gamemaker," I say evenly.

President Snow returns to the topic at hand. "Anyone not eligible for the reaping would obviously also be ineligible for tesserae. And I would be loathe to reward poachers with such an exemption. Best that you hold your family gatherings inside the district from now on."

No tesserae and no hunting. Given that Haymitch had me half convinced that I had already seen Prim for the last time, I'll take it. "You'll have to let me tell them," I say. "If they can't take tesserae anymore, they'll need a reason."

President Snow considers for a moment. "Tell whom you wish," he says, "but if any word of this becomes public, steps will be taken to prove the rumors untrue." In other words, deal's off if anyone finds out about it.

I take a deep breath. I know this will be a fight. "And you have to let me help the Hawthornes."

"'Help?'" President Snow asks dubiously.

"Help support them," I say. "With my Victor's money. With no hunting and no tesserae they'll starve."

"Out of the question," he says far too calmly for a man sentencing five people to a slow death. "Victor's money is to be used by the Victor, not passed around as charity. You know that quite well, Mrs. Mellark."

I try another tactic. "Hazelle does laundry. I could hire her-"

"No, I don't think so," President Snow cuts me off. "That would look far too suspicious, I'm afraid."

"Haymitch!" I say a bit desperately. "Haymitch lives like a homeless person in his giant Victor's House. Doesn't it reflect badly on the Capitol and the glory of the Hunger Games for a Victor to live like that? Haymitch can hire Hazelle to clean up after him and make sure he gets a hot meal once a day."

President Snow considers for a long moment. "That would be acceptable."

"And he'll pay her quite generously." I know I'm pushing it, and President Snow gives me a look that says he knows it too. I hastily add, "Hazard pay. You haven't seen Haymitch's house." Though for all I know, he has.

President Snow is chuckling at me again when I hear Peeta behind me. I hear his heavy footsteps a few seconds before I hear him call out, "Katniss? Katniss, are you back here?"

"We're over here, Mr. Mellark," President Snow calls out. I listen as Peeta's footsteps approach from behind me, but I don't dare look away from the president. "Your lovely wife and I were just having a bit of a conversation. Would you like to fill Mr. Mellark in on our little agreement?"

Peeta slips an arm around my back as I answer. "I'd prefer to speak to him privately, if that's all right. Assuming we actually do have an agreement?"

"You and I have reached an agreement, Mrs. Mellark, however I believe we will need Mr. Mellark's cooperation if we are to move forward. How do you propose to inform me of his acceptance or rejection of our plan?"

Him referring to this as our plan makes my gut churn, but I manage to keep my face impassive. "President Snow, I thought we had agreed to stop lying to each other?"

His face grows hard. "Do you believe I have been lying, Mrs. Mellark?"

"We both know you'll know of Peeta's decision the same time I do. At least your people will."

President Snow gives me another one of his hateful smiles. "No, I certainly shan't make the mistake of underestimating you again. Perhaps you would be interested to know there have recently been some changes made among my surveillance personnel. It was pointed out to me that the performance of my previous team was less than satisfactory."

If I had anything in my stomach I would throw up. My flippant remarks, made merely so I didn't feel completely powerless in President Snow's presence, have cost people their lives. How many people are involved in spying on a new victor? Especially one who is already inspiring uprisings without even trying to? Did I kill more people with that comment than I did in the arena?

President Snow stops and gives me plenty of time to feel miserable. "Medical personnel will be stationed on your train before it leaves tonight. They will visit you in the morning to administer the antidote, if such is required."

"That's fine," I choke out.

"So nice to see you again, Mrs. Mellark, Mr. Mellark. It's very rare that someone engages me in quite as… interesting a conversation as you have tonight, Mrs. Mellark. Please do enjoy the rest of the party."

With that President Snow disappears around a corner, and I'm left to explain all of this to my husband.

…..

"No, no, no, no, no! No! Absolutely not!" We're back on the train, already headed for home, but I feel no relief yet. Peeta is stomping back and forth across our room, both hands clenched in his hair. "We are not having children because President Snow tells us to!"

"Peeta, please just listen to me for a minute-"

"And you!" he continues as if I haven't spoken. "How could you possibly agree to this? The only thing you like less than the Capitol is the idea of having children!"

"Peeta-"

"I can't believe you would go along with this! All we've tried to do for the last six months was have a private life not controlled by the Capitol! And now you bargain away our most private decisions to that odious little snake Snow-"

There's only one thing I can think of to break through Peeta's hysteria and actually get his attention. Rather than let him continue ranting like this, I step directly into his path and stop him mid-stride. I haven't lived with a wrestler this long without picking up a trick or two. I grab him by his biceps and hook my foot around the ankle of his good leg, pulling it out from under him as I give his upper body a hard shove. Left unbalanced with only his prosthetic on the floor, Peeta topples backwards awkwardly, landing on his back with a hard thud with me laying on top of him. He blinks up at me, too stunned for the moment to respond, and I take the opportunity to finally complete a sentence. "Okay? Are you done? Can we actually discuss this now, or do you want to just keep yelling at me?"

Peeta blinks again. "Why?" is all he croaks out.

I roll off of him and sit up next to him. Peeta pushes himself up into a sitting position as I speak. "Because the only way to save our families is to find a way to help President Snow. Believe me I don't like that any more than you do, but what choice do we have? Just sit back and watch them suffer and die?"

"How does a baby help President Snow?" Peeta asks.

"I told him what you said, that we were sparking rebellion just by existing and not because of anything we did or why we did it. I suggested that the way out of this was to take us off television, let us fade away into obscurity. But he thinks that the only way people will forget about us is if we give them an end to the story of the Star-Crossed Lovers. If we're a family with a baby, that'll be the end of the story and people can move on."

"And you're willing to go along with that? To have a baby just because he told you to?"

I reach out and take his hand. He doesn't resist me. "Peeta, if I ask you a question, will you answer it? No side issues, no context, just answer my question honestly?

He nods. "Of course."

Suddenly my voice has grown quite small. "Do you want to have a baby with me?"

Peeta looks like he's fighting with himself over the answer before he finally admits defeat, letting his shoulders slump. His eyes look so sad that I want to cry. "Yes. Of course I want to have a baby with you. I love you. You're my wife. I've always wanted to have a family with you." He pauses, takes a deep breath. "But I know you don't want that. I know you never wanted children. And we're both still sixteen! I can't let President Snow force this on you. I won't. If there's one thing I can do as a husband, I can make sure we don't have children."

"Peeta," I ask, keeping my voice soft, "why did I say I didn't want children?"

"Wha- What do you mean?" he says.

"When I say I don't want children, what's the primary reason I give?" I ask again.

Peeta thinks for a moment. "Because they'd be reaped."

"Exactly. Well, now we don't have to worry about that."

"Do you really think that's true? Do you really think he'll keep his word?"

"I actually do," I say, a bit surprised by the idea. "I'm not saying I trust President Snow at all, I'm sure he'll always be looking for ways to hurt us and manipulate us, but for some reason I don't think he'll break his word. After all, what good are his threats if we don't actually benefit by complying? As long as we're helping him, I don't think he'll go after our families. I think having Prim or Gale or Rye or Barlee alive and under constant threat is more valuable to him than killing them just to hurt us."

Peeta is quiet for a moment. "Can I ask you a question, and you have to answer me honestly?"

"Of course. I'm always honest with you when we're off camera." Peeta quirks his eyebrows and looks quickly at the ceiling, as if to say, You really think we're off camera? I scowl at him. "You realize we live in the Victor's Village? Our house is probably as full of bugs as this train is."

Peeta sighs again. "Fine. Just answer this: Do you really want to have a baby?"

After a moment, I smile at him. Admitting this to Peeta is the first time I've actually admitted it to myself. "Yes. I do." Peeta looks a bit skeptical. "I tried not to let myself think about it because I knew I could never actually go through with it, I could never get over the certainty that they'd be reaped. But for months now I haven't been able to keep the idea out of my head." I smile a bit wider, start playing with his hand a bit. "I picture a blond-haired little boy, stocky and strong like his father, with a full round face because someone keeps giving him cookies and cakes. I see him with a bit of frosting smeared in his hair from some special project that he's trying to keep secret from me because it's supposed to be a surprise. I see you picking him up and swinging him up in the air, I see him screaming and laughing as if there was nothing bad in the world that could touch him, and I see you smiling so wide your face is about to split open. I've been seeing that image in my head ever since our wedding night, no matter how much I told myself it couldn't ever happen."

Peeta seems to take some time to absorb this before responding. "I always picture a girl," he says. "A little girl with black hair and sharp eyes, a girl who's too keenly observant to stay carefree and ignorant of the world for as long as I wish she would. A girl who moves through the house so quietly I don't even realize she's stolen a cookie until I hear it crunch in her mouth." Peeta smiles for a moment. "I've thought about that girl since before we even met properly." Now, his smile quickly disappears. "Then I picture our little girl, Prim's age, only a little older than you were that day I gave you the bread. I see her thrown into the arena with Cato and Clove and Glimmer and Marvel. I see us watching our daughter die on television."

"But, Peeta, that's not going to happen," I say. "That's part of the deal. We're never going to watch our children in the arena. And neither is Prim, and neither are your brothers, and neither are any of the Hawthornes. They'll be safe."

"If we trust President Snow."

"We have to trust him to a degree. Otherwise we may as well start our own uprising." Peeta's eyes go wide in alarm, but I just shrug. We're not in public, and we're pretty far removed from keeping any real secrets from the president.

Peeta stares off into space for a while, then looks back at me. "Okay Katniss, one more honest answer. Do you want to have a baby because you want to have a baby or because you think having a baby will protect everyone?"

I think for a minute before trying to answer. "It's both," I finally say. "I can't separate the two." I'm quiet for another minute, but Peeta doesn't say anything before I continue. "But I think really the biggest thing is that this is our one chance." Peeta looks at me questioningly. "I could never have a child who could be reaped. That was only more true once we were victors, when the possibility became a certainty. But if we make this deal, we can avoid that. We can have children and never have to worry about that. This is our one chance to have a family."

"And you really want that?" Peeta asks.

"I do," I tell him honestly. "I know for a long time I didn't, but like so much else my whole viewpoint has changed in the last six months. I want to have a family with you, Peeta. I want to have your children."

Peeta's eyes widen at this, a look of anguish and ecstasy on his face. "You have no idea how long I've dreamed of hearing you say those exact words," he says, his voice almost a whisper. "But I hate this. I feel like it's admitting defeat. I feel like if we agree to do this then we're admitting that they own us, that we're just a piece in their games."

I consider this for a moment. "I feel the exact opposite," I tell him. "When President Snow told me to have a baby and I said something other than. 'Yes, sir,' that was proof that he doesn't own us, that we're real people who can't just be ordered around like slaves. And he recognizes that too, otherwise he would have just started killing our families instead of trying to strike a bargain. He knows we're too dangerous, that he can't risk us trying to oppose him. We're still playing Games, but he's as trapped in them as we are."

Peeta seems lost in thought. "I get why you want to do this. I can see that it makes sense. Our whole family, safe from the Games. I get that. And all we have to do in return is something we want anyway. I understand all the arguments for why we should take the deal. But I still hate it. We're letting President Snow dictate our lives."

"Peeta, President Snow has always dictated our lives. He's the President of Panem, everything in our lives is dictated by him. He's the reason why there was no food so I had to learn to hunt to support myself. He's the reason there were shoddy conditions that led to the mine explosion that killed my father. He's the reason why my life needed saving that day you gave me the bread." I can see he isn't entirely convinced, so I try another tack. "I mean, come on, Peeta! Because of President Snow, we've spent the last two weeks pretending to be in love! Can you think of anything more ridiculous than us having to pretend to be in love?"

This actually gets a genuine laugh out of him. "It wouldn't be so bad if we weren't both so bad at it." Now we're both laughing, the tension slowly seeping from the room with each breath.

Finally I stand up. "Okay, I think we've discussed this enough tonight. We're not saying anything new. Let's just go to bed."

"Wait, don't we have to make a decision on this tonight?" Peeta asks even as he lets me pull him up.

"I think we can get away with waiting a few hours," I say. "It's not like the medics are going anywhere. Look, I'm tired, you're tired, and we're arguing in circles at this point. Come to bed."

I never need to argue with Peeta when I ask him to come to bed.

…..

Neither of us sleeps much that night. My mind is racing with too many thoughts, and I imagine Peeta's is as well. I can't believe the conversation I had with President Snow, I'm afraid for my family, I'm afraid for Peeta, I can't wait to get home, I'm excited about being able to have children, I'm nervous about Peeta's decision, I'm worried about the argument we had before going to bed. A part of me even wishes we could discuss things with Haymitch, although a bigger part of me doesn't want him to know about any of this.

I don't know how many hours later it is when Peeta breaks the silence. "Katniss?"

"Yes, Peeta?"

"I'm sorry I yelled at you before."

"That's all right. I'm sorry I tackled you."

"That's okay. I was actually kind of impressed with your technique."

We're quiet for another long while before Peeta breaks the silence again. "Katniss?"

"Yes, Peeta?"

"Do you think I'd be a good father?"

I lift my head from its usual spot over Peeta's heart to look at his face. He seems incredibly somber. I'm more than a little shocked that he would even ask this question, and it makes me stumble over my words briefly. "Of course. You'd be a wonderful father. The reason I changed my mind about wanting children is because you'd be their father. Why would you even ask that?"

"My mother-"

I don't even let him finish that sentence. "Peeta you're not your mother."

Peeta's voice is so small it's hard to hear. "They say victims often become abusers."

"Peeta, do you really think you would abuse our children?" I can't believe he would even consider this a possibility. "You're the kindest, most loving person I've ever known. If anything I think you'd be completely unable to discipline them, you'd let them get away with murder and give them a cookie for their trouble."

Peeta is quiet for several moments. "I've always wanted a family. With you, since you were the only girl I was interested in since long before I knew where babies come from. But sometimes I have nightmares where I hit my kids. Where they look at me with fear in their eyes. I have nightmares about being my mother."

I find myself giving voice to my next thought before I can decide if that's a good idea or not. "Peeta, you'd be a far better parent to our kids than either of your parents were to you."

Peeta quirks his eyebrow at this. "Either? You think I'd be a better father than my father?"

I sigh a bit, unsure if I want to go into this but unable to avoid it now. "Yes, I do. I know you would never, ever, not in a million years, ever hurt your kids like your mother does. And I know you would never, ever, not in a million years, ever let someone else hurt your kids like your father does."

Peeta considers this for a long time. "That's a harsh assessment."

"I know. You know I always liked your father, before we met when I used to trade with him. But when we went to the bakery the day we were married, I really lost a lot of respect for him. Your brothers, too. You had a father and two older brothers, three grown men who were all supposed to protect you, and instead they stood by impassively waiting for your mother to hit you. And they've been doing that for your whole life. I can't even imagine that – if someone ever tried to hit Prim even once, I'd kill them."

Peeta actually chuckles at this. "I know you would."

"And I know you would too," I tell him. "You would never let any harm come to someone you love. You'd fight to your last breath to protect them, just like you fought Cato in the arena. That's how I know you would never let anyone harm our children."

Peeta is quiet for a moment. "Rye and Barlee were trying to protect themselves. Dad was just trying to keep the peace. I would never blame any of them for my mother hitting me," he says.

"You barely blame your mother for your mother hitting you," I counter. "You're too nice for your own good sometimes."

Peeta doesn't respond to that. I lay my head back down on his chest and hug him tightly. "You're a good person, Peeta. You're the only father I would ever want for my children." Peeta stays silent. We remain like that for another long while, resting but still not sleeping.

I can just see the first hints of sunrise beginning to brighten the horizon when Peeta speaks again. "Katniss?"

"Yes Peeta?"

"Tell me again."

Somehow I know exactly what he means. I pull myself up a bit so our faces are level and give him a soft kiss. I pull back just enough to move my lips, and with our faces still touching I whisper to him, "I want to have your children, Peeta."

Peeta closes his eyes, lets out a deep breath, and opens them again. "Okay."

"Okay?" I don't know why I ask this. I think I just need to hear him say it again.

He obliges me. "Okay. Let's do it."

I think of other couples who decide to have children, of what emotions normally accompany such a decision. Nearly all of them would be wholly inappropriate to our current situation. Instead I just give Peeta a small smile, and kiss him again. "Thank you," I tell him.

"Tell me we're not making a mistake," he asks me.

"No more so than any of our other options." It's the best I can do. Peeta just nods in response. He knows none of our options are good ones.

The sun still hasn't risen far in the sky when there's a knock on the door to our room. Haymitch wouldn't knock; there's no Effie squeal. That leaves one other possibility for who's at the door.

"Medics," Peeta says, finishing my thought. I only nod in reply.

Peeta goes to open the door while I throw on a robe. Two men and a woman enter the room, and it's obvious from looking at them that the woman is the doctor, the other two guards of some kind. Why the president felt the need to send security I don't know. Were we going to get this shot whether we wanted it or not?

"I'm Dr. Marcus," the woman introduces herself. "I understand I'm here to administer antidotes for you five-year birth control shots?"

I just look at Peeta, letting him answer, giving him one more chance to change his mind if he wants. After a moment he nods his head. "Yes, that's correct, Doctor."

Dr. Marcus gives us each a shot, then gives me a second that she says is a fertility enhancer. It's supposed to make it more likely that I'll conceive in the next month. I don't see any reason to refuse the shot, but it wouldn't matter if I did because she gives me the shot without asking my permission. Her treatment orders come from a higher authority than her patient.

The whole process only takes a few minutes. After Dr. Marcus and her guards leave, Peeta and I get dressed and head out to meet Haymitch and Effie for breakfast. They both give us questioning looks when we join them at the table, and unsurprisingly it's Haymitch who speaks.

"You gonna tell me what that was all about?" he asks.

"Why, because we tell each other everything now?" I ask him. He gives me a glare that I'm sure would intimidate someone who hadn't survived the arena, but he has nothing to say. Even if he wanted to he couldn't say it here anyway. So I ignore him and eat my breakfast. I find I'm famished, which makes sense since I haven't eaten a full meal since we left Twelve. Now that our situation is more settled, I fill my plate with slabs of roasted ham and piles of fried potatoes and dig in hungrily.

After several minutes of uncomfortable silence that even Effie doesn't try to break, Peeta turns to me. "Maybe we should tell him. After all, he's going to find out eventually." His mouth quirks into an almost-smile. "It'll be pretty hard to hide after a while." I scowl at him, which just makes him chuckle.

It occurs to me that this isn't all my news to share. I know Peeta would do whatever I want, but it isn't very fair to him to take advantage of that as often as I do. "Do you want us to tell Haymitch?" I ask him.

Peeta gives me a look. He knows how unusual it is for me to even ask that question rather than bowl on ahead with whatever I want to do. "I don't see any reason not to," he says after a moment. "He may as well know the whole situation."

I want to make a snide remark about Haymitch not feeling any need to show us that same consideration, but at the last minute I realize I shouldn't say that here. Instead I huff out a breath and say, "Fine."

I try to go back to eating, but Haymitch interrupts me. "So, spill, Sweetheart."

I give him a glare. After the fight with Peeta last night and having gotten no sleep, I'm incredibly weary of this whole thing, and really don't feel like talking about it with Haymitch right now. Plus I see no reason why Effie has to be a part of this discussion. "Not now," I tell him, cutting my eyes quickly in Effie's direction. Haymitch nods to let me know he understands the gesture. "After breakfast. Stay sober enough for a conversation."

Haymitch just grunts in reply. "She's not kidding," Peeta says. "She knocked me to the ground when we were talking about this last night. And she actually likes me. If she wants you sober, I'd stay sober."

"She only said sober enough," Haymitch says, adding copious amounts of liquor to his coffee and juice. I roll my eyes and keep eating.

…..

Haymitch is skeptical of our plan. "Not a bad deal, assuming he has any intention of honoring it."

"What else are we supposed to do?" I say. "It's either this or start planning funerals, right?"

Something dark crosses Haymitch's face too quickly for me to identify it, quickly masked with his usual sarcastic expression. "So you're negotiating deals with the president now, huh Sweetheart? What's that like?"

"It's kind of refreshing, actually. It's a lot simpler than trying to act in public. He wants to remain in control of Panem, we want our families safe. We can just lay all that out there and not have to obfuscate everything."

Haymitch grunts in acknowledgement, and takes another swig of his drink. He waves his hand around, gesturing at the room we're in. "You sure it's a good idea to discuss this here?"

"This is a deal we worked out directly with President Snow. You really think it matters if his surveillance picks us up talking about it?" He responds to that with a grunt as well. He does this throughout the conversation, peppering us with questions - mostly me, I was the one who talked to president Snow - and offering nearly none of his opinions on any of it. What's the point of discussing all of this with out "mentor" if he doesn't have any useful advice for us?

It isn't until Peeta and I are on our way out of the room that I remember one detail I haven't shared with Haymitch yet. "Oh, by the way, I got you a housekeeper."

It's his least favorite part of the deal.

…..

After speaking with Haymitch, Peeta and I return to our room to try to catch a nap before we arrive in Twelve and have to put on a show. But we're only asleep for a short time before I'm awakened by Peeta's nightmares for the first time in a long time.

"No, no, stop, no…" he mutters, twisting his body around.

"Peeta?" I ask, still groggy from sleep. I crawl over him and straddle his stomach to try to contain his thrashing motion, and hold his face between my palms. "Peeta, wake up."

He brings his arms up now, making clumsy swipes to knock my hands off of him. "No! Stay away from me! Get off!"

I know he's still trapped in the nightmare, but it still hurts to hear those words coming from my husband's mouth. "Peeta, it's just a dream. It's not real. Please wake up, Peeta. Please."

He's still moving against me, and not knowing what else to try, I kiss him full on the mouth. His lips start moving against mine, and eventually his body calms.

I know he's awake when his eyes open and his head jerks back. "Wha…?"

"You were having a nightmare." I climb off of him and lay back down next to him, but he immediately gets up and sits at the edge of the bed. I move to sit next to him, but when he hunches down and buries both hands in his hair, I instead kneel behind him and hug him from behind, planting small kisses to his shoulder and the back of his head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"It wasn't about the Games," he says, but then he's quiet. I lay my cheek on his shoulder and hang on to him. He stays silent for a long time before speaking again. "You have to promise me, Katniss."

"Anything."

"Promise me that you'll always protect our child. Even if it's from me."

I had not been expecting that. "Peeta…"

"Promise me," he bites out, tugging at his hair. "I need you to. Promise me you won't let me hurt our child."

"I promise you'll never hurt our child," I try, but Peeta sees right through me.

"Please, Katniss," he begs, close to tears.

"Okay," I say quickly, because I can't stand to hear the despair in his voice. "Okay." I place several more kisses to his shoulder and neck, just to feel more connected to him. "I promise you, if it ever comes to that, I'll never let you hurt our child."

His whole body seems to deflate with the breath he lets out, and his hands finally relax. His whole body relaxes, so much that he begins to slump forward before I tug him back to lie on the bed. I see his tears flowing now, and I curl myself around him and press us together as tightly as I can manage. "Thank you," he chokes out through the tears. "Thank you, Katniss."

I continue to hold him as he cries. I had just assumed that Peeta wanted children, that he would be glad we now have the opportunity. I never imagined the topic would spark this emotional crisis for him. All I can do now is hold him while he cries. And all I can think about is how much I hate the two women who did this to him: His mother, and me.

…..

I thought it was really important in this chapter to show that Katniss isn't the only one with reservations about having children. She makes the assumption in the book, and passes it on to the reader, that because she thinks Peeta would be a good father, he must want to have children. But as someone who grew up in an abusive household, who grew up in District 12 and was not naïve or ignorant of the things that went on there, it would only be natural for him to have his own doubts and reservations. And of course Katniss responds to this with her own self-loathing.

This deal, with Snow agreeing to immunity for so many people, may be a bit unrealistic. But as is usually the case, Snow is far more devious than Katniss is in a position to conceive of. We'll see in a later chapter exactly what evil idea Snow has in mind that motivated him to offer her this sense of security.

Next chapter: Returning home, dealing with the repercussions of what they've agreed to do.

Preview quote from Chapter 14:

"Do you think President Snow will break our agreement now?"