Honestly I feel like I completely switched writing styles with this chapter, but idk it seemed to work.

Thank you for reading and reviewing!

I woke up screaming, drenched in sweat. My husband beside me opened his eyes slowly and sat up. I felt bad for waking him; it had been quite some time since he had slept as long as he did, and he really needed it, to prepare for the coming weeks.

He draped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his chest, so I could listen to his heartbeat. He was alive. I was alive. Prim was alive

He kissed my forehead gently when I turned around to look at his face. "It's alright, honey," He said to me reassuringly.

I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, and when my vision cleared again, so did my mind. I wasn't in District 4. I had left for home three days before. My husband was in the Capitol. He had been recalled for just a few more appointments last week, and would stay there up until the Reaping next week, so I returned to District 12 by myself.

Prim entered my room, wiping sleep from her eyes. "Are you alright, Katniss?" She asked. I glanced at the time. Seven in the morning. I was about to answer that it was only nightmares, when my stomach lurched. I gasped, not expecting the wave of nausea, even though I should at this point.

"Katniss?"

I sat in bed for a second longer. "I'm fine, Prim. I'm just a bit nauseous."

"Oh," She said. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything. A painkiller, or a shot of whiskey, or a pregnancy test or anything."

I gaped at her. "You think I'm pregnant?"

Prim raised her eyebrows. "You've been sick every morning since you came home."

"I'm not pregnant, though," I insisted.

"But you can never be sure." she said. "You're a married woman, Katniss. Who knows what you and Finnick have been doing behind closed doors."

"Primrose!"

"I'm serious, Katniss," She said with a smile. "Even protected, there's still a chance of pregnancy."

"I'm not pregnant, Prim."

I rolled out of bed and began brushing my hair. It was getting really long. I definitely needed to cut it before the Quarter Quell. Not very short, just a few inches shorter, so it would be a bit easier to manage.

I glanced at my calendar and groaned. My period was late again. That meant I might still be on it when I arrived at the Capitol. I had never been on my period during the Hunger Games, but it had to be a living nightmare.

Prim followed my gaze and seemed to pick up on my thoughts. "If you want that pregnancy test, I think you brought some home from the Capitol..."

"Prim," I hissed. "Out." I herded her out of my room and closed the door.

The next morning, Gale came to pick up Prim. After a tearful goodbye, I went to the bathroom to take a long, hot shower. That's when I saw it.

Prim was more mischievous than I ever thought.

Sitting on the bathroom counter was a blue box. I cracked it open. It was the pregnancy test she was so insistent on me taking.

I did feel sick again this morning.

And my period still hadn't arrived.

I opened the packaging and started to read the directions when I heard the phone ring downstairs. I dropped the test in the sink and ran down the stairs. I put the phone to my ear, smiling when I recognized the number. Finnick's apartment phone.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hello, Katniss," Finnick's voice sounded over the phone. "How are you this lovely morning?"

"I'm fine," I said, trying to keep my tone level when, in reality, I was internally freaking out.

"Is Prim still there, or did she leave yet?"

"She left not too long ago. Gale came by and got her." I said. "How's the Capitol?"

Finnick sighed. "I forgot how much I hated my job."

"The clients have been bad?"

"They always are," He replied. "Katniss, are you sure you're fine? You sound a little distraught."

I took a breath, trying to calm myself. I should have known I wouldn't be able to hide my panic from Finnick. "I'm just nervous about the Games, I think."

"Okay," He said, once he realized it was nothing serious. "I have to go, love. I just wanted to check up on you really quickly."

"Okay," I said, still working on hiding my panic.

"If you need anything," Finnick said, "Please don't hesitate to call and leave a message. I'll call you back as soon as possible."

"Okay," I said again. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Finnick replied, then hung up.

I took a deep breath and walked back upstairs, to the bathroom. I picked up the pregnancy test. I took another second to calm myself, and then completed the test. I set it down in the sink again, then set a timer and hopped into the shower, hoping to get in and out before the timer went off, signifying the results were ready.

I got out and dried off and redressed, then picked up my journal and started writing again. Not for the album this time. The album was finished and ready to be released. This was just a poem, just a song for me.

I guess you really did it this time

Left yourself in your warpath

Lost your balance on a tightrope

Lost your mind trying to get it back

The timer went off and I stood up quickly. I pulled the pregnancy test out of the sink.

This wasn't the first test I had taken. I took one in the Capitol, during my year as a sex slave. Even though I was on very strong birth control during that time, there was still a pregnancy scare. There was another test I took just three months previously, when I was a little bit sick for a few days in a row and Finnick got worried.

It was negative both times.

Upon seeing the results, I broke the stick in half and flushed it down the toilet. I ran down the stairs and dialed Peeta's number on the phone, ignoring the fact that he lived right across the street.

"Katniss? What's up?" He asked me.

"Peeta, can you come over? I need help."

It didn't take long for Peeta to open my front door and let himself in. I was sitting on the couch, tear streaks on my face when he found me. He sat next to me. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Peeta, I-" I swallowed, feeling fresh tears pricking at my eyes. "I'm pregnant," I said quietly.

Peeta only stared at me for a minute, before gathering me in his arms and holding me in a tight hug.

After a few moments of silence, Peeta finally said, "What are you going to do?"

"I have to kill it," I said sadly. "I can't take a baby into the arena. I'm not going to survive anyway, and this way it will be easier for all of us if I'm not pregnant when I go in."

"Katniss, I think you already know that Haymitch, Finnick, and I are going to do everything we can to get you out of the arena. I think you should let the baby live, and you can have them after you go back home."

I stared at him. "I'm not coming out of the arena, Finnick is."

Peeta said, "Have you told him yet? That you're pregnant?"

I shook my head quickly. "We can't tell Finnick. If he knows, he's going to be more adamant that I make it out."

"For good reason, Katniss!" Peeta shouted, standing up. I stood up, too, at his confrontation. "You are carrying his son or daughter. If you die, he not only loses his wife, he loses his only child, too. If he dies, you can live on with this little piece of him."

"Peeta, I don't want to raise them without Finnick," I told him. "Besides, if I go into the arena pregnant, I'm just going to be a burden on everyone else."

"Katniss," Peeta pleaded. "I'm not one to tell you what to do with your own child, but please consider. If you make it out of the arena, you're going to regret it. If Finnick knew we were even debating this-"

"Finnick doesn't have to know!" I screamed out. Peeta stared at me, shocked. It had been quite some time since I had been emotional enough to raise my voice. I sunk into the couch, wrapping my arms around my abdomen where my baby was growing. My entire body was trembling. There was nothing more I wanted at that moment than for Finnick to be here, to see his reaction when he found out that he would be a father... That he was going to raise a child at my side. A little girl with bright green eyes. Or a boy with soft, golden hair. But Finnick could never find out. "He can never know... He would be heartbroken. I don't want to give him any false hope."

Peeta sat back down with me, slowly, gently pulling me into his side. Tears were streaming down my face. "What if there was a way for both you and Finnick to make it out of the arena?"

I shrugged.

"Katniss, would you tell him if that was the case?" Peeta asked. "Would you save your baby then?"

"Even if I make it out of the arena, my baby won't make it. It would be a miscarriage," I said, realization slapping me in the face, causing more tears to fall. There will be no happy ending for this child. That's very appropriate, though, considering who the parents were. "They would never survive the amount of abuse my body will go through in the arena, you know that."

"Katniss, I-"

I shook my head. "I won't abort them, Peeta. Even though I've debated it, I don't think I actually could ever do that. I could never hurt my baby."

Peeta smiled. "Good. I'm proud."

I sat for a few moments in silence, pressed up against my brother.

"I don't... regret marrying Finnick," I said finally. "I'm happy that we got married when we did, too, I just wish I had known this would happen. I wouldn't have any regrets at all, if it weren't..."

Peeta nodded, understanding my words that went unspoken. If it weren't for the baby.

"No one can know, Peeta," I told him, looking up at him through my blurry vision. "Not Prim, not my mother, not Gale, not Johanna or Britt or any of the other victors. This stays between us."

Peeta kissed my forehead. "I won't tell them."

"Promise?"

Peeta smiled slightly. "Do you not trust me?"

I shrugged. He was right. I trusted him more than anyone, besides Finnick and Prim, but I had known Prim my entire life, and Finnick I had known for what felt like several lifetimes.

...

Haymitch, Peeta and I had several discussions leading up to the Reaping. Of course, the three of us and Finnick had been training like Careers for months now. If we were going into an arena full of Victors, we needed to start acting like Victors ourselves. Over a phone call with Finnick, it was established that Haymitch, Peeta, and Finnick all intended on going back into the Arena. Finnick and Peeta both planned on protecting me, whereas Haymitch had agreed to save Peeta, if he could.

I tried my best to convince my brother and husband that going back into the arena with me would make it harder for me, and Haymitch agreed. If they wanted me to come home, I would fight even harder if they weren't there with me. I wouldn't mind killing Brutus or Enobaria or some of the victors I didn't know nearly as well. I knew I wouldn't be able to kill Johanna or Britt or Zahra or the siblings from District 1 if it came down to it, but if they died, I would be able to recover eventually, with Finnick and Peeta by my side. But if one of them were to die, I wasn't sure how I would recover.

Peeta pointed out that the same was true for Haymitch. I viewed Haymitch as a father figure, and he was right. I wasn't sure I would be the same if I watched Haymitch die. It was at that moment that I realized Peeta would still fight to go back into the arena with me, no matter what we said. The District 12 males eventually agreed that neither of them would volunteer for each other. They would leave it up to Effie. But I could see that neither of them would actually honor that agreement.

Peeta spent an extra ten minutes arguing with Finnick over the phone about why he should be a mentor, and sit the games out. I knew Peeta's ulterior motives. He was willing to sacrifice himself to get me home to Finnick, so we could raise our child. The child Finnick did not even know existed.

In the end, Finnick simply hung up the phone in frustration. He promised not to volunteer, once he heard my pleading voice over the line. Unlike with Peeta and Haymitch, Finnick was not sitting directly in front of me. I could not see the deceit in his eyes, so there was no way for me to tell whether or not he was being honest, but I had a pretty good guess.

I returned to my own house, wishing I could speak to Prim one last time before I died, but I knew that even if she appeared at the Reaping with Gale, they wouldn't come to say goodbye to me. They needed to stay far away, and out of sight until they had the chance to escape into the woods. Even with the newly electrified fence and the new band of Peacekeepers, Gale had promised me that he was confident in his ability to get my little sister far away from trouble. She was older now, anyway, then she was when Gale and I had last discussed making a break for it. At seventeen years old, I was confident she could make it in the woods.

When the Reaping finally arrived, I decided I was done playing a part for the Capitol. I had gone from an innocent little girl, to a bubbly, psychotic, trigger-happy teenager. But I wasn't a teenager anymore. I was twenty-one years old, and in this new stage of life, in this new arena, I wouldn't be complying with the Capitol's image of me. I did not want to be in the Capitol. I did not want to be at this Reaping ceremony. So I did not smile. I stood on the stage, opposite of Peeta and Haymitch, with Effie standing between us. I tuned out her usual speech. When she reached into the Reaping bowl and pulled out my name, acting surprised at the outcome, I simply took a step forward. Then Haymitch's name was called and, as predicted, Peeta volunteered anyway, which resulted in Haymitch cursing him out.

I shook hands with my twin brother. The crowd began saluting us, and all four of us were dragged away, into the Justice Building without another word.

I didn't argue with the fact that we never got to say goodbye. Who would I say goodbye to, anyway? But Peeta was adamant.

"We get to say goodbye," He argued with the Peacekeeper restraining him. "That's the rule. Before we leave, we get to say goodbye!"

"Write them a letter, Peeta," I said, and I was surprised how void of emotion my voice sounded. "It will be better, anyway. You can leave them something to remember you by," I was surprised Peeta wanted to say goodbye, anyway. Who would come to see him? He had been cut off, the same as I had.

We sat on the train, and after some time, Effie turned on the recaps. She had not spoken two words together the entire trip, which surprised me. I remembered how distraught she had been five years before, when I volunteered for my sister. She thought I would die in that arena. This time, Peeta and I were both going back in, this time with Haymitch's close friends, and probably a few of Effie's, too. And mine.

The Victors reaped were clearly hand-picked by Snow. His personal least-favorites. Cashmere and Gloss were both reaped from District 1, which made me realize how bad these games would be. Up until that moment I had been holding on to the thread of hope that the Victors reaped would be Victors I had only met in passing, or during the Victory Tours. How wrong I had been.

Clove was reaped from District 2, and I felt bad for her. The poor girl, a fresh sixteen-year-old, had just returned from the arena and was being forced back into it. Her district partner would be Brutus, now in his late 40s. He volunteered and clearly could not wait to get his hands dirty again. Beetee was reaped in District 3, and Wiress's name was also called. I wasn't sure what insubordinate act Clove and Wiress had done to result in the President's fury, but I couldn't imagine either of them standing up in open rebellion. Especially not a girl from District 2.

District 4 was next. This was the District I was dreading.

Their escort, Cymbelline, walked up to the microphone, her high heels clicking across the stage. "Ladies first!" She called, her spirits not at all dampened by the mood of the District. The dark, stormy skies and wild waves in the distance reflected District 4's angry mood. They were on the edge of an uprising. She clicked over to the bowl on her left, where three women stood. Mags stood between Britt and the mayor's daughter, who I knew to be a distant cousin of Finnick's. I knew that no matter the outcome, Finnick would lose someone in this Reaping, just as I had in mine, but I couldn't help but hope it would be Attina, the third female Victor who I barely knew.

"Britt Lee!" Cymbeline read. Britt rolled her eyes, which was clearly caught on camera, but before she could take her place, Mags hobbled across the stage, desperately pointing to herself, volunteering.

I felt dread settle in the pit of my stomach. I knew why she did it, of course. Britt was young. Finnick's age. She had plenty of life left to live safely in District 4. Mags was old, reaching the threshold of eighty-two. She had already survived a very bad stroke, and didn't have long anyway, but I knew that watching her die would be one of the hardest things I would ever do, if Peeta is to go home. I was still holding onto the hope that Finnick was safe.

Until, of course, Cymbeline pulled his name out of the reaping bowl, and read with clear diction, "Finnick Odair!"

I held my breath, anxiously waiting for one of the other four male Victors to volunteer for him, as they did in District 2. These were Careers, after all. But no one did.

"No," I whispered. Things were getting worse and worse. I kept my face passive, refusing to cry again. I was being forced to choose between my brother, my husband, and all of my closest friends.

Districts 5 and 6 flew by quickly, with very little reaction from any of us. I was glad to see that at least some of the tributes would not be personal friends of mine.

District 7 was up next, and as the escort prepared to reach into the large bowl with only one name in it, Johanna stomped forward, "F— it!" She yelled, her language censored, which made me laugh. They wouldn't censor it when I killed other children my age, or when I stripped down to my underwear in the arena, but explicit language? We can't infect the poor Capitol children with bad language! Johanna's footsteps were louder than the District 4 escort's. She reached inside the bowl, pulled out the single slip of paper and said: "Gee, I wonder what this says? Who could possibly be the female tribute from District 7?" She ripped open the seal. "Could it be, by chance, Johanna Mason?" She shouted. She glanced around the stage. "Well, seeing as there's no other female Victors up here with me, I would say that's a pretty good F—ing guess. But wow, this really is a surprise. Who saw this coming, really?"

She was restrained by the Peacekeepers.

In District 8, Cecelia was reaped, but seeing the three children desperately clinging to their mother, Zahra volunteered to take her place.

In District 11, Chaff, Haymitch's best friend, was reaped. Peeta volunteered for Haymitch, and then the footage was cut off directly after, not showing the rebellious actions of our District.

Effie sighs sadly and loudly, and switches off the screen. She opens her mouth to say something, but is quickly cut off by her own sob that she had been trying to hold back.

"I like your hair, Effie," I said, desperately trying to change the subject so that we didn't have to talk about the Reaping. I didn't want to hear Effie lament about Zahra going back into the arena at such a young age, like me and Johanna, and I didn't want to have to put up with Haymitch and Peeta's kind, sympathetic remarks about Finnick. I didn't want to talk to Peeta later about the baby and what I wanted to do now, since it was clear that no matter what, there would be no happy ending. I didn't even want to laugh with my friends about the scene Johanna caused in District 7. I wanted to pretend the Games weren't happening, and I would return home in just a few weeks with Peeta and Haymitch and Finnick and my baby.

"Thank you," Effie said, sniffling. "I thought maybe we could be a team. You have your gold pin, I have my hair. I thought maybe we could get the boys something gold each."

"That sounds like a great idea, Effie," I said honestly.

Effie nodded, dabbing the tears from her eyes before they could ruin her makeup. Haymitch stood up finally, and led Effie out of the car and into the next room over.

I could feel Peeta's eyes on me, but I refused to look up.

"Effie found the films of all the past Hunger Games," He said. "I picked out the ones for the tributes that are going in with us. I'm going to watch a few, if you want to."

I shrugged, and Peeta opened a box full of tapes. They were organized in chronological order. The most recent was labeled 74th Annual Hunger Games- Clove Kentwell D2

I noticed that the tape from the 70th Hunger Games was not present, as well as the tape from the 10th Hunger Games. I wasn't sure what happened that year, only that it was the first year District 12 won with Lucy Gray Baird, but she probably did something rather rebellious to get herself wiped out of history. Maybe Mags would know. The 70th Hunger Games were never shown in replays or anything. It's like the Capitol was trying to wipe them out, probably because of the berry stunt I pulled with Peeta. In fact, Peeta himself was rarely interviewed. They were probably trying to make the country forget that there were two Victors.

Peeta selected the tape from the 46th Hunger Games. Brutus's year.

I didn't really pay attention to the film, and about halfway through the arena portion of the recording, I left Peeta alone in the car and made my way to my bedroom. Instead, I continued to write a song in my notebook and, once again, began to dissociate. It was more comfortable this way, even though I hated the feeling of not being able to tell reality from a dream or maybe a movie I was watching, it was much better than accepting that I was going back into the arena.

And to any of my American readers out there, Happy Thanksgiving! Have a great holiday week, and I'll see y'all in the Christmas season...

speaking of which, I always write a few Christmas one-shots, so if you have any suggestions, let me know because I'm always looking for ideas! I've had this Hunger Games Christmas Carol AU idea for a really long time now, so let me know what you think of that.