Beacon of Hope

Chapter Twelve <3 Rebellion?

The phone rings out. I scowl. Stupid Haymitch. He's probably passed out drunk.

Non the less, Peeta and I wrap up and walk to his house. It's still snowing, so I have to wear a jacket, and that has to be Peeta's, since I'm 8 weeks pregnant now and my bump is showing.

Oh, the joys of pregnancy.

On the way, I stop to throw up, leaving the before pristine snow a muddy, lumpy brown pile. I'm really getting tired of it, this whole morning sickness thing.

I grab Peeta's glove-covered hand in mine and continue walking along the short road to Haymitch's.

When we get there, we don't even ring the door bell. We just walk right in, knowing he'll be passed out somewhere. And sure enough, he is. Sprawled out on the kitchen table as well. I shake him. No answer. Well, I guess I have no choice.

I grab the bottle of water next to him, and throw it on him. I can hear Peeta chuckling from the corner and Haymitch flails around, waving his knife in the air.

" What are you doing!?" He exclaims. I just smirk.

" You wouldn't wake up," I say.

" Well, next time could you try not giving me pneumonia? Could you do that, sweetheart?" He growls.

" Oh, sure, Haymitch," I say sarcastically. " Now, move your ass. We're going into town."

We march into the snow, Haymitch scowling all the way. He turns to me, growling, but I just smirk. Peeta grabs my hand and I look at him. He looks disapprovingly and I scowl angrily at him. He chuckles, shaking his head at me.

" Are you taking us to the end of the earth?" Haymitch says as we approach the fence. I grin my duck under the hole. Peeta follows. Haymitch shakes his head. " No, no, no." He says. I grab his hand and pull him through. He sighs and trips in the knee deep snow, sending him flying into the ground. Peeta and I erupt in a fit of hysterical laughter and he scowls at us.

We walk to the meadow and I turn to them. " I want to-" I say.

" You want to? You want to? Spill the beans, sweetheart." Haymitch says. I growl at him.

" No," I say. " But I do want to start a rebellion. "

Haymitch starts laughing and clears his throat. " Ok, and I want a flying pig made of beer, but you let me know how that works out for you, sweetheart."

I scowl at him. " Why not, Haymitch." I say. " What the hell is your plan then?"

" My plan? To make sure your wedding is perfect." He says. " I called Effie. The shoot's been rescheduled for next week."

" You don't have a phone." I say.

He sighs. " Well, she took care of that too, didn't she? She actually asked me if I wanted to give you away. I told her to sign me up,"

" Haymitch, please." I beg.

" Katniss, please." He mimics my voice. " No, it's not happening."

We all quieten down as a team of men with shovels slung over their shoulders, walks by the outside of the fence. We slide under it and head to the square.

We'd presumed that nothing would happen during the heavy snow. Well, we were wrong. We were so wrong.

Panems seal is displayed wherever it can be, and Peacekeepers are everywhere. Along the roof of the Justice Building, many more of them hold machine guns. And, worst of all, there is a gallows, several stockades and a whipping post set up in the middle.

" Well, then," Haymitch mumbles, crossing his arms. " Thread's a quick worker."

A few streets away, we hear an explosion. We all turn to it, seeing flames rising from. . . The Hobb. Peera squeezes my hand. I squeeze his back.

" Every wasn't-" Peeta can't finish his sentence.

"Nope," Haymitch whispers, then he raises his voice. " I wonder how many bottles of rubbing alcohol the medic centre can give me." He trudges off.

" Pee-" I say. " We can't let him dri- he'll kill himself."

He smirks, and I wack his hand. " We won't let him." He says.

" Well," I say. " I'm going to walk by the Seam, see if everyone is ok. You may as well go home, I'll meet you there."

" No, I'll come with," he says. " As long as we can drop into the bakery on the way there."

I smile. Peeta's always to thoughtful. " Ok then," I say.

We walk the couple feet to his families bakery. It's in the square, near the back, where they put the stage on reaping day.

I grin at the smell of cheese buns and Peeta looks down at me, laughing. He tightens his grip on my hand. " You're coming in with me," he says. I look at him quizzically, but follow him inside.

He pulls me to the front of the room, to the desk. His father is serving me, and he hugs me. I like his father, not his mother. Every time I see her, I'm reminded of the rainy day, of her hitting Peeta across the face.

His father looks at my belly, and I cringe. He's not told them yet? Why not? I elbow him hard in the rib cage and he doubles over. " What?" He squeaks.

" You. Haven't. Told. Them." I growl. He scowls at me, but only softly. His father is staring at us and I turn to him. " Your son has something to tell you." I say.

" Um, dad." Peeta gulps his saliva down like it's his favourite dessert. Which, by the way, is cheesecake. " Um, well, yeah. . . Um,"

" What are you waiting for Peeta?" I say.

" Dad, Katniss is pregnant." He blurts, then cringes. I put my head in his shoulder.

" What!?" His father exclaims. " So,"

" Yeah," he whispers.

" Oh. . . Wow! I'm gonna be a grandfather!" He cries, and embraces me. After a while, I pat his back. He kisses my cheek and pulls away. Then he says he has to go, and leaves the room.

Peeta grabs my hand and pulls me behind the counter. He bends down, and grabs a cake, pulling it up. He puts it on the table and kisses my head.

It's a beautiful cake, decorated with pink babies and teddy bears.