Catching Fire: What If Katniss Had Really Gotten Pregnant?

Chapter 4

"Peeta!" I called out in a shouting whisper, as loud as I dared. The elevator made a high pitched ding for each floor we reached. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. "Peeta!" I took his head in my lap and shook him softly. "Come on, wake up! Peeta!" Eleven... His eyes began fluttering just as the last ding got ready to sound, the front door whizzing open. 

"Katniss?" he looked at me as if remembering all over again what had just happened.

"Peeta, we'll talk in a minute, just get up right now, okay? Hurry please." I helped him stand just as the door opened, revealing the twelfth floor of the building. I took Peeta's hand and softly pulled him along to the roof -- whether we were allowed up there or not, I could really care less at the moment --and he immediately slid down against the railing, shoving his head in between his knees, breathing kind of hard.

"Peeta... It's... It's okay." I said, yet I could feel myself becoming upset. And suddenly I felt so guilty, so so guilty, for not telling him sooner. For keeping it from him. When he was truly the only person besides me who had a right to know.

The minutes it took him to calm himself seemed like hours, and I let out a sigh of relief when he finally lifted his head. "H -- How long?" he managed to choke out in an impossibly quiet voice.

"Five months." I looked at him wide eyed, hoping he would forgive me.

"You mean when we --" I nodded. "Why didn't you tell me?" I would have never said that if I'd known! Now.. Now.. People -- They're-- You're --" he seemed to be saying this was somehow dangerous, but he didn't seem to be able to find the words. Oh gosh, Peeta Mellark, the great and mighty speaker, was at a loss of words. If this hadn't been over the current subject, you know, if this wasn't important, I  probably would have been laughing my head off.

"Peeta." I stopped him. "It's okay. It's not your fault. Your right, I should have told you. I'm sorry. I was just afraid to." I blurted out all at once, wanting nothing more but for him to not be angry with me. I tried to think of something more to say to make him feel better, but couldn't.

So instead, I walked over and sat on his lap. I took his hands in mine, lifted my shirt, and rested them on my stomach. He couldn't help but smile. I turned to him. "I really am sorry." Then I kissed him once, just a soft kiss, just to let him know how truly sorry I really was. And I was. He came back to my room and laid in my bed with me. We both cried silently throughout the night, getting no sleep of course. For the next day, the Hunger Games would begin once again.

I woke up in the morning when Effie came to the door, though I wished we could just lay there forever. Peeta and I whispered solemn goodbyes to each other, as if we wouldn't see each other for a long while, then went to his room to get dressed and I did the same in mine; after a bit of coaxing from Effie to pry us off of each other. I let a few more tears escape as I readied myself for the time ahead.

I was going to die.

I knew I would have to stay long enough to ensure Peeta's winning. Maybe I would wait until it was just us. I knew he was going to be furious at me. Maybe even hate me. He was planning on dying and me winning. Now more than ever he wanted that to happen. All because of the baby. Oh why did I tell him?

I walked slowly to the room containing the small glass cylinder, sweating; feeling the need to vomit. I swallowed it down as best I could as Cinna walked into the room. I couldn't help but hug him. His arms returned the favor almost immediately, and I felt how tightly his arms were holding onto me. Either, he thought I was going to die or... Something else was going to happen. I'm not sure, but this goodbye just... Had such a final ring to it. Yet I hoped that wasn't true.

"Good luck." He said as he pulled away from me. "And remember, I'm still betting on you."

"Good bye, Cinna." A single tear slid down my face. I stepped into the cylinder and turned to look back at him just once more. But that's all it took to suddenly drown my moderately okay mood. Suddenly two peace keepers walked in behind him. One hit him harshly on the back of the head, forcing him onto his knees.

He hit him again, forming another welt next to the other that had already appeared on his head. He fell to the ground, unconscious, and the peacekeepers pulled him away. I screamed loudly and banged my fists off of the sides of the glass as it finally started to rise. No. No. No. This wasn't happening. Cinna. Cinna. What had I done? What had he done? What exactly was going on?

The mockingjay dress. That was the only reasonable explanation.

I always channel my emotions into my work. That way I don't hurt anyone but myself. I remembered Cinna saying. This time, I was afraid that he had hurt himself beyond repair.

I backed away from the glass as the timer started, and I got my first look at the arena. Water. Water everywhere. No land I could see. This: This place, was no place for the girl on fire.