Peeta and I go home. We go home and almost instantly, our lives are turned upside down again and I can't believe that somehow I'm still worrying about his feelings for me.

We're about to launch into another round of Games. As I sit with my mother and Prim on the last night before the Reaping, I know for a fact that I will not be seeing them again.

"They can't do this," Prim says, and drops her spoon. It hits the side of her bowl with a soft clink, and a bit of her soup sloshes over the side.

"You need to eat," I say weakly.

I've just come back from Haymitch's house. I made him promise once again that he would save Peeta over me when it comes down to that, because we both know that it will. He had something that he wasn't telling me; I could see it in his eyes. I knew he would never spit it out, so I didn't bother asking, but I know that nothing I have now is going to last.

Two weeks from now, I'll be dead.

I take comfort in the fact that at least Peeta will hopefully come back to 12 a victor twice over. He'll never want for anything again. He'll live a long, healthy life and have as many children as he wants.

I'm expendable. The world can go on without me. It shouldn't go on without him.

My body is stronger than it has been in a while thanks to the strenuous training that Peeta's forced on Haymitch and me. I'm not nearly as tired as I usually am, and have much more of an appetite, but my nerves are erasing it tonight.

"There must be something you can say to stop them," Prim insists.

"I said you need to eat," I snap, smacking my palm down on the tabletop. If I had spoken like that to her just a year ago, she would've shrunken down and started to cry. Now, she looks at me indignantly.

She grew up while I wasn't looking.

I've already accepted that this will be the last I see of her, and curse myself for acting so brashly towards my little sister. "I'm sorry," I say, shaking my head.

"It's okay," she says.

"It's not okay." I push my bowl away, stand up from the table and hug her tight. What I wouldn't give to rewind time and change everything so we would never end up where we have.

"You're going to make it out, Katniss," she says, "you already did once."

I consider arguing; it's my first instinct, but I stop myself. "You're right," I say.

"I know we're going to see you again," she says softly, and then gives me another hug. Not long ago, her head fit perfectly over my heart when I embraced her. Now, she rests her cheek on my shoulder. She's almost the same height as I am.

She'll take care of the house once I'm gone. I don't need to teach her how to do that; she and my mother will make a beautiful partnership with their medical expertise and their lives will continue fine without me.

I give Prim a lasting kiss on the forehead and she knows what I'm doing without me having to say it, I know she does. I can see it in her pretty blue eyes. I hold her head in my hands and she grasps my wrists, her spindly fingers digging into the bones.

"Come back," she says, "promise that you will."

"I promise," I say, but we both know that I can't do that.

I lay in bed that night and wonder how my life got to be this way. I have a fiancé that I can't make heads or tails of, people think Gale is my cousin, my sister has grown up from the ducktail-tucking little girl I knew, I'm about to fight to the death for the second time. And I will probably lose.

Don't forget to mention the whispers of uprisings that I've caught wind of.

When I close my eyes, thankfully sleep comes easily.

I open them to see that Peeta and I are alone in my bedroom. The air feels charged like it did the last time we were together, really together, and I can tell that something is about to happen between us.

He doesn't waste any time and I don't really see the point in it, either. We strip off our clothes and soon, our limbs are tangled up in each other and his lips are everywhere on my skin that he can reach.

I'm on fire for him and my groin is throbbing with pure desire. I'm not gentle, I pull his body down onto mine by gripping his shoulders hard, and this time, it doesn't hurt one bit when he pushes inside me.

He clamps his teeth down on my neck and thrusts his hips against me, pushing himself inside my body over and over again. I never knew that he was so powerful.

My heart is hammering, my entire body is sweating, and I only want more. I've never been greedier.

"Katniss?"

I open my eyes, reacting to the high-pitched, tentative voice right next to my ear.

It's Prim.

I look around my room and find myself alone in my bed, drenched in sweat, the sheets tangled around my ankles.

"You were having a nightmare," Prim says innocently, wearing my old nightgown that is still a bit too long for her. The hem of it gathers on the floor where she stands, swaying in place and touching the tips of her fingers together in front of her.

I go along with what she says. I'd rather agree that it was a nightmare than admit I was having a dream about sex. Sex with Peeta, no less.

"Do you want to sleep here with me?" I ask, and she nods. I go to the bathroom before laying back down and find that a damp patch has soaked through my underwear. Embarrassed, I discard them and change into new ones; the sturdy kind that I'm used to.

I lay back down next to Prim and wrap her up in my arms, holding her tight for the last time, and trail my fingers down the bumps of her single braid. I don't remember when she stopped braiding her hair in two.

"Good night, little duck," I whisper, and squeeze her upper arm. She's already gone.

When the train leaves District 12 the next morning, I'm sitting as an empty shell in the same window seat from before. It feels like I never left.

Peeta bursts in loudly, clearly upset. "They can't do this!" he exclaims. "We didn't even get to say goodbye."

I'm numb at this point. We've thought that the Capitol couldn't do a lot of the things that they've done, yet they still continue to do them. Almost nothing surprises me.

"Your sister, your mother," he continues. The way he mentions my family and not his own is not lost on me. "Prim. She was screaming for you."

My eyes drift over and land on his face, feeling more like hollow sockets. "I know."

"I'm sorry," he says, and his voice is so full of feeling that I know he means it from the bottom of his heart. "I'm so sorry, Katniss."

My gut reaction is to turn away, look back out the window and will him to leave the room. But then I remember that I'm going to be dying soon, and Peeta doesn't deserve my iciness right now. We need each other, so I open up to him.

"She slept in my bed with me last night. At least I have that."

He nods, but that's not good enough for him. It's not good enough for me, either, but it's what will get me by. I can almost still feel her small body next to mine, childlike in sleep, her straw-colored hair tickling my nose and chin. It helps me remember a time when we were both much smaller and sleeping in the same bed out of necessity so we could keep warm during the harsh Seam winter. Prim will never have to worry about that again, and for that I'm thankful.

The Games may kill me, but they have saved my sister's life. That's what matters.

"What about you?" I ask him. "What about your family?"

Peeta shakes his head. He doesn't want to talk about it, and I don't push.

Hours pass and eventually, Haymitch finds his way to us. Peeta and I have been lying together on his bed, my head on his chest as he reads. Because of all the time that I've had to think, I've been concocting an idea that I feel ready to share with them both.

"Before I left, my sister said that there must be something that I can say to stop them," I say, lifting up so I can fold my legs underneath my body. We've moved to the living area, where we all sit facing each other. "At first I thought she just didn't get it. But now, I think she might've been right."

"Then shoot, sweetheart," Haymitch says, sounding defeated.

"What if, during the interviews, Peeta tells Caesar that I'm pregnant."

The silence after my words practically shatters my eardrums. I think about taking it back, undermining myself, but I don't. I think it's a halfway decent idea.

"Well, you've said worse," Haymitch says, shrugging. "I say go for it. There's not much you can lose now."

I look at Peeta to gauge his reaction, but I can't read him. "If you think it has a chance of working," he says. "I guess, why not?"

I let a small smile creep onto my lips. "That's what I thought. Everyone loves us. They would never want me to go into an arena carrying a baby, so maybe they'll change the rules. And I'll be able to tell Prim that it was her idea that saved us."

Both Peeta and Haymitch nod, but there isn't much confidence in their eyes.

"As long as the boy's okay with it," Haymitch grunts, standing. Peeta shrugs and nods, staring down at the floor. "Then you two should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow. You'll want your rest. Night."

He disappears through the sliding doors and Peeta and I are left sitting together alone. He looks up from the floor and into my eyes, his fingers laced together between his knees as he leans forward towards me.

"Katniss… you do know what goes into making a baby, don't you?"

I scoff. He must really think I'm stupid. "Of course I know," I spit, "my mother is a healer. I've seen countless babies delivered, some right on my kitchen table!" I roll my eyes. "I'm not dumb, Peeta."

He sighs, and if I'm not mistaken I see a smirk playing at his lips. The same fire ignites in my belly and I'm not entirely sure it's from anger.

"That's not what I mean," he says, "I mean, do you know what goes into making a baby? Not how it comes out."

I roll my eyes again. He's treating me like I'm Prim's age, so unknowing about the world. "You know, I'm not totally clueless. Of course I know. Sex."

"So if I tell Caesar you're pregnant, all the Capitol citizens, actually all of everyone, are going to assume that we've had sex. Your mother. Prim."

"Prim doesn't know how that works yet," I say defensively.

"Gale," he continues. I bristle. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"I'm not really going to be pregnant, Peeta," I say, "we're only pretending."

"I know that, but…"

"This is the only option we have." I stare him down until he breaks and looks down at his socked feet. He left the titanium one bare and I'm glad for it.

He sighs and I take that as his agreement.

We both retire to bed and even though I don't really want to be sleeping alone, I don't want to be the one who asks him to share his bed. If he had invited me, I would've gladly accepted, but he didn't.

I change into another incredibly soft nightgown, this one a powder blue instead of the white like last time, and settle into my own bed. We have two nights on the train before we're in the Capitol.

It's tiring to continue to fight with myself, but it's so hard for me to admit that I want Peeta's hands on me. All over me. I only have so many more days to live, and that's not something I want to leave this earth without feeling one more time.

Not tonight, though. I don't want to beg. So I use this time instead to experiment with myself, as strange of a time as it may seem. I've become more of a sexual being in these last 6 months than I ever thought I would be.

I push two of my fingers inside myself, trying to mimic the way that Peeta's tongue felt there, but they don't even come close to measuring up. Though I'm annoyed with myself because of that, I tell myself that this is all I'm going to get tonight so I better make the best of it. I shouldn't be so greedy.

I find that same spot – that group of nerves that made me see stars – and rub my two fingers over the bud. A small shriek escapes my lips and my hips buck against my fingers; my knees involuntarily spread wider and I keep at it. My back arches from the bed as I rub myself in quicker and tighter circles, chasing that feeling that Peeta gave to me all those months ago.

I feel the wetness seeping from between my thighs, coating my fingers with the same shiny substance that had been on his chin when he finished. I don't slow down when I feel my body start to spasm, I keep going until my free hand has a white-knuckled grip on the sheet and my toes are curling, searching for something to grab onto.

When I come, I can't help but think about Peeta. I imagine that it's him touching me instead, holding me down to the mattress with his strong arms and then moving up my body to kiss me.

I want him so badly. I can practically taste his mouth, feel the way his lips pushed against mine and made me his own.

When I come down from my bodily high, I get up from my bed, strip off my underwear and use the bathroom. I change into new ones that are orange, thinking about Peeta and his favorite color.

I can feel our time coming to a close by the time the sun sets the next night. Peeta and I have spent all day together, curled up in his bed, picking at Capitol desserts, or just simply looking out the window and enjoying each other's quiet company. We've gotten good at being friends.

But tonight, I don't want to be friends with him.

I change into the nightgown and come back into his room, my hair let down from its braid in loose waves, the way Peeta likes it best. He's in his pajamas now, too, sitting up with his back leaned against the headboard. Without looking over at me, he asks, "Are you trying to seduce me?"

I practically choke on his words. "What?" I laugh.

"Hair down, nightgown on, walking all slow like that." He finally puts his book down and smiles at me. "You have to know it's driving me crazy."

I grin. "I kind of knew. A little."

I climb up on the bed and straddle him, one knee on either side of his hips. He wraps his hands around my waist and I press my forehead against his, bringing my hands up to finger-comb his blonde locks. "I want to make our last night worth something," I whisper.

"Me, too," he says.

"Would it be okay if we…did it?" I ask. "One last time. To remember each other by."

"Katniss, we-"

I shake my head. "Don't. Just…can we?"

He nods and a sense of relief washes over me like a tidal wave. I don't just want him; tonight, I need him. He's the last good thing that I'll experience.

He doesn't know how readily I've accepted death in the Quarter Quell, and I intend for it to stay that way. He would just try and talk me out of it, and I'm not up for words now.

I want our bodies to do the talking.

Peeta pulls the nightgown up and I raise my arms above my head so it slips off in one fluid motion. He presses a handful of it to his nose, closes his eyes, and breathes in deep. When he catches me staring, he says, "I just want to remember."

I crack a smile because I understand. We're on the same page, then.

My chest is bare, I'm in only my underwear now and I can feel his erection pressing against my inner thigh, prompting me to move things along. I don't want to rush, though, I want this to last. I want this to be something I carry with me until my very last moments.

"Let's go slow," I suggest, and he nods.

We kiss for the longest time; once his tongue breaches the seam of my lips and makes its way inside my mouth, I'm a goner. It's like he's trying to get to know me from the inside out, one inch at a time. He keeps his hands on my waist as we kiss, pulling on the small of my back so my stomach is flush against his.

I don't even realize that I've started to grind my hips against his crotch until he steadies my movement. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to come," he says.

I giggle and try to keep my hips still after that.

I don't let myself wonder if I'm taking advantage of him. I don't let my thoughts wander back to the night during the Victory Tour when he told me he loved me and I didn't say anything in return. Soon, those things won't matter because I will be dead, and I'll just be a memory to him.

But I decide that I should make that memory a good one. I pull his shirt off over his head and open my mouth on his neck, taking a generous portion of skin into my mouth to suck on. His fingers dig into my spine; I can feel the half-moons of his fingernails creating indents that I hope will stay forever.

Peeta slides his hands from the middle of my back to the round of my backside, then slips them inside my underwear to hold it firmly in his hands as I lick his neck. He squeezes the supple skin roughly, his hips jerking under me, and I chuckle low in my throat. Judging by that, I'm definitely doing something right.

After a while, he removes his hands from the back of my underwear and flips us over so I'm lying breathless beneath him. He dives for my chest, pressing sweet, close-mouthed kisses to my sternum and between my breasts, as he fondles the left one casually. When his thumb catches my nipple, both perk up in response, begging for attention.

My center is throbbing with want. I haven't been able to catch my breath properly since we started.

With him on top now, I do my best at shimmying his pants off of him and succeed eventually. I drag my fingernails up and down his sides, which makes goosebumps appear on his fair skin, and I feel pride in knowing that I did that to him. I feel pride in knowing that I'm capable of doing allof this to him.

"I'm ready," I whisper, "are you?"

Peeta pulls his face away to look at mine, then traces my cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. He nods, and I can tell he has something on his mind but he chooses not to say it.

For once, I'm the one to break the silence. "Peeta?" I say, my breath hitching in my throat as he pulls my underwear off.

"Hm?" he says, unsheathing himself. I still haven't gotten used to the sight of him, and even if I were going to be alive for longer I don't know if I ever would.

My mouth goes dry, but I force myself to say it. "I love you, too," I say softly, and pull him in by his neck for a kiss. It's long and sweet, our pulses beating in unison as we exchange so much more than even those words could.

My eyes grow hot with tears, but I will them away. I won't let my intrinsic thoughts come sneaking in now. When he enters me, my eyes roll back in my head and the breath is stolen from me. He's lost in the feeling, I can tell, because his blue eyes are half-lidded and his jaw is slack.

It feels so much better for me this time. It's still tight, but there's no sharp, shooting pain like before. He pumps his hips, soft at first and then a bit rougher, which makes my back scoot up the bed and my head knock the headboard with a hollow thunk.

We both crack up with laughter. "I'm sorry," Peeta says, petting the back of my head to make sure I'm okay.

I can hardly stop laughing to form a response. The spot aches, but I don't mind it. "Keep going," I encourage him after he's gone still inside me, worrying about my head.

He obeys. He lasts for a few minutes more until he gives one final thrust, his pelvis shuddering against mine as he lets himself go inside me. The Capitol has me on birth control, so I'm not worried about that part. The warmth floods my body from the inside out, and I feel more complete knowing that I have a piece of Peeta in my body.

Before I can open my eyes or recover from his orgasm, I feel his fingers touch that same bundle of nerves as he's still inside me, which makes me come within a matter of moments. I don't have to pretend that it's Peeta's fingers touching me anymore, he's right here in front of me, his blue eyes boring into mine, touching me in an intimate way that no one else ever will.

My body trembles against him and I throw my head back with my mouth wide open when I come all the way undone. I know he takes so much pleasure in what he can do to me; the smile on his face doesn't even attempt to hide his pride.

When it's all finished and we're both sweaty and spent, our naked bodies fold against each other as close as we can get. We're both tempted by sleep in this warm room, feeling safe for the last time in each other's arms. I'm painfully aware of that fact, and I know he must be, too. Otherwise he might not be holding me quite as tight as he is right now.

As we lay together after having real, successful sex for both the first and last time, I try to memorize the feeling of his body pressed to mine.

I try to memorize everything about him because I'm convinced I will never have him like this again.