Chapter 2

He's back from mentoring for another year. Still no Victor since him. But at least I still have him.

As soon as he stumbles in, I cross from where I have been working on the stove and throw my arms around him. Then, I glance over my shoulder at the little boy standing in the doorway.

"Carter, don't be rude. Say hello to your father."

Our little boy crosses to Peeta. "Hi, Daddy," he says quietly.

I wake up in bed with a start. My heart pangs, and tears prick my eyes. Oh, if only that dream were so!

Peeta did not win the 74th Hunger Games. When I first experienced the nausea, two weeks into his ordeal, I thought little of it. Just a bad stomach bug. Or perhaps nerves from watching him survive on the Jumbotron every day. By that time, he had reached the Final Eight - the first District 12 tribute to do so in many years. Peeta made it all the way to the Top Three, in fact, where he entered a big final duel with Thresh, the black brute from District 11 and Cato, the Career beast from District 2. All three men fought fiercely at the base of the Cornucopia for the Crown. Peeta managed to kill Thresh, but heart-breakingly fell to Cato, who was crowned Victor.

It wasn't until a few weeks after the funerals of Peeta and his district partner (she died in the Bloodbath) that I began to feel my stomach swelling. Feel my breasts ballooning. That's when I knew I was carrying him. Peeta's baby. Our son.

I kept my pregnancy a secret for as long as I could. But as soon as I began to show and it was undeniable, the rumors began to fly. Some people thought it had been such a cruel summer for hunting, that I went to Cray out of desperation and that it's his. Our Head Peacekeeper is known to sleep with poor Seam girls who need the extra coins. Others think that Gale, my hunting partner, dragged me into the woods and fucked me there. If only they knew the truth... no one would suspect that the Baker's son had me in the Justice Building, moments before he left, never to return. Not in a million years.

His family does not know, by the way. Peeta's. If his mother alone knew, she would have a fit. She hates anyone Seam, and would never have allowed any son of hers to be with a Seam woman. She would likely tell the Peacekeepers, and they definitely cannot know. That my fatherless child is the son of a fallen Tribute. Especially a modestly successful one. Because that would mean that Carter would be tempting pickings for any future Reapings. It is rare for Victors to marry and have families, but those that do almost guarantee the participation of any children of theirs in the Games. Even Tributes who get far enough and still die might earn such a fate for their relatives. That's what happened to old Mrs. Conger, the shoemaker's widow. Her daughter was a promising tribute one year; made the Final Four. Her success incited her brother's participation a few years later. He wasn't so lucky, died quickly in the Bloodbath.

Nevertheless, if Peeta had won and become Victor, I would have married him, for the baby's sake. Despite Mrs. Mellark's wrath. Despite risking sending Carter to the Games. I would have married Peeta for the sake of the baby. We would have bought a place of our own, signed the papers at the Justice Building. Had a toasting.

His name is Carter. Carter Peeta Mellark. But his full name is only used within the four walls of my mother's house, where I still live with her and Prim. Out around town, in any official documentation, we have always used the name Everdeen. Though with his blonde hair and deep blue eyes, the same as his father's, people know he is a Merchant's child. That I fucked a Merchant. Which Merchant has thankfully, so far, remained undetermined to anyone but me and my family.

Mother was aghast when she found out that Peeta Mellark had impregnated me. I suppose she would have thought I'd be smarter than to bed a stranger. But, she still helped me through my pregnancy, even the delivery.

This is where I find myself now, sitting down to dinner with my family and five-year-old son. Suddenly, there is a knock at the door. Carter runs to answer it before asking to be excused, and I bound after him.

The Witch is on the other side of our door. Peeta's mother. And though Carter doesn't know it, his grandmother. Upon seeing my son, she grins almost in triumph.

"So, it's true, then. This is my grandson, and you're his mother."

I say nothing in reply, but my gaze and silence is affirmation enough. The Witch sweeps inside, followed by her sheepish husband, the Baker, and Peeta's two older brothers. Both of the surviving Mellark boys are married and with families of their own. Oddly, my mother goes to give the Baker a hug in greeting. The Witch stiffens at this, but says nothing.

"So, when did you do it, girl? Fuck my youngest boy?"

I slap my hands over Carter's ears. "Just after he was Reaped. I went to see him in the Justice Building and we..."

"You had sex," she finishes flatly. She scoffs. "I might have known. He was in love with you when he was his age," she gestures at Carter. "And, of course, a Seam slut like you would have fucked him out of pity..."

"It wasn't pity," I snap at her presumption. "He told me how he wanted to marry me, and, well... I gave him the only thing I could. I did not know a child would be conceived." I study the woman who would have been my mother-in-law curiously. "How did you find out, anyway? I've tried to keep it a secret."

The Baker now steps forward and explains how the week before Carter had come in to buy bread. I remember; I had given him the money I had saved up for Parcel Day. Carter had done something while there that reminded the Baker of Peeta, and he had shared his suspicions with his wife.

"We're here to take him back with us," the Witch announces. "He shouldn't be brought up in a Seam hole like this."

Just as I feared. I throw Carter behind me and seize my bow. Cries split the air, but I could care less. I string the arrow and take aim. "No. I won't let you take him." The Witch glares at me, but I stare her down. "If I had gone in instead of your son, I could have won. I can kill you just as easily as an animal."

The Baker places a hand on his wife's shoulder. And she backs down.

"He's not leaving me," I vow. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Nor I!" booms a voice, and I stare as Haymitch Abernathy, Victor of the 50th Annual Hunger Games, appears in the door. He enters our house and looks me up and down. "So... you're the girl who opened your legs to him?"

My eyes and gaze remain cold, even as I inwardly smirk at his phraseology; it is vintage of our district's second and only living Victor. "Yes."

Haymitch smirks. "Atta boy," he grins. "Bring out the child, sweetheart. I have something I want to give to him."

I bring Carter out from behind my dress. The way he shrinks into my skirts communicates his shyness in the presence of Twelve's hero. My son knows exactly who stands before him.

Haymitch now kneels before my son, his face one of abject wonder. A name - the name of my son's father - graces his lips. Then, Haymitch presents Carter with a medal. "Your Daddy would have wanted you to have this."

My son and I behold a circular medal - silver in color. It is engraved with Peeta's name. To commemorate how he got runner-up, second place, in the Games. It is tradition for the top three finishers - the Victor included - to receive a medal. No doubt Thresh got bronze, and Cato, the 74th Victor, got gold.

Carter takes the silver medal with a small thank you. Moved, I hug Haymitch.

"The boy talked about you non-stop, you know," Haymitch says sadly, fondly remembering the closest he has ever come to producing a Victor. "To the day he died. He would be very proud of you and the kid, Sweetheart."

He's right, I think as I smile down lovingly at Peeta's and my son. Peeta would be.