I bust my way into the hospital wing of the training center. I'm surprised there isn't smoke billowing from my ears or a trail of fire behind me.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I spit at Haymitch, who's half-running to keep up with me.

"What was I supposed to do? Bust up into your meeting and let you know that she's fine?"

I turn my glare on him, silencing him.

I'm intercepted by a nurse, immediately trying to calm me and explain shit.

"Now, Mr. Hawthorne, Miss Everdeen is okay, she just passed out from a little exhaustion and anxiety –"

"Where is she?" I growl.

The nurse starts stuttering, "She-she's d-down the hall and-and to the left, s-sir."

I take off without thanking her.

Katniss sits in a small white bed, blankets pulled up over her growing bump. The circles are dark under her eyes and her mouth sits in a grim line as she looks at Cinna. As soon as I take a step into the room, her eyes dart to me and a small smile pulls at her lips.

"Gale," she whispers.

I nod, letting a smile pull at my own lips, "I'm here, Catnip."

Cinna thankfully takes the hint, getting up from his chair and saying something about her getting all the rest she needs.

As soon as he leaves the room, I take his place.

"Where have you been?" Katniss asks.

I take a deep breath, "No one told me what happened to you. I came down here as soon as I found out."

"Yeah," Katniss says, "but where were you?"

Her eyes lock on mine – I can't tell her I was meeting up with an alliance.

"Finnick was helping me with the trident."

Her eyes soften, she's accepted my lie.

I sigh, "So what did the doctors say?"

"Over-exhaustion. Anxiety. They gave me a couple pills for it."

I chuckle, "Oh right, imagine you being tired and stressed out over the damn Quarter Quell. These doctors are damn geniuses."

Katniss smiles, "I guess it's kind of obvious."

"What about the baby?"

Katniss shrugs, "Doctors said it was fine too. Just want me to stay in bed until the pills take effect."

We sit in silence for a few more seconds. I start tracing the skin on the back of her hand, just little patterns, light enough that I can see goosebumps raise along the skin of her arm. "Wish we were back at home," I mutter.

I can feel Katniss's eyes on my face, but I don't look up.

"Why, Gale?"

"Because then I could actually take care of you," I sigh. "Here, I have to wait on doctors and nurses and try to see you after I get done with damn training sessions and mentors and tributes and I'm just sick of it."

She squeezes my hand, "It's okay, Gale. It's going to be fine."

I run my free hand through my hair – she's right. It's going to be completely okay… for her. And our baby. And I know that. I've just got to get this alliance working, make absolutely sure that Katniss and our child will get home safely.

I reach my free hand over toward her stomach, gently caressing her bump. I feel something move from the inside and chuckle. Something kicks against my palm, I look up to see Katniss smiling.

"We're going to be okay, Katniss. You know that, right? You trust me?"

She nods, "Of course I do."

The holding center was probably the most stressful part of my Games. The sheer agony of waiting to know my score was enough to drive me crazy, simply because I knew I had to perform – to pretend to be weak and get a low score so I could show out in the arena.

But today… well, today no one gives a shit. Some of the more pre-determined alliances are sitting together, rather than in our assigned seats.

Except the morphlings – but they're still high.

Finnick sits on my left, Gale on my right. Finnick has a big smile gracing his face as he talks eagerly to Beetee about something that doesn't interest me at all. I don't even pretend to be listening. Gale has his head in his hands, and more than once I hear a yawn. When he finally looks up, the bags under his eyes look like he hasn't slept in a few weeks. I don't comment though.

By and by, the districts are called. They seem to take longer than they did the first time I was in this room, but I don't have a watch, so I don't know for sure.

Mags is called – she gives us all a big, toothless smile before heading toward the door. Our little group chuckles at her and wishes her luck.

"You okay, Jo?" Finnick asks.

I shrug, "I think I'm doing a little better than Hawthorne here."

Gale's head snaps up, giving me a glare, "Shut it, Mason."

"How is Katniss?" Finnick asks.

"She's doing okay. Just over-stressed."

"Wonder what they'll do since she's not doing the individual session?" I ask.

Finnick raises his eyebrows and looks at Gale, eager for an answer.

Gale shrugs, "Cinna said something about they might bring her down here just for that, then take her back to her bed, but Haymitch was fighting it."

"Why?"

"Haymitch is worried that the individual sessions are just gonna piss her off – which will make her worse."

I start laughing, well duh.

The guard shushes us, calling Finnick's name. Gale and I decide to stay quiet until they call my name.

I walk into the large room, looking up on the balcony where the Gamemakers sit. Unlike my Games, they aren't drunk or partying or eating. A smirk reaches my face – Katniss told me she shot an arrow at them last year, I guess they remembered.

Finnick had said something about trying to make a statement. So I look around the room, trying to find something that'll help me make that statement.

Just as my eyes zero in on my weapon of choice, someone from the balcony calls to me. "Joanna Mason?"

I roll my eyes, "What?"

The guy sincerely looks offended, "Just wanted to make sure you know that you can start at any time."

I roll my eyes again, "Because its not like I haven't gone through this process before, jackass."

He says something back, but I ignore him and just start walking toward the camo station. The morphlings that went before me made a mess of it, probably face painting, but I only really need one color.

I find it, working quickly on the ground and hoping that the words are written big enough that the Gamemakers get my message.

I step away when I'm finished, cackling as I walk toward the door before I'm excused. I can hear a few shouts in anger and a few chairs being moved, but I honestly don't give a shit. I really hope they leave it up so the next person sees it, but I doubt it.

Because written in the middle of the floor, in bright red paint, are the words that I know the Gamemakers would never attribute to themselves.

BABY KILLERS.

Hopefully it makes them take some credibility.