What If

Chapter Eighteen:

Katniss

I awoke again in a cold sweat, this time the sedation medicine was gone completely and I was now thinking straight. Then the memories of the day rushed back to me.

I could lose them both today.

I hated the thought, but I couldn't shake it. I imagine a horrible world in which things go wrong and they're both slaughtered. I'd lose not only the father of my child but also the love of my life if Peeta died. And if Gale died....I wasn't sure what our relationship was, but he was my oldest friend. I couldn't lose him.

Then I allowed myself to imagine a world in which they're both alive and near me. I slowly allow myself to imagine I'm back in Peeta's warm, safe arms.

How would Gale act after Peeta returned, if he did? Would he be cold and distant, jealous of my relationship with Peeta?

Is he really your best friend? I couldn't help but think with spite. Well, Gale had tried to kiss me that day in Victor's Village. Thinking about it just made my head spin.

After a few minutes of silence, Haymitch walked back in. I was embarrassed at the sight of him as our last meeting had been full of my hysterical, illogical pleas.

"Haymitch, can't I do anything?" I asked weakly. He sighed. "No, I know I can't join them, but I can't just sit here. I can do something. I mean—I'm the mockingjay! Can't you find a use for me?"

"Well, there was talk of sending you to another district to distract the capitol," Haymitch started. I nodded, hanging off every word. "But we didn't think you were stable enough."

Ouch, I thought, knowing that Haymitch wasn't referring to my physical state. To be fair, I was battling mental health issues at the moment, and the mentally disoriented bracelet had found it's way back onto my wrist, but it still felt like a slap in the face.

"Well, I need to do something," I pleaded. I stared desperately at Haymitch, who was trying his best to avoid my gaze. "Please?"

Haymitch sighed. I had clearly won him over. "I'll go talk to Plutarch and see if there's a use for you anywhere, but no promises."

I whispered a thank you to Haymitch. Soon he was gone and I was all alone again. My fingers anxiously tapped on the bed and I sighed, disliking being alone with my mind.

After nearly half an hour Haymitch returned and I peered up at him anxiously. "So?"

"Not another district, they want you to stay here," he said. I frowned with disappointment. "But Plutarch did think we could divert the capitol's attention to Thirteen by having Beetee play a live broadcast from here."

"And show what?" I asked, thinking of the mental breakdown that I'd had on camera this morning. Could I compose myself long enough to film a new propo, and what would it even be about?

"Finnick volunteered to say a few words, and I told Plutarch you might be willing to as well," Haymitch said. I frowned, wondering what to talk about. What would Finnick be talking about? They'd already aired his We Remember propo, what else would he talk about?

"I'll do it," I responded. "If it can help Peeta, I'll do it."

Haymitch nodded. "I'll go tell your prep team."

After a few more minutes my prep team burst inside my room, all of them wearing grins. I sighed with reluctance but allowed them to prep me.

This is going to help Peeta, I thought through gritted teeth.

I was dressed in the plain uniform of Thirteen but my face was caked with layers of makeup, my fingernails filed down and painted with a clear coat of polish, and my hair lavishly washed and placed to perfection.