I decided to turn this into a story, it began as just a one-shot because I didn't like they way Katniss responded to the mission.
Skip back to page 193- Mockingjay
Gale is leaving on Peeta's rescue mission.
They're getting Peeta out. My heart seems to contort, twisting and turning. How? Isn't Peeta locked away in the Capitol? Why? If they could, why hadn't they rescued him earlier? But most importantly... Who?
Haymitch explains it all carefully to me; speaking in simple terms, like I'm a child. I pay attention for the most part, drinking in the details: It was too costly before, they are getting Annie too, Finnick is sedated...Boggs is leading the mission. All very reassuring. However soon, I notice Haymitch acting a little strange; too nice, trying to cheer me up. Very unlike Haymitch. I know something is wrong, because nice is definitely not Haymitch's style.
"So who else volunteered?" I ask, trying to act nonchalant.
"I think there were seven altogether," he says evasively. A bad feeling forms in the pit of my stomach.
"Who else, Haymitch?" I ask, but I already know the answer, I knew it from the start.
Haymitch drops his act; it's fooling neither of us. "You know who else, Katniss. You know who stepped up first."
Of course I do.
Gale.
My hands begin to shake, and for a minute I'm sure I'm going to faint. Gale. My Gale. Why would he even go? It's no secret that Peeta isn't exactly Gale's favorite person in the world. Bringing Peeta back means I get Peeta back. Who, to almost everyone in Panem and maybe even me, is my lover; the one person in the world who has been through exactly what I have been through, understands how I feel. But I'm not kidding myself. I know exactly why Gale went. He went because he knows rescuing Peeta is something I'm desperate for, something that will make me happy, even if it endangers himself. Because he loves me. Guilt pours into me, making me dizzy. I push love to the back of my mind, turning to more pressing issues. What if the mission isn't a success? What if they fail?
What if Gale dies?
A life without Gale. I try to imagine it. I'd lived without him many times; the Games, the Victory tour. But this is different, I always knew I'd return to him, or he'd return to me... or I wouldn't return because I was dead. I was the one sent into the arena; I was the one who was supposed to die. He was the one who was to picture a life without me, not the other way around. At last I'm able to feel how Gale must have felt every minute I spent in the arenas. Helpless, needy, desperate.
A life without Gale is all shades of grey. Dark and light but no colour, no brightness. I close my eyes and see only the ugly uniforms of district 13, the only colour in my life the sickly purple writing on my arm. I can't see the woods, the sky, the trees. All I see is walls, endless grey walls, boxing me in. My face plastered with a permanent scowl, because if Gale isn't there to make me laugh, who will? The Capitol has already taken so much from me; my home, my liberty... my Peeta. Taking Gale would be taking the very few pieces left of me.
I can't let it happen. I began to walk towards command. But soon I'm running, sprinting. When I arrive, panting, Haymitch is there with Plutarch, bent over some sort of map.
"Katniss—"Plutarch begins, obviously ready to dismiss me.
"Bring Gale back." I state. Plainly, bluntly. It is not a question.
"I'm afraid we can't do that." Plutarch retorts, his voice calm.
"I don't care. Bring him back...now." My fists ball at my sides, teeth gritted.
Haymitch and Plutarch exchange a glance, Plutarch nods. This silent exchange brings on a whole new wave of anger.
"Aren't you listening!" I scream. I launch myself at both of them, not knowing which one I resent the most at this point. Just like I did once before, I claw at Haymitch, trying to repeat the damage I did last time. But before I get much further, I fill a sharp pain in the crook of my arm, Haymitch's hands binding my wrists and Plutarch whispering "We'll wake you up when they return..." before my world goes black.
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