A.N. We don't own the Hunger Games. We are just trying to find our way through fiction and storytelling.
They fought. They fought the battle with gritted teeth and furrowed brows.
They fought with the air of those who were desperate. They fought like wild animals, ready to escape the twisted trap that was the Games. They were ready to fight, ready to gnaw through bone and flesh to escape.
Katniss Everdeen and Gale Hawthorne didn't fight to survive. They fought to win. Because winning was the only way out.
Of course this was Capitol and it was the Hunger Games. And those who wanted to win, who deserved to win, hardly ever did. Odds never mattered, just the game that was played.
So they didn't win. They lost. She had lost. And therefore so did he.
Because they were a team. And if the team loses, then so do you. As the blood spilled from Katniss Everdeen's throat, from the lips that he had wanted to kiss for so long and as the life slowly drained from the face he had come to love, Gale knew this. There was no winning now, only living on.
Her blood was so bright.
Her eyes were not.
Katniss Everdeen's cannon echoed through the arena.
So Gale waited.
But his cannon never came. And the word victor echoed in his ears. Not that it meant anything to him. Because she had died and he could never go on without her. The woods spoke of her voice through the trees and her arrows splitting the air. Of beautiful, free days and quiet, peaceful nights.
He never did go to her funeral. Katniss had died in his arms and he could never face himself again. Not Prim's sad and tired face, not her mother's empty, bottomless eyes.
All he could do was drown. So he did. He dug a hole of liquor and self-pity. Nightmares rocked him with their dead faces, and he cried because he could never prevent it. The cameras and glitter, mingling with those he detested, with the faces of those he could never understand. The tributes he could never take care of. Who's burden became too great. The terrible nights, where the bottle was his only salvation, dulling the aches the nightmares bought. Faces flashed through his sleep, their eyes too wide and her face was always there.
And on the clear cool morning when the Mayor's daughter was reaped for the 74th Hunger Games, Gale knew he would never stop losing.
A.N. What did you think?
Good, bad, ugly?
We're excited to see where this goes and can't wait to start this journey with you guys.
Ta,
Thoughts of a Fangirl