Disclaimer : I do not own the Hunger Games, no copyright infringement intended.

She Doesn't Need Me

I always thought that once Panem and its corrupted government were overturned, I would then live a life worth living. That once Snow slumped dead and his magnificent Capitol burnt to ashes, I would live my own happily ever after.

Now, under the strain and intensity of it all, I honestly doubted this.

For war didn't only mean the defeated losing. The side that won – at least on the surface – lose a part as well. It was war, where hopes were destroyed, dreams were shattered, innocence was crushed.

Since that day when Katniss was carted off to the Capitol to play in their Games, that nagging thought of me losing Katniss never left my mind. I didn't want to think about it, but when I did, like now, it's crystal clear that Katniss would never be mine. She didn't need me.

I got up. I couldn't sleep a wink. It's not uncommon, sleep constantly deserted me. And to be honest, I woke up an average of ten times a night, anyway. During the Games it was to make sure Katniss still survived the Games, and now it was to delude myself that as long as Katniss was here, we could still be what we used to be. It all turned back to making sure Katniss was still here.

The whole room was quiet and silent, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed Peeta motioning for some water to me. Well, he couldn't sleep either, I thought to myself sarcastically. That's something we had in common regarding our striking different personalities. His personality that would be needed by Katniss to survive. My personality that served nothing to Katniss at all.

"Thanks for the water," Peeta said.

"No problem," I replied. You requesting for water isn't what that kept me sleepless. "I wake up ten times a night anyway."

"To make sure Katniss is still here?" he asked.

To delude myself that as long as she's here, she would still be mine. It amounted to the same thing, anyway. "Something like that," I admitted.

And because I didn't want to go back to a sleepless attempt again, I stayed. It's kind of weird, considering that before this all I wanted was for him to never exist in the first place. Not that I wanted Peeta to exist now, for he was partly why Katniss would never be mine, but that Peeta was better for Katniss. My Catnip would not be better off with me. She needed him.

Something Peeta said broke me from my internal monologue. I didn't catch the exact words, but it was something like no one knowing what to do with Katniss. I suppressed a bitter laugh. That was so right – I thought I knew, before. That I would marry her and she'll be mine and I'll be hers. But I was wrong.

"Well, we never have," I replied. Then we laughed. I wasn't sure why Peeta laughed, but on my part that's the only reaction that could keep me from breaking. Insanity is a cure, if not a partial remedy. The desperation of an already desperate human.

"She loves you, you know," Peeta said. "She as good as told me after they whipped you," he added.

Oh, that one stupid moment where I shallowly thought she's mine forever. "Don't believe it," I said. Yeah, she loves me, maybe even wanted me, but I was in pain that time. "The way she kissed you in the Quarter Quell…well, she never kissed me like that."

"It was just part of the show," Peeta said, though I didn't miss the edge of doubt in his voice.

"No, you won her over. Gave up everything for her. Maybe that's the only way to convince her you love her." Peeta was with Katniss during the Games, twice, and I knew nothing would make me understand the depths of suffering Katniss went through.

"I should have volunteered to take your place in the first Games. Protected her then," I didn't keep the wistfulness out of my voice. That way I would never have to live with what-ifs.

"You couldn't," Peeta pointed out, like I needed explanation on this. I knew Katniss' family meant more to her than her own life. And I didn't blame her for this. But my life had been full of what-ifs and if-onlys since that day. It's times like this where I fervently wished the war would take me with it to stop all these pain.

"Well, it won't be an issue much longer. I think it's unlikely all three of us will be alive at the end of the war." I'm betting on me getting a bullet, I added silently. "And if we are, I guess it's Katniss' problem. Who to choose," I said it as if it didn't bother me, but deep down it did. And I was too numb to speak with emotion. I yawned. "We should get some sleep," I suggested, though I knew it was highly unlikely.

"Yeah," Peeta said, sliding his handcuffs down the support as he spoke. "I wonder how she'll make up her mind," he added.

"Oh, that I do know," I said, trying my best to keep the bitterness out of my voice. She'll survive just fine without me, but not without you. "Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can't survive without."

Even as I uttered those words out loud for the first time ever, I couldn't stop that twinge of pain against my chest. For what I said was nothing but the truth. It was the absolute truth.

Things were always about the boy with the bread and the girl with the braid. It was never about the hunter and the huntress. Maybe if the Games never existed, then it would be about me and my Catnip. Maybe if she never went to the Games, it would still be an us.

But there was no use dwelling in what-ifs and maybes. What-ifs were an illusion from reality, and maybes were fantasies that would never exist. The reality was that a twisted, sickening government existed, and Katniss was forced to play in the Games. Thinking otherwise only served a momentary break from the pain of the harsh reality. Even the times I the woods seemed more like a fantasy than a reality.

Katniss played in the Games. She went into the arena, fought, killed, suffered and survived. Though I could put a name to what she went through, I knew I would never truly perceive what exactly she went through. Though I could feel her pain as the fireballs wrenched her calf, I would never truly know her pain. And that though my heart constricted like it would never open as I watched the girl from District Two threw knives at her both during the bloodbath and the feast, I never truly fathomed her fear and suffering.

I could never, for I never went through the Games myself.

I supposed Katniss did love me when I was whipped unconscious to the world, but what brought about her sudden impulse was the high-running of her emotions, the strain of the situation. She couldn't define what she felt for me, but decided as soon as she saw me dead to the world. She couldn't look at my lips and not feel otherwise since my impulse after her first Games, but brought herself to kiss me when my face contorted in obvious ail.

She loved me when I was in pain.

That was so distinct, so different from what she had with Peeta during the Quarter Quell, at the beach. I could see in her eyes that she had given up everything she had in Twelve, including me. Even Prim. Why? I wanted to yell at her. Why would you give us up over that blond boy who once saved your life with his bread? Why?

Answers wouldn't make any difference, couldn't make any impact now. He won her over, somehow. He ruled her heart, unsurprisingly. Maybe it's because he went through the Games with her, knew every inch of pain behind every wound. Maybe it's because of his eloquent words and undying declaration of love, displayed so clearly in front of the entire nation. Answers and explanations didn't mean anything. They could fill an entire book, while the truth was a simple sentence of three words.

She needed him.

She cannot survive without him. She needs him. She loves him.

And there was nothing in the entire world that could stop the pain from puncturing holes in my already hollow chest.

A/N : I always thought Gale thought rather than talked, that's why he seemed to come off as cold and distant. So I hope I did narrate his thoughts on this properly. Feedback would be appreciated -)