He sits at the table in the middle of the room, unable to make himself do anything. It seems as though the only color in the small space is the black, bitter coffee which rests next to his hand. Why he poured himself yet another cup of the gross liquid, he has no idea; the caffeine stopped taking effect hours ago. Maybe because it broke up the infinite sea of gray that you sit in right now, his mind says. The walls are gray, the floor is gray, and hell, even the paper is an off-white color. As much as he can't stand to see nothing but this color, he managed to convince himself that he deserves to have to stare at nothingness all the time. He deserves it because he had failed to save the one thing in his life that had brought him hope.

Everything about this place…she would have hated it. She would have lost her mind at the lack of freedom they were given. A girl like her had to have room to spread her wings. She had lived for seventeen years under the strict rules of her father, the proper image she had to maintain because after all, it's the Capitol we are representing, Madge. Even though her mind would be drowning in bad thoughts about Thirteen, she'd never say them aloud to anyone but him. She would put on a polite smile, follow her schedule precisely and without a word, and maybe risk getting in trouble to see him once in a while.

But she isn't here, living and breathing beside him. I'm not going to leave you, I promise, she had said. Looking back, he can't believe that he had thought she'd be able to keep such a promise.

He snaps himself out of his reverie and scolds himself. This had to stop. There was too much work to be done and he didn't need her constantly invading his mind like this. Looking down at the blueprints he had created, he realizes just how sinisterly brilliant they are: simple enough, yet sure to be effective. It almost sickens him to think that he created this. Yes, this weapon will take lives–if they even decided to use it–but this is war, not some big game of make-believe. And if losing lives is what it takes to make sure that her death, among all the others that have happened and will happen, are not in vain then so be it.

Though the blueprints are all worked out, that's pretty much all that's gotten done. He hasn't been able to keep his mind on track since Peeta was rescued from the Capitol. Everything about the situation seemed wrong. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn't help but think just how much he hated Peeta and Katniss. They had who they wanted most in the world; it didn't seem fair that he would never get that luxury.

Deciding to give up on working and turn in for the night, he gathers his papers in a semi-neat pile and begins his lengthy trek back to his compartment. He is only half-aware of his surroundings during the walk and he tortures himself with thoughts of how ridiculously upset she would be with him right now. She would not stand for his laziness, the constant pity-party that he held for himself, and he could practically hear her yelling at him.

"Gale? Gale! Are you okay?"

He shakes his head, forcing himself back into full awareness. "I–uh, yeah. I'm fine." He focuses his eyes on the person in front of him. He is surprised to find himself saddened when his eyes lock onto a similar pair of gray ones and not the radiant blue orbs he had grown so fond of staring into. The tiny flicker of disappointment he felt must have been noticed by Katniss, as her face seemed to fall a bit. He was about to back track and stammer things like, I'm just really tired, I didn't mean to…I promise I was just–

"If you say so…" She obviously was not buying it, but didn't comment on it any further. "I was just going to get some water for Peeta." Nothing but an awkward silence passed between them. "You should get some sleep. You look exhausted."

I wish I could. "Yeah, well, I've been working a lot lately…" He was not in the mood to have another uncomfortable conversation with Katniss about his poor health so he just simply said, "I was actually just heading to my compartment, so I'll talk to you later, Katniss, okay?" She nodded reluctantly and he walked past her before she had the chance to stop him.

It wasn't until he found himself sprawled out on his bed that he realized just how tired he was. Sleep was hard to come by since all that engulfed his subconscious mind was fire burning everything until he awoke to find himself drenched in sweat.

He secretly hoped that tonight would be different, that he would be allowed one good night's sleep. But he knew that wasn't going to happen as he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness with his mind screaming her name–MadgeMadgeMadge–willing her to come back to him.

A/N: I don't typically write fanfiction but I am a hardcore Gadge shipper, and I needed something to satisfy my soul for a bit. Thus, this one-shot was born. Reviews would be absolutely lovely because I'm doing NaNoWriMo this year and any criticism you might have for my writing would be very helpful. Thank you for reading!