A year after it's over and I can still see her face just as clearly as the day she left me forever because of one stupid mistake. I don't think I would change anything that I did that day though; we are free of the old Capital. That's what we set out to do. I can't help who had to die to get this freedom.

The girl next to me shifts, her tiny hand clinging to my arm as if that is the only think holding her in this world. This movement pulls me from my thoughts. I can sense another one of her fits coming on. Her head turns back and forth, her foot traveling up her leg and then violently pushing back down again. There is a thin layer of sweat covering her body, plastering her red/brown hair to her pale face. That's when the blood-chilling scream splits through the night air.

Her eyes fly open, the slate grey clouded with fear and panic; her arms pushing me away, crying out for them not to hurt her. Her nails dig into my skin but not enough to draw blood; at least not this time. Remain stoic, I remind myself before engaging.

"Shh…shh…no one is here to hurt you," I whisper, wrapping both arms around her; a sad attempt at stopping her thrashing about. "I'm here. No one can hurt you while I'm here…remember?"

"Gale?" she questions but her words are still too panicked, breathing still coming out in gasps, similar to a panting dog. She's got to calm down of she'll send herself into a state of unconsciousness. Once more time and the doctors won't let her out again.

"Calm down," I whisper trying to keep my tone even, trying not to show just how worried I am for her. "Look at me. I'm not here to hurt you."

Taking this terrified creature's face in my hands I force her grey eyes to meet mine. The distress and fear vanish as she buries her head in the nape of my neck. Her tears run down my bare skin. She is shaking whither from fear or the cold I don't know. I continue to hold her close, allowing the heat from my body to transfer to hers, which feels like a block of ice against my chest.

Three years…that's how long I've known this girl. I met her about six months before Katniss volunteered to be in the Hunger Games. She was a main leader in the movement to bring down the Capital. She was and still is opinionated, defiant and one of the kindest most trusting people I know.

We spend most nights in each others arms because we know what it's like to see first hand how destructive our race can really be. Is her state worse than Katniss's? I'm not sure. All I know is that Katniss is strong. This timid girl that now lies, shaking in my arms, is the farthest thing from strong. Her once toned body has turned into nothing more than skin handing from bone, sparkling eyes full of life are now blank and sunken in. She's a broken spirit. I've made it my own personal mission to bring her back.

After about an hour those soft lips meet my cheek. There are nonsense whispers spilling from her mouth but it reassures me that she's back from whatever world she disappears into during these fits. I've got nightmares but nothing like this. She saw children burning to death while I was in the air. I don't blame her for any of this at all.

"Gale," she whispers. "Gale don't go."

"I'm here. You sleep, I'll keep you safe."

"Sleep brings it back, the images for the flesh melting off the bone, the cries of those who couldn't be helped. I don't want to see that."

I go ridged, wondering if she'll blame me for the children's deaths. Obviously I've told her about the bombs being mine but as of now she's not held me responsible. Some nights I wish she'd just get angry and yell at me but it never happens. I wonder if it'd actually make me feel better or if someone else pointing a finger at me would just make things worse.

"Gale…it's not your fault."

I brush a stray strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She's pale, so thin, so weak, so vulnerable, yet she came to me. Big bad Gale who killed the little children; I don't know why she's not gotten mad at me about it yet. She's not Katniss I remind myself before gently kissing her forehead.

"Don't leave me, Soldier Hawthorne," she murmurs and I can tell that she's worn herself out but not to a point it knocked her out.

"Never," I answer. "Why did you come to my room that night?"

"You were screaming. I spent too many nights alone in the hospital scared out of y mind that the things I saw when I closed my eyes would come back. I wanted someone to tell me it wasn't there. I thought you might've wanted that too."

"Real or not real?" I question recalling the game we used to play with Peeta to get him to remember the truth. I play is with the fragile girl in front of my to keep her grounded. She's good at bending the truth.

"Not completely real. I did it for selfish reasons too; I didn't want to be alone anymore."

A single tear falls from the corner of her eye and I catch it on my finger, "I'm glad you came."

"So am I," she responds, a tiny smile playing over her lips as more tears spill down her face.

I pull her close to me, allowing her to hide in my chest. We rock back and forth for the rest of the night. "I'll always be here my dear Flyfern."