{gale}
From inside the hovercraft, I look down and I can see the force field ripple, shimmer, and explode. This crazy plan worked after all, and now we have to move fast. I watch the claw shoot down through the enlarging hole in the field, and I see her, lying there, sparks flying all around her limp body. Whoever's controlling the pincers does a great job and picks her up first try, but as she gets nearer I can see something's wrong. Yes, of course she's passed out, but it's more than that- instead of remaining still, her legs are twitching crazily, her head spasms, but her eyes remain closed, her face impassive.
They can't get her in here fast enough. As soon as they place her on the exam table, I'm right by her side, not thinking about anything other than her life. Of course, as the Mockingjay, the whole world cares, too, so a whole team of doctors shove me out of the way and get to work trying to repair the flightless bird. Katniss.
Seconds tick by, the doctors' faces become more and more creased in concentration, and still she doesn't move. One of the healers, a middle-aged woman called Alvaria, steps out of the room and says my name.
"Gale, I don't think there's anything we can do for her. The shock-"
I cut her off. "Nothing you can do? You're telling me that after all of this, everything she's been through, she won't even live to see what she's accomplished?" My head spins, my world slows down, and I push my way into the white, clinical room.
"Sorry, soldier, you really can't be in here-" protests one of the doctors, but I can't be bothered to care. Katniss is dying now, maybe even dead already, and there's not a thing I can do to help her. I rush to her bedside, I grab her hand, I yell her name.
Against the odds, her eyes flutter open and she coughs. I can barely hear her quiet whisper, "Gale… how'd you get here?"
I crack a gentle smile, I tell her, "I flew. I guess I learned how from my Mockingjay." I know that right now, more than anything, she can't know the truth. That I'm here on a mission from District 13, that the uprising is gathering speed, that District 12 has been shot to hell.
Katniss closes her eyes again, but they shoot open again immediately. "Prim!" she gasps.
"She's alive. So is your mother," I reassure her. "Peeta's around here, too, somewhere." It's only then that I remember that this is a rescue mission, that if all has gone according to plan, the baker really is in this hovercraft. Whether he is or not doesn't matter right now.
She grimaces. "Good… tell him I'm sorry… for everything…"
"No, Katniss, don't give up. You're fine, you'll be okay, I promise," and I'm shouting, pleading with her to remain with me.
My best friend, my tribute, my lover, my hunter, clutches my hand and whispers, "take care of him… please Gale, make sure my family's okay, too." She trails off, gets even quieter. "Thank you for it all…"
The beeping of the machines, the steady roar of the hovercraft made it so hard to hear her, but I know what she meant.
I lean down and press my ear to her chest.
Nothing. No sound, no steady beat, not even a weak thump. She's gone.
{peeta}
I come to in a bright white room. My head hurts, my vision's foggy, and when I try to sit up, to look around me, I'm so dizzy that I can't even see straight. I lay back down, and drift into unconsciousness again. Time passes, it feels like days, and I'm crashing through the jungle again, searching for Katniss. The trees above my head spin, monkeys with shrieking voices chase me, and everything is coated in thick, hot blood.
Finally I'm drawn out of this nightmare by a quiet voice, guiding me away from the visions and into reality. I can't tell who it is yet, but whoever it is is holding my hand, anchoring me to the world, and it's the only thing I can find and latch onto that's tangible. Several minutes go by, and I'm feeling strong enough to open my eyes.
A face appears in front of me- dark hair, grey eyes, olive skin, but this face isn't soft like Katniss's. Instead, it's got a hard jawline, thick eyebrows, a frown on its face, and then I realize- this is Gale.
I sit up with a jolt, and in spite of the pain, I ask the question- "Where's Katniss?"
A dark shadow twists his features into a smirk, like he's got a private joke, and he drops my hand. With a cold, brittle voice, he responds, "Dead."
No. No, no no, this is impossible, can't be happening, must be a lie. "She's not. Where is she, really?"
"Katniss is gone, Peeta. She shot an arrow into the force field, shattered the arena, and electrocuted herself." And with this, I know Gale must be telling the truth. I remember crashing through the jungle, howling her name, then seeing her, standing straight, her bow pointed at the sky. After this, it's all dark.
"We think Enobaria knocked you out, then you fell into one of the wires wound around the lightning tree. In fact, there's a lot you need to know," Gale added tonelessly.
But I can't focus, the rest of his words all blend together, because the one person who I ever really loved is dead. She's gone- Katniss is never coming back.
{gale}
It's been an hour since we left the Arena. An hour of worry, confusion, sadness, panic. I've shoved these emotions into the recesses of my mind, and I refuse to think of them until I'm back, safe, in District 13.
The rescue mission was a success- of course, if you can look past Katniss dying don't think about it, hide it away, don't let them see your emotions. Peeta made it,and we were able to get Beetee, Finnick, and Johanna out.
I guess that makes Enobaria, the fanged tribute, the victor.
But of course, none of that matters now.
Plutarch, Haymitch, and Finnick are standing in the control room, discussing what to do next. I enter, and the conversation stops- they're looking at me now like I would look at a helpless animal, injured by a misfired arrow.
I hate it. I hate their sympathy, these people who have lived in luxury for most of their lives. Yeah, they're all helping to overthrow the Capitol, and yes, they tried to rescue Katniss, but I've got the feeling they didn't even care about her. They just wanted to use her as a political pawn, a figurehead for the rebels to rally behind.
This thought fills me with rage. "So, what's your next big plan? Send us all into the streets of District 2 to kill off Peacekeepers? Or how about we drop in on Snow, and shoot him in the head?" I know I'm being irrational, but I don't care.
Finnick steps up, looks me in the eye, and hisses, "Listen, Gale. We tried as hard as we could. We know you're hurting, and we know you're upset, but so are we. Do you think I didn't care about her? That Haymich is fine?"
I guess he's right, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. "Yeah, ok, whatever. What do we do next?" I realize that the only way to remain a part of this mission, to keep my standing in 13's army, is by remaining calm and pretending to be fine. Of course, I'm not, but they don't have to know that. All they can see is me, standing tall, willing to sacrifice anything for the Cause.
Plutarch must notice this, because he looks me in the eye and answers me honestly. "We have some ideas- we knew there was a possibility that Katniss would die in there, so we came up with a few plans just in case things went south. Right now, we need to do damage control. I'm sure the propo team in 13 has a memorial set up already, it's just a matter of filling in the details. Giving the Rebels a martyr to fight for."
No matter how I feel now, I know Plutarch has the right idea. Turning the Mockingjay into a martyr will cause a massive outcry, will make the people rally in anger, and maybe even tip the scales in our favor.
Now I think of Peeta, Katniss's boy with the bread, the one who fought to save her life.
I wonder what he'll do now that there's no life left to save.
