A/N: Just something that had been floating around my mind. There are many excerpts from Mockingjay, but you'll see why. I own nothing except Gale's thoughts below, which is more of an artistic license thing.
I toss restlessly, unable to get comfortable in the musty smell of pelts that is my makeshift bed. A frustrated growl escapes my lips as I sit up and a pain shoots through my neck. Oh yeah, forgot about that. I pat the gauze on my neck to ensure I'm not bleeding and am relieved when I pull my hand back to find clean fingertips. I inspect the scene. Cressida, though sleeping, is tossing … undoubtedly in a fight that only she sees. Pollux is sleeping still, but in the dim light of the cellar I can see the marks the tears left from earlier in the night. Though Katniss is turned away from me, I can tell by her easy rhythmic breathing that she is no doubt sleeping, awaiting the nightmares that sleep is sure to bring … dreams that I can't take away. It's only the clang of Peeta's shackles that bring me out of my own waking nightmares as he turns to his back. He lets out an agitated sigh and raises his head slightly, lying back down and looking to the ceiling once he realizes that Katniss is still here. Maybe he knows her inclinations, too. I may not like him, but I can't really say that I hate him. After all, he was the one that was there for Katniss in the arena when I couldn't be. He kept her alive. In more ways than one, I guess, but I don't let my mind wander down that road. It's just better that way.
"You're allowed to have some water, y'know," I say, interrupting my own thoughts and catching him by surprise. He scoots around so he can see me better and be sure that it's me talking and not the ghosts in his head. I point to the sink and he nods. I retrieve a small cup that Tigris left for us and fill it with water that's as cool as the sink will allow. I hand it to him and sit down. He drinks almost all of it with what seems to be one large gulp. When he sits the cup down, I quietly refill it and resume my spot next to him. We settle into an uneasy silence. We may not be friends, per se, but we have an unspoken pact to protect Katniss. Each for our own reasons, but a bond all the same.
"Thanks for the water," Peeta says, breaking the silence. I watch his eyes as they stare into the distance. I can tell by the look in his eyes that she's on his mind. It's the same look he had right after she and Johanna took off with the wire in the Quarter Quell. He still doesn't want to leave her side.
"No problem. I wake up ten times a night anyway," I reply, pretending I don't see it. I wonder if I get the same look in my eyes when I'm thinking of her.
"To make sure Katniss is still here?" He asks, looking to me with a bit of a smirk as he does so. Something about the inflection in his voice and the way he asked the question stirred me. I brush it off, knowing he was asking out of honesty.
"Something like that," I reply. I don't indulge him with the details. It's true. I haven't had a good night's sleep in .. well… a while. Since before their first Games, I guess. During that first games I didn't sleep well, awaiting the news of her death that would destroy me. Once the interviews came around, it was because I was sick at the thought of forever being thought of as her cousin while she pretended to love the dough boy. Then the nightmares came, hers and mine, when she returned to Twelve. Hers about the arena; mine about losing her forever to the Games, to Peeta, to the visions in her dreams. It just got worse with the Quarter Quell. For both of us. I hope I never see her disoriented the way she was in Thirteen after being rescued. I shut my eyes, her blood-curdling screams for Peeta and me echoing through my mind, accompanied by the memory of her being forced to stay alive by machinery. That wasn't my Katniss. All of this intertwined with the frequent talks of running away … yeah. I'm pretty sure I'm never going to let this girl leave my sight. I'm also going to make sure that Peeta doesn't try to kill her. He may be shackled to a pipe, but I still don't trust him, even though I know he wouldn't do it on purpose. If I'm being honest with myself, I also don't want to wake to find them kissing either. Chalk another one up for the Capitol to ruining all our lives.
"That was funny, what Tigris said. About no one knowing what to do with her," Peeta interjects, almost lightheartedly. Maybe I am easy to read, because I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding and feel my muscles ease out of the rigid position they had assumed. No wonder Katniss always let him do the talking in the interviews. He has the ability to read people and know what to say to alleviate the tension. Why does he have to be so hard to hate?
"Well, we never have," I answer him plainly. At this we both laugh.
"She loves you, you know. She as good as told me after they whipped you," Peeta says as he looks at me with tired, sad eyes. It's the look in his eyes that tells me that part of him believes it. What did she say to him?
"Don't believe it. The way she kissed you in the Quarter Quell … " my voice trails as my mind compares. "Well, she never kissed me like that."
"It was just part of the show," He says. I can tell by the edge of doubt in his voice that the part of him that doesn't believe Katniss loves me is the part that believes that she loves him. But I know Katniss, which is my burden in this moment.
"No, you won her over. Gave up everything for her. Maybe that's the only way to convince her you love her." And then it hits me. I just told myself the way I could have made her realize that I love her. The way her father gave himself for his family, the way she gave herself for Prim … even on that rainy day when Peeta took the black eye to help her. Whether she realizes it or not, the way to make Katniss realize you love her is to sacrifice for her. I notice some movement from where Katniss is supposedly sleeping, and I can tell by her breathing that she's beginning to wake. Peeta is too lost in thought to notice. I finally say what has been eating away at me ever since that first Reaping Day. "I should have volunteered to take your place in the first Games. Protected her then."
"You couldn't. She'd never have forgiven you. You had to take care of her family. They mean more to her than her life," Peeta replies. Leave it to him to be the one that's right. Can I ever catch a break with this girl? Out of the corner of my eye I see more fidgeting, but just slightly. Peeta's eyes, ones that have never had to track down small prey in the outskirts of Twelve, don't notice. But I do. I know she's awake at this point.
"Well, it won't be an issue much longer. I think it's unlikely that all three of us will be alive at the end of the war. And if we are, I guess it's Katniss's problem. Who to choose." I yawn as I pull my pelts a bit closer to Peeta and settle in as best I can, ensuring a barrier between him and Katniss. "We should get some sleep."
"Yeah." Peeta sits for a moment, I assume processing what I just said. His cuffs clank down the pipe as he settles in. He stares at the ceiling again, but then allows his thoughts to be spoken. "I wonder how she'll make up her mind."
I turn over away from him and allow myself a small smirk once I know he won't see it. Either he doesn't know her the way he thinks he does, or he is wondering about my opinion on the subject. Either way I get a small bit of satisfaction from it.
"Oh, that I do know." I finish just loud enough so I know Katniss will be able to hear, her ears no doubt listening carefully for any piece that she can pick up. Because I'm sure that there's a part of her that's even wondering how she will choose between us, though I know she won't like my answer. "Katniss will pick whoever she can't survive without."
Peeta must accept this, because the next sound I hear is Tigris sliding the panel back the next morning to prep us for what's sure to be our demise.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. This is my first Hunger Games fic, so please be sure to R/R ! :)