N/A: Okay, so I actually decided to try to write another chapter, thanks to all the reviews I got. As you may (or may not!) know, I started my rewrite on chapter seven of Catching Fire. The logical thing to do next would be for me to rewrite chapter eight, right? Well, I didn't realize right away that in chapter eight… Gale's unconscious the entire time! He doesn't do any talking except on the last page, and it would make the most amount of sense for him to remain unconscious for the duration of the chapter, which would make writing this chapter very, very difficult. After all, there's only so much thinking a person can do while they're unconscious, since the whole point of being unconscious is so their brain and body can sort of recharge. I couldn't get myself to skip chapter eight, because it seemed important to me, anyway, and this is the result. Dreams. Nightmares. That sort of thing. It didn't really come out the way I intended it to, but, I'm pleased. : ) Enjoy! …Or, don't. But either way, please read and let me know what you think!

I float in and out of consciousness for a long, long time.

Even when I'm awake, I'm not awake. My mind can't focus on a single thing, and I find my thoughts flitting around in my head like mockingjays hopping from tree to tree.

I'm in more pain than I've ever been in- in my life- and that's saying something. I remember one time when I set one of my more complicated snares wrong, and I ended up getting caught in it myself. I was lifted up nearly twenty feet in the air by my right arm, and I couldn't get free. My arm was literally pulled out of its socket, and when I finally worked my way out of it, almost an hour later, I fell the entire way to the ground and cracked my ankle, fracturing the bone and bruising my ribs. I couldn't move. I sat there on the forest floor for almost two hours, too scared and weak to even scream for help. Just as it was about to get dark, my father found me and had to carry me all the way home. It's hard to believe that until today, I would have said that was my most painful memory.

I had no idea what the word "pain" meant.

I feel a pressure on my back, and I can't help but groan out loud. What's happening to me? Am I getting whipped again?

I feel certain the answer to that question is no, because this isn't the same sort of pain. The original pain was intense, stabbing, blinding. That pain wracked my entire body, left me bloody, raw, weak. This feels like something different entirely. Like something- a poultice, maybe- is being applied to the raw skin on my back. Like… someone's trying to fix me?

I instantly decide there's no way I'm getting healed. This hurts too badly. If this is healing, I make up my mind that I'd rather die.

I hear voices, but I can't quite make out what they're saying. The words buzz around me, and I think I hear his voice, the voice I've trained myself to hate.

Peeta.

He sounds concerned, and a little weary. Like he's tired, or maybe even like he's in pain. I wish I could hear what he was saying. I can't think of any reason he should sound this upset. He has everything- everything- and he doesn't realize it.

Yes, he was in the Games, and sure, he lost a leg. But think of what he's gained. He has Katniss's love now, which from what I've heard, he's been trying to get since he first met her. She trusts him completely, which previously only I could have said. And… he's engaged to her, which is a fantasy I know I can only live in my mind.

And I gladly do.

Reality fades away, and I find myself lost in a fantasy land that's as familiar to me as the woods outside of the fence.

In my dream, it's a different world. The Capitol has no control over my District, there are no Games anymore (the 2nd rebellion got rid of those ages ago), and no one has to worry about going hungry. Katniss never had to fight in the arena. Peeta isn't even in the picture. There's always enough. Hunting is legal.

Yeah, I know, it sounds too good to be true. Just wait. It gets better.

Katniss and I are walking down the streets of town, hand in hand. We're both wearing lavish jackets, that are actually warm enough to keep the chill out. I find myself looking at her. She's smiling, laughing even, outside of the woods, out here where everyone can see her. Where everyone can see the real Katniss, the one I know.

"I love you, you know," I say suddenly. A smile breaks out across her face.

"I love you, too." It feels natural coming from her. Of course it's natural. She says it often. She leans over and kisses me briefly. I kiss her back.

We walk into the bakery together, laughing over some little joke. The man at the counter looks up as the bell rings to let him know we've entered.

"Hello, Gale," he greets politely, a cordial smile on his lips. He nods at Katniss. "Mrs. Hawthorne."

Both Katniss and I smile at this. It sounds so nice, and although the title is anything but recent, I'm still filled with an insane joy.

I nod at the baker. "How's business going today?"

"Oh, business as usual. You know how it gets." He gives a little shrug, the smile still not leaving his face. "Thanks for asking, though. How can I help you two today?"

"We're looking for a cake," I say.

The baker whistles. "What's the special occasion?"

Katniss and I exchange a conspiratorial smile, and she speaks up. "I'm going to have a baby." The joy in her face is better than anything I have ever seen. It's a miracle.

The baker's face breaks into a grin. "Wow. That's really- wow! Congratulations!" He nods his approval. "A cake is definitely in order. I'll make sure it's one of the best."

Katniss and I choose our cake, filling in the order form. The entire time the baker is entirely helpful, and Katniss and I can hardly believe our good luck. He's even giving us a discount, just because of the occasion.

We walk out of the store with much more than we hoped we would get. As we are leaving, Katniss loops her arm through mine and says thoughtfully, "Mr. Mellark really is a thoughtful person," she says. "He's always so kind."

I nod. "He really is," I agree. "He's a great one, that Peeta."

I don't even get a chance to try and figure out what my subconscious is trying to tell me. I'm not sure I really want to know, either. It's never going to happen. What's the point in even imagining it?

I am pulled from this stupid, impossible dream by the sound I hear in my nightmares every night.

Oh, yes, I get them too. Probably as frequently as Katniss does. Her nightmares are my nightmares now. Every night, I hear her. See her. Always, she's in pain. Hurt. Bleeding. Half-dead. Or, worse. Sometimes, she's with Peeta, in that awful cave. Sure, she may have lived the Games, but I watched them. I couldn't influence them at all. And that, to me, is far more frightening.

Screams. Katniss is screaming. I struggle to claw my way to consciousness, but I can't seem to wake up. What's going on? Why is she yelling?

I can just barely make out the words she's saying, and they're mean, hateful, and vile. I've never heard Katniss sound like this, not ever. I've never even heard her use this tone of voice.

I hear my name mentioned angrily, and I can't tell if she's mad at me or because of me. I pray it's the second one, because I never want to hear her tell me she hates me as much as she seems to hate whoever she's screaming at.

"Just give him the medicine Give it to him! Who are you, anyway, to decide how much pain he can stand!" I can hear her now clearly, her voice rings through my mind. Oh, no. She's talking about me. I don't know who to, yet, but it's clear Katniss doesn't have a handle on the situation.

I have a strange sense of thankfulness come over me. More medicine. If it stops this awful pain… I don't care how Katniss gets it for me. Medicine would be a miracle.

Although, now the tone of her voice is worrying me. She sounds almost as distraught as she did the time she thought Peeta died.

Oh, no. Am I going to die? Maybe I'm assuming too much when I hope that she would care enough for me to give my death the same reaction as his, but I would hope that she'd be at least a little upset.

Her words from the lake house echo in my mind. "And you- you know what you are to me."

No, Katniss, I don't. I thought I did, but… not anymore.

Why is it so hard for her to just say it? A clear "no" would be better than the sea of ambiguity that she has left me in. I just need to hear her tell me how she feels. I have no idea what I am to her. But I do know exactly what she is to me.

My best friend. My life. My love.

If only she felt the same.

Her screams go faint, but I can't tell if that's because I'm fading out or because she was forcibly removed. Knowing Katniss, I'd say the latter is pretty likely.

I feel something touching my back and I start to groan and squirm in pain. I can't keep my level of discomfort hidden, and I am left with a lingering sense of embarrassment.

I hate being so weak. I hate it. In that sense, Katniss and I are very much alike. We're too proud for our own good, but I don't see how either one of us can change that. It's just the way we are.

Something sharp jabs into my arm and I fade into the darkness once more.

I hope this isn't becoming a habit.

Memories, fantasies, and realities are all becoming jumbled up in my head. One moment I'm reminiscing on the Games, and the next moment I'm imagining that it was me in there with Katniss. Like it should have been.

I don't know what I was thinking, really I don't. Just like Katniss volunteered for Prim, I should have volunteered to take Peeta's place last year. I should have gone in there so I could protect Katniss. Katniss and I, we could have been the real 'star-crossed lovers from District 12.' There wouldn't have been any acting. Both of us could have made it home. There wouldn't be any issues with Peeta, and most importantly, I wouldn't be feeling so guilty all the time.

I know it's stupid for me to feel that way, but ever since Katniss volunteered for the Games and I let her go without even trying to help her- yeah, I gave her some advice but anyone could have told her to go 'find a bow'- I can't forgive myself. She could have died in there, and it would have been all my fault.

Part of me knows that feeling like this is ridiculous. I have too many priorities here in District 12, and my family is at the top of the list. They're the reason I could never run away. They're the reason I could never volunteer. They're the reason I need to stay alive.

I start to shiver and sweat at the same time, and for some reason that doesn't really strike me as 'healthy.' I hope that whoever is taking care of me is doing a good job, because if I get a fever, if anything at all goes wrong, I could end up dead before I even know what's happening to me.

There can hardly be any skin left on my back. I don't know how many strokes I actually received, but I know that from now on, for the rest of my life, I will have huge, vicious scars decorating my skin.

But the phrase "for the rest of my life" doesn't seem to carry much weight anymore. If I even get a slight infection, I could very easily die.

The thought is enough to frighten me, but not for the reason most people would think. I'm not worried for myself, not in the slightest. I have never understood the reasoning in wondering what happens after a person dies. What's the point? I'll find out eventually.

No, the reason I'm worried is that if I die, I can't even begin to imagine what my family would do without me. Working in the mines provides the main income for our family now, although the laundry that my mother washes brings in a good deal too. And my hunting has always helped us along. Between those three main jobs and side errands that Rory, Vick and even Posy run, we have always been able to make ends meet. The problem with me dying, is that the 'ends' might fall short. My family might starve.

And I can never let that happen.

I can't even let any of my siblings take out tessarae. I do it instead, and now that I'm too old for the Reaping, I have to stay alive so none of them need the tessarae. That's why I have always had so many drawings in the reaping bowl. I know I can take care of myself. I'm just not so sure about my siblings.

Thinking about them now, I know that making sure they are entered in the Reaping as few times as possible is the right thing to do, even if it won't necessarily keep them safe. After all, Prim was only entered once, and she got drawn.

That was different, I think. That was just bad luck. But part of me can't help wondering what will happen if 'bad luck' happens to my family.

My mind goes fuzzy and I sink into a nightmare. It's Thread, and he's whipping me again. The only difference is, this time, my entire family has front row seats to the event. My mother has Posy in her arms, and she's trying to keep Rory and Vick from watching. I'm trying to keep my screams inside. My siblings already have enough fuel for nightmares. They don't need to see this.

But Thread yells at some Peacekeepers and tells them to make my family watch. He says awful things. That this is what I get for hunting, for rebelling, for being born into a country where the government doesn't care. That it's my fault. I should have let my family die. When my punishment is finally finished, I am cut down, and I can only lie on the ground.

Thread comes over to me, his foot next to my face. He looks down on me with a sardonic grin. "Well, now we've ruined your body. Next we need to ruin your face." I'm too confused to respond to this, but Thread makes everything clear. He bends down and whispers in my ear. "We've got to make it so no one can ever love you. You know Katniss never will." These words shouldn't be coming from his mouth, but it's a dream and he speaks my fears.

He lifts his foot into the air and brings it smashing down onto my face. I can hear my nose crack. I barely feel it. It's just more pain added to what I already feel. In fact, it's a little refreshing. At least it's in a different place.

"Leave him alone!" It's Rory's voice, I think, and it's too late for me to tell him not to say anything.

"Well, well, well, what have we got here? Little Turkey Boy's brother is a fighter, too?" Thread comes over to my little brother without even the slightest bit of emotion. "We'll have to change that, now won't we?"

He then sentences Rory- thirteen year old Rory- to the same punishment I've just received. I barely lived. We all know my brother would die.

I want to scream at Thread, to grab the whip from his hands and turn it around on him. I want to make Thread feel this same pain.

The hate I feel for him is more than anything I have ever felt for another person, and it scares me. My father always taught me not to hate people, but to hate ideas. But suddenly I'm finding this philosophy impossible to follow through on. I wish this man was dead.

Some Peacekeepers grab my brother and tie his arms behind his back, forcing him onto his knees.

"Rory!" my mother cries. "Please, I'll do anything-" she's begging him now, and even I join in. I'll take more strokes. I'll die for him. I'll do anything, anything at all if Thread will just leave my family alone.

He smiles at me, but there's no joy in the expression. Just mocking. He raises the whip and brings it down on my little brother with even more force than he used on me. Already my brother is bleeding, yelling, and I have Posy in my arms, trying to calm her even though I'm not calm myself.

Vick is crying, and by the fifth stroke, he's shaking. He charges at Thread, and tries to grab the whip away to protect Rory. I can't stop him, and I somehow sense what's coming before it even happens.

Thread takes out his gun with more speed than I had even thought was possible and fires it. Once.

The bullet hits my brother and Vick falls to the ground.

I wake up, shivering and shaking and sweating, breathing heavily. My heart rate is high, and my breaths are coming in short, sudden gasps.

Calm down, I tell myself. It was just a nightmare. My brothers are safe. No one is dead. No one is hurt, except for me, but I think I'll be fine.

My eyes can barely stay open and even when they're wide open, I can't see. My vision is blurring and I can't feel anything except for an almost paralyzing pain in my back. I've seen the victims of mining accidents before in the Everdeen's home. It's strange to think that I can now be grouped among the numbers of patients Mrs. Everdeen treats.

I can feel my head start to pound with a headache, and my vision starts to turn black.

I'm still left with an overwhelming feeling of hatred for Thread, which I know is ridiculous. He was just doing his job. He never mocked me, never hurt my family, only caught me with a turkey. He's a bad man, but not my enemy.

No. That's the Capitol.

As my vision fades out, I drift back into my dream world, only this time it's a memory. Me and Prim and Mrs. Everdeen on that first day of the Games.

I'm in Mrs. Everdeen's living room, Prim on one side of me, her mother on the other.

We're sitting in silence. It is the first day of the 74th Hunger Games, and I don't even know what to expect. Yeah, Peeta Mellark has declared his love for her on national television, but I don't believe that he can possibly love her. Even if he actually does, what is he going to do about it? Make sure that he's not the one to bring the blade to her throat?

I don't think for one moment that that is going to keep Katniss safe. If anything, it has made her even more of a target.

The gong rings out. Mrs. Everdeen whimpers and squeezes her eyes shut. Prim's eyes are on the floor, and she is muttering under her breath. "Katniss come home Katniss come home Katniss come home."

I wonder if Katniss remembers the time she made that exact promise to me. Will she come home? It seems almost impossible that she will. Especially with the all those people after her. I know she's strong, and smart, but-

No, I stop myself from finishing the sentence. She'll live. She has to.

My eyes are glued to the screen, watching as she is lifted up into the arena. Her grey eyes flash as she drinks in her surroundings for the customary sixty seconds, and I find myself digging my nails into the arms of the chair that I'm sitting in.

In my mind, I'm repeating Prim's words. Katniss come home Katniss come home Katniss come home. It's like my mind can't handle anything more than that, like any more complicated arrangement of words will make me start thinking, and thinking is the last thing I want to do right now.

I wish I could tell her what to do, help her in some way. She looks at the Cornucopia, and I can see in her eyes that she's trying to decide if she should go to the stash of supplies. Everything is useful, and she will need all the help she can get.

She makes a snap decision and runs towards the giant golden horn.

Is she stupid? Everyone knows that the Cornucopia is a bloodbath!

My eyes land on what hers must have picked up ages ago. There is a bow and arrow set, and she wants it.

I'm upset at myself. I was the one who told her to get her hands on a bow and arrow- but I didn't realize how bad of an idea that was. I don't want her to get killed trying to get this stupid weapon, but I am well aware that this is how it could easily turn out. I will never forgive myself if she dies because of some bad advice I gave her.

I shout, "No!" and lunge forward, as if I can stop her. But she doesn't hear me. She is thousands of miles away, trying to save her life, and I am stuck here, in District 12. I can't do anything.

I am suddenly reminded of the way I felt when my father died. Helpless. There is nothing I can do to help her.

The gold of her mockingjay pin flashes in the sunlight, and I bite my lip, forcing myself to shut up and sit back down. She's smart. She'll figure it out. She'll survive. I'm sure of it.

The view on the television switches to a fight between two boys, and I dig my nails into the fabric of the chair I am sitting on. Why aren't they keeping the screen on Katniss? She's the only one that matters! I need to know exactly what she is doing 24/7 now, because even one instant could make the difference between life and death.

The T.V switches to a promotional ad from the President, a reminder that watching the Games is mandatory.

"But you don't need to be told that, now do you?" He says cheerily. I want to punch him. "As if you could stop watching! The Games are far too exciting to stop watching now! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor." He winks.

My nails continue to dig into the chair, this time, not because of anxiety, but because of anger. Let's see him be a tribute and survive. Let's see him live on only what he can scavenge.

But he's been bred in the Capitol, and besides, he's the President. He will never know anything other than comfort. The only revenge I will ever have on him is in my mind.

Katniss appears on the screen, and now she is running from the Cornucopia, a small bag of provisions slung over her shoulder. She has blood on her, but I can't tell if it's her own or someone else's.

Prim looks terrified, and she comes over from where she's sitting on the ground. She grabs my hand in hers and joins me on the chair. Her light blue eyes are watery and filled with tears, from fear or guilt, I can't tell. All I know is she is far too young to have to watch this happen to her sister. I pull her into a hug. She murmurs something into my shoulder, and I can barely make out what she's saying.

"It's all my fault." she whispers.

I am shocked by this, and I turn her around so she's facing me.

"Prim, don't say that. It's not your fault. None of it is your fault. Katniss was incredibly brave to take your place, but it was the right thing to do. Whatever you do, you can't blame yourself."

"But what if…" her voice becomes so quiet I can barely hear her. "What if she dies?"

"She's not going to die." I wipe the tears from Prim's cheeks. "She's not going to die."

Neither of us say anything for a while, and soon the only sounds I can hear in the room are the quiet sobs of Mrs. Everdeen.

I hug Prim again.

Together, we sit in that chair, in front of that television, staring at our lifeline to Katniss. She has to live.

The three of us are all thinking the same thing now, and I'm positive of it.

Katniss come home Katniss come home Katniss come home.

When my dream ends and I begin to wake up, I barely notice. My back is searing with the pain, so much that I can't help the groan of distress that comes from my lips.

I think I can hear voices.

"Do you think he'll live?"

It's my mother's voice. My mind latches onto it and tries to move towards it, to break out of the limbo I'm in.

"He's waking up." Prim?

"I don't think that's the best option for him," Mrs. Everdeen murmurs. "He needs-"

But I'll never know what I need. I pass out before I can hear the rest of the sentence. And it isn't until much later that I realize Mrs. Everdeen never said if I would live.

My dream, once again, is a memory, although this one is fuzzy and unbelievable, even to me. It's what actually happened, but the details themselves seem like I'm watching the events through a fogged up window- they're just shapes in my mind, no real definition.

I'm eighteen years old, and am currently being interviewed for national television.

It's the usual thing to do, when there are only eight contestants left. Their family/friends are interviewed about how their Tribute is doing so far.

I don't want to answer. I don't want to become entertainment for the Capitol audience, but I really don't have any choice. I just won't be very exciting for them.

"So, Gale, what exactly is your relation to Katniss?"

"I'm her best friend." I say, putting as little emotion into my voice as I possibly can. Of course, this comment isn't missed by the interviewer, a guy named Tyson Summers, who obviously thinks that he's some kind of junior Caesar Flickerman.

"Are you really?" He asks. I resist the urge to reply "duh, I just said that." He takes a breath in. "And how long have you known her?"

"For a long time," I respond. "Since she was about eleven years old."

"And do you think she can win the Games?"

"Yes, I do," I say. "She's made it this far, hasn't she? Once she's in the top eight, it's safe to hope that she can make it home." Hope. The word suddenly strikes me as being strange, and almost obsolete. The only thing I have any hope for anymore is that Katniss will live, and yet even that hope seems useless to me. What good will my hope do? Hope can't save her life. It can't stop an arrow. Hope can't feed a starving mouth, or bind a gaping wound. Hope brings the kind of comfort that really isn't necessary to life. Hope… brings pain.

"Well, she sure is a resourceful girl, we have to give her that one." He answers. But that's really not at all what he cares about, and he seems almost impatient to get to the real juicy discussion. I guess he thinks he's just on the verge of some major dirt so he leans closer to me and asks what I suppose everyone in the Capitol is wondering. "So, tell me, Gale, how do you feel about the romance between Katniss and Peeta?"

I know exactly how I feel about their 'romance,' and I wish I could make it clear in no uncertain terms what I think about it, but I rethink this particular action. There's a time and a place to be rebellious and to have a smart mouth, and this is definitely not the right place. Here, if I say even one word wrong, or something that could be slightly treasonous, I'll get killed or punished somehow. No one will even think twice about it. And I'd probably deserve it, if I was stupid enough to make such an idiotic announcement.

"I-" I clear my throat. "I don't see how this can possibly have a happy ending," I say honestly. The interviewer furrows his eyebrows, like he's not sure where I'm going with this.

Tyson frowns. "And why is that? Is it because you secretly like her? Because you think there has to be a better person out there than Peeta? Because-"

I cut him off. While all of those things are true, I'm going to make the people in the Capitol think twice about what exactly they're doing. I realize what I'm about to say is stupid, foolish, and could get me in a lot of trouble, but only if I word it wrong.

"No. It's because… well, because it's so tragic. They love each other so much, but they can never be together. It- well, it really is a shame." I finally conclude. There. I've said nothing treasonous, nothing that would promote a rebellion, nothing that the Capitol didn't already know. I was just reminding them of the awful truth that they've created.

Tyson sighs. "Yes, it's true. Young love is so fleeting."

"Especially in the Games," I murmur. It's so quiet I know that the cameras couldn't have picked it up. I'm not even sure if the words ever left my mouth. Tyson keeps talking.

"You know," he says conspiratorially, like he is sharing a secret with me, "I think they should change the rules so two people can win. That way Katniss and Peeta can have their own happily ever after."

I almost laugh out loud at this. Doesn't he know, there's no 'happily ever after' in horror stories?

I don't even get a chance to adjust to this dream before it changes. The background melts away behind me.

This time, my dream doesn't make any sense at all, not even to me. It's not a sequence of events, there's no story there. It's just a jumble of moments from my life, moments with Katniss. The first time I met her. When that red-haired girl and boy were caught by the Capitol, and we watched while it happened. The time Katniss twisted her ankle and I had to carry her home because she couldn't walk on it. When I told her that I loved her. When I said goodbye to her on her way to the arena. The time a lynx followed her around the woods and I decided that "Catnip" really was a good name for her. A thousand memories, quiet moments, loud moments, everything I can remember about her. It's like my mind is stocking up on memories, like I'm worried I might lose her again.

That, of course, is ridiculous. I'm not going to lose her. She can't ever go back into the Games again, and she has no other way to die. She's set up for life. She'll be safe. And if she decides she does love Peeta and she does run away, maybe she could even be happy.

Will she run away? I find it hard to believe and yet at the same time, I can't imagine her staying here in District 12, not if she knows there's something better out there. And it's true. There is something better out there- if a place that's not under the influence of the Capitol really does exist, I have no doubts that she'll find it. Katniss is nothing if not determined.

There's one memory in particular that I keep playing, over and over and over again, like a video clip on loop.

Katniss and I, in the woods on a Sunday afternoon soon after she got back from the Arena. I was a bit late to our usual spot, scared out of my mind that maybe she would never come back into the woods, that she had given up on me and just decided that Peeta was hers and there was no point in having a best friend when she could have a boyfriend. She was sitting on a rotted log when I saw her, her face tight and strained like she was going to cry if I didn't show up.

I'd seen her cry before, but never at my expense. This was… unusual. As much as I wanted to talk to her, I couldn't bring myself to be the one to make first contact. I hadn't seen her in weeks, since the day of the Reaping to now, my only conversations with her had been in my mind. She'd had to struggle through something that could only be described as hell, and I had no way to tell how much she'd changed.

But it was when the tears actually became visible, I couldn't stop myself anymore. I stepped out into the clearing, not sure what to expect.

I got a surprise, that was for sure. She jumped to her feet and ran at me, throwing her arms around my neck and burying her face in my chest, crying a little for real. I just held her. Nothing else. It was enough just to have her in my arms for the moment and let this instant last forever in my mind.

It was when she started hiccupping that I had to let her go, because her entire body was wracked with the spasms. I told her she needed water. We got some. For me, still, the entire conversation seemed a little awkward. Like neither of us were sure what the other one could handle.

I didn't talk about the Games, and she didn't talk about the mines. We silently agreed to only talk about the things that hadn't changed, things that wouldn't bring up bad memories, or possible futures.

It was obvious to me that she was different. Somehow, she had become more fragile even though she had just gone through an ordeal that should have made her stronger.

By the end of the day, things were running smoothly. Katniss seemed happy that she was back in the woods with me, which of course made me incredibly happy.

But she seemed… a bit too eager to make things 'back to normal.' I didn't see the point. Things weren't normal, would never be the same again, and acting like they were wouldn't do anything good for us at all. But if that's what Katniss wanted, then that's what I'd do.

When we were about to leave the woods through the hole in the fence closest to the Hob, she suddenly announced that I needed to take all the game and trade it myself today. She had enough to eat, since she won, and she really didn't need any of what we had caught. I knew it was true, but I didn't want to admit it. I didn't want to feel like I was her special charity project, instead of what I really was. Her partner.

Katniss kept talking, but I had more or less stopped listening. I was too busy staring at her. It suddenly hit me that I really had come close to losing her. Katniss really could have died, and I was hit by a staggering sense of grief. Katniss. Dead?

No. No, I could never let that happen. My eyes landed on her lips, and the motion that I'd been contemplating for years now suddenly rose to my mind. I almost lost her once. There was no way it was going to happen again.

And of course, there was the real problem. How could she ever choose me over Peeta if she wasn't even aware I was an option?

She was starting to say something about taking over my snare run when I completely lost my mind. I couldn't help it anymore.

I leaned over, grabbed her face in my hands as gently as I could, and kissed her.

It is that moment that my brain seems to want to remember the most, because as I lie in my bed, covered in bandages and heavily sedated, that kiss unfolds before me, except my mind tweaks it and changes it and makes it perfect. She kisses me back. Tells me she loves me. And… something else.

"I'm so sorry," I can hear her whisper. I don't know if it's real or not. I hope it is.

Suddenly, I know I'm not dreaming anymore, because I feel a slight pressure on my lips, and my dream is suddenly reality.

My eyelids flutter open to see a blurry outline of Katniss, bending over me. Kissing me. I can't do anything but lie there and try my hardest not to pass out again.

When she finally moves away, I find it in myself to whisper, "Hey, Catnip." I can't manage anything else. It requires too much thought.

"Hey, Gale," Katniss says in reply. I think her eyes might be watery, but I can't tell for sure. My vision isn't really clear right now.

"Thought you'd be gone by now," I murmur. What happened to her escape plan? What happened to taking her 'lover' into the woods, searching for that mythical safe place?

She shakes her head, holding my hand loosely in hers, like she's scared she might break me if she holds on any tighter. I want to hold on to her tighter, to keep myself grounded in the real world. I squeeze as hard as I can, but it's still painfully weak. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay right here and cause all sorts of trouble."

And suddenly, I know. She's chosen me. Maybe she still hasn't decided which of us she loves, but she had the choice to go with Peeta or to stay with me, and she chose to stay.

She chose me.

It's almost impossible for me to think of anything else, but I mumble, "Me, too." I smile a little as the thought saturates in my mind. I know I'm fading out again, and my mind latches onto that single line as though it will keep me from returning to uncertainty.

She chose me.

N/A: Yeah, it's me again. Sorry these chapters are so long, but I'm trying to keep them about the same length as real chapters. Next chapter will be a bit more satisfying, because Gale will actually be awake, which means I'll have a bit more to work with. : ) Hope you enjoyed it!