It takes too long before everyone finally calms down.

By the time we reach 13, Gale is passed out in the chair he's restrained to, Castor and Messala can barely keep their eyes open, Boggs is speaking with the hovercraft assistants, and Pollux and I attempt to comfort Katniss while she shakes ceaselessly. She keeps wincing, mumbling something about the cold, even though to the rest of us is seems to be burning in the craft, as we continue to shed our layers of protective gear. I blame the concussion, messing with her nerves again, but with all that's happened I'm sure her immune system is worn and weak. It doesn't seem odd that she's starting to fall ill.

I press the back of my hand to her sickly white forehead and find it slightly warm. Could be a fever, I think, but we're so close to the district 13 hospital it doesn't really matter.

Touching down in the vast hangar where they store hovercraft, the pilot opens the hatch without hesitation. I suspect that Boggs had called in advance to warn them of Katniss's severe injuries, because it appears as though we've acquired an odd kind of waiting party at the ramp. Doctors rush forward with a stretcher and I'm not surprised to see her mother and Prim amidst the lab coats. We must look like a mess, with Gale tied down, Katniss nearly bleeding to death, and all of us seconds from dropping like flies from exhaustion.

I think I spot Coin and Plutarch with the doctors as well, off in the corner, drifting in the shadows of the hanger, merely observing the group. They only stay a moment, and I can tell that they're both disappointed by the condition of the squad, but it's hard for Plutarch to shake his obvious anticipation when Castor and Pollux hand him the tapes and explain that they will meet him in command to edit it all later. He's practically shaking from what I think is excitement. Eager to see what the Mockingjay has put forth.

Despite how tired we are, the crew manages to lift her into the stretcher, and I hear Prim release an almost inconceivable gasp when she takes in the sight of her sister. I put my hand on her shoulder, lightly, and watch as they pull Katniss away to the hospital.

I pull my mouth close to Prim's ear, and whisper, "her performance was beautiful. I'll let you be the first to see the footage."

The corners of her mouth lift just slightly.

I don't know how it was enough. Enough to calm Prim, just the knowledge that her sister; her mad, dying, damaged sister, had done well, out there in 8. That, in spite of everything, Katniss had not lost her fight, her resilience. That was enough.

Then, our squad picks up the pace and runs behind that mass of doctors, wanting to make sure they get her to the hospital alright.

I know we don't have to come, but everyone is so scared and attached now- with Katniss's blood literally on some of our own hands- that we can't bear to leave her alone with them.

When she catches sight of Prim jogging behind the stretcher, Katniss sticks her right arm-the hand still wrapped in bandages- through the shallow bumpers on either side and reaches for Prim's form, as if to pull her body close to her. She's too weak to speak, but pushes her face against the metal bumpers and into the corner of the mattress, staring in Prim with a combination of terror and longing.

Picking up her pace, Prim lifts her hand to Katniss's and locks her fingers around the palm. With the speed of the doctors, it practically looks like she's being pulled against her will, but she doesn't drop her hand.

It's not until we reach the hospital and Katniss is wheeled into a private room for surgery, that she finally lets go.

The doctors think that she will be okay, with recovery. The wound will heal, and her head with mend with time. She will merely be weak for a long while, they say reassuringly.

But they're wrong.

She was never weak. Not now, not then. Like Boggs, Katniss is an impenetrable brick wall. One that is cracking, yes, but an individual with so many opportunities to crumble must be strong enough, to keep herself together. Weak, was never an option.

There are tears on Prim's cheeks.

On all of ours.

It's all those words; they're hanging over us again, looming clouds of her punishing sentences.

If we burn, you burn with us.

She has an effect,

I'll give her that.

I think you know how the rest plays out ;).

AN- Well, there it is! the final chapter (unless I'm somehow encouraged by any of you to keep writing it)! I hope you all enjoyed the story, it was really exciting to write and it was a pleasure to have you read it! If it is possible for you to write a review I would greatly appreciate it, otherwise I just love the views! Thank you for taking the time!