Once again, you guys ROCK! I love the reviews. I have to admit, this Chapter was little tough to write, but I made it through, and I hope you all do as well. The moment you've been waiting for…District 2 ;)

Chapter 4

District 2 puts me on edge for many reasons. It was where I was shot, for starters. After running to the aid of a young man who reminded me so much of a victim from a mine accident. Like the one my father died in. I remember our exchange—him holding me at gunpoint, asking for a reason not to shoot me—me basically telling him that I can't give him one. I remember Haymitch asking me, "Who is the enemy?" Then, after offering him, the rebels, the citizens of District 2, and the rest of Panem what I thought was a passionate response, someone does it for him. It was also the home of Cato and Clove, the two blood-thirsty Careers who might have made it home to their families if I hadn't promised Prim I would really, really try to win the 74th Hunger Games. Gale lives here.

These are just some of the reasons why I don't particularly like District 2. They are also why I hesitate before stepping off the train and onto the stone square that will take me to the Liberty Building, where my appearance is requested.

The main town is busy with people preparing for the festival. Decorations are being put up and a dozen or so tables have been set around the outskirts of the square—this is where the feast will be, I assume. As the citizens of District 2 prepare for Boddoc, I can't help but pick up on the cheerful ambiance, which, I have to admit, makes me feel a little out of place. After all, the last time I was here we were blowing up a mountain, killing everybody inside, and if they were lucky enough to have escaped the explosion, gunning them down in the square. Because of that, I think it's ok to feel strange about the drastic change in atmosphere.

The people in the square aren't too preoccupied by the hustle-and-bustle of things like I thought, or hoped, they'd be. They instantly notice their Mockingjay's arrival. I'm immediately met by a hoard of people who want to shake my hand—hug me—talk to me—touch me. I try my best to acknowledge everyone. In the chaos, I look for Haymitch. He has fallen behind. Stumbling, looking like he's going to be sick, I see him reach out to steady himself on a stranger. I advise him to stop drinking long before we arrived. He, of course, didn't listen. Johanna is next to me, quiet. I imagine she's jealous of all the attention I'm getting. I want to tell her that I would gladly switch places with her, but something tells me she already knows.

When we get to the steps of the Justice Building, we are escorted inside by a pair of soldiers. The stone building is as magnificent as ever with white marbles walls and huge pillars that descend in rows. It's beauty consumes me, but since the great entrance is just as busy as the square, I'm also consumed by people who want to meet me. I greet them with the same good manners, though I feel truely troubled by all of it. Because I know I won't survive a week of this.

I'm starting to feel dizzy when I'm lead out of the great entrance hall, and taken down a corridor, where a massive granite door appears. We enter. A meeting room, similar to the one we assembled in last year to take on the problem of the Nut, materializes. Haymitch goes to the conference table straightaway and lays his head down; he's asleep within seconds. A few seats over, I see President Paylor, who seems to have been, until my entrance, eyeing rather vigorously a document that still lies in front of her on the table. Beetee is beside her. They both open their mouths to greet me, but, a most particular voice beats them to the punch.

"Katniss, my dear!" Effie Trinket is coming towards me. "You're late." She's wearing that ridiculous golden wig. And leave it to her to comment on my punctuality.

"Didn't know I was on a schedule," I tell her.

"Of course you didn't," she says. "Come and sit." She escourts me to one of the chairs. "Thirsty?" She goes to get me a glass of water and is back with it before I can even turn it down.

"Hello, Katniss," Paylor finally greets me. The former Commander of District 8 looks genuinely pleased to see me. "I was under the impression that you would not be joining us for this celebration."

"Solider Mason talked me into it." I glance at Johanna, who has nestled herself against a back wall, looking uninterested in our conversation. "Under certain conditions, though."

"And those conditions are?" Paylor asks.

"I won't make any speeches—wear any Mockingjay outfit—or appear on any Television screen."

"I think those conditions are more than reasonable," the President says. "Now, on with business then, the celebration will begin at 7 o'clock in the square. I am kicking the night off with this."

The President holds up the document she was poring over before my arrival. All I can make out is a title, 'the Deed of Power'.

She goes on to explain what it is. "We have created this document to ensure that we never see the days of the old Capitol again. It's a promise to every citizen throughout Panem." I try not to look so confused. How can a piece of paper guarantee that? "The power no longer lies in the hands of the Capitol, Katniss. The power now lies in the hands of the people. People like you and me."

All I can do is nod. Because the realization of what I've done—what we've all done—seems unreal. My name is Katniss Everdeen. Last year, I overthrew the Capitol. Today, we are celebrating its fall. Nothing will ever be the same.

"We wanted to share it with you first." Beetee's eyes are sparkling behind his glasses. I'm almost sure he's going to start crying, like Effie, who is dabbing at the corner of her eyes with a bright pink handkerchief.

"Thank you," I say.

"Tonight we will make History again," Paylor tells me. "In the meantime, Commander Hawthorne has offered his home to you and your mentor."

I follow Paylor's gaze to Gale, who has slipped into the room unnoticed.

There are certain moments you know you're going to remember for a long time. This is one of those moments for me. And by the look on his face, I'd say it's one for him too. We're examining each other—searching for any sign of the boy and girl who met in the woods years ago—the boy and girl who became best friends—the boy and girl who might have even fallen in love with each other. Are they still alive somewhere? I wonder if he can see them. Because no matter how hard I look, I can't. All I see is a shell of them. He's wearing a uniform identical to Johanna's, only since Paylor referred to him as Commander, I know he's more important. And it's no surprise to me.

"Hello, Katniss," Gale says. His greeting does surprise me, though. I thought for sure he'd greet me as Catnip. He always did.

Then it hits me. He can't find the boy and girl from the woods, either.

The pain I feel is excruciating, but I manage a small, "Hello." Besides us, Haymitch is the only one left in the room now. And it's only because he's unconscious. Even Johanna, who usually takes pleasure in my discomfort, has gone. I imagine they all shuffled out somewhere between the intense stare and awkward greeting.

"How are you?" Gale speaks first. Which is good. Because I have no idea what to say.

"Fine." My throat is dry so I take the water Effie gave me and drink it down in two gulps. "And how are you, Commander Hawthorne?"

"Surviving," he replies.

I'm suddenly hit with a memory. One, cold night in Tigris's cellar. I was supposed to have been sleeping. Gale told Peeta, "Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can't survive without." I remember how horrible his words made me feel, and even now, I resent them.

"You're good at that," I offer.

"Yeah, and so are you," he tells me.

"I'm alive. I guess that means you're right," is all I can say.

Gale is on the other side of the conference table, watching me. After a long stare-off, he says, "I wish I knew how we got here."

"I got here by a train. I assume you got here the same way, only a year ago."

"You know what I meant," he says.

"And you know how we got here," I answer.

He lets out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. If this is how you want it to be, I'm game."

A long silence follows his words until Haymitch mumbles something in his sleep. Gale, who looks exactly the same, with his grey eyes, broad shoulders, and black hair, waits for me to say something. I don't. I want to. But can't. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I'm eighteen-years-old. I live in District 12. Gales lives in District 2. Because he killed my sister. My skin is on fire. I instinctively touch the back of my head. Brown strands of hair fill up my fingers. Next, I'm touching the scar on my wrist. Because it's itching so badly. I drag my nails across the organge-size knife wound.

"Katniss?" Gale says my name. It sounds far off-like the way the world sounded when I lost the hearing in my left ear, just after blowing up the Career's campsite during the Hunger Games.

I look crazy. I feel crazy. I am crazy. But I have to pull myself together. Because I can't let him see me like this. Or is it too late already?

"Katniss?" Gale is beside me now, kneeling as he takes my hand in his.

The shock of his touch runs the length of my body—an odd mix of surprise and guilt and a jolt of pleasure that goes all the way to my toes. I rise from my chair, my hip clipping his shoulder as I jet past him. I go to a table that is lined against a far wall. Assembled across it, is a pitcher of water, various snacks like crackers and cookies, and other less-than-fabulous assortments. I drink straight from the pitcher. No time for etiquettes- though Effie would disagree. I take a deep breath. Try to think of anything. Anything besides Prim. And the image of her being blown away by the bomb he created.

"What are you thinking?" Gale is behind me. I can feel him reaching out to comfort me.

I barely slip his touch.

"I'm thinking that I want a new place to stay for the week."