Disclaimer: Characters belong to Suzanne Collins!


"Well, that failed," Plutarch comments, downcasts.

"You think?" I snarl. "Mellark went batshit crazy, and Madge thinks I'm some sort of monster who wants to hurt her."

He sighs. "Yes, I have realized that. I've been discussing possible solutions to their memory distortions with Beetee, and we think some more memory modification would be the best."

I turn my head so fast that my neck cracks, and I rub it ruefully. "More memory modification? Wouldn't that make them more insane?"

Plutarch scratches his temple. "We're not trying to alter their memories even further, but perhaps wipe out their memories so they can start afresh."

"What?" My shout reverberates through the hall. "Are you fucking serious? What good will that do?"

Plutarch hastily steps away from my obvious rage. "Well, that way, perhaps you and Katniss can help them remember everything in their lives, and they won't attack you."

I run my hand through my hair. "Why don't you just change their memories back to normal?"

"It's a difficult process. No one here in 13 is experienced with memory modification, so memory wiping is easier and safer. If we try to reverse the alteration, we could perhaps damage their memories further. Miss Undersee could forget you entirely."

"What's wrong?" "Hm?" She murmured vaguely as her fingers trailed along his jaw. "Nothing." "Well, you're pretty quiet today. Are you sure you're alright?" She sighed as her hands linked around his neck. "I'm just…I'm just scared. Katniss is coming home soon," she said as she pressed herself closer to his body, and his hands slid to the skin showing between her shirt and pants. "And she's your best friend. You'll forget me." He smiled and bent down, pressing slow kisses to her neck; her breath hitched, and she gathered his shirt in his hands. "Don't you dare worry about that," he murmured. "I should be worried about your forgetting me." Her hands raked through his hair, and he nuzzled further in her neck. "I'll never forget you, Gale."

"I don't- I don't know," I mutter, and I hastily rub away the tears that have gathered in my eyes.


"Hey, Hawthorne, Coin wants to see you," Haymitch grunts from my doorway.

I groan and throw a pillow over my face. "Why? I haven't done anything in the past two days."

"I guess that's why she wants to see you," Haymitch laughs. "Except she's called me, too."

"Then I don't have to go," I mutter and roll over in my bed. "Just report back to me, Abernathy; let me sleep."

He sighs. "You'll want to go, Hawthorne."

"Says who?"

"Says the decision about Mellark and Undersee's memories."

He laughs again as I sit up so fast my head crashes against the wall.


"You're late," Coin snaps.

I shrug as I slump into my seat next to Katniss. Her eyes immediately narrow into slits, and she scoots her chair slightly away from me. My hand jumps to my neck and massages the tight, nervous muscles.

"How was your first day?" She asked. "Dusty," he grumbled as he brushed some coal off his shirt. "And dark. I'm so sore." "Oh," she sighed. Her hand found its way to his neck. "Gale, lie down." His eyebrows rose in confusion but he complied. She began massaging his neck and back, and he moaned. "Madge," his eyes fluttered shut. "Where the hell did you learn how to do this?" She giggled. "Instinct, I guess. I don't like to see you in pain," she said as she tugged his shirt. He pulled it off and collapsed back on the bed. "Madge," he sighed again. "Hell, I can't stand this." She immediately stopped. "Sorry, does that hurt?" "No, no," he said soothingly. "I just…I can't stand you touching me and my not being able to kiss you." He twisted around, grabbed her, and pulled her in. Her hand smoothed down his chest and abdomen, and he sighed against his lips. "M-Madge," he stuttered. "Shh," she murmured. "Lie down, Gale." Still kissing, he lay down and gathered her against his chest. "I love you," he said against her lips.

"So," Coin sets her hands down on the conference table. "We need to discuss what to do with Mr. Mellark and Miss Undersee."

Katniss immediately bursts into speech. "We can't afford to mess with their memories even more; we don't know if removing those altered memories will damage them or heal them. And if it's successful, what do we do then?"

Beetee answers her. "We're assuming that if the operation goes well, you and Mr. Hawthorne will help Peeta and Miss Undersee gain their memories back."

"But there's always the chance that their memories will be damaged," I interrupt.

Beetee sighs. "The chance for success is about 85%, so I'm fairly certain we'll pull this off quite well."

I snarl and run my hand through my hair. "Fine."

Katniss slowly nods.

Haymitch, who's looking at the table with his fingers pressed together, grunts yes. Beetee smiles. Coin nods. "We're decided then. The operation will take place in five days' time."

"Why five days?" I ask.

Beetee adjusts his glasses. "We're planning on you and Katniss to try to talk some sense into the two; if you succeed then there's no use of the operation, but if you don't, we can proceed without any doubts."

Katniss and I both nod.

"You're all dismissed now, soldiers."


Plutarch approaches me as I slouch out of the room.

"Hawthorne, do you want to talk to Miss Undersee again?"

I look at him. His face is lit up, excited, hopeful. He doesn't understand the pain of talking to Madge; he thinks of it as a sort of scientific experiment. He doesn't understand the grief I feel when she screams at me, the pain that stabs me when she shouts lies about me, the crushing depression that pounds me when I think of her new hatred of me. Still, it's worth a try to help her.

"F-fine."

I cautiously open the door and peer inside the room. Nothing's changed, except that Madge's face isn't cautious anymore; she looks exhausted and defeated. Her expression causes an ache in my heart; the dark circles calls for my thumbs to rub them away, her lips for me to help turn them up.

"Madge?" I quietly say. She immediately looks up, and a guarded look crosses her face.

"What do you want?" She snaps.

"Just to talk."

She chuckles. "We must have been really in love, Hawthorne."

My eyes swiftly search her amused face. "What makes you say that?"

"I've tried to kill you at least twice, and you still come back."

I smile wryly. "You're better," I note. "You're not swearing and screaming at me."

She sighs. "I'm tired. And the doctors have been working with me; I guess I've lost my bloodthirsty edge."

"I'm tired," she moaned. He smiled and lightly tugged at her wrists, pulling her onto the bed. "Take a nap," he whispered. She laid down and he took her in his arms. Within minutes she was asleep, and he looked at her. Just looked at her. The way she breathed in and out with little sighs, the way her blonde hair framed her peaceful face, the way her fingers unconsciously curled at his chest, the way she kept snuggling closer to him. Whenever she slightly stirred, he'd kiss her neck and murmur soothing words. And that's the way they took naps together.

"Well, that's good," I say. "How are you feeling?"

"What do you think?" She snorts. "I'm chained to a wall, I've been under examination, and I have no idea what's wrong and what's right."

"Like what?" I softly ask.

She thinks for a moment, and I'm temporarily disarmed. I've forgotten the way she nibbles her bottom lip, the way her fingers curl around the tips of her hair, and the way her eyes focus on nothing when she's deep in thought.

"I guess mainly you," she finally says, and my heart twists. "Whether you love me or trying to kill me."

"I'd never try to hurt you," I plead. "Madge, you've got to believe me."

"I can't," she exclaims, and she curls up in a tight ball. "Please don't."

"Don't what?"

"Try to…try to tell me what's right and wrong. It triggers something." Her eyes squeeze shut and she covers her ears.

Frustrated, I begin to shout. "Madge, you have to listen! I love you, and I honestly can't stand your ignoring me and the truth; I need you, Madge, I need you!"

"STOP!" she shrieks. "You're so selfish! You only care about your needs and not mine; it's always been this way. Putting yourself first, running off with Katniss, breaking my heart, trying to kill me, stop!"

"Madge," my eyes widen in sudden understanding and fear. "No, Madge, I didn't mean-"

Her pupils dilate.

"Oh, hell…" I mutter, and I instantly back away.

"I HATE YOU!" Her screams seem to intensify tenfold and her cruel words echo in the room and my mind. "Get out of here, Hawthorne, get out! Go back to Katniss!"

She strains against her shackles, and my eyes catch the bruises, cuts, and blood on her wrists; she's been trying to escape. "Madge," I beg, her insanity temporarily forgotten. "Let me see those cuts."

She gives up trying to leap at me and she crumples in a heap on her cot. "Please," she sobs. "Just get out. Get out."

I quickly back out and close the door.

"Well?" Plutarch eagerly says. "How was it?"

I push him to the side and stride away, the tears already stinging my eyes; although I never shed tears, crying seems to come naturally these days.


AN: This chapter is a bit longer than the others. Please, please, please review; I need some input! :)