When I wake, Gale is gone. There's no sign that he had even shown up in the middle of the night, and I end up convincing myself that I imagined the entire thing. Running on just a few hours of sleep I'm clearly hallucinating. I sit up and rub at my eyes until my vision is straight again.

Everyone in the camp is chowing down their breakfast. Apples. Like always. I wonder what we'll eat for breakfast when we run out.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Posy chomping on her own apple. I decide to stay where I am. Skip breakfast. I can wait for dinner, considering we're all only running on two meals a day anymore. Someone else can have my share. Someone else deserves it.

Instead of getting up I collapse backwards onto my pile of blankets. I could use a few more hours of sleep. I won't get them, but I could certainly use them.

I consider rolling over on my side but before I can, I hear footsteps. Thinking maybe it's Gale ready to explain himself from last night (if I hadn't imagined it and he actually did stay the night next to me), I sit up. And find myself face to knee with Proja.

My eyes climb up his figure slowly, almost terrified of what will happen when our gazes lock. Before that can happen he drops himself down to the ground next to me. Proja keeps his face turned away from me and yet he still thrusts an apple in my direction.

"Eat it," he murmurs. "You've skipped breakfast four days in a row; I'm not letting you do it again." Somehow I manage to grab the apple from him and weigh it in my hands. "Eat it, Madge," he growls.

Almost instantly I lift the apple to my mouth and take a bite, cringing as my teeth sink into the juicy fruit. I have to do what he tells me to. I owe him that. We sit in silence. He doesn't speak again until I'm completely done with my apple. Proja turns to me, studying me for a few moments before opening his mouth to speak.

I wonder what he sees. A shell of a broken girl. Maybe it pleases him to know I'm hurting too. Maybe it makes him feel worse.

"What happened to Taftan," he starts weakly. Proja looks so much like his older brother right now. Concerned and conflicted. Blue eyes filled with sadness and somehow still some hope. "What happened to him wasn't your fault," he says. "It wasn't mine either. It wasn't anyone's."

"You don't believe that," I choke out. Proja tips his head to look at me, staring through his sandy bangs. He needs a haircut. "You're not like your brothers; you don't give the benefit of the doubt."

Proja frowns. "I'm trying to believe it wasn't our faults," he nearly hisses. "I'm trying not to blame you."

"But you do," I note. I balance the apple core on the tips of my fingers and keep my eyes focused on it. "It's okay."

"He wouldn't want me to blame you," Proja says carefully. His voice cracks. He drops his head into his hands and tugs at his hair. "Taftan wouldn't pin it on you if it had happened to me. I want to respect that. Respect what he would've wanted." I drop the apple and it lands on the ground with a soft thud. I want to comfort Proja and at the same time I want him to comfort me. This isn't fair. None of this is fair. "I don't know what to do," Proja whimpers. "He was my best friend."

Tears are filling my eyes before I get the chance to stop them. "I shouldn't have let you come into the District," I sob. My chin quivers and I drop my head into my hands much like Proja has. "I should've made you both stay!"

"He would've gone anyway," Proja tells me, sniffling once and glancing in the other direction. "Cared a lot about you. Didn't… didn't want you getting hurt." Suddenly I feel his hand on my shoulder and I snap up so quickly I feel off balance. I blink a few times and try to get the tears to go away but Proja just stares at me. "Taftan, he uh," he hesitates, "I think he liked you."

"What?"

Proja's shoulders lift and he shakes his head. "Never really said so but I never saw him care about anyone like he did you. More than a sister." My jaw drops and I blink, watching Proja shrug. "Talked about you nonstop. Always wanted to get something in the District for you. Maybe he just didn't like how alone you felt out here, but I always thought…" Proja trails off. "He'd slip extra cookies into your bag at the bakery, you know that? Just one or two. Sometimes Mom would notice and get… mad."

Instantly everything inside of me snaps. There's no hope holding out for glue or tape. It just shatters. Nothing left to hold me together.

Taftan… had liked me. He risked his life in the District to make sure I was safe and ended up losing the battle. For me. It's my fault after all. It's always been my fault. Sobs wrack my body as I collapse into my knees, squeezing them as close to me as I can and trying to block Proja out. I should've seen it. The soap. Waking me up every night when I was having nightmares. Always holding my hand. He liked me.

And now I'll never get to know if I liked him. I don't get the chance.

Proja scoots closer to me and envelops me in his arms; I'm too weak to force him away. His embrace is so much like Taftan's. Too comforting and too warm and too filled with light in this dark place. And then he's crying too, squeezing me as though he can make me stop crying.

"I'm so sorry," he whimpers. "I'm sorry I couldn't save him. I tried so hard to save him." I want to respond but I can't, all words are dead in my throat. He just pulls me closer. "It wasn't your fault," he nearly growls. "It wasn't, Madge. Don't you ever think that, okay?"

"Proja—"

"It wasn't," he says again. The blonde pulls away and grabs my cheeks, forcing me to look up and face him. "Do you understand?"

"Then i-it wasn't yours e-either," I manage to squeak. He hesitates and again confliction fills his gaze. "Please, Proja."

But he doesn't answer; he just wraps me in his arms again. We stay like that for a very long time.


Proja comes by that night with dinner, thrusting the can into my hands before I can even protest. We make short conversation about little things. Peeta and Katniss. How much more he's learning about those documents now that he's staying with them. That's when he extends the offer to me.

"You know you can always stay with us," he says awkwardly. I don't know if he really means it or not. "There's plenty of room." And I'm sure there is. Camp is a huge field. There's room everywhere. "You don't have to stay over here. I don't know how you can."

It's simple. Because I don't want to burden anyone else.

"I'm alright here," I tell him weakly. I sort of like the solitude. I like to look over and see where Taftan had once rested, even if it pains me. "Thank you, though."

He frowns. "Don't make me carry you." And oddly enough, a laugh escapes me. Proja's lips quirk upward for a moment. He looks nice like that. Smiling. Even before all of this I found it rare to see him smiling. He's always been the toughest of the three brothers. More strict. Less forgiving. "I saw Gale come over last night," he eventually adds. The announcement startles me. "I didn't know that you two…"

"We're not," I blurt out. Not friends. Definitely not anything more than friends. "I don't know why he came over. Honestly." Proja shrugs and takes my empty can from me. "You don't like him."

"Not at all," Proja mutters. "Asshole." And again I laugh. And again he smiles. "Petty reasons," he says after a few seconds. "Things in high school I'm not willing to forget. Not even now."

"Like what?" I can't help but ask.

"He stole my date once or twice," Proja says, rolling his eyes. "Everyone wanted the rebel from the Seam. Preferred his dashing good looks over some measly baker." I nudge him with my elbow and watch him smile again. "We had… unspoken competitions. Trying to get girls. Trying to be the first to answer in class. Like I said, petty things."

"Why not forget?" I wonder. "You two work together now when you have to go in the District, right?"

"He's got good aim and is quick on his feet," Proja says, "I'll give him that." Again I nudge him. "Had to do a lot with Peeta too, you know. That kid's been in love with Katniss since the beginning of time, and then Gale was always cock-blocking." He chuckles and shakes his head. "Family resentment. Peeta's my brother, you know how that is."

I've never had a sibling, but I can imagine the type of feelings they share so I nod.

"But Peeta got the girl," I point out.

"Barely," Proja snorts. "Nearly died for her, too. About time she came to her senses." Both of our eyes travel up to where Peeta and Katniss sit closely on a log near the fire. He keeps whispering something to her, causing Katniss to smile brightly. The flames that flicker are illuminating their faces. It's not the first time fire has made them look beautiful together. They're a pair. "I'm glad he has her," Proja says softly. "I feel like everyone's falling apart but he… he's got her and that's enough to keep him strong."

"And you?" I ask.

His shoulders lift. "I'm working on it." He tips his head and glances at a girl who sits alone. I have to blink a few times before realizing it's Delly. "It's hard to help other people put themselves together when you're all over the place yourself."

"You could help each other," I say. After a pause, "Delly?" He nods. "Interesting."

"She spent so much time in the bakery because she was such good friends with Peeta," he rambles, "you know that. Almost as much time as you." He rakes one of his hands through his hair. "One time she saw a burn that Mom gave me. Started freaking out. Wouldn't let me do anything until she cleaned it up a bit." Proja shrugs again. "At times like that she was always so… bright. Even now, how she smiles at everyone…"

"Then go to her," I say. Everyone needs someone right now. Except, well, me, who's better off alone. "You know you want to."

Eventually Proja smiles a bit and nods. He lifts himself to his feet and tips his head at me, taking my can over to the dishes to be cleaned for tomorrow before marching off to find Delly. The girl shrinks away at first but even from where I sit I can see her smile. They'll be good together, I think. Balance each other out. I watch the two for a bit before realizing how creepy that is and sinking down onto my blankets.

I lay there for a while just thinking about things. The sun, and how it continues to rise every morning. The stars, and how bright they are out here. I could never see them from my home in the District. I think about Gale, too, and it's as though he knows it. Because it's not even dark yet before he's throwing his sleeping supplies down next to me.

I shift onto my elbows to watch him. Vastly out of place. The camp is still alive tonight. People whispering back and forth about God knows what. Some still finishing their dinners. Somewhere someone is strumming a guitarlike instrument.

But Gale is here, lowering himself down on top of his sleeping gear.

I bite my lip and relax onto my back again, forcing myself to stare at the sky. I want to say something. But what is there to say?

Finally I get the courage to roll onto my side and look at him. Gale's got his hands behind his head again and is looking up at the sky. It really is beautiful, the way the oranges and reds bleed into the purples of the night. His eyes dart back and forth, absorbing every color of the sunset.

"Stop staring at me," Gale murmurs.

The sound of his voice shocks me and I blink a few times, watching as he tips his head in my direction. I'd like to say that he smiles, but I'm still not entirely sure what Gale looks like when he's smiling.

"You're back," I force out. "Why?" Gale's shoulders lift slightly and he's back to looking at the sky again. "I need an answer, Gale."

"I don't have one," he says.

I drum my fingers on the ground below me and pull my gaze from him with some effort. I decide to focus on the sunset as well, slowly watching as stars peek out from the darkness as the oranges fade entirely. Gale isn't really one for conversation, especially with me, but I can't just deal with the fact that he's here next to me and need to figure it out.

"Gale," I start.

"Mmm."

"Why don't you like Proja?"

The question hangs in the air for a bit. I understand Proja's reasons. I'd like to understand Gale's. I think in a different life they could be friends. And fortunately for them, this is now a different life.

"He do something to you?" Gale finally asks. "Saw him over here earlier. More than once. If he—"

"No," I cut him off. I'm not sure if I like Gale like this. Defensive over me. Taftan was like that. Gale isn't allowed to be. Gale isn't allowed to care. Gale isn't allowed to be here. "I was just wondering."

"He's an asshole," Gale finally mutters.

"Funny. Said the same thing about you." Gale snorts and rolls on his side, propping himself up on his elbow so he can look at me. I resist the urge to meet his gaze and force my eyes to stay on the sky. I won't give Gale that satisfaction. "It's a shame, really, because you two would get along so well."

"Don't push it, Undersee."

"You would," I insist. They're very similar. Have the same thoughts, act the same way. Both too stubborn to bend. "If you won't tell me that, at least tell me why you feel to need to be here." Gale shifts in his spot and then rolls onto his back again. "I've already told you, Gale, that I'm not your responsibility so don't you dare—"

"You're not the only one who has trouble sleeping," Gale finally reveals. It sounds more eloquent than anything he's ever said before. It startles me into silence. "That's all I've got."

That's all I needed to hear.


The nightmare comes so quickly I only remember it in fragments. My scream is so loud it's physically painful. I feel needles pricking every section of my skin. I feel ice shattering my bones.

"Madge, wake up!"

Someone is forcefully shaking my shoulders and throwing their hand over my mouth.

"It's okay," he whispers. "Be quiet, it's okay."

My body is still shaking, after-effects of the terror. He drops his hand.

"You're safe," Gale says. His hands cup my cheeks. "Look at me. You're safe. Can you hear me?" I jerk my head into a nod and draw in a sharp breath. "You're safe," he says again. "Nothing's going to get you. It was just a bad dream, that's all. Lay back down." My head tips side to side and I suck in another sob. I need to do something. I need to go somewhere. I need— "It's okay," Gale murmurs, pulling me into his arms.

My face ends up somewhere on his chest, tears staining his shirt as he holds me. One of his hands strokes my hair gently as the other clutches my back. I try to focus on his breathing. Match it with mine. In. Out. Slowly. Repeat. I listen to his heartbeat, oddly fast for how deep his breathes are.

"I'm sorry," I mumble against his chest. Sounds more like mshary. I tilt my head so I can speak, my cheek against his shirt. "I don't know how to make it stop."

"Not your fault," he breathes. His fingers curl through my hair. "Don't apologize. Okay?" Somehow I manage to nod. Gale lowers me back down to my blanket and then grabs his stuff, pulling it right up next to mine. No space. Our blankets overlap. "I'm right here."

Gale stretches his hand out across the small distance and envelops mine entirely. His fingers lace with mine without hesitation.

Our eyes stay on each other for a moment. His gray ones are much more silver than I remember them to be. Much more filled with compassion than I thought possible.

"Don't go anywhere," I whisper. "Please."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmurs. Gale inches closer across the blankets and drapes his hand over my waist. "Get some sleep."

His touch sends waves of heat through my body, like an electrical current that isn't as sharp. He traces designs on the back of my shirt. I bury my face into his chest and listen to him breathing. In and out. In and out.

"Tell me a story," I whimper. A daring request. This is Gale Hawthorne. This is not Taftan Mellark. Gale doesn't care about me like this. And yet…

"Only if you promise to try and sleep," he says back. I nod, hitting my forehead on his chest. His hand on my waist tightens its grip. I feel so small in his arms like this. I feel… safe. "The first time my dad took me into the woods," he whispers, "I was only 9. He showed me everything. The roots of trees. Birds' nests. Flowers." I close my eyes and try to picture it. A younger version of Gale following his father through the woods. "He didn't let me see any of the snares no matter how many times I asked. He told me I was too young." His hand resumes tracing designs on my back. "I remember the first animal we saw. A rabbit. He told me to stand still and just watch it, so I did."

"I asked, 'What's the point of this?' I was a kid. I didn't understand. He said to me, 'What do you hear?' I didn't know what he meant. I shrugged. Told him I heard birds. Told him I heard the wind. He said, 'Listen closely.' I really tried hard, you know? Wanted to impress my dad. So I listened really hard and I still didn't hear anything. My dad said, 'To be a hunter you have to hear everything. You have to listen past the birds and the wind and hear the footsteps of a rabbit. You have to hear the scurrying of a squirrel.' It took me years before I could do that."

His words start to get hazy. "He didn't show me a snare until I was older. Didn't teach me how to make them either, I had to teach myself. He helped a bit, I guess, for as long as he could anyway," Gale continues softly. "I spent weeks just listening to everything I could possibly hear. I spent so much time learning how to listen sometimes… sometimes I think I forgot how to talk. Forgot what to say when I needed to."

"No," I yawn. "You're good at talking."

Gale chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "Agree to disagree." I nuzzle closer to him, desperately trying to absorb his warmth, and listen to him sigh. "I never know what to say to you."

I fall asleep before I can ask him what he means.


A/N: I will be gone all week and won't be able to update, so I wanted to leave it off at what I thought was a decent moment! More on Gale later. I wanted Proja and Madge to talk, both of them blaming themselves. He's no Taftan but he is Proja and still a Mellark with love in his heart. Morning will sure be awkward between Madge and Gale though, huh? All snuggly like that...