A/N:I took a hiatus, I'm writing a few other things unrelated to my dorky need to write fanfiction. I mostly like filling in the gaps for THG. There was a lot of stuff that never got talked about and, if you haven't noticed, I am trying to fill it all in. Now I get to ramp ish up, my set-up is done and I can actually start writing the bangarang parts!

Chapter 10: Smoke on the Horizon

By the time their escort showed Calliope and Glory to their barracks in the reserved wing, everyone seemed to already be asleep. The lights in the hallways had been dimmed, there was no noise behind any of the doors that she could hear. Crowe and Pru sat on the floor in front of the Commander's quarters playing some game involving dice. When Pru spotted Calliope she got to her feet and lifted her fist to her shoulder in a salute, Crowe followed.

"Commander Cress, the barracks have been assigned and the men were advised to take advantage of a reprieve day tomorrow," Pru said quickly. Callie hadn't authorized the reprieve, but she agreed with Pru's choice.

"Sounds good," her voice was hoarse from talking, sometimes shouting, for two hours. Or was it three? No light or clocks made it hard to track the time. Exhaustion had gripped her probably an hour ago, but Callie powered through it. Her ankle was pounding, her head ached, her whole body was as sore as it was when she first arrived at the militia. All she wanted was sleep, the hallway floor was starting to look appealing.

Crowe glanced at Pru and back to Calliope, "We are quartered down the hall, four doors down if you need anything."

"Uh huh," Calliope ran a hand through her hair, still tangled, and sighed tiredly. She didn't say anything else, just shoved the door open and flicked on the lights.

They blinked to life overhead. Calliope rubbed her eyes against their brightness and took in her new quarters, luxurious compared to the barracks in the mountain. She had a real room, a bathroom that she didn't need to fight with a hundred other men to use for more than three minutes, and a bed that she could actually fit on. There were a table and chairs tucked off into the corner and a large screen that functioned as a window, changeable to suit whatever sight she wished to see. Her pack was resting against a large trunk at the foot of her bed, there was a second and much smaller cot set up in one of the empty corners, Glory's pack rested on top of it. Callie smiled sleepily, her Captains had outdone themselves. She made a mental note to thank them, but right now all she wanted was to sleep.

Glory exhaled loudly and fell forwards onto the cot, it strained audibly under his weight. They didn't speak. Calliope just lay down quietly and listened to his heavy, deep breathing as he slipped easily into sleep. Glory could sleep anywhere in a matter of seconds, it was unfair.

Callie lay in bed staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes. It was strange, she had been foggy with exhaustion until she hit the mattress. Maybe it was the foreign accommodations, maybe it was the stress of the day, but whatever it was had started preventing her from sleeping when she was wiped out.

She got up and quietly started the shower, peeling off her clothes and stepping into it. It had been a long time since Callie had taken a shower with consistent hot water, she had been prepared for it to go cold after a few seconds. She stared down at her naked body and in her mind's eye could see the bloodstains Lark's severed artery had left behind on her skin. She frowned and lifted a stiff bristled brush from one of the shelves. Callie scrubbed her skin hard, rinsed, scrubbed again, rinsed. She scrubbed so vehemently and so intensely skin started to peel on her stomach and thighs. Finally, when just the hot water burned the raw skin, she put the brush down. She stood under the water, slowly inching the temperature control hotter and hotter, before shutting it off. Shampoo in her hair had been a luxury, conditioner even more so. Calliope felt like royalty with such amenities, ignoring the fact that a year ago her life had been a long list of amenities like this.

She was quiet stepping out of the shower, slipping into a pair of black standard issue pants and a green tee shirt that dipped in a low V. It was meant for a male soldier, on a female soldier it looked flirtatious. She was quiet rummaging into her rucksack, tugging free a short sleeved gray sweater and zipping it up only halfway to compensate for the indecorous plunge of the neckline. Her feet slid quietly – and painfully – back into her boots, the door gave without a sound under her hands and she slipped out into the silent hallway.

By the time Calliope got to the main hall, she realized it must not have been as late as she thought it was. Her people must have been completely wiped out to be asleep so soon. The rest of District 13 buzzed with foreign activity, people murmured in the hallways and inflated, enormous common areas, they darted in and out of the main foyer like ants in a hill. It reminded her of the mountain in a lot of ways, active and underground. There were some tables on the lower level, Grouse was seated at one chatting with his Lieutenants. One of the Sergeants had been moved up to fill her place. They all saluted her firmly, Calliope returned it and took a seat with them.

She was looking around, distracted, before she realized Grouse was talking to her, "Huh?"

"I asked where your little shadow was," Grouse looked amused, which was both a foreign and kind of eerie look on the normally firm man.

"Oh, he fell asleep. You know Glory, the man could sleep on a flight of stairs in the middle of a marching drill," Callie rolled her eyes and a few of the soldiers laughed nervously. She frowned, "Please don't do that."

"Sir, don't do what, sir?" answered the Lieutenant who had taken her place.

"Laugh because I'm the Commander. Also, one sir is fine. One sir in the entire conversation is even better," Callie smiled as reassuringly as she could through her sleepiness. Now that she was around people, the exhaustion seemed to be returning.

Finally, she got to her feet, "Do you know where their Pit is?" Callie was tired of making them nervous, she was tired in general.

Pit would still be the term everyone used for it from her ranks, it was old hat. One of the soldiers gave her vague directions and she waved her thanks, trotting briskly up the metal stairs and down one of the dim hallways. She arrived at their training pit after a few wrong turns. It wasn't dissimilar from the one in Mount Lord, built lower so anyone wandering above could stop and watch a match. A few of the Mountain Men were training, nothing intense. Some were running laps around the top of the training ground. All saluted Calliope as she passed through, she dispersed their fists with a casual wave of her hand.

Callie spotted Tithe, sitting against the rails with his feet dandling over the ledge, and sat next to him to do the same, "It's been a while since I've seen you."

"Commander," Tithe saluted her briefly, "Yeah, I've been hidden in the soul-sucking pods they call 'flight simulators'. We finally found something I'm good at, I guess, but it's a shame I have to basically live in an egg and try not to crash planes," he turned to look at her with a grin, "I heard you didn't even get off the ground before you crashed it."

Calliope recalled the memory sheepishly, "Yeah, they decided pretty quickly that I wasn't exactly a premier pilot."

"The pod you crashed was actually broken. You literally crashed the pod, not just the simulator," Tithe's voice was steeped in amusement, he wasn't letting her new rank change their friendship. Calliope appreciated it.

"How was I supposed to know not to thrash around when I thought I was going to die? It's really their own fault for putting the thing on a ledge,"her voice was strained with excuse. Tithe laughed and Callie felt it infect her, laughing along with him, "At least I left behind a pretty hard to beat legacy."

"You're all about silver linings," Tithe turned his attention back to the trainees and lowered his voice, "I heard you were there when we lost Lark."

Calliope's throat went tight again, she only nodded. Tithe didn't ask for an explanation or elaboration, he just let her hold the memory in her mind for a while. Finally, Calliope got to her feet, "I have to sleep. They want to strategize again in the morning, some of the Victors were captured and there's talk about whether or not the risk-reward is great enough to go get them."

"Goodnight, Commander," Tithe said without looking or saluting her.

Calliope got to her feet and stretched so quickly that it could have been the stretch that lifted her to her feet. Her body still ached, her ankle was calming down. She walked slowly through the halls, taking in her surroundings. Getting lost had not been very hard at all, Callie had just stopped paying attention to where she was going and suddenly realized she had no idea where she had ended up.

"Crap," she muttered to herself, looking around. There were no mountains, no trees, no familiar landmarks, nothing to help her clearly identify which way the militia's barracks were. Calliope decided to knock on one of the doors and deal with the consequences later.

She put her fist gently on the first door she saw and, to her surprise, it opened. Calliope stepped back a little, but peered into the dark room after a moment. The lights were dark overhead, dim screens lit up the darkness and appeared to be monitoring someone laying on a hospital bed. She took quiet steps inside and jumped when the door hissed closed behind her.

The only noise was the gentle influx of breath and the beeping of a heart monitor. Calliope tried to be still, to respect the quiet darkness of the room, but curiosity took over. She paused at the bedside and looked down at the sleeping face of a girl, no older than seventeen. Her brown hair was in a tight braid over her shoulder, her skin was olive, her face so recognizable now Calliope could have done it in her sleep.

Katniss Everdeen was asleep – maybe unconscious – in the bed in front of Callie. Callie didn't move or speak, just stared. It was like looking at a statue of the person you most admire, you don't want to touch it or disturb it, all you can do is stare at it.

Something rustled by Katniss' feet and Callie's hand flew to the empty space at her back where she normally kept her knives. She held her breath for a second before realizing it was Gale, doubled over and asleep at the end of the bed. He was lifting his head and rubbing at his eyes, groggy. Gale's face paused on Calliope's and they locked eyes for a moment. Sleep seemed to visibly fall away from him and his expression dropped into an unfriendly frown.

"What are you doing in here?" Gale rose to his feet and grabbed her elbow, "You aren't allowed in here, get out." He only spoke to her in a sharp whisper, if it had been somewhere else this would probably be a yell.

Calliope jerked her arm away from him and narrowed her eyes, "The door accepted my signature. It seems someone else thinks otherwise."

Gale wouldn't look away, he froze in the moment are stared at her. His eyes were hard and full of irritation and something else, something dark. The door opened again, an older man with disheveled hair stepped through and paused when he looked up.

"Can I help you two?" he said curtly.

Gale broke his stare and looked up at the man, "She was just leaving."

Haymitch shot Gale a warning look and stepped forwards to get a better look at the intruder's face. His eyes searched her face for a moment, the faintest hint of recognition flashed across his eyes, "The girl from the party."

"Calliope Cress," she nodded at him affirmatively and extended a hand for Haymitch to shake, "Nice to see you again."

"You weren't Cress last time. And your hands weren't this rough," Haymitch didn't wait for a response, "I'll show you back to your wing."

They walked in silence through a few hallways, Callie tried to remember their path so she could find her way back here later. The door had recognized her print signature, obviously she had some measure of right to be there.

"This place is confusing. It doesn't feel right," Calliope said quietly. It was still enough in the halls now that she didn't need to be too loud.

"It just isn't your home," Haymitch said bluntly. He looked over and down at her, "What are you doing over here anyway?"

She shrugged, "I couldn't sleep. I know I need to, it feels like this day has gone on for weeks. I just tried to lie down and couldn't."

He nodded with a sense of understanding, he knew what it was like to put his head down and feel his consciousness hover over him like a ghost, "He doesn't like people coming near her when she's like this. He sees you as a potential threat, don't take it personally."

"I never have," she smiled with a note of bitterness, "I just didn't realize how much everyone hated my District. I mean, we have an entire splinter cell of rebels we tucked away in a mountain for goodness' sake."

Haymitch let out a short laugh, "I think you'll find that doesn't always matter," he lifted his chin to indicate a figure looming by the wide and suddenly familiar entrance to what must have been the barracks for the Mountain Men.

Glory was waiting for her, his eyes emotionless and calm, leaned casually against the wall. Calliope felt herself blush, she felt like a kid who got caught in the cookie jar. She paused and turned to Haymitch, extending her hand to be shaken.

"Thank you. That probably won't be the last time I get lost," her lips twitched into a friendly smile and Haymitch gave her hand a single hard squeeze.

Callie was effortlessly passed into Glory's care, but he didn't scold her. Callie had expected to be lectured for wandering off, but then she remembered she couldn't be given orders to anymore. That included scolding. Part of her was relieved, but the other part only felt a sense of stolen experience. She was eighteen, she was supposed to be scolded and yelled at. It all felt complicated again, so she turned off these feelings and walked quietly beside her guard.

"Where did you go?" Glory asked softly, trying not to sound like he was reprimanding her.

"I got lost, wound up in the medical wing I think," Callie shrugged and kept herself casually level while she spoke, "Katniss Everdeen is here. They apparently brought her right to District 13 after the Arena was blown up."

Glory nodded once and let her into their room first, "Are you okay?

"

Calliope didn't answer right away. Instead she pondered the question before settling on her honest response, "Ask me again tomorrow."

Tomorrow seemed to arrive quicker than she expected. Glory nudged her awake just after six thirty and Callie dressed quickly, foregoing a second shower despite how much she wanted one. She shoved her legs into black canvas pants and pulled a dark gray tank top over her head, shrugging on the holster for her knives and the belt of thin throwing blades. She laced up her boots tightly and pulled her blond hair up into a high ponytail.

The three Captains were waiting for her when she stepped outside, Glory squeezing into the hallway after her. They all saluted her firmly, she returned the gesture.

Crowe spoke first, "We showed the men to the training ground. They know it's a reprieve day, but nobody wants to get soft. Rumor has it, nothing will be done for another month."

"Good," Callie said, "there are some issues that need resolution, yes. Keep them training, don't let them slack off. This is the same routine we have always stuck to, the only difference is our scenery."

Grouse glanced to the other Captains and back to her, "What is your agenda for the day, Commander?"

Callie hadn't thought much about that. She assumed now that Lark had always had a set agenda for himself, he seemed like that kind of a person. Callie wasn't she was more focused on the moment than on her plans for the day, "I'm not sure. I assume I'll be called back for another meeting at some point. Until then, I'm going to keep doing what I do best."

"What's that?" Grouse raised an eyebrow, sliced in half by an old scar.

"Train," she shrugged and pushed past them. Truthfully, she didn't know where she was going, but in the moment walking away seemed like the best decision to make.

Glory trotted up behind her and said in a low voice, "Up here it will open up and you can see the new Pit. It's a shorter route than you took last night."

Callie nodded, grateful he knew what she was thinking without asking her. She didn't wonder how he knew where she was last night, Glory had his own ways of knowing things. He was right, the hallway bloomed into an enormous open area, the Pit she had stumbled across last night. They seemed to be sharing the space with a large number of soldiers in dark green. Callie couldn't confidently call them soldiers, though. This seemed to be a secondary title for most of them, they had other lives and occupations that took precedence over their fighting. She couldn't help but compare her men to theirs, keeping a prideful grin at bay.

"Callie?" a familiar voice said her name and she looked up.

Sea green eyes were wide, staring at her, stunned. A mouth curved up into a bright smile with sparkling white teeth. Finnick extended a single lean, tan arm towards her, the other was held in a sling against his chest. Calliope seemed to fall forwards and grabbed on to him tightly with a cry of surprise.

"Finnick!" she said sharply, pulling back and looking down at his arm, "What happened?"

"It's just a break, nothing bad. I heard through the grapevine about you," he was kind enough not to cast her change in status in a bleak light, "I think I should be giving you a salute instead of a hug."

She shook her head fiercely, "If one more person salutes me, I will have to break their arm. You're already down one, I would feel bad."

Finnick laughed and let his eyes roam over her face for a moment, "It's good to see you again. It's better to see you found your way."

"I wouldn't have without you," she let her eyes shine a little with gratitude, "I would have stayed in my house and slowly crumbled into dust under the strain of pretending to be someone I wasn't."

"I'm sorry about your friends," he said gently, squeezing her upper arm.

"I'm sorry about yours," Coin had informed Calliope of all the captured Victors, Annie being among them in her state was horrible to hear. They would imprison a woman of questionable sanity just to make a point, to hurt Finnick. It was cruel and cold, but she expected nothing less from them. It wasn't a surprise to hear Annie had been arrested, it was just a bitter reality exposing the Capitol for what it was.

Finnick walked with Calliope for the length of the new Pit, recounting the tale of the Arena collapsing and the airlift out. He told her about the plan hatched in secret out of earshot of President Snow, the ingenuity of the bread he had given her, the daring alliance in the Arena, the entire arrangement of the Arena itself. Calliope listened intently, rapt in his storytelling. It was horrible, terrifying, admirable. In a way, she felt sorry for Finnick. Since he had become a Tribute, his entire life seemed to be built on a foundation of lies and tragedy.

Now Annie had been taken from him, his own Tribute he had trained was gone now. There was something else in his eyes when Calliope had mentioned her, some deep and secret pain that he tried to mist over with energetic stories. She thought she knew what it was, but asking would make it more painful. Finnick had only been moving freely through District 13 for a day or two, asking about Annie would feel like rubbing salt in a still-fresh wound.

"I hear you're deadly with a knife," Finnick said with a sly smile, "Show me."

"How do you even hear these things?" Callie said with a laugh. If she had a reputation, she deserved to know what it was.

"You don't become one of two female Commanders in the history of an entire army without a few people noticing," he shrugged, "You caught a lot of attention. Now, show me."

Finnick gestured with his good hand into the Pit. Men paused and looked up at them, the closest having heard the request. Calliope nodded and leaped over the railing onto the stairs, blatantly showing off her well-cultivated strength. She took the stairs two at a time and pulled two wooden training blades from a rack, trying to match the size of the ones at her back as closely as possible.

She looked up at the army of men and women in front of her and scanned their faces, "I need a partner."

Silence. Nobody stepped forwards, people shifted uncomfortably. Calliope frowned.

"I need a partner, not an organ. Come on, a week ago this wouldn't have been a problem," Calliope was suddenly feeling the weight of her position as Commander again. Nobody wanted to be the one to beat her, nobody wanted to be responsible for her ego or reprimanded if they hurt her.

Still, no one stepped forwards to spar with her. Finally, a voice chimed out, "I will."

The crowd parted like a stream around a rock. Tithe stood at the end of the parted crowd, walking deliberately forwards and pointing at his peers with an accusatory finger, "You all should be ashamed of yourselves. It's Calliope, she isn't made of glass."

"That's part of the reason nobody wants to spar with her," Grouse chuckled from behind her. Calliope turned quickly and watched him lean forwards on his rifle, balanced against the ground. Grouse shot her a sly wink and she felt a smile spread involuntarily across her face.

The men cleared a mat and Tithe grabbed a training mace, situating himself squarely in one of the two corners. Calliope stalked to her own corner and twirled the wooden knives in her fingers. Tithe wasn't a very good fighter, hardly a match for her, but his stepping up to be an example for the other soldiers merited her going easy on him.

The fight didn't last long even with the handicap she gave him. It was longer than it should have, but still not long. Calliope almost lost the upper hand to him when she hesitated, like she had with Glimmer all that time ago, and couldn't drive the wooden blade to a killing blow. Tithe missed the opportunity, hadn't noticed the hesitation, and tapped himself out before he could react to it.

Calliope hoisted herself off of him, having pinned Tithe underneath her, and offered him her hand. He got to his feet and lifted a hand to the hooting soldiers around them. Calliope squeezed and gave him a private smile, mouthing the words Thank you at him before she let Tithe go. He gave her a single nod and let himself be absorbed by the pats of his comrades.

Calliope, chest heaving after the match, climbed the stairs more slowly this time. Finnick was holding a glass of water for her, lifting it when she reached the top of the stairs, "Impressive."

"I've been trapped in a mountain for a year, I've had some time to practice," Calliope drank the glass quickly and handed it off to one of the men passing by with a blue arm band, "When you're better, maybe I'll teach you."

Finnick opened his mouth to respond with a laugh, but a smartly dressed man approached the group with an air of authority. They both looked over at him, Calliope recognized him as the man from the first meeting who was hovering around Coin.

"Commander Cress, President Coin has requested your presence. If you would follow me," he gestured for her to lead and she watched him, cautious.

Alma Coin didn't sit right with Calliope for some reason. Something about the woman had the air of patient malice, she could boil a pot of grudges for so long they became tender and fell apart in your mouth. She chocked it up to politicians, bureaucrats just weren't her kind of people.

Calliope followed the man down the winding hallways and kept adding to her mental map. He gestured to the same door of the meeting room they had been in the day before and she stepped inside, hardly noticing Glory was right on her heels. He had become an accessory lately, not really something she expected to be anywhere else but with her. She took the same seat she had the previous day, nodding her greeting to Plutarch. He didn't respond, just watched her and idly tapped a pen against the table lightly.

Coin stood at a small podium at the front of the room, watching Calliope and waiting until she sat, "We will be rousing Katniss from sedation tonight. Once she is awake, we agree to broach the subject of our last meeting with her," Coin cleared her throat, "Now, we need to discuss our plan of attack."

They weren't wasting any time. Calliope left them an organized web showing the names and ranks of her men, their battalion colors, and their legions. She picked her own personal squad, delegated the non-combatants to supporting positions, and agreed to form her battalions into squads to be mixed with the forces of District 13. Her people would still report only to her and obey only her command, no orders given to them would be obeyed if they did not come from Commander Cress. Integrating forces strengthened morale and would make an organized army out of all of them.

Glory knew she was walking behind him on purpose when they left, but he didn't draw attention to it. She was exhausted, even though she would never admit it he knew it was true. Callie was trailing her fingers along the wall absently, quiet after the three and a half hour long meeting. Sleep hadn't come easily to her last night and Glory could feel it probably wouldn't again tonight. Subtly, he slowed his wide gait and let her catch up to him. It wasn't a body guard she needed, it was something else.

"How are you doing?" he said, his voice made her jump. She had told him to ask again today, so he did.

"Oh, uh, good I guess," Calliope gave Glory a noncommittal shrug.

He stopped her with a firm, heavy hand on her shoulder, "Callie," his eyes were softer than they had been in a long time, his tone gentle, "You were my friend before you were my Commander. Tell me what's going on in your head."

Calliope stared into his warm eyes and took in their concern for her. The truth of it was that she felt isolated, completely on her own. Her own friends had been forced to salute her, Glory had been established as her shadow instead of her confidante. She felt alone.

"It's isolating," she finally said, just saying it felt like a weight had heaved off her shoulders and dropped to the ground, "I have no friends, I only have soldiers. I can't give this to anyone else and I didn't ask for it," suddenly, she felt her own anger in her voice, "I didn't ask to be Commander, I didn't ask for Lark to die. Why would he put this on me?"

Tears welled up in her eyes for the first time in a long while, fierce and hot with her sudden rage at the unfairness of the world. Glory took off the mantle of protector he wore so proudly, shed himself of the Personal Guard skin. He wrapped two large arms around her and pulled her into a barrel chest so broad and thick she almost disappeared in it. Calliope let herself feel weak, vulnerable for a moment. She allowed herself the luxury of tears and stifled screams of rage. Glory didn't judge her, he couldn't. He had been there in the meetings, watched the changes in her the last couple of days since she took up the white band. It was a task he wished someone else would take over.

After a few minutes, Callie inhaled a deep, shuddering breath and pulled herself away from him. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and sighed, straightening herself, "Thank you."

"I'm your friend before I am your soldier," Glory could feel the cloth he had put down rise back onto his shoulders, "Let's get you back to the compartment to sleep."

In the Captains' room, Grouse and Crowe sat at the round table, each nursing a glass of amber liquid. Prudence paced angrily and sighed, "She's still a kid," she roared.

"She will do a good job, you need to have faith," Crowe sighed and swirled the glass, making a small vortex in the brandy.

"This isn't right, you're passing up what's rightfully yours!" Pru sat in her chair so hard the table shook, "We agreed if something happened that it should be you in that chair, not some kid who's spent a year under our roof."

"Lark gave her the band," Crowe shrugged, his demeanor was calm, composed. So calm it made Pru's nerves scream.

"Lark did not give her the band, she just thinks he did and you know it," her voice was scathing, acidic. She couldn't stand to be commanded by a child anymore.

"I'm not interfering unless there is a need to interfere," Crowe's eyes were dark, stern. So much authority radiated from them that Pru closed her mouth after she had prepared a scalding response, "There is no need for me to upend everything again. She will be a good Commander, she just needs Captains to guide her."

"She's a child," Pru muttered, snatching Grouse's glass and pouring the alcohol down her throat, "She doesn't need guidance, she needs to be put in the rank she deserves."

"And she deserves this one," Crowe fired back, annoyed finally, "Leave it alone, Prudence. If you bring this up again, I'll see to it you're send back to the lowest possible rank I can fit you into. I'll make sure you're under my command and you can bet I will break every corner of your spirit."

The threat was so plain and flat, so matter-of-fact that Prudence didn't say anything else. She stared into the empty glass, fuming. Rage and frustration swirled in her chest, she didn't understand why Crowe was letting this happen. They had agreed with Lark if anything were to happen, Crowe was to take up the band. Now, Crowe just sat there and let some little girl who barely filled out her own fatigues take the seat of command. It was an insult.

Grouse was silent when he stood up, snatching the glass from Pru and pouring another drink. Pru stared down at the table when she spoke, "What do you think, Arkin?"

Grouse grunted, considering his answer, "Crowe's right."

Short, to the point, typical Grouse. Pru couldn't hide her smile at how reliable Grouse was. She sighed heavily and turned her eyes back to Crowe, she gave a quick nod, "Fine. If she can't hold her own after the first attack, though, we tell her the truth. We tell her what Lark really said."

"Agreed," Grouse said, sitting back down. Crowe nodded assent.

In the Medical Wing, Gale felt the sheets moving under his head. He snapped himself awake, trying to shake sleep from his head as fast as he could. He watched Katniss writhing on the bed, struggling to come out of the sedation. She let out a soft groan and he moved to her side, reaching for her fingers.

Softly, he smiled down at her, running a hand over her forehead as her eyes fluttered awake, "Hey, Catnip."

"Gale," she croaked, "Where am I?"