When dawn comes, the mechanisms inside me kick into gear almost automatically, declaring my body awake and ready for the day before I ever open my eyes. I stir, and realize with a sort of quiet relief that Prim did not visit me in my nightmares last night. Gale's arm is lean and strong beneath my head, and he soon wakes when he feels me moving. "Morning," he says.

"Morning." I made the decision to let him spend the night with me in a split second and I am glad I did. There is nothing wrong with sleeping beside your most trusted person, after all. Besides, we were so inexplicably drained, we fell asleep as soon as our bodies touched the mattress. I prop myself up on one elbow and study Gale: his hair is tousled, his eyes the tamest I've seen them, his smile the same old charming winner. "Brush your teeth," I say with a laugh, and he wrinkles his nose. "You need it, too. Did something die in your mouth?"

I shake my head, still laughing, and finally get up. I am still wearing my dress from last night, so it's creased everywhere. Gale races me to the bathroom and soon remembers that he doesn't have a toothbrush with him. Luckily, there's a spare one around-I give it to him without another word.

"I'm going to shower," I announce as soon as I finish with my teeth. Gale smirks. "Alone," I add. "Get out." He walks out with a slightly crooked gait that oozes with confident swagger. I lock the door, shinny out of my clothes, then program a simple cycle on the shower controls. As the water runs over my hair and my skin, my thoughts fall in Gale's direction. Naturally. What are we now? Never in my life did I actually imagine a future with him as something other than a friend. But here we are now, and there's a first time for everything.

Then, without warning, Prim takes center stage again. It's insane. It's as if because I managed to evade it completely last night, the pain is coming back to me now, hot and sharp. All I'm capable of thinking is how I'm betraying her. The kiss with Gale, which felt so perfect when it happened, suddenly morphs into a monstrosity, an unacceptable abomination, an utterly disgusting vilification of my dead sister's memory. What is wrong with me?

The water is making it hard to breathe.

Prim. Just let me go. I loved you, and I love you still, but my dear sister, my whole life is ahead of me. The wall hardly reacts, but I cry out through gritted teeth when I pound my head against the white tiles, once, and none too gently. Why did I even think of that? This might already be a sickness of the head. Yes. I am losing my sanity. It's a perfect explanation. This isn't real. Prim will want me to move on. I don't want to.

My fingers fumble for the shower knob. Where is it? I can't see. There. I turn the knob and the downpour stops, leaving me colder than ever. My face is wet but I will never know if it's from the shower or from my tears.

The onslaught of memories is startling and weirdly resonant against the black backdrop of my probably troubled mind.

I was four when Prim was born. My first memory is carrying her small body, swathed in a thick bundle of fraying blankets, in my chubby four-year-old arms, all wobbly and unstable. I could hear my mother telling me, "Careful, now." I thought back then they were spoiling me. I know now that even then, they entrusted Prim to me as if they knew what tragedy awaited us. Then it was Prim's fifth birthday. We went skipping in the Meadow, gathering fruits from low trees and picking primroses and blowing dandelions. When she turned six, I gave her a pink bow for her hair. My father sang a song and the mockingjays fell silent in their perches in silent reverie. Prim turned seven, then the mines took our father away. He was no longer around to sing songs with his clarion voice, and I figured the mockingjays mourned as much as I did. Then Prim was ten, turning into a replica of our mother-from the intelligent blue eyes to the healing hands. It broke my heart seeing her wipe our father's shaving mirror with a piece of cloth, never missing a day. Our mother was locked away in a prison of her own creation and there was nothing we could do but struggle to survive on our own.
Then Prim was twelve. She was wearing my old dress when Effie Trinket clawed a slip of paper with my sister's name on it from the reaping bowl.

The rest is blood.

My knees give way and I hit the floor, hard. I curse myself over and over again for being weak, but I go on crying while doing so. I hear a knock on the bathroom door but ignore it. Only after a minute do I realize that my wails might be audible outside and Gale must be concerned. I couldn't care less. Let me burn in my own hell.

I don't manage to pull myself together until after a half hour or so. I finish showering and don a warm robe, then catch myself in the mirror. My eyes are red and ugly. When I open the door, Gale is standing right there and he embraces me, much to my annoyance. "I heard you. What's wrong?" His voice is full of sympathy, and I hate it.

I wriggle out of his embrace and cross my arms over my chest. "I can't talk right now. Please leave me alone," I deliver with all the composure I could muster.

"Katniss, no. If you won't talk, fine. I'm staying until you feel okay."

I look up at him. "How can you even bear the thought of being with me? I'm a wreck! How can you stand me when I'm like this?"

"Just in case you've forgotten, I'm a wreck, too. While I know that two wrongs can't make a right, I also know that two negatives make a positive," he says. I glare at him. "Even without that horsecrap, I'm sticking around."

"Why?!" My voice rises to a shout. "Why, Gale? I can't do this. I'm just going to hurt you." I'm acutely aware of my state of being underdressed, but I am too preoccupied to care. Gale sits back down on the bed. "I love you, and you could hurt me until I die, but I will still love you. Love is a blasted thing. It consumed me whole, but only because I let it. I chose this." He looks at me and unless I'm imagining things, Gale has tears in his eyes. "I chose you, Katniss. I have no regrets."

The only available landing strip in District Four is three kilometers from the coast, but even from this far, I can smell the ocean, salty and inviting. I kneel down and Finnick, Jr. plants a kiss on my cheek. "Bye-bye, Katniss," he says in his three-year-old articulation.

"Bye, Finn." I hug him quickly then get back on my feet. Annie embraces me, too, and I only hesitate for a second before I return it. "Thank you for everything, Katniss." For what, I don't know. "I'm sorry for all the trouble," I say.

"Doesn't matter." She pulls away and I'm looking at her semi-bruised face. "Goodbye, then."

"Goodbye," I say.

"I will call you from time to time, okay? Maybe we'll visit once in a while."

"That will be great." I smile, then she turns to say goodbye to the others.

"I guess this is goodbye, now," someone says beside me. Peeta.

"I guess it is," I confirm.

"Well..."

"Well, what?"

"I've said everything I wanted to tell you. Seems like there's nothing more left to be said."

I smile. "Okay. Goodbye. I'll miss you. I'll see you again. All that stuff." I wrap my arms around him. He hugs me, too. After about two seconds, I hear him laughing. "Alright. I already talked to Gale."

I raise my eyebrow at him. "And what did you tell him?"

"If he hurts you, I'll know, and-"

"He'll kick my ass," Gale chimes in. "I know, bro. I know."

"That's good to hear, then," I say, laughing. "You'll beat the hell out of each other and I'll be trying to pry you apart, screaming my head off."

The boys nod. "True."

"I have to get going. We'll keep in touch," Peeta promises. He shakes Gale's hands and gives me a knowing look. Then he turns, carrying his luggage with him, and I watch him go until he's a speck in the distance. He never looks back.

Two hours later, we are back in District 12. Nothing happens for the first week of our return, but one Sunday, Gale invites me to have dinner with them.

Rory shows up at dinner with a blonde-haired-blue-eyed girl in tow. The girl's name is Suzy, Rory informs us. They are dating. "We've been gone less than a week," Gale says loudly. Rory shoots him a look but only says, "Yes, you have." I can't help but think that Gale and I are moving too quickly for our own good. Aren't we setting ourselves up for a colossal hurt?

"Hawthorne men move fast," teases Hazelle. "My husband and I met in school two weeks before graduation. Six months later, we were engaged."

"I didn't inherit that," Gale says, holding my hand under the table. "Took me five years to get the girl."

I roll my eyes. "Persistence is the key."

The food arrives soon, and we eat, telling good old tales across the table while filling ourselves with Hazelle's delicious cooking. We leave out Snow's play, only saying that the Games did not push through due to a few anomalies. Posy jumps in, saying that the last weeks of school are awesome, that she's studying for the final exams but she's having the time of her life. Vick says he got into the basketball team. Rory has nothing but good words for Suzy, his girlfriend. All Suzy does is smile and laugh with her hand covering her mouth, all proper and ladylike. When we're through with all the food, Gale takes me by the hand and leads me outside.

"I gotta help with the dishes," I say.

"Nah, it's okay."

"Where are we going?"

"Surprise, surprise."

"Seriously?"

We walk all the way to the square, where a black car is idling. One of the doors opens as we approach. The first thing I see is a crutch. Then feet in sandals. Then a pink dress. Then a face. "Hello, Katniss."

Scylla Crane.

At first, I can't say anything. "I don't have anywhere to go. My family is dead, and I don't want to be anywhere near the Capitol. I'm..I just-" she stammers, unable to go on, it seems. My heart breaks all of a sudden. My head spins, too, but Gale is by my side, ready to steady me. Just two weeks ago, I was prepared to take this little girl home with me. Now, the prospect is daunting.

Gale excuses us for a while, then he faces me. "Are you okay?" he asks. I nod.

"I can handle this," I say. Gale kisses me, once, very gently, and this makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and generally positive. "Okay, good," he says. "I thought you would want this." And I do, don't I? Can I really live the rest of my life near a girl that looks so much like my dead sister? I have no idea. But if I want to start healing, I have to pull open the curtains, right? The only way to know if I can survive is to try. I wrap my arms around Gale. "I can do this as long as you're here with me," I say into his shirt.

"That's about seventy years, tops," he says, sounding quite hopeful. His chest vibrates when he laughs.

I pull away, and we walk towards Scylla and the black car that could leave with or without her.

"Can I...can I stay here for a while?" Scylla finally asks.

"Yes. As long as you like."

The smile on her face reminds me of Prim. But I know now for sure that what I feel is no longer an incurable sense of dread. It's something else, something bright. Something to look forward to. Something to hold on to even when everything else is out of reach.

Hope.

A/N: Working on the epilogue, so don't go just yet!