Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. If I did… some things might be different.

I'm really sorry I haven't updated in a few days. My grandparents flew over for a visit so my family was kind of busy with that and all. I swear I haven't lost motivation for this story yet. Jeez, Gale hasn't even showed up yet. How could I leave it with Gale as a main character…when he isn't even there?

After I say goodbye to Peeta, I walk right back into a world of nightmares. I see Prim in her last moments, screaming my name, trying to bring me back up. I see Peeta in the hospital room, screaming at Delly, calling me a mutt. I see Gale telling me to shoot straight, and walking out of my room, never to be seen again…

Then I see Gale on fire. Gale set ablaze, chains around his hands and feet. Screaming at the top of his lungs. Telling anyone that would listen to stay away from the mockingjay, from the Capitol's worst muttation yet, from Katniss Everdeen…

He looks up at me, engulfed in flames. His eyes burn right into mine as he dies without saying a word to me, leaving me with nothing but the memory of the hurt and rage on his face when he looked at me.

I wake up in cold sweat. It looks to be about seven in the morning. The faint scent of pine fills the room. Greasy Sae has noticed me trying to get myself together, and decided to get me an air freshener to fix the staleness in my room. Not wanting to leave it, I pull the covers over my head, before thinking better of it and swinging my legs off the side of the mattress.

After a quick shower, I eagerly make my way towards the smell of hot soup and fresh bread. Greasy Sae must've gotten more imports. My mouth begins to water.

I pull up short when I get to the kitchen table.

My breathing is uneven, my hands are trembling, and my legs are about to give way. I want to scream, and cry, and laugh, and then run away as fast as I can. My heart is pounding so hard I can't hear anything else. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know what I'm doing. The only thing my mind can register is what he's doing. His head jerks upwards, he looks at me and in two quick strides he's at my side with an arm around me to keep me standing. His lips are moving. He carries me to the sofa. He sits me down. His lips are still moving. They stop. He stares at me for a moment, leaves, and comes back with a glass of water. Drink, he mouths to me. Not completely understanding what I'm doing, I take small sips. My heartbeat quietens. My breathing evens out. My ears start functioning again.

But yet I say nothing. I stare at him, look at his dark hair, dark eyes, figure as lean as ever. He's lost weight. He's muscular, though. Still muscular.

Gale silently watches me watch him. He seems to be taking me in now, and I can't quite read his expression. What's he thinking? He looks back into my eyes, then speaks, tentatively.

"Do you hate me?"

He starts with the hardest question. No beating around the bush. Of course not. This is Gale. Gale, my best friend. Gale, my sister's possible murderer. Gale, the boy sitting next to me in my living room, waiting for an answer.

I don't know. Do I hate him? Lately all I've done is worry about him, think about him, have nightmares about him dying, miss him beyond the point of explanation. Yet here he is, right in front of me, and I have no idea what I'm even thinking.

"I…" I'm an idiot. I have no idea. I can't think of a single thing to say to you, because over the last few months I've thought of too many.

"Okay." He stands up and turns around, ready to leave. His voice cracked as he said it, and a wave of emotion hits me like an avalanche.

"Wait!" Before I know what's happening, I'm hugging him so tight I feel like my limbs could tear apart at any second. He's doing the same, quietly stroking my hair as I sob into his chest.

I pull away. I still don't know what I'm feeling. I still don't know what I'm doing. I'm tired and frustrated and emotional and angry and happy and confused and Gale is standing in my living room and I haven't eaten breakfast yet.

"Why did you come back?" The words have come out, and now they won't stop. "What have you been doing all these months? Where have you been? Where you really actually in District Two? Did you meet anyone? Did Peeta ask you to come back? Why did you come back?"

"Katniss." He shakes his head. "Let's get you something to eat first, then I'll explain."

He ushers me to the kitchen table and watches me drink spoonful after spoonful of soup, stuffing in a mouthful of bread here and there.

"I got your letter." He says finally. He's studying my face so closely, I'm sure this must be some kind of trap or experiment.

"Letter?"

He leans back in his seat, and looks down. "It was your handwriting, Catnip…"

Catnip. He just called me Catnip again.

"I barely gave myself five minutes to pack. In a second I was on a train back here. Back home."

It takes me a minute to hear what he's saying, and another few seconds to let what he's saying sink in. "Wait. Letter? What did it say?"

He glances up at me, then looks back down again. "It said 'Gale'." He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and slides it towards me. He's right. It is my handwriting. And it does say 'Gale'. My head is spinning with confusion. Suddenly I remember sitting at the table, trying to write back to him, and being completely unable to find the words to say. Waking up the next morning and finding the whole table cleaned up. Part of me wants to laugh out loud.

"Greasy Sae!" I do laugh out loud.

He looks back at me, confused. "What?"

"I read all your letters last week. All in a day. Then I tried to write you back, but I couldn't figure out how to. Then I fell asleep, then I couldn't find it the next day, then I figured Greasy Sae threw it away, but she didn't! She sent it to you, and now you're here…" The thoughts overwhelm me. Then I look back up at Gale, my best friend, the one I've missed so much, and suddenly panic hits. He's lost weight. I've noticed it before, but I'm really noticing it now. He's lost a lot of weight. "Have you eaten?" I spin around and run to the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards, searching for something edible. Then I remember that he just travelled here all the way from District Two. By train. "Is that the only thing you've worn lately? Do you need a shower?" I turn again and start to run upstairs to get him a baggy t-shirt and some shorts if I can find them.

"Katniss," he says. "Katniss."

The feeling of his touch on my shoulder is enough to still me. I turn around and look at him, completely forgetting why I'm standing on the stairs.

"Katniss, I'm fine. You should stop worrying." He manages a weak smile. He's tired. I can tell. "Why don't we just stay downstairs and talk for a bit?"

"Well…alright. Okay. I'm just excited to see you, is all. And a little worried about you, I guess." I frown at him. "You've lost weight."

He laughs, but it sounds a little hollow. "I'm glad you're happy to see me, Katniss." But he doesn't look glad at all. He looks worried, uneasy. His lips are set in a hard line and he's not looking at me.

"What is it?" I try to read him, but come up with nothing. "You're hiding something. There's something you're not wanting to tell me. Tell me."

He frowns, and hesitates before speaking. "Katniss… you're in shock. You don't know what you're feeling. Things have been hard for you lately, and right now, your mind is confused, and in a little bit of a mess." He glances at me for a split second, then looks away again. "In a few days or so, you'll be raging at me." He takes a step back, and studies me, waiting for a reaction. Denial. Hurt. Something.

I have no idea what to say to that.

"Katniss, you got up early today. And judging by the screaming last night, I don't think you slept too well. Why don't you go back up and get some sleep…"

"You were here last night? You heard me?" I can't look at him. I am completely overcome with embarrassment. Half of my nightmares are about him. Who knows what I'm screaming in the middle of the night?

He seems to be interpreting my question in a completely different way. "I'm really sorry I didn't come up to check on you. I just… I thought it would upset you, or scare you, if I showed up next to you at such an hour with a glass of water, trying to tell you it would be okay. I wasn't sure that-"

"It's okay!" I shake my head. "Really, that's fine. Honest. I'm so sorry, though, that I kept you up with my… yeah." Suddenly, I want more than anything to be hiding under my covers in my room that smells like pine. "I think you're right. I'll go take a nap." I smile at him and go upstairs to my bedroom, where I dive under the sheets and hug myself tight. I'm just about to drift off when I recognize Peeta's voice downstairs.

I hope you liked that! Was it too rushed? Please please review…