Gale

There's a crash in the middle of the night, followed by screaming that I immediately recognize as Katniss's. Luckily, everyone in our house is seemingly undisturbed by this horrifying moment, except for me. I reach into my closet for the only weapon I dare keep in the house—a small slingshot and a large, sharp rock—and grab my jacket, then run through the light snow and barge into Katniss's new house. The door squeaks in protest, its shiny new hinges joining to complain along with the wood brushing on the floor, but I'm too busy running up the stairs two at a time to reach her. I'm not expecting anyone to be attacking her—I don't even know why I brought the slingshot, maybe in case I couldn't enter the house and had to shoot at the window—but I still panic, especially when I remember the crash.

"Katniss!" I shout, bursting open the door to her bedroom. She sits on her bed, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down her face, and I can tell immediately she's shaking uncontrollably as her hands comb through her hair frantically. Suddenly I realize they're covered in blood. I look around to find the source, only to see the remains of a window just a few feet away from her. I instinctively run towards her, scooping her in my arms. She's shaking her head.

"Pe—Peeta!" she gasps, out of breath and choking on a sob that just won't come out. "Gale, Peeta's…I have to save him!" she cries, and I speak softly to her to bring her out of her nightmare.

"Katniss," I whisper soothingly, "it's just a nightmare. You already saved him. Now, let me see your hands." She whimpers but lets go of her hair, and as soon as I lay my eyes on her hands I know it's bad. They're covered in blood, most of which is already starting to form a thick crust over each cut, which stands out against her olive skin. "I'm going to take you to your mother, okay?" She nods faintly in reply, and I carry her downstairs and towards her old house in the Seam.

"What is this?" I ask, half an hour later. Mrs. Everdeen has been hunched over the table, closely examining Katniss's cuts the entire time, before she pulls out a small sewing set along with a half-empty vial of clear liquid. I eye the liquid suspiciously, wondering where I've seen it before—I've definitely seen it, but the memory is too foggy to recall.

"It's a painkiller," she says to me absentmindedly, pouring a droplet into a small syringe. Prim clings to Katniss's waist—whether out of love or to restrain her, or both, I can't tell—as her mother points the needle at one of the bulging veins.

"Is that all you're going to give her?" I ask incredulously, gaping as she injects it into Katniss. The effect is immediate, and I can see Katniss relax into the chair as Prim carefully, slowly lets go of her. I snatch the syringe from Mrs. Everdeen's hands, and the vial of the painkiller, and clumsily attempt to pour the whole bottle into the crystal cylinder. I can't believe she would give Katniss such a small amount, when she is so obviously in pain! Even though she already looks much better—her face is no longer flushed, her eyes have lost that wild, crazed look they had when she was screaming and crying, and she's even got a hint of a smile going on—I'm scared of the moment her blood has sucked out all the peacefulness of the drug, and she's aware of the pain again.

Mrs. Everdeen huffs, frustrated, and steals the vial and the syringe away from me. She quickly wipes her hands on her nightgown, before grabbing a small, thin needle and stringing a thin material through the hole. "We have to give time for the morphling to fully take effect," she sighs as she adds a few quick, neat stitches onto Katniss's hand. Then she lets it go, trusting Prim to press snow on it, and begins to work on the other one. "I don't want her to overdose, which is surprisingly easy to do."

My eyes widen at the name of the drug, and I automatically remember where I last saw it. On the same kitchen counter, as I lay on the table roughly a year ago. It had been the first public whipping that 12 had seen in years, and it so happened to be mine. Katniss was there, too, holding my hand. She'd…she'd kissed me, I realize, and my fingertips reach up to touch my lips, a blush spreading across my face. Katniss had kissed me. She hadn't run away with Peeta or Haymitch, or anyone else. She'd chosen me. The girl I love had stayed behind for me.

"You need to give her more!" I plead anyways, putting my hands on Katniss's shoulders gently. "What if it runs out? What if it stops working, and it hurts her?" I clench my teeth at the thought of Katniss getting hurt just because her mother wanted to save the precious morphling.

She shakes her head sadly, and Prim walks around Katniss to press ice into her other hand. "It's like you two are made for each other," she laughs lightly, patting my head as she yawns and walks away. Prim looks at me shyly, blushing, before she runs after her mother.

I sit next to Katniss, and gingerly take one of her hands in mine. She winces slightly, but doesn't complain otherwise, and I look at it, contemplating the perfect stitches that her mother has done to fix up her hand. "You're going to get better," I say to her in a low voice.

She looks at me sleepily, fighting off the effects of the morphling as her eyelids struggle to close. "I hope so," she breathes in reply.

I lift her hand and kiss it before putting it back on her lap. "I love you," I whisper in the quietest voice I can muster. It's been about a year, also, since I last said that to her. Or first said that to her. I wince subconsciously, expecting the same negative response that she'd given me that time.

But it never comes. She leans her head to the side, slipping away into a morphling-induced sleep. I gently lift her onto my legs, resting her head on my chest—which must be monumentally more comfortable than sleeping on a chair the rest of the night—and hold her in my arms. I'm on the brink of unconsciousness myself when I hear her whisper one word, one name, so quietly I almost miss it.

"Gale."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm really sorry it took so long to update this chapter, I was busy writing for my third fanfic. Anyways, I'll try to update the next one as soon as I can! Ooh and also, R&R—because it kinda feels like I'm talking to myself sometimes…

PS: Sorry about the AN, I'd said I wouldn't include anymore.