Gale

Strong, gloved hands clamp over my mouth, muffling my embarrassingly loud scream as a fist makes contact with my gut. I'm knocked over on my knees, my eyes bulging to try and take in my surrounding. It's definitely a Capitol hovercraft, there's evidence all around. If the Peacekeeper uniforms didn't give it away, the seal on every flat surface sure as hell did. Even the painted-on version of the seal makes me want to break something apart.

My eyes dart around, searching for Katniss urgently, to make sure she's okay. Instead I'm suddenly blindfolded, and a sharp pain takes over my left arm. A strange calm floods in through my veins, as I accept this as reality and lose my bearings, as well as my strength to struggle. My last sane thought is that at least Katniss looked pretty.

It's a while before I'm brought out of the very realistic nightmares that took over my supposedly peaceful slumber. I can't tell exactly how long I've been out, but by the look of the skies outside the window, I could say it's been a few hours. The colors are turning from blue to orange, signaling that evening is near. Suddenly, my mind clicks the pieces together, and I sit up, just before a pain shoots through my arm again. I look down and see the syringe poking out of my skin.

Morphling drip, I think with a shake of my head in disbelief, eyeing the bag with the thick, familiar liquid. Sure, why not? As if I'm still in the haze, I look around slowly, trying to find something—anything—even remotely familiar. I let out a huge sigh when my eyes finally rest on Katniss's face, looking so peaceful under the effects of the morphling. It brings me back to her last panic attack, and the way she seemed to relax under the effect of the drug. But then I remember all the warnings about morphling overdose, and addiction, and I rip out the syringe from my arm, preparing to do the same for her.

A Peacekeeper stops me all of a sudden, and I remember the reason why we are on this hovercraft. I shove him away, punching his abdomen for good measure, before zooming in on the girl, the young woman really. With a touch as light as feathers, I let my fingertips graze over her cheek, down her arm. Her eyelids fluttering are the only signal that she isn't, in fact, dead. Even her chest rising and falling isn't noticeable. Then my hand reaches the IV, and I remember what I'm on this side of the room for. My fingers have just closed over the tube when someone yells for me to stop.

"Gale! What the hell are you doing?" Haymitch demands, bursting through the room in a drunken stupor as always. The stench of alcohol on his breath is so intoxicating that I unexpectedly lean against the bedrail. "Don't touch her until she wakes up by herself, you dumbass!"

My eyebrows furrow in confusion as I try to understand what is happening. Why is Haymitch giving me instructions that could potentially benefit whatever these new Capitol goons are planning? "What does it look like I'm doing, you sour old drunk!" I slur, still partially under morphling effect. "I'm saving Katniss! And right now I've got half a mind to not do you the same favor!"

"Sit down!" orders Haymitch. I still struggle against his instructions, until a deeper, more authoritative voice echoes it right behind me.

The man whose voice called out is of medium-height, the same age as my mother probably, with gray, shortly cropped hair, and a roughened scar down his cheek. He is walking on a cane, wincing slightly as he makes his way across the room to me. "You, sir," he says reverently, extending his free arm to shake my hand, "must be Gale Hawthorne."

I jut my chin out defiantly, uncertain as to whether or not trust him. Obviously Haymitch trusts him, but given his state of mind I wouldn't use that as solid grounds to do so myself. Besides, he's—no, I'm wrong. He's not wearing a Peacekeeper uniform. Now that I think about it, as I look around, nobody seems to be wearing the uniforms.

I eye his hand warily before deciding to just shake it. "Yes, that's me," I answer nonchalantly, trying to keep the forced evenness in my voice. "And you must be…?"

"Boggs," he replies, much to my surprise. So that's Boggs, the soldier from Thir—"Commander Samuel Boggs, of District Thirteen. Now, I am sure you must have tons of questions regarding your present state on this aircraft, but first of all you should know that your family," he pauses and looks over at Katniss, "and the Everdeens have been sent for by one of our other hovercrafts, and they are expecting them shortly back in the district."

I'd had no idea until now that my family and Katniss's family would be in any sort of danger back home. Now, however, my deepest fears have solidified, and I can't help but feel that this is partially my fault, for having agreed to leave them behind. I should've stayed with them! Or, at the very least, brought them along with me. "Will they be okay? Why are they being transferred, is that some sort of preventive protocol or is it direct action being taken against another threat?"

"I think—" Boggs begins, but is soon interrupted by a loud beeping noise coming from Katniss's side of the room. We both whip our head around instinctively, only to see it is coming from a machine hooked by her bed. She is probably beginning to awaken.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," says a familiar voice, striding over to her and pressing a few buttons on the machine. I'm trying to figure out who it is, when I see the spiked hair. Like he just underwent electric shocks.

"Dr. Aurelius," I growl, not even bothering to hide the thick venom coat in my voice. I turn to Boggs, incredibly confused. "What's he doing here? He's nothing but a Capitol slave, a doctor!"

Boggs looks at me calmly, as if I'm not screaming or raising my voice at all. He takes a seat at the edge of my bed, resting both of his hands atop his cane as Dr. Aurelius nonchalantly tests Katniss's pulse. "This might be a good time to tell you that Dr. Aurelius was an undercover rebel doctor working in the Capitol. He worked to save the lives of prisoners that had to undergo severe pain and torture, and even helped develop a special, undetectable anesthetic for the more serious torture."

Morphling, I think to myself. I'd learned in school a few years back that morphling was practically undetectable if you were tested for it. The effects, however, were more noticeable if you were under the influence of the drug. Then I glanced at Katniss, and took in the raw skin around her ankles, the paled flesh from being covered up for a few weeks. "Then why did you put the tracking device on her?" I demand, trying to find a flaw in this explanation. Surely Dr. Aurelius couldn't be trusted!

"How else would we know when to give you a lift from Eleven?" asks Boggs, and he looks at Dr. Aurelius and joins him in a hearty chuckle. My cheeks burn in embarrassment, as if this plan had been so obvious all along.

Suddenly, there's an impact on the left side of the hovercraft. Well, impact is probably too light of a word to describe the nerve-racking sensation sending shockwaves through the plane. Boggs tilts his head towards the cane, which is just when I notice some sort of electronic contraption on his wrist. He looks up, out of the window—where smoke is clouding everything in our line of sight—and mutters something under his breath. Then he turns to me.

"Gale, you're pretty good with firearms and hovercraft technology, right?" he asks, and maybe it's just the rumbling of the plane but I get the feeling that he's as nervous as I am.

I can only nod and hope it's the right answer. It must be, by the way he immediately walks over and yanks me up from my seat. "Then we'd better get ready to fight fire with fire."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: YES, I finally finally finally updated! I'm so sorry for keeping y'all waiting for SOOO long! Thank you guys all so, so very much for your amazing reviews. I literally blush every time I read them! On Tuesday is my last exam, then I'll be all yours (; I love you all, and keep up the reading!

-TGBW

P.S. Sorry for the long chapter, eat a potato in my honor.