Chapter 23

I don't know who to feel more sorry for. Peeta, Gale, Haymitch, Paylor, or myself. I wish I could cross myself off the list. But I can't do it. Because Prim is gone.

Paylor, I realize, is barely holding up under her own duties to the new government of Panem. I haven't the first idea on how to run a government that has been shattered into pieces, let alone piece it together. Shame rushes over me when I realize how difficult it must be to root out the rest of Snow and Coin's supporters on top of that.

Peeta. I will always feel sorry for Peeta because he has to deal with me. Because he always tries to protect me. To save me. Because he is so good and kind and I always end up doing something that slaps him in the face. Because he fights the venom every day and comes out victorious.

Haymitch is someone I probably shouldn't feel sorry for. But I do. It isn't his fault that he was thrown into the Games and lost his entire family due to the fact he wouldn't submit to Snow. But I partially believe that he didn't have to turn to alcohol to relieve the pain. On the other hand, everyone deals with their grief differently. I shouldn't judge- I have Peeta still. And Peeta has me. Haymitch has no one. But that's what me and Peeta are here for.

Gale, despite his memory loss, seems alright. As I walk with Peeta to the room Gale is supposedly in, I lose myself in thought. Gale forgets things, but how much does my best friend remember? Ex-best friend. Hunting partner. Ex-hunting partner. Ally. None of the words fit for him. And I can't seem to place my emotions for him into any of these categories.

Nor do I really know what I'm feeling. Do I still hate him for something he may or may not remember? Does he know that he created the bombs that blew up my sister? Does he realize that his genius plan caused the war to be won at the price of thousands of deaths, including young children?\

As we reach the doorway, the Peacekeepers stand at the sides of the doorway and wait. I turn to Peeta and I don't have to see his face to know that he's hurt. "Peeta..." I trail off, not knowing what to say to him.

His jaw clenches tightly. He refuses to bring his gaze down to meet mine. "He's in there," he says quietly.

I reach up with my right hand and lay it gently across his cheek. Even if I don't know how to put my feelings into words, I know that I can still reassure him that I will never leave him.

"Do you want to come in with me?" I ask this even though he looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here at the moment. He shakes his head firmly, his golden locks falling across his eyes. "I'll wait here," he says, quietly.

My fingers trace the side of his face carefully. His eyes carry the expression of a kicked puppy, and I feel terrible, as if I'm the one that dealt the blow. "Peeta, this doesn't change anything," I mumble.

He looks up then, his eyes betraying his sadness. "Yes, it does."

The Peacekeeper interrupts us then. "You have 10 minutes until your interviews start. I suggest you hurry, because your prep team is on its way." He doesn't say this rudely, glancing at the door quickly.

I open the door, but look back over my shoulder at Peeta, who leans up against the wall, looking like he's going to cry.

Gale is standing near a wooden desk, frowning down at some sort of paper on its surface. As I get closer, I see that it is a blueprint of some sorts.

His head tilts up and he notices my approach. "Ms. Everdeen, I wasn't expecting you," he says, moving to cover up the designs. He stops when I place my hand on the edge of the paper, preventing him from doing so.

"Gale, what do you remember?"

"People seem to be asking me that a lot nowadays," he says to himself. He motions to a chair nearby. "Please, take a seat."
Its odd, seeing Gale act so politely to me. So distant from me. When I'm seated comfortably, he begins. "Not much. The doctors ask me if I slowly get the memories back, but I honestly haven't had much improvement I suppose."

"So what do you know?"
He chuckles. "My name. I used to live in District 12. My father used to be a coal miner but he died. I still have my mother, my two brothers- Rory and Vick, and Posy. They all still live there. I don't remember much about 12. Maybe because I was young. I joined the war efforts in 13 when the rebellion began, but I don't remember much about that either."

"You don't remember life in 12?" It almost seems unreal, forgetting those four years we spent together. Hunting. Depending. Always a team. Despite what had happened, I would always cherish those years if nothing else.

He shakes his head. "Nothing interesting happens in 12 anyways," he says, laughing. "12 got bombed, which made me join the war. But I don't remember much about 13 either. Its all pretty blurry, but I'm pretty sure I just did the same old thing that I'm doing now- designing weapons and machines."

So he only remembers the main idea, not the finer details. "Do you remember any kind of event during the war? Anything out of the ordinary?"

He thinks hard before saying, "Well, Mellark was taken as a prisoner when he came back hijacked. I remember you had to kill Coin. And then the war was over. I spent almost all my time in the weapons lab I guess."

Its almost as though his memory is sprinkled here and there with these turning points. As if he was watching from the sidelines rather than by my side at all times in 13. It both disgusts and alarms me. He doesn't remember coming with our Star Squad in the Capitol. He doesn't remember Prim being blown to pieces, burning. He doesn't remember anything.

Which leaves me wondering whether or not I can hold the blame over Prim's death over his head. Part of me tells me that if he hadn't created either the bomb or the bombing plans, Prim would still be alive.

"You know, I'm sorry."

"What?" I ask.

"You look so sad. I must have done something in the past that I've forgotten about." He looks genuinely sorry. "And it must have hurt you deeply."

I'm shocked. "I- You're right. But there's nothing to be done about it now."

He looks at me carefully. "Was it bad?"

I pause. Should I let him carry the weight of his actions? I should. But I can't.

"Its in the past," I respond simply before getting to my feet.

Gale nods, but is distracted. "I wish I remembered so I could really apologize," he admits, shifting the blueprints on the table. "You looked so upset."

I shrug. The pain of losing Prim is fresh again, but I can't seem to expose it in the form of anger. I'm just sad that she's gone. "I have to go," I mumble, excusing myself from the room. Gale just lets me go.

Peeta is still waiting outside, his head staring down at the ground. His shoulders slump over as he clenches and unclenches his fists in his pockets.

Seeing him so depressed over what is happening with me and Gale makes my heart wrench painfully. I only wish he understood that this didn't change us. That I would never change my mind about having him in my life.

So when Peeta looks up, I throw myself into his arms and hug him tightly. He barely manages to keep us both righted, thanks to the wall he's leaning against, his arms instinctively catching me around my waist. When his fingers rest on the exposed skin of my back, it sets me off again.

The hunger is back. The hunger I felt in the cave and in the Quell and when Peeta kissed me right when he got back from 13. It ignites a fire within me, and I tilt my head up quickly so my lips collide with his.

He seems completely off guard, jerking his head back a little, but I refuse to let that stop me. I kiss him hard, passionately. Trying to convey to him that I don't feel that way for Gale. Only for him.

His lips part slightly for him to inhale a shaky breath, and I take the opportunity to deepen the kiss. My tongue traces his bottom lip instinctively. I can hear the voices in my head begging Peeta to respond in some way.

Its only when his mouth begins to move slowly against mine and his hands move to touch the skin on my back that I begin to burn intensely for him. I'm arching against him, pressing my body against his and forcing him to straighten up.

His kisses trail from my mouth along my jaw to my ear, where he teases the soft skin there with gentle nips. I'm gasping now, burying my head in his shoulder where I'm suppressing the urge to groan from the amazing sensations he's creating. When his lips meet mine again, I don't hesitate to take his head in my hands, holding him closer.

Our kisses are feverish and leave us wanting more when we finally pull away. Peeta doesn't move his hands from where they lay against my skin and I savor the way his soft skin feels against my back. He's staring down at me, panting. We both are, actually. His eyes are a hazy blue, like fog over the blue waters of District 4.

He takes a deep breath and huffs, "There's no cameras around you know."

I just smile and take his hands in mine, holding him close and looking him directly in the eyes.

"I know."