Author's note: You never thought this update would come, did you? I wish I could say it's worth the eight-month wait.

I exhale a breath of relief as Prim comes up quickly behind the fire-haired girl and effortlessly lulls her back to rest into the darkness of the room. Suddenly, a rush of trembling helplessness overtakes me at how frustrated I feel that there's no one to lull me into an unconscious state anymore. There's no one to sway me into vacant peace. Not anymore. I shrug. Oh well.

I lean backwards against the frame of the front door and it's a few blank minutes before I realise I've slipped to the floor. I swallow, catching the outside in my peripheral. It's nearly completely nightfall and it'll only get darker, I tell myself. I'll never find him, if the Peacekeepers haven't already. I blink, with that voice garbling incoherently in the back of my mind. I think I can make out a scoffing Why do you even care?. Perhaps, he's already dead. Long-dead. Or dying. No. I swallow hard and quietly exhale. Dead is better. It's already too late and dead is better.

It takes next to nothing for me to slip away, but even less when I feel a gentle hand rest on my shoulder. My eyes jolt open and they blink the image of Prim's face. She's kneeling in front of me with a tender look on her face.

"He's—" I can barely even hear her, but I nod before she can finish, and for a moment she looks at me with a mixture of concern and displeasure. I lean my head slightly to the right and my eyes stare past her for the doorway, yet as Prim is always Prim, she knows my wordless inquiry. "Still sleeping." She says quietly and without wasting another second, she stands up and reaches out her hand to me. I press my lips together in a convincing smile and let her lift me up a bit. Prim shuffles back to the room and I stand frozen as my eyes fixate to the floor in front of the bare table. He could still be alive. Something whispers. I quickly shake my head, trying to absently walk past it, trying to ignore the what ifs. What if he's dead. What if he's not. What if I could walk out and find him and he'd smile breathlessly and wave me towards him and ask about his fire-haired girl and he could survive this. What if I could intervene and I could save his life. I could stop it from happening. I could just..

Suddenly, I stop and I glance to see the tips of my fingers brushing across the cold wood. I feel exhaustion boil over me, with a few thoughtless tears escaping my knowing, with frustrations turning into a quiet fit of crying. It's good, I tell myself. I'll sleep better. Even so, I cry harder in the silence and annoyance of myself. I shouldn't be crying. I haven't cried since…I told myself I had no tears left, that my emotions were a bone-dry canteen and squeezing its hollow girth would only be frustratingly fruitless and that I had better accept that perhaps whatever made me human had long died. Whatever it is, confusion and fatigue or the sense of betrayal, from Gale or myself, I can't yet decide. But he's gone. That smiling idiot. I don't even know him and he's gone and he's dead and it's better. Isn't it?

"Dammit. Dammit. Dammit." I grit through my teeth, and almost in the same moment, it sweeps out and I remind myself that Prim is barely in the other room and I roughly smear away the tears, clearing my throat and exhaling. It's done.

I shift my weight to lean down towards the table, my shoulder aching and resonating throughout my body at the sudden hardness of the wood and I slide over onto it, my feet hauling up the heavy boots and my chest hauling something heavier. The ringing in my ears somehow eases to nothing as I settle my back uncomfortably against the table. I blink. And again. Slower. With more effort. Staring up at the ceiling and hearing his voice speaking in a high tone, The table is very unpleasant for a rest, Kat-niss. I swallow, with my throat making a disgustingly slimy noise and it reminds my stomach that it's empty. Which reminds my throbbing head that Prim's stomach is empty. And there's a wounded person in her bed and she's watching over her. She can manage that. Prim can starve and still make sure someone else doesn't die. I stare at the ceiling. The night vacantly runs on and I stare. Streams of warmth and wetness glide down the sides of my face.

I blink several times, making out a face standing over me. The first thing I notice are the bright, bright eyes. Light and clear, staring straight through me. My head feels like it's sloshing inside of its own emptiness and I quietly groan as surfacing consciousness gives me the privilege of returning to my aching pangs. Yet even so, it all feels so surreal that I'm certain no physicality can restrain me from lifting to the sky.

All at once, it all comes flooding back, and my voice musters something on its own.

"…Dad?" I take in a quick breath, and what feels like a sharp pain in my stomach, I leap forward to sit up as my head throbs excruciatingly. I press my fingertips into my forehead, shaking my head lightly. "What are you doing here, Gale?" I ask, more so groan, and I turn to look over at him as he hesitantly looks me in the eye.

The window behind him shows the fresh turquoise of first morning and he glances away for a moment, scratching his neck and even in my haziness, I wonder if his eyes are actually that welled-up.

"I got the deer." He says quietly. "We can trade for it today."

"Great, Gale." I say coolly, arching my back as if hoping some sort of crack will automatically remedy how uncomfortable up the table left it. "You're just plucking off defenseless creatures for your benefit left and right, eh?"

I glance over at him and arch a brow. He faintly shakes his head. "K-Katniss…come on." He presses his lips together, lowering his head as he takes a moment to inhale. His eyes fall to the floor. "I didn't—"

"That's exactly right." I say quickly, feigning a smile when he looks up at me. If the pit that was my stomach wasn't so aching, if that didn't remind me of everyone else's hunger, if my body wasn't hurting more than usual, if none of this mess ever happened, I would've reconsidered how I stare back at Gale. But right now, I can't. He's a small boy to me as he stands there, blinking more than usual like he's just waiting for the opportunity to explain his side and have me return to his side, to reassure him.

The silence stiffly goes on and it isn't until he speaks that I realise I've not yet blinked and my eyes feel as they're on fire. He swallows and hesitantly mutters, "I just felt.."

"Scared." Again I'm too on-edge to let him finish. The exhaustion is making me deliriously invigorated. "You felt scared. And that's fine. Gale, it is. You can't have a life like this and not be afraid." His shoulders somewhat relax, and I finally pry my eyes from burning holes through his forehead. "But honestly," I pause, sighing as I shake my head. "We can't afford to be scared like that. 'Cos when does it stop?"

His eyebrows furrow in confusion and I slide off the table, my boots making a nice clomping sound and I glance back at the doorway. I look back at Gale as I see no figure stir from Prim's bed. "You start giving that fear a piece of you, Gale, and it'll take all of you. You'll be a hollow coward who can't trust anyone."

Suddenly, someone who looks a lot more like Gale glances up at me, I stop and look back at him and he frowns. "Are you honestly saying you trust those strangers? Honestly, Katniss?" His voice quietly grows more defined in his anger. "You would honestly trust them with your family? With Prim? What could possibly make you-"

"His eyes." I say suddenly, and I'm staring off absently just to picture his face. "I told them about the Hunger Games and the way it.." I press my lips together and hang my head, bringing up a hand to comb back the strands of my hair that fall over my eyes. "He can't die. Not here." I look at Gale and I give him a small smile at the way his face is slowly softens. "We can't let that happen, all right?"

He takes a step back, fitting his palms against his hips and helplessly shrugs, "Why not?"

I just watch him for a few seconds and I shrug back at him. "He's someone's dad, Gale. So." I gently tug at the pockets of my jacket and exhale towards the front door, setting up in my head already all the places he might be. "We can't let that happen. Not again. I can't let it happen again."

There's a moment of rushing silence, when suddenly the floor creaks and my head darts to see the fire-haired girl shakily making her way out of the doorway. Her eyes are squinting hard as she grips the doorframe, exhaling a quiet groan and from how pale her face is, I figure she has such a migraine that it's a wonder she dragged herself up at all. But even so, the unlikeliness of her nature is still there.

"I think I may have unintentionally licked some dirt in my sleep." She says in a hoarse voice, and she glances up looking for someone to give her an amused reaction, finding only wide-eyes from both me and Gale. She gives a small smile, and sniffles, closing her eyes and craning her neck around until she gets her quiet crack and she exhales a contented sigh. "Better than sleepin' outside, true. Better especially than him thinkin' he can climb a tree to sle—" She stops suddenly and looks over at the table, staring somewhat absently for a few seconds before wetting her lips and bringing a hand up to rub against her forehead. "If he honestly died and you lot snuck him out while I was out—"

"No, no." I say quickly, a voice in my head shouting at me to leave it at that, and yet.. "We don't know where he is." I shut my eyes and hang my head. As if that was so much better.

"Oh, well." She quietly utters, nodding. "No, no, you're right. That's more reassuring." I look up to see her brightening eyes fixating on Gale. "He was with you, yeah?" He's standing there in a frozen haze, as if he could bolt out the door any second. Something else, too. Something I saw earlier. I can't seem to place it. "The Doctor wandered off, didn't he?" She breaks her stare and looks casually at me, blinking lightly as her voice became quiet and breathless. "He does it a lot… Wanders off…. 'Back in a mo'…. Gets himself in trouble. ..He's..He's such an idiot. That's what happened, yeah?"

Before I can even think, I'm taking a step in front of Gale. "Yeah." I nod. "That's what happened."

A few long seconds pass, and she's not taken her eyes from mine and I feel a little of what Gale projected only thirty seconds ago. The way she stares. The way it uneases me. She always makes a crack joke and smiles, but here she's looking into my depths and I just know she could take out what she needs. All it reminds me of is how great a tribute she would make. Throw her in the arena and she could cut someone at the knees before they could even understand what was happening. I swallow suddenly and look away from her gaze, glad that she follows and glances back to the table. I keep my eyes loosely to the floor, watching as she takes a step towards it and her eyebrows furrow, with her fingertips hovering over the wood of the table. I catch her circling a finger around a particular blood stain. She exhales a strained breath.

"He's dead, isn't he?"