It had been six years since the war. Three hundred and twelve weeks since Gale Hawthorne had last spoken to his best friend, Katniss. Two thousand, one hundred and eighty-four nights of nightmares that had plagued him over his head.

It had been six years since the war. Three hundred and twelve weeks since a certain curly blond haired girl had last talked to her family since their deaths. Two thousand, one hundred and eighty-four days of survivor's guilt and post traumatic stress disorder that caused night terrors and hallucinations.

It had been six years since the war.

It had been three hundred and twelve weeks since the war.

It had been two thousand, one hundred and eighty-four days since the war.

Gale was certain that he'd never let himself love again, never make another promise that he could possibly break, never ever would he let himself hurt another person. He had woken from another night of terrors that he couldn't wake himself from. He was gutted, empty and there was nothing Gale could do to escape the terrors. He wouldn't want to, anyway. He was certain he deserved them, and that nothing anyone could say or do would make him think differently. So he was sure of.

He knew the door to Katniss was closed forever, and in those six years, he was positive she'd have a family. The thought stung so badly that he pushed it aside. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice a girl in his way, and he bumped right into her. She gave a small noise, one Gale couldn't quite describe. He stopped and gruffly asked, "Are you alright?"

The blond's blue eyes searched him, and all he could think of was all the ways she did not look like Katniss, did not resemble a girl from the Seam. Her hair was curly, blond, and fell to her waist. Her eyes were blue and wide, round that seemed innocent. She nodded slowly, before her voice caught him off guard. Her voice was not a high pitch girly voice that he expected, but clearly the voice of someone who had gone through something similar he had went through. "Physically, I am fine. Mentally... I'm not sure about that."

The blond girl's words interested him, but not as much as her familiar face. No face should seem familiar to him, not when all the familiar faces were back in District 12. He found himself hoping that she was just a girl in District 2 that he hadn't noticed before. He frowned and asked, "Who are you, anyway?"

The girl gave a small smile, as if she was expecting him to ask her this question. However, that made no sense. The girl had to barely know him, even if he did know her from District 12. The minute the girl uttered her name, he realized how he knew this girl and that there was no happy memories attached to her face either.

"Venus. Venus Keane."