A/N: I don't know about you, but I rather disliked the Mockingjay ending simply because Katniss ends up with Peeta. I decided to write my own, much worse version, to play along with my Galeniss preferences.

Warning: Suicide references coming up!

I hope you enjoy.

The point of life has long gone bypassed me now, and I can't seem to find what it is. Every day, when I sit on the sofa and stare into space and eat the food Greasy Sae gives me, I think how pointless it is. Why does she feed me still, why does she give me the sustenance to live? I was the Mockingjay. I've done my duties as the inspiration for the rebels who wanted a better Panem. I've been used up.

What am I worth now?

I resort to lying on the sofa pillows after a bout of drowsiness weakens my muscles. I suppose the only reason I haven't done anything to myself is that Greasy Sae is here twice a day and her granddaughter pops by from time to time. She used to come to see me and say hello, she always was a friendly child, but now she plays with Buttercup. Buttercup likes her. Buttercup liked Prim.

I never watch her play with him.

I have not seen or spoken to any other being for the past few months. But they don't feel like months. Every day seems like an eternity, I die at the end of it and am reborn in a hopeless way the next day. The only reason I know it hasn't been years is that occasionally I pass by a mirror which proves that I have not aged correspondingly to the time span I assume it has been.

Sometimes, Dr. Aurelius, my therapist, calls me as I agreed to have conversations with him after I left the Capitol. I never answer the telephone. Partly because I don't have the strength to get up and partly because I don't want to talk. I don't want to talk to anyone again. I might kill myself very soon because I've surely gone crazy due to my lack of communication with other humans, so there's no point being reacquainted with other people.

I fall asleep with plans for my suicide, and wake up with the smell of bacon and eggs wafting from the kitchen. Greasy Sae is cooking me breakfast.

She forces me to get over to the table and eat, which takes much longer than it would have if the Katniss two years ago had been asked. I think about how much I've changed since then. Perhaps I wasn't the most sociable of people, but I did talk to people. Prim. She's dead. My mother. She's in District 4. Madge. She's dead, too. And Gale.

He isn't dead, is he?

I ask Greasy Sae if she happens to know what became of Gale and Peeta, over the past few months. When I speak, I'm surprised how quiet I sound with the effort I'm making to work my vocal chords.

"Gale's got a fancy job in District 2," says Greasy Sae. "I see him on television from time to time. Seems alright. Peeta's still in the Capitol, the last time I heard. He still suffers from his awful hijacking."

Despite the fact Peeta's situation is far worse, I'm more interested by Gale's. District 2? Why on earth would he want to work there?

Maybe to kill more people with his ingenious bombs.

"Alright?" I question. I would think being in a rich district would deem him to be more than 'alright'.

"He doesn't look very happy," Greasy Sae says. She gives me a look. A look that continues what she was saying, but she did not want to say it out loud. Greasy Sae tells me that Gale misses me.

If he did, why doesn't he come? I move onto Peeta, but Greasy Sae is vaguer about it. She insists she's told me all she knows, and I believe her. Haymitch told her the brief details and at the mention of my mentor I want to know why he hasn't come to visit me when I realise why. Haymitch knows me. He knows how broken I am, even after countless months. Haymitch isn't the most comforting person in the world, so he knows trying to console my problems will only make me worse.

I thought all of that Tracker Jacker venom had been kicked out of Peeta, or at least most of it. I feel despair for him that he is still suffering, still thinks that I'm a mutt. I can hardly expect him to come home anytime soon. Strangely enough, this thought doesn't upset me as much as it would've had it been told to me a year ago. Of course, I still care about Peeta... but I am unsure whether I love him. I wonder if I love anyone anymore. A sudden image of Gale comes to mind, but I quickly dismiss this. He killed my sister. Gale killed my sister. How can I love him?

A few weeks pass. Peeta still hasn't come to District 12, and neither has Gale. Have both people who I believed loved me unconditionally, forgotten about me?

One spring morning, Greasy Sae tells me to go hunting. I decline at first, but when she shows me clean clothes, I waver. I sniff, and realise how much I stink. I'm still in the clothes I came in from the Capitol. I take the clothes she offers and go to the bathroom. I avoid the mirror and ignore the bruise that appeared after I tripped over a stair. My skin peels away in squares and clings to my clothing. I feel my stomach tighten and I feel sick.

I choose the most vicious cycle as possible and water rushes over me with such intense speed that I almost fall over. In fact, it's a miracle I don't. I shampoo my hair, one, two three times. I wash my body, getting rid of visible and invisible grime that has been lingering on my skin for months. When I step out of the shower and look at myself, I look more like my sixteen year old self. It's as if I washed away the horrors of the Games and the War. I change into the plain clothes Greasy Sae gave me. They look exactly like my hunting clothes. I brush my hair, which takes half an hour, before braiding it. Slowly, I am transforming into the Katniss Everdeen before she was reaped for the Games. The Katniss Everdeen who hunted for her family every day with her best friend, whose sister was alive and well, where complications in love was never going to be a problem because there was only one man in her life. Gale.

My heart wrenches at the thought of him so I get him out of my mind. I go down the stairs where Greasy Sae directs me to the study where I had my conversation with President Snow. The frightening encounter glazes over me as I take in the hunting boots and two bows and arrows Gale salvaged from the firebombing lie on the desk. There is a box as well, filled with memories of my past life. My father's hunting jacket, a photo of my parents' wedding. The locket Peeta gave me in the arena as well as the spile Haymitch sent in. Not to mention the plant book, the book that saved my family's lives after my father's death.

I ignore it all, apart from the hunting clothes and of course, bow and arrows.

Then I leave the house. In the town square, carts are being pulled about, filled with the corpses of the dwellers of District 12. I spot Gale's old crewmate, Thom, outside the Mayor's house. I ask him what they found. He tells me the whole family, and the two workers who lived there as well. One of those bodies is Madge's. I only acknowledge her death properly now, and feel a wave of sorrow wash over me. Perhaps she wasn't on my list of the most important people in my life, but she gave me the pin which gave me the name for the persona, the Mockingjay.

I hope she gets a proper burial.

I find out later that she will do, along with the rest of District 12's inhabitants when I come across the meadow. It's not really a meadow anymore as much of the earth has been dug up for graves. It's comforting to see everyone gets one.

I move towards the woods. The fence is not electrified, as per usual, and I go in through my favourite entrance. I think about visiting the lake but it seems stupid when I hear my panting as I barely make to Gale and mine's meeting place.

Why does everything remind me of Gale?

Everywhere I turn, there's always something I associate with him. The bows. Thom. This meeting place. I sit down on the rock, which is much too vast for my frail body. It may be a spring day, but I shiver as I cower against a tree and close my eyes.

I wish for Gale to be beside me.

I close my eye, count to ten. But I'm too scared to open them. I count to twenty. Thirty. Forty. I lose track when I feel a strangely familiar presence beside me.

"Gale," I whisper. The person who I've been wishing for is sitting next to me. I, at first, think he isn't real. A hallucination created from the unconscious wishes and desires in the recesses of mind, brought to life through my craziness.

I reach out and touch the rough hands that have often grazed my body. It's real and true. Then, embarrassed to have touched him without reason apart from the bizarre ones I harness, I pull away. I realise the absurdity of it. Me, being embarrassed around Gale? I suppose he has been away for a long time.

Gale doesn't say anything about my actions. Instead, in a comforting silence, the same hand reaches over and tucks my newly washed hair over my ear. It's with such tenderness, and the look he gives me holds so much warmth I hardly believe it's Gale doing this. His gestures remind me of Peeta because Peeta was always so soft. But the difference is, my heart never quickened when he touched my hair.

I'm suddenly reminded with Prim's death and how I immediately associate it with Gale. I jerk my head away and get off our rock and stare right at him, with as much anger as I can muster. It's a good amount, considering my weak state.

"Why are you here?" I shout at him. "I thought you were in District 2! You left me! You left me here alone for months and months and then you decide to come along when you think I'm not as loopy as I was before!" Gale is only mildly surprised by my outburst. I continue to seethe in anger whilst trying to forget the touch from him moments ago.

I can't love the man who killed my sister.

"You killed Prim! How dare you come back, seeking forgiveness, when you killed the person I would've always loved! I hate you! I hate you Gale!" Then, with all my power, I reach over and slap him across the face.

It may be my imagination or perhaps it really happened, but I swear all the birds flew out of the trees and the rabbits scurried away when my hand collided with his cheek.

I stare at the angry red handprint now plastered on his face. Not once does Gale move to retaliate. Instead, he looks at me with such sadness I feel a weight of guilt settle in my chest. With each passing second the red mark gets more coloured and the more I regret inflicting pain onto my old hunting partner.

I swallow hard. I'm about to leave when I just manage to catch the words that escape Gale's mouth.

"I'm sorry."

I'm sorry.

That's all he can say. I'm sorry.

The words sound almost meaningless when written down on a page. But, the way he says it tells me everything. No one can be this good an actor; I understand genuine emotion when I see it. Gale didn't mean to kill Prim. In fact, he didn't kill Prim. I've been so blinded with my losses that I've failed to see the reality through the horrors. Gale was there with me when the parachutes fell. Coin killed Prim. She sent her to the Capitol, when she was too young, to break me beyond repair. To make me lose touch with what is right, what is wrong, what is left and what is right. She succeeded. I've secluded myself from all but two people, lost touch with my mother and the friends I made along the journey of freeing Panem.

I almost succumbed to suicide. I lost sight of the point in life.

But now, I see a glimmer in the distance, a flicker, as I topple over as the last of my energy is weaned from me. I collapse into Gale's saving arms.

For the first time in a time period I don't know, I'm resting in utter comfort in my bed. Not the sofa downstairs, where the springs' location was becoming more obvious every day and thus causing my discomfort. My eyes open and gorgeous sunlight falls in through the windows and the birds outside chirrup and for a split second, all is right in the world.

But only for a split second. It hits me soon enough.

Was it all a dream? Did I dream my meeting with Gale in the woods? Did I dream shouting at him and saying those horrible things?

Of course not. When I dream, I have nightmares. It was real.

I turn my head towards my bedside table where breakfast awaits me. I guess I've slept in. I haven't done that in a while. It's only when I'm eating my toast do I realise that I didn't have any nightmares last night.

Hunger gnaws my stomach so I quench the monster with wonderful bakery bread, which reminds me awfully of Peeta. I wonder how he is now. Alright? Unfortunately, I doubt it.

Someone knocks on my door, and I allow them to enter.

It's Gale.

Had he come yesterday, before I shouted at him and before he gave me the worst yet most touching apology, I would've screamed at him. Told him to leave. Basically, say the same things I said yesterday but with more venom because he is intruding my personal space. I don't want to say any mean things. I don't feel his intrusion. I feel a welcomed presence.

"Hello," Gale says.

"Hi," I reply. We look at each other for a moment. He only takes a chair when I tell him he can. He doesn't feel like he should be here. After a moment of looking at him, looking at his clasped hands, I realise I have numerous questions I want to ask him.

"How are you?" I ask him. He looks up at me. He has a cautious expression, but smiles ever so slightly when he gives his reply.

"I'm fine, thanks. You?"

"Okay," I say. Another awkward pause. "Why aren't you in District 2?" I finally ask.

"I wanted to see you," Gale answers without hesitation.

"Why didn't you come and see me before?" I ask him. He is going to answer many of my questions.

"I wanted to, right after I heard you left for District 12. Haymitch told me not to go see you," Gale said. Before I can impose an interruption, he continues. "He says you needed to be alone. You had suffered beyond the capacity of a normal human being should suffer and needed to think things through. It hurt, the fact I wasn't even allowed to see you, but I followed through. Haymitch got me a job in District 2 and moved my whole family over there.

"I didn't like what I did. My job was to create weapons for future purposes. I didn't want to. I had already caused enough destruction with my ideas and making new weapons to kill even more humans was the opposite of what I wanted. Killing animals and people are not the same; animals are killed for survival while people are killed for entertainment and power. I told Haymitch I wanted to quit straight away, but he wouldn't let me. He told me stay and work and look after my family, like I've always done since I was fourteen.

"I've missed you Katniss; that's an understatement. But it's difficult to put my thoughts into words. Katniss... Catnip... every day, without you, was just an empty routine, void of happiness. Yes, I had my family but you have a different meaning to me Catnip. I still don't get how I managed to tolerate every endless day without being with you and knowing how you are. You could've been dead for all I knew. Haymitch doesn't know I'm here, and I don't plan telling him until I bump into him in the street.

"Catnip please... understand that I never, ever, not in any shape or form wanted to kill Prim. I loved Prim too. Not as much as you did, but she was like a sister to me. When she died... I knew there was no point trying to get you to forgive me. I don't want you to forgive me. I don't deserve it. I just want you to understand. I regret everything I've done to kill people. I was stupid. I wanted to fight back, but didn't think of the repercussions. I never think. I just do. And it cost me dearly."

Gale swallows, because surely his mouth has dried up from talking. I just continue to stare at him, taking all of this in. It takes me a good five minutes. Gale was never good with words, I know that and he knows that I know that, but that doesn't hinder communication. I know Gale like the back of my hand, which isn't a surprise due to our close hunting partnership for an excess of four years. I know what he means.

He tells me, I need not forgive him. I don't want to forgive him; why forgive him for something he never did?

"I think, I've said everything." Gale says. "Unless, you have any other questions."

I nod. He answered many of my other questions with his speech, but I still have a few more.

"Where's Peeta?" I ask. I see how his face falls, his heart breaks in his eyes. He thinks I still love Peeta.

"He's in the Capitol, but I heard they finally got most of the Tracker Jacker venom out, so to speak," Gale said. I nod again.

"Did you quit your job then?"

"Yes. My family and I are going to live in 12 now..." Gale answers. I feel a small smile creeping on my lips. The first one that has appeared on my face in a long time.

"Two more questions, if you don't mind," I say.

"Of course," Gale says.

"Do you love me?" Gale looks almost astounded by my question. Isn't the answer obvious, he is thinking.

"Yes," Gale says. "I have ever since you were fifteen and I was seventeen and never have stopped since."

My smile grows wider. What's with me today? All this smiling.

I suppose it feels good.

"Last one," I half whisper. "Kiss me."

It isn't question, more of an order. When Gale finds it difficult to process my request, because it's truly out of my character, I lean over and kiss him. It's a gentle press of the lips but nonetheless, the jolt of electricity that flows through me is not a lie. I pull away and look straight into his eyes.

That flicker of reason, of point to life has grown tremendously. Of course. Life has meaning now. I have something worth living for.

I love Gale.

Today, life has and will gain meaning. I will find my mother's letter I never opened, go find Haymitch and see how he's doing, say hello to Hazelle and Vick, Rory and Posy and maybe even go to the Hob. Heck, maybe I'll even stroke Buttercup and give him a little treat.

Because I now know life can continue after a war. Even when one has lost so many, one can find love again and love can bring one out of the darkest of places. It will take time, I know. I already feel tired again, but over time, the strength needed will be found. Only Gale can help me with that. I look at him.

He's said nothing, yet he has explained everything.

He tucks me into bed and brings the covers right up to my chin. It feels good. I feel loved. I notice a hand print shaped bruise forming on his right cheek and reach up to touch it gingerly. He winces, but only a little.

"I'm sorry about slapping you," I say. Our lips briefly meet again.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Catnip." Gale tells me as he shuts the door with the gentlest of clicks.

The End

A/N: Wow. That was a big hunk of Stilton Cheese wasn't it? Sorry for the OOCness! Also, I tried to keep as accurate to the book as possible. For example, Katniss did actually see Thom when she left her house in the book, but I just wrote it slightly differently. I wanted to follow the book as much as possible.

Whilst writing this fanfiction, I had to read the last chapter of Mockingjay again and I have to say, when you analyse Suzanne Collins' writing, you can tell what a great writer she is. She has a way with words!

Please review, they are greatly appreciated!