ghosts that we knew: A mockingjay fanfiction

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 4

Gale POV

"What's the matter? What's going on?" Primrose Everdeen asks frantically as Haymitch corrals Prim, her mother, Madge Undersee, and my family into one of the cramped Everdeen residence of Compartment E. "Is something wrong with Katniss?"

"She's going to pull through. The explosion and the blood loss from Johanna removing her tracker did a number on her, but the doctors expect her to recover," Haymitch says reassuringly, keeping his eyes on Prim but addressing the entire room. I release a sigh of relief. From the moment Catnip shot her arrow into the force field of the arena and all of the screens of Panem went gray with static, my heart had been racing. All of Thirteen was in shambles, desperately awaiting the return of the hovercraft with the rescued rebel victors.

The morning's events were almost too surreal to be true, like they happened to some other being in my body and not to me. Slowly, the pieces begin to fit themselves together as my mind wills them to do so.

My comunicuff was nearly self-destructing from all of the signals it was receiving this morning. I raced to the landing dock to be among the rebels who would assist the victors off of the hovercraft. Half of my drive came from my constant desire to be a part of the excitement that the rebelling District always seemed to have to offer. Since my arrival, post-escape from the blazing District Twelve, the leaders of Thirteen have treated me as an equal, perhaps even above the norm, for my military involvement. I appreciated the feeling of being wanted, of being depended on, so much so that I jumped at any opportunity to be at the front lines when action took place in District Thirteen. They had given me a communicuff for a reason, and I was not about to have the one physical evidence of my importance be taken away. There were no chances for stupid mistakes now.

The other part of me rushed to the landing dock because I needed to know she was here as soon as I could.

When the hovercraft landed, it was madness. Soldiers screamed orders left and right at us volunteers as stretchers swarmed with medics began to roll down a steep ramp that led to the dock. I was about to move when I caught a glimpse of a familiar braid whirring past me. Bruised, bloodied, and burnt, Katniss Everdeen never looked more vulnerable than she did in that moment. Her eyes were shut, her body stiff.

In the next moment, she was gone, her survival a mystery to me. One soldier called my name and slapped me hard on the back, where one of the raw, pink scars from my whipping lay, and I winced with pain as I snapped back into action and continued to help unload the other victors to safety, thoughts of Katniss momentarily put aside.

Mellark wasn't among the rescued. I felt the slightest twinge of guilt for being happy about it.

Once my duties were through, I was left to the torture of my mind. Where was Katniss? Was she alive? When I hurried to the hospital, I was turned away, left to pace in a small waiting room until my thoughts-conjuring up the worst scenarios-consumed me to the point of frustration and I stormed out of the hospital to attempt to breathe normally.

But I couldn't feel any sense of normalcy until I knew she was alive.

When Haymitch delivers the good news in a frenzied huff to her younger sister, I am overjoyed. It has been hours since any of us have received word on Katniss' status, and being shoved into a room with all of her loved ones wasn't exactly a positive sign in my book.

"So what's going on then?" my brother Rory pipes up. My mother's hand lands on his shoulder to remind him to be tactful around adults and Rory lets out a strangled yelp. The gesture seems painless, but I can tell by the five slight indents in my brother's shirt that Hazelle Hawthorne's grip is a deceivingly excruciating one.