ʜᴇʟᴛᴇʀ sᴋᴇʟᴛᴇʀ ♫

        Someone had to say it -- he thinks, inhaling and staring down at the food before him. They’re both thinking along the same lines though: what words would make this situation bearable? Her words are first though and his lips twitch in a small grin, an exhale that might have been an attempt at laughter.   His gaze flickers back up to her eyes -- so blue. There’s still a certain softness to her that he’d nearly forgotten.          “Never thought I’d be missing anything in twelve,” he adds, grin returning to his face. He takes a breath,  swallowing tensely at her words. How does he respond? A lie? “ I’m -- ” he pauses, clenching his jaw and ultimately shrugging. “ -- adjusting. ” He repeats her word with a small grin, a short laugh. “ Trying to make the most of it, I suppose. It’s all we have. ” He doesn’t dare bring up what he’s doing with his free time. “ What about you? ”

         He knows his lies won’t last -- he’s no medic, and convincing as he might be, he knows Finnick is no fool. He’s doing this all wrong; Finnick is a victor. He’s been burned, bitter, and full of rage. Just like Katniss now. Except he’s been in this game a very long time now. The images Gale had seen of Finnick, the person that he’d portrayed for the media, was a completely different person.          He doesn’t even know the half of it, doesn’t know much about Annie -- but he knows there’s someone he loves back home. He’s got to get him to safety. For her. For all of them. Because he knows the feeling. Perhaps not to the same extent, but he knows.          The others have made sure that their path is clear -- nothing stands in their way between them and safety, but still it’s agonizingly slow. He knows he can fix it, he can make this right -- he’s counting down the steps. “ C’mon -- ” he grunts, determined now.         He almost smiles at Finnick’s words -- memories flashing back to his own wounds, recalling how he felt. Perhaps somewhere, he understands. He drags him through and they’re already waiting for them. There’s noise, voices, some scramble to ease Finnick into a horizontal position again through vague directions. “ Just right here -- you’re gonna be fine. ”         Part of him keeps doubting himself -- you’re not good at this -- but he inhales and pulls back the fabric on his leg again, unable to help himself from grimacing. “ Don’t pass out on me just yet, ” he adds with a small grin.          He tells the others to go ahead, but it’s getting dark anyway and they stay close by. More than anything, Gale is amazed at how steady he’s able to keep his hands. He’s silent -- a better person might have been able to multitask and try to make conversation between applications of burn cream. Instead he’s all focus and doesn’t know what else to make of it.          Sighing, he leans back -- he’s done what he can now. It looks astonishingly better than before, but Gale’s still doubtful that Finnick will be able to continue if even walking proves to be a difficult task. “ I told you not to pass out on me... ” He says with a grin, not knowing whether or not it’ll warrant a response. 

        It feels like another lifetime ago that he was back here. He’s been back in the US for a week already but somehow it still feels like a dream. He’s finally been cleared to go home, but how does he even fathom returning? The injury to his leg will keep him from returning for the foreseeable future, and despite how much Gale despised the idea of being shipped out to war, the idea of coming home now seems more foreign than ever.          He grimaces, shooing his mother away as he gets out of the car. She’s trying, he’ll give her that. He already knows they’re all waiting at home for him; that much of the surprise isn’t all that surprising. He goes along with it, not having to pretend to be genuinely happy to see them all. So he claps Rory on the shoulder, ruffles Vick’s hair, spins Posy in the air -- all with the widest smile he’s had in years. But the grin fades, not due to any unhappiness, but because there’s still one more surprise in store that has truly got him.          “ Hey Catnip... ”

        They’ve gotten this far -- he’s not going back. Not now. Sleep is a faraway memory; the haunting chaos has been keeping them all on their toes and wide awake. Still, it was only a matter of time before the exhaustion would begin to take hold. His leg cramps up, a reminder of the hastily sewn together skin. He could have stayed behind, but not when they’re so close.                                       Take my hand.         He hears her voice like an echo, distant and clouded as he tries to focus on it. Only now does Gale realize that he had stopped moving, that the pain that only felt like a mere ache had actually been enough to cause some degree of alarm in their plan. They’re in too much of a crowd for his liking, hundreds of Capitolites fleeing on command towards the center of it all. And unbeknownst to them all, their own enemy in the midst.                                    Everything’s fine.        He gives a nod, a slow nod as he clenches his jaw. He could let everything that’s just happened take hold of him. Only a handful of their original group had survived thus far. Gale looks directly at Scarlet, breathes in.                                       Keep moving.        “ We’re almost there... ” He recounts, turning his gaze to the center -- where they’re headed. He pushes back the pain in his leg, the chaos from just hours ago. Snow will be dead in less than 24 hours -- he knows this. Squeezing her hand again, he forces a small grin before taking another step into the crowded street. “Thanks.” 

tagged by: @mortalmistakes this bitch tagging: tum tee tum~~~ whoever wanna do it.