(Untitled)

[worldisburning]

He doesn't sleep well. He dreams about Posey and his Mom's hands and his brothers. He dreams about them thin and hungry. He dreams about Katniss and wakes up flushed and sad with no real memory of what he was actually dreaming. His new bed is wide and empty and not his. He dresses in the dark and shoulders his bow

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[burnwithus]

She doesn't sleep anymore

[worldisburning]

"What're you doing out here?" Even now, he just loves her; he loves her even though he suspects that it's doing both of them more harm than good. He stands there in the dark, his bag heavy against his thigh. "Everybody's asleep, Catnip."

[burnwithus]

"I couldn't sleep," she admits. I never can, she thinks, leaning herself against a tree in order to stop the dizziness. Katniss knows that she could ask at the clinic for something to make her sleep. But she's tired of being drugged, because it feels as though she's spent half of the past few months slipping in and out of hospitals. Not given a choice before someone slipped a needle in her arm. They couldn't have their precious Mockingjay making a scene, after all.

No more drugs.

"What are you doing here?" Katniss asks him, although the game bag at his hip says it all. He shouldn't be well enough to pull a bow yet, but it looks like his snares are doing reasonably well. Of course they are.

[worldisburning]

"I couldn't sleep either."

He watches her lean against the tree, watches something pass across her face, and it's pure concern that pushes him across the gap between them. He looks down at her, head tilted to one side.

"What?"
He knows her better than anyone.

He used to, anyway.