“Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato," he says.“Then you shoot me," I say furiously, shoving the weapons back at him. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!" And as I say it, I know death right here, right now would be the easier of the two.”
“Then you shoot me,' I say furiously, shoving the weapons back at him. 'You shoot me and go home and live with it!' And as I say it, I know death right here, right now would be the easier of the two'You know I can't,' Peeta says, discarding the weapons. 'Fine, I'll go first anyways.' He leans down and rips the bandage off his leg, eliminating the final barrier between his blood and the earth.'No, you can't kill yourself,' I say. I'm on my knees desperately plastering the bandage back onto his wound.'Katniss,' he says. 'It's what I want.''You're not leaving me here alone,' I say. Because if he dies, I'll never go home, not really. I'll spend the rest of my life in this arena trying to think my way out.”
“I'm so sorry," I whisper. I lean forward and kiss him.His eyelashes flutter and he looks at me through a haze of opiates. "Hey, Catnip." "Hey, Gale," I say. "Thought you'd be gone by now," He says. My choices are simple. I can die like a quarry in the woods or I can die here beside Gale. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay right here and cause all kinds of trouble." "Me, too," Gale says. He just manages a smile before the drugs pull him back under.”
“I don't want you forgetting how different our circumstaces are. If you die, and I live, there's no life for me at all back in District Twelve. You're my whole life." Peeta says. "I would never be happy again. It's different for you. I'm not saying it wouldn't be hard. But there are other people who'd make your life worth living." "No one really needs me," he says, and there's no selfpity in his voice. It's true his family doesn't need him. They will mourn him, as will a handfull of friends. But they will get on.... I realise only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me."I do," I say. "I need you.”
“Agreed," I say. "It's going to be a long hour.""Maybe not that long," says Peeta." what was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me ... no competition ... best thing that ever happened to you ... "" I don't remember that last part," I say, hoping it's too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush." Oh, that's right. That's what I was thinking," he says " Scoot over, I'm freezing.”
“It's impossible to be the Mockingjay. Impossible to complete even this one sentence. Because now I know that everything I say will be directly taken out on Peeta. Result in his torture. But not his death, no, nothing so merciful as that. Snow will ensure that his life is much more worse than death."Cut," I hear Cressida say quietly."What's wrong with her?" Plutarch says under his breath."She's figured out how Snow's using Peeta," says Finnick.There's something like a collective sigh of regret from that semicircle of people spread out before me. Because I know this now. Because there will never be a way for me to not know this again. Because, beyond the military disadvantage losing a entails, I am broken.Several sets of arms would embrace me. But in the end, the only person I truly want to comfort me is Haymitch, because he loves Peeta, too. I reach out for him and say something like his name and he's there, holding me and patting my back. "It's okay. It'll be okay, sweetheart." He sits me on a length of broken marble pillar and keeps an arm around me while I sob."I can't do this anymore," I say."I know," he says.”
“I brought you this." Gale holds up a sheath. When I take it, I notice it holds a single, ordinary arrow. "It'ssupposed to be symbolic. You firing the last shot of the war.""What if I miss?" I say. "Does Coin retrieve it and bring it back to me? Or just shoot Snow through the head herself?""You won't miss." Gale adjusts the sheath on my shoulder.We stand there, face-to-face, not meeting each other's eyes. "You didn't come see me in the hospital." He doesn't answer, so finally I just say it. "Was it your bomb?""I don't know. Neither does Beetee," he says. "Does it matter? You'll always be thinking about it."He waits for me to deny it; I want to deny it, but it's true. Even now I can see the flash that ignites her, feelthe heat of the flames. And I will never be able to separate that moment from Gale. My silence is my answer."That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family," he says. "Shoot straight, okay?" He touches my cheek and leaves. I want to call him back and tell him that I was wrong. That I'll figure out a way tomake peace with this. To remember the circumstances under which he created the bomb. Take into account my own inexcusable crimes. Dig up the truth about who dropped the parachutes. Prove it wasn't the rebels. Forgive him. But since I can't, I'll just have to deal with the pain.”