Katniss woke with a splitting headache, her arm tethered by two tubes as pangs of pain hit her lower back. It took a few moments for her to realize that she was back in a hospital in district 13. What happened?

Then she remembered the explosions. The capitol had sent bombers to shell what remained of district 13. There was hardly any warning, any time to get underground. They had sent the bombers during Peeta's speech, ensuring that there would be no time to escape, no way to get a warning through the broadcast.

Katniss had been in headquarters when the attack came. The precious seconds of foreknowledge when they realized the bombers were coming were spent hurrying her down flights of stairs while Coin was making announcements from a portable PA system. The first explosion rocked the entire left side of the compound. Katniss had been thrown against a beam when the force of the second explosion hit the right side. She must be in a hospital deeper beneath the surface.

Katniss heard someone shifting; Prim was in the room. Her sister smiled sadly at her and asked how she was feeling.

"How many died?"

"The numbers are still coming in. Right now its at eight hundred something." Katniss closed her eyes in frustration and sorrow. Prim once again asked how she was feeling.

"Sore, but still alive." Katniss replied hoarsely. She looked around the room for Gale. He wasn't there. "Where's Gale?" She asked, urgency staining her voice. "Is he alright?"

"Yes, Gale is fine." She hesitated. "He's in Rory's room."

"Rory? What happened to Rory?"

"He was caught in the force from an explosion and his head was hit with flying debris. He's really hurt, Katniss."

"I want to go see him." She said and attempted to sit up. Prim was up in a flash and pushed her back down to the bed.

"No, Katniss." She said. "You need to rest."

"Prim, if you don't help me go I'll just do it when you're not here to stop me."

Prim sighed and looked around for anyone who might be watching before she helped her sister into a wheelchair and took her down the hall to intensive care. Gale was sitting by Rory's bed with the rest of his family. He looked up.

"Hey, Catnip. How're you feeling?" His voice was tired and laced with sorrow.

"I'm good." Katniss replied and let Prim roll her over to him. Katniss' eyes shifted to Rory. He was lying in the bed, his head wrapped tightly with a clean, white bandage. He was asleep, but looked like he was the farthest thing from being at peace as was possible. His chest rose with a shudder.

As she looked at the Hawthorne family, Katniss realized what they had been told. The doctors didn't expect Rory to survive. Hazelle let a tear slip down her cheek as she took Rory's hand. His eyes flickered open and Hazelle leaned forward and put her hand on his cheek. Her smile reflected the one that was playing at the corner of Gale's mouth.

Rory slurred Gale's name just once before slipping back into unconsciousness. Gale tried to gently rouse his brother again while Prim went for the doctor. They clung to the small hope that his trip into consciousness would be enough to change the doctors' prognosis. It wasn't enough to change the fate, but it was enough to get him scheduled for another scan of his brain in a few hours. To the constant worry of his family, Rory slipped further and further into unconsciousness in the hours that preceded the scans. When they brought him back from the short trip down the hall with the instant scans, the news was not good. Rory's brain was swelling. This is what has caused the coma that he fell into shortly after waking. All discomfort was drained from that youthful face in the peace that was this deep sleep.

Around midnight they put tubes into his lungs to help him breathe. Two hours later they had to start keeping a shock machine in the room with him to restart his heart whenever it would begin to fail. But he held on through that night despite the horrible odds against him.

Rory remained unconscious for two weeks, prompting the doctors to try and convince his family to let them pull the plugs and allow Rory to die. Hazelle wouldn't hear of it. After sixteen days of deep sleep Rory woke. The family had their own quiet celebration though there was no hope that he would recover without brain damage after the amount of swelling there was. In fact, it soon became clear that Rory was damaged far beyond repair. His grey Seam eyes stared ahead blankly whenever he was conscious and there seemed to be no communication until Gale or Prim would come into the room. After two months he seemed to get a little better and they allowed Hazelle to take him back to their room. His slight body sat in the wheelchair all day long until Hazelle would put him on the floor so she could bend his limbs to help him stretch or Gale would come home and coax a few bites of food into him before carrying him to bed. He never spoke, hardly moved.

One night Gale picked Rory up and placed him on the couch with his mother, trying desperately to find some semblance of normalcy. Hazelle kissed her son's forehead and brushed his hair over to cover the long, mangled scar where the hair would never again grow. Suddenly Gale pulled Rory over to himself and gripped him tightly in an embrace, holding his brother's emaciated body to him. Hazelle let him be until she saw a sob shake her eldest son's back.

"Gale." She said gently and put her hand on his arm.

"It's not fair." He mumbled. "He doesn't deserve this. He's not even here with us any more."

"Yes he is." Hazelle replied. "There is still a piece of him here with us."

Gale cradled his brother's head and still held him tight. "I wish it would have killed him." He murmured.

"What?" Hazelle whispered after getting over the shock.

"I wish Rory would have died when that beam hit him in the head. I wish he didn't have to live like this every day. I wish he could look me in the eye and eat solid foods and not have to use a catheter and that he could walk again. We don't even know if he still has cognizant thought." He paused. "This is no way for him to live. For his own sake I wish he was dead."

Hazelle looked at her child, who lay so feebly in Gale's arms and she knew he was right. Rory would be better off if she had let them pull the plug many months ago. Now he would be forced to live like this for the rest of his shortened life. Yes, many, many years had been shaved off of her son's life with this injury. They told her he would be lucky to make it to twenty years old. She felt a pang of guilt when she realized she wished that time would come quickly. She longed for the day when those grey Seam eyes would close in eternal slumber.

Mother, mother, I see you staring at my eyes.

Can you tell I'm still here?

Brother, dry your tears. I know you're wiser beyond your years.

Mother, can you tell from my expression each day,

that it tickles when you move my arms that way?

Oh Brother, some days I wish I were dead too,

for each morning brings challenges anew.

You all think I've lost the ability to think. But my thoughts are all I have.

I wish I could do more than blink.

Oh, mother, don't cry. Soon we will all be able to see the sky.

Gale you look so strong in your uniform, handsome too.

I wish I could go with you.

Vick, Vick, you hardly do anything now

other than scratch at paper with your charcoal stick.

Of the lifetime I once had, few years remain.

Posy, don't drink juice on the couch, it could stain.