whiskeymitch
Katniss didn't trust anyone, but she trusted him. Even with the events of the game behind her, she still trusted him. Something had been tarnished it was true --- But she still believed in him. She still needed him. Because, to him she was still Katniss, still the girl with the bad temper, just a girl. Everyone else? Saw her as something more. Sometimes she just needed to be --- Katniss. And so she sat in silence outside his quarters waiting. Yet if asked, she wasn't really waiting for him, she was waiting there because, because there she could remember who she was a year ago. She could remember the girl who'd run through the woods with bow in hand, she could remember the girl who'd been grounded by Gale, who'd been willing to give it all up for her sister. She didn't know who she was now, she didn't know who they wanted her to be anymore. She just knew she was hopeless, yet being proclaimed as the hope for rebellion. And a part of her, a fragile broken part of her, needed to be comforted. Though why she came to him -- she would soon be asking herself.
Suddenly he was there, and cool eyes rose to meet his, yet within those eyes was the grief of a thousand years, a grief few could understand. A terror not even she understood. The games did more than make them killers, it awoke within them the terrible realization that no matter how much they may fight it, they were all killers at heart -- and all would kill to survive.