The fact that she seems to visibly relax, even if just the slightest bit, makes Derek relax a little bit, too. Sharing one's pain is never an easy thing to do and he doubts that Katniss did it for the purpose of sharing so much as he thinks she did it in an effort to get him to back off. Instead, she's only drawn him in further because now he knows that she understands the pain he feels every minute of every day and now she knows that he understands her. She's not alone anymore. They're not alone anymore.

Derek looks appropriately sympathetic to her when she says that the gas doesn't help. Given the fact that he seldom allows the gas to put him to sleep anymore, it doesn't help him anymore, either, technically. But for it to never be an option, that breaks his heart for her and he wonders if her wounds are still fresh. Derek's had over a decade, now, to deal with the loss of the family who died in the fire and a couple of years to grapple with the loss of Laura. The pain doesn't go away and it never really fades, either, but it becomes easier to function around it with time. He wonders if Katniss just hasn't had that time to help her, yet.

"I wish I could tell you that they'll go away eventually, but mine never did. I don't think they ever will...there are just some things you can't ever unsee," he sighs. Then he pauses. "...do any of your roommates know? About the nightmares?" he asks. Because maybe if she's got some sort of bond with any of them, they'd be willing to wake her up if they hear it; there are signs of nightmares that others can see and hear. It sucks to have interrupted sleep, but it sucks more to have restless sleep, if you ask Derek.