You knew that it would come down to this, eventually.

Prim launches herself at you the minute she sees you. The relief in your mother's hug is palpable.

'You made it! I knew you would!' Prim squeals, hugging you tighter. You smile wanly.

But it's not your mother or Prim that worry you. It's stormy-eyed Gale, who won't meet your gaze. You can see him shaking from the effort it's taking him to remain impassive. And he's never been one to lose his temper. That would scare away game, part of you observes.

Pointlessly.

You don't know where Peeta is.

'Gale-'

He looks away. 'My mother made me come.'

There is nothing - absolutely nothing - in that flat, cold voice that reminds you of your best friend.

But you know the meaning of enduring pain (better than most) so you smile anyway. 'Thank you for coming. And for taking care of Prim and my mother while I was gone. I knew I could count on you.'

And that's when he snaps.

'Stop pretending that everything's the same between us!' he explodes. 'Like the whole of Panem didn't see you so infatuated with that - that spoilt baker's boy!'

You remind yourself that you'd probably be just as mad, if the situation were reversed. Hearing girls whisper about Gale is unsettling enough - imagine seeing televised recordings of multiple kissing-in-caves?

'He helped to save my life,' you say quietly.

He scoffs. 'In exchange for what? Your undying devotion?'

You stare at your feet. Because you are so woefully tired of everything.

'Gale, remember that I-'

He makes an irritated sound, caps it off with a 'Forget it,' and you watch him stalk his way back home.

Prim squeezes your hand. 'I think he's jealous of Peeta.'

You smile sadly. 'I think Peeta's jealous of him.'

--

Moving into your new home doesn't take much effort. You have hardly any belongings. Now you have far too many.

'They're very generous,' your mother says, almost nervously. She knows that too many innocent lives have paid for the comfort you now have.

You still choke up when you think of Rue.

'Do you know if the baker's family have moved yet?' you ask quickly.

Your mother nods. And right on cue, you can smell freshly baked bread. Except this time, it's all for them.

'Maybe you ought to pay Peeta a visit?' she ventures.

The younger you would have rolled your eyes and ignored her. But you've aged about a million years, and you have other battles to fight.

--

You stand at their door and give a few tentative knocks. The old witch opens the door, and - surprisingly - flings her arms around you in a warm maternal embrace.

'Thank you for bringing back my son! I knew you would come back, but having Peeta safe too-'

You hear Peeta sigh. 'Calm down, Mother.' He stands up, ushers her into her room, then you wait for the awkwardness to begin.

'So,' he begins slowly, 'you're here after all.'

You smile. 'Least I could do.'

He looks at you with maybe a hint of hope. 'I didn't think Gale would be too happy with that.'

You shrug. 'I don't think he cares.'

He blinks. 'What?'

'He's upset with me. After - he saw what happened between us.'

'Oh.'

You smile brightly. 'So that solves it then! I've lost my best friend, and I hope - I hope we can keep talking.'

Peeta looks bewildered. 'After everything we've been through, you want us to keep - talking?'

'Yes, talking would be good.'

'Katniss,' he says softly. 'I want more than just talking. And I think you do too.'

You cover your mouth with your hand to stop the overwhelming urge to cry. Before you change your mind, you hug him tightly, then turn and run back home.

--

You stay indoors for the next few days. Your mother politely declines interviews on your behalf, saying that you need time to recover from the ordeal of the past few weeks.

You dream of fire. And ice. And broken, broken butterflies.

--

Peeta visits on the third day of your self-imposed incarceration. Part of you is still hoping it'll be Gale.

'Hey,' he says. 'I brought some bread.'

You smile despite yourself. 'Gale called you a spoilt baker's boy.'

He shrugs. 'I've done pretty well despite that, don't you think?'

You close your eyes. 'Yeah. You have.'

'Move over.'

You realise how hard it is to even move, then wonder if this is just a taste of the darkness your mother felt after your father died.

'I can't-' you say, 'I'm too tired.'

So he gently slips under the covers, places your head on his chest, and strokes the hair from your forehead. Gently, gently.

'I can't marry you or have children,' you mumble, 'in case you're about to pop the question.'

He chuckles. You like how it sounds.

'I wasn't, but thanks for the warning.'

You bury your face deeper into the curve of his neck. 'I do like you, though. A lot.'

He tells you that he loves you, a lot, and that he can live with you liking him.

'I'll just work harder, and bring it up a notch.'

'Oh?' Your turn to chuckle. 'And how do you plan do to that?'

He nips your bottom lip. 'Less talking.'

Then he shows you how.

--

You wake up and he's not there.

Sitting up, you look around. He's sitting by the edge of your bed. Moonlight turns his hair into gold.

'You say his name in your sleep.' No anger in his voice. Just a chasm of sadness.

'Give me time,' you say carefully.

--

And of course, Gale turns up the next day. Contrite. In his own reticent, gift-bearing way. Two squirrels. Pointless now, given the extravagance of food at your disposal, but old habits die hard.

He sits at the breakfast table, eyeing Peeta warily.

'Thank you for helping her,' he says stiffly.

Peeta nods politely. 'You would have done the same.'

Gale gives a small, forced smile that twists your insides. 'Yes. I would have.' Then he looks at you. And you look away.

'Take care of her,' he says softly, getting up to leave. You watch him exit your front door.

And against your better judgment, you rush out.

'Gale - I never meant to hurt you - none of this was meant to turn out this way - I -'

He presses his lips on your forehead, and you know that this is the closest you're ever going to get to any sort of closure.

'Stay with him. That's the only way you can guarantee safety for Prim, your mother, and stability for you. You deserve no less.'

'What about you?'

'I'll live. I'll hunt. Forage. Do what I do best. Wait for the reaping, each year.'

'What if one of your brothers or your sister get picked?'

He touches your lips, smiling. 'Then I'll volunteer. Take care of my family. And remember me.'

THE END