Disclaimer: Own nothin'.
A/n: I basically ship everything in this fandom, so you know. But that being said, there is something about the idea of Gale and Annie that gets me - something about their shared pain after Mockingjay that I think could be really beautiful. Or I'm just obsessed with Gale and ship him with everyone. That too.
Prompt: gale/annie; tomorrow will be kinder. (For laddersong)
Tomorrow Will Be Kinder
Maybe it was strange that they were drawn to each other after the war, after all that had happened and what they'd lost, but he didn't see it that way. He saw two broken people who needed somewhere half-stable to stand in the aftermath. He saw a strange girl who just trying to make it to the next day, same as him.
She'd lost Finnick, though she was blessed with a son with eyes the same shade of blue-green. He'd lost Katniss and his home. She wasn't dead, but for all they still spoke, she might as well have been. She couldn't get past the possibility that he may have caused Prim's death and frankly neither could he. And if he couldn't talk to her, hunt with her… Since the end of the war his family was getting by comfortably. There was no reason to stay.
He looked up as Annie came out on the porch, the sea breeze tickling at her long hair. He wouldn't compare scars to determine who's were worse, because they both woke up screaming some nights and sometimes he was the one to comfort her, sometimes she comforted him. He'd wrap his arms around her, hold her close, whisper in her hair as she covered her ears with her hands and cried softly into his chest.
"It's okay… you're okay," he'd say. "Just wait until morning. Everything is always brighter in the morning."
When he was the one who woke up in a panic, twisted up with terror and grief, she'd sing quietly in the dark and trace the planes of his face.
"It'll be alright tomorrow," she'd say. "The sun will shine or the rain will come and it will be better – wash away the bad and the stronger we'll be."
Gale can't remember how this whole thing started. Sometime after the War, after Katniss, after spending a year getting too thin, living on guilt and grief, trying to just survive the day, he'd spontaneously taken a trip out of 2. Well, more like he came home from work one day and suddenly felt so suffocated by his sparse apartment and the same sights and sounds, he thought he might smash his head through a wall, so he thought going somewhere (anywhere) else would curb that feeling.
Once he was in 4, he remembered Annie, Finnick's wife for far too short a time; how she'd been pregnant (thoughts and images of the day Finnick died bombarded him and he'd had to stop and clutch a wall before he could catch his breath). He decided he didn't know her well enough and it would be too strange and awkward to drop by unannounced, and what? Say, hi, remember me from 13? Yeah, Katniss' – former – best friend. Yeah, I went to the Capitol with your husband. Yeah, I was there when he died. Sorry. So, um, how's life? Besides, he didn't even know where she lived.
He'd then proceeded to spend several weeks in 4, traveling aimlessly, staying in hotels, doing odd jobs here and there. Maybe it was the sea air, but he felt somehow refreshed and free, something he couldn't remember feeling since those days in the woods with his best friend (those times that were so far away now, he could hardly fathom that he had experienced them in this lifetime). The dark cloud – no, it was more solid than a cloud – that had been clinging to him, drowning him, doing its best to kill him, had finally begun to lift (if only just a tiny, tiny bit).
He'd bumped into her at a market one afternoon. He'd thought she was as lovely as he remembered from seeing her in 13 (a bit plain looking, but pleasant and sweet). She'd recognized him, all wide eyes and airy voice, humming when she picked out some apples, baby on her hip. And then somehow days later, he was at her and Finnick's home having tea. Then he was coming by once a week and starting to bring groceries, things for the baby. He let the lease on his apartment in 2 lapse and let them rent it out fully furnished.
Maybe it was the smile she had – a pretty one, if a bit lop-sided, one part sad, one part vague, all parts genuine. Or the way she said things sometimes, like they were having a different conversation or like she was talking in a riddle. Maybe it was the way she laughed, especially when he didn't know what was funny. Maybe it was the way everything here in 4 seemed bright and fresh, calm and gentle. Maybe it was the seashells on the wall or the porch overlooking the ocean or the feeling of sand between his feet and salt in his hair.
Maybe it was the way she just understood without a word being needed, or that he knew she was a bit off (others said "mad" but he didn't think so – scarred by the world, different, off, admittedly strange, but not crazy, unless he was too, which somehow didn't bother him as much as it should). Maybe it was the feeling of her dark hair (that shone with red hues in the sun) spilling over his shoulder when they relaxed on the couch and she leaned into him.
Whatever it was, he felt himself slowly healing here in a way he didn't expect or predict. More than a year after he met her, he moved in, and things were never exactly romantic, but he could feel himself falling in love with her and liked to think maybe she loved him too in her own way. She was a different sort of beautiful – different from Katniss, different from any other girl he had known. Maybe that was the point.
"The sun is sparkling on the edges today," she mused, breaking him out of his thoughts. She settled into the chair next to him and linked her fingers through his. "Later we should taste the air by the shore and bring home a treasure."
He smiled at her then, and the muscles didn't feel quite so rusty anymore. "That sounds good, Annie."