Summary: She never had many friends, and the war stole most of them. But the ones left always seem to find their back. Gale comes to Peeta and Katniss' wedding.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Embers

"Haven't seen so much food at a wedding in Twelve in—well, ever."

Katniss felt her breath stop in her throat as the old, familiar voice reached her with a baritone that dug its heels into the past. She clenched her hands at her side, nails sinking into skin, instinctively preparing for an onslaught of images from the war: mutts and white roses, the parachutes striking a match under Prim's feet—but they didn't come. Perhaps time healed more than she gave it credit for.

She turned slowly and deliberately, hoping her face would mask any emotion, even if she used to be an open book to him.

"And yet, it's not half of what it would be in the Capitol." The evenness of her tone startled yet pleased Katniss.

"Plutarch would have loved that." His gaze flitted across the spacious living room of Peeta's quarters in the Victor's Village. "Is he here?"

"No. He would bring the cameras, and I've seen enough of them for a lifetime." She paused. "And everyone's seen enough of me."

"So, you didn't invite him?" He raised an eyebrow.

"We're not friends either." Katniss shrugged, unapologetic.

He was silent for a moment and she knew he read the implication in her words. Were they still friends? She made her peace with Prim's death eventually, at least enough to separate the blame from him. But they had grown apart during the war, where sometimes she wondered if their friendship became nothing more than habit and childhood pacts.

The war was long over, but she could see it beneath his now styled hair and marble-white suit. He would always be a soldier, like her. That was their reality, and the lives they carried on now—him with his hi-tech career in Two and her reconstructing life with Peeta in Twelve—were more a façade of normality. Peacetime was the illusion to her, and the edge in his eyes said the same. That was a victory for Snow, and Katniss felt a flicker of her old hatred.

"I'm surprised you came," she said finally, when the silence grew long and uncomfortable.

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "I'm surprised you invited me."

She didn't know if it was the perceived arrogance in his smirk or his certainty that his presence would unbalance her, but a proud, defensive spirit stirred in her bones.

"Peeta said we should," Katniss retorted, and grimaced inwardly as the words fell out, ugly and hurtful, reminding her of how she once toyed with the emotions of both of these men—either of whom would have laid down their lives for her sake without a thought.

But he didn't rise to the bait. "He always was the best of us." His words were quiet and a little sad.

She took in the sight of him fully, tracing his well-known features with her eyes. Even though he lived in Two now and traveled often to the Capitol, he didn't take to its cultural fashion of alterations and outrageous outfits. Not that he needed to—all his life, people told Gale he was naturally handsome, even in his inglorious coal mining days. Katniss could never help but think he could find a hoard of prettier, sweeter girls than her lined up to take his hand.

Suddenly, she felt grateful he came. She loved Peeta, and there was nothing left she could offer him. And with her family gone, there was nothing he could do for her. Still, he came.

"I wanted to invite you. You're my oldest friend, Gale." His name felt strange on her tongue from disuse. Her muscles stiffened out of reflex, as if bracing for a risky leap. "I never had the luxury of many friends, and Snow made sure to kill as many as he could." Bitterness crept into her tone, but she had learned to control it better, feeling the hot resentment fade quickly.

His angled features softened into a smile, and he tentatively reached out to brush a rebel strand of hair from her eyes. "I couldn't miss your wedding, Catnip."

Caught off guard by his tenderness, she forced a laugh and shifted her gaze downward. "Didn't think I'd ever marry him, did you?" she murmured.

"Nah," he said, and shook his head, "that didn't surprise me."

"Is it hard to be here?" she asked bluntly, meeting his eyes again. It was a loaded question, and they both knew it. Did she mean coming back to Twelve, or watching her marry Peeta? She left it up to him what he wanted to reveal.

Gale never played games, or minced words, and that had not changed. "I'm not in love with you, Katniss."

And with that, a burden lifted off her heart and she felt lighter. A little emptier too, which was irrational and selfish towards both Gale and Peeta, especially on her wedding day, but Katniss knew she would never be completely altruistic. Gale owned a small piece of her that she couldn't take back, and even if she did, it would not fit into the puzzle of who she was now.

All she said was, "That's a relief."

"I'm dating Johanna."

Katniss swung her head to look across the room. Johanna Mason was speaking animatedly with Greasy Sae, gesturing with her hands. Her scars—from two Hunger Games, Snow's torture chambers, and the war—were still visible, but she was undeniably striking with her full head of hair now and petite features. She was a real firebrand too. More than Katniss ever was, and Gale was drawn to that kind of spirit.

A flurry of emotions swept through her—unbelief at the unlikely pair, then the briefest pang to think she would never have a claim to Gale's heart again, and then a stab of joy. They were her friends, and one day a long time ago, it would've been wishful thinking to see either of them happy.

When she turned her attention back to Gale, she caught the slight twinkle in his eye. "You liar," she accused, and he let loose a short laugh.

"You fell for that so quickly. Some things never change."

She tried to glare at him, unsuccessfully biting back a smile. "I should have known. You didn't even arrive together."

"We cross paths once in a while these days. But Johanna is a little too much for me," he said, chuckling. "You relieved?"

"No, I was about to be happy for you two," Katniss shot back, still miffed at his small prank. "And then immediately warn you that you two would never work out."

"Well, neither of us has ever tried to kill the other, so I'd say we could start on worse footing." Gale spoke lightly, and Katniss heard the jest mixed with caution in his words. He meant it as a joke, but it was sensitive territory still fraught with old memories and nightmares.

She brushed it off with a snort, allaying his worry. "Give it a few days and that would change."

They both laughed and fell silent again. It was more comfortable this time, at least to Katniss, but she was still glad when Peeta moved across the room and joined them, wrapping an arm loosely around her waist. He glanced between her and Gale, perhaps gauging where they stood with each now. She gave him a small nod and smile to reassure him.

"Gale," Peeta greeted him sincerely, stepping away from Katniss to grasp his hand.

"You look a lot better than I last remember," Gale said nonchalantly, which brought a smile to Peeta's face.

"No other way I could convince this girl to marry me," he returned easily.

"She's not the best at making up her mind," Gale agreed. His shoulders relaxed, and Katniss suddenly realized how much more uptight he was earlier.

Even after his hijacking, Peeta did not lose his mastery of words. But Katniss knew it was more than his talent that alleviated the discomfort of an awkward situation or inspired people to action—it was his innate spark of life and warmth that drew people to him. Even Gale seemed more at ease with him than with Katniss, but she couldn't begrudge him for that.

"I'm still here," she muttered, but privately, she was pleased with the camaraderie between the two of them.

Peeta's arm snaked around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. "We know, Katniss. This is your wedding."

"Don't mock me." She elbowed him lightly in the side.

Peeta only beamed before looking back to Gale. "Thank you for coming."

"Well, I had to give you my condolences," he intoned, attempting to maintain a straight face.

Katniss threw up her hands as both of the men laughed, but warm delight spread through her. They were all a little broken, but moments of real joy still sparked unexpectedly, breathing new life into her blood. Every glimmer of happiness came with a bittersweet tinge, as she would think of the ones she longed to share it with—Prim, Finnick, Rue, and the list would go on. But she had decided to live well to honor their memories.

They spoke of inconsequential things, like the people Gale met in his job, and the changes Katniss and Peeta witnessed in their district. Gale and Peeta kept the conversation moving fluidly, while she was content to listen and observe, allowing the moment to sink deep into her.

Before long, Haymitch staggered towards them with a bottle in each hand. "People are asking when the dancing starts."

"He's drunk at your wedding?" Gale stared at him, his expression caught between indignation and amusement.

"He came for the free liquor," Katniss said automatically, earning a glare from Haymitch.

"The dancing starts now," Peeta cut in, expertly diffusing the verbal sparring about to take place. He glanced around. "Let's find a partner for Gale."

"Oh, simple." Katniss raised her voice to carry across the room. "Johanna, would you come dance with Gale?"

Johanna smirked, and sauntered over casually. "Sure, brainless. Last I checked, he's the best looking guy at this party." Gale reddened slightly, and Katniss suppressed a laugh. "Aside from the groom, of course," Johanna amended, casting a contrite look at Peeta.

"Lying doesn't suit you, Johanna," Peeta chuckled.

He signaled to Greasy Sae, and in a few seconds, music filled up the room. People began pairing off and dancing, many in the tradition of District Twelve, though some with the flavor of the Capitol and other districts. Katniss smiled innocently at Gale as Johanna dragged him away, and then she turned her attention fully to Peeta.

"Let's dance," he said simply.

Katniss lost of track of time as they leapt and spun, limbs flying wildly to the rhythm. Her cheeks flushed and the lights and people around them dimmed as her dizzying world narrowed to Peeta, their movements growing in synchronization as the music made its way into them. And she made a silent toast to hold her loved ones close—those who were gone, and those who still remained.