Balloons

Katniss had returned from the Hunger Games, and Gale has a surprise.

.

Gale didn't wait very often, in fact he was usually in quite a hurry, whether it be to reach the woods for a moment of hunting, or to grab the last ride down the long elevator shaft into the coal mines. He didn't like stopping, there was something about being still that made him vulnerable, prey-like in a sense. As if instead of he being the hunter, he was the one being stalked.

But that muggy Sunday morning was far different from most, especially the other six days of the week. Sunday's were off days, usually reserved for hunting, checking, and setting snares along the long expanse of wilderness that ran background to District 12. These were the days in which Gale could take a breath and only cough for a moment, instead of hours on end; when he could wipe the sweat from his face, and not have to look twice for the coal smear on his hands.

"Alright Catnip, where are you?"

Tree climbing he usually reserved for his partner, if he could really still call her that. Since the ending of the Games, and the first ever crowning of two winners- due to quite an impressive stunt on his Catnip's part might he add, she'd become distant. She spent time around her fellow tribute, sure, that was expected, as they'd both been through quite an experience, but really had something happened in that arena that was making her avoid him like this? Maybe he had been imagining it, or maybe there had been a spark between-

Gale shook his head, ruffling tossed coal-black curls, and shooing the thought to the depths of his mind. No, he couldn't think of that. Now, was only the time to think of Catnip. His Catnip.

If only she'd show up.

Maybe she got held up helping Prim and her mother.

Maybe they sent her to the Hob for supplies.

Maybe she lost track of time.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe she's with Peet-

"Gale?"

The sudden rustle of the leaves above him, made Gale wobble on his own branch. He clutched the sides, interlocking his fingers around a thinner point. Don't look down Gale. Instead he tried to turn his gaze upwards, focusing on the spot above him, "Catnip?" That was her voice wasn't it?

But instead of her response, he hears the plop, and there's a small little projectile falling from above, a single arrow sticking through its eye.

Gale catches the scream in his throat, forcing it down, trying to recapture his composure. The squirrel catches in the arms of his branch, laying still and lifeless, death on impact. The type of shot that'd kept her alive in the arena.

"Gale." And there she is. Below him. Cupping on hand around her eyes, like binoculars against the sunlight and looking up into his tree.

"Hey Catnip. Thanks from stealing some time away from Rye, just for little old me." It was supposed to be a joke, by why'd the comment come out so bitter in his ears?

"You know it's Peeta," she snorts, "But they're both bread. So close enough, I guess."

He smiles, a small little thing that Katniss hadn't seen much since she'd returned from the Games. It was insignificant, yet it seemed to light up his face, and she found herself smiling back. "So what do you want me for anyway? Can't catch even a meal for one by yourself?"

"Well if you're going to act like that, then maybe you don't want to see your surprise."

And then he laughs, another rare occurrence, as a look of suspicion crosses her face. He climbs from the tree, slowly lowering himself to the ground below as she states, "I hate surprises."

"Oh, I know," he taunts, "But this is a good one."

She shakes her head, retorts a, "If you says so," but grips her bow firmly in hand, and follows the retreating form of her friend. And yes, because they're them, they check Gale's snares along the way.

.

"Okay keep 'em closed."

Not one for following orders, Katniss gives an irritated snort, but keeps her palms pressed to her face, "Are we almost there?"

"Almost!" And then there's his hand, warm and calloused from month after month of setting increate traps and snares, wrapping around her own, guiding her forward. She follows, somewhat reluctantly, but she lets him pull her. They're no cameras here; they're no reason to pretend that she doesn't have this thing deep down, this little bud or spark or however it she put, that yearns for the feel of his hands in hers. That's waited to grasp his arms and pull them around her, to hear his soft voice, ever since she entered the arena.

But then there was the other. A complete opposite, and she couldn't quite distinguish the feeling that he had nestled within her as well.

"Now, open."

Slowly, Katniss opens her eyes, blinking as they reintroduce to the sunlight. And then she's blinking even more, and her hands have crept down to cover her mouth, which is gaping open at the sight before her. Hundreds of hundreds of them float aimlessly around in the soft breeze, bobbing beside and into one another. They scatter in the sky like confetti, each a different pastel color, purples and greens, and yellows. Bright colors, and deep, and dark colors, colors rarely ever seen in a place like the seem.

"W-what are they?" Katniss asked, her usual taunt gone from her voice, as she reaches out to touch a weaker one. It lolls on the ground, the remaining helium slowly slipping from a small whole in the lip.

"Balloons," he replies, his grin growing wider, overjoyed by her response. "They used to be really popular a long time ago or something. Like way before the war, maybe even before Panem? I don't know." He tacks on the last bit, at her dubious look. "The man at the market found 'em in his basement. He's been trying to sell them for weeks, but no one really needs any. You can't eat 'em." Gale snorts the warning, as if that would be the first thought she had.

Katniss steps back, grasping her hand in Gale's, as she tilts her head back into the sky. "Why aren't they floating away? Do they stay?"

"I have 'em tied to a branch by their strings."

Katniss doesn't respond. And Gale doesn't try to start a conversation. It's as if the Games hadn't happened, and the distance between them could now be crossed in one confident stride. And Gale's happy, because his Catnip's happy, or at least he hopes she is, and that smile, a little thing that tilts up the corners of her lips isn't just for show.

"Why'd you do this?" she asks, pulling him from his thought, "Even if no one wanted them, you still must've paid a couple of squirrels. And it took up hunting time, and everything." She's looking away now, pulling her hand back, her face flushing pink.

Gale shakes his head again with a sigh, "Really Catnip, don't you think?"

"What?"

"Don't you think that maybe," and here he stumbles as he reaches for her hesitant hand. "Maybe I just wanted to do it, to make you happy, you know?"

A moment passes between them; it's silent enough to hear the frisky footsteps of rabbits and squirrels as they scuttle just out of reach of snares.

"Did it?"

"Did what?" Her voice sounds far away, and glassy, as though she's holding back. But what Gale couldn't be sure.

"Make you happy?"

Katniss shakes away his stern gaze and looks back towards the balloons. She doesn't nod, or even murmur her approval. She's just eyeing the strings, watching them waver back and forth.

"Yes," she finally replies, "They do." Gale doesn't know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. So solid, and cold. Couldn't she be a little more excited, grateful? He's turning away when he feels thin arms wrap around his waist. It's quick and short. But he's knows it's her, he could smell the scent of pine in her hair, and feel the warmth of her skin.

"What was that for?" he asks, not looking at her. She's already recoiled back, and is staring up again, her eyes glazed over as if she's somewhere else. Hopefully somewhere more peaceful then here. He doesn't expect an answer, especially the one he gives her.

It's more than he could ever ask for, those two simple words.

"Thank you."