AN: Stuff you recognize is Johanna Collin's. I am not her-if I were you'd probably have to pay for it. XD

BTW, check out an amazing and first of it's kind group fanfiction-24 tributes, 24 authors.

.net/s/7608756/1/Tears_of_Blood

Happy New Years and lots of love,

Phoenix Refrain.

Over the eggs, I ask her, "Where did Gale go?"

"District Two. Got some fancy job there. I see him now and again on the television," she says.

I dig around inside myself, trying to register anger, hatred, longing. I find only relief.

...

Peeta doesn't want me to, but I go anyways. The woods have always been like home to me—I'm comfortable there. He asks if I want him to come with me but I tell him no. Sometimes, I just need to be alone.

As much as I hate to, I have him help me pull my boots on before kissing him goodbye.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come?" He places his hand on my swollen belly.

I knit my eyebrows together, "No, I'm fine. I just need…" I search for the word.

"I know," he kisses me again and hands me my bow. "Just for protection, no hunting okay?"

"Okay," I nod.

There are no more fences around the district, but I still head to the spot where I once crawled under to reach the woods. I squat on my heels a bit unsteadily because of my now uneven weight as I touch the dirt with my fingers. What part of this is actually ash and bones of the people of my district?

It doesn't quite hurt so much anymore—the thought of it. I ease into the woods thinking how Gale lead them into the woods and saved my—our people. He's been on my mind so much today. His dark eyes, his fire, the way we left things…I've tried not to think of him for years and now I can't escape him.

It's not a surprise really, when I find myself at our old log. I grab a handful of berries and sit down heavily, rubbing my stomach. The baby responds to me and kicks where my hand is, no longer soothed by the lulling walk we've taken. I feel that terror rise within me. It's the right choice, I know that—I love her. But somehow she doesn't feel safe or real until I'll be able to hold her. It's like at any moment she can be taken away.

I breathe and repeat my process. It's so familiar by now. I'm Katniss Everdeen. I'm thirty-three years old. I'm six months pregnant. I'm scared. I'm married to Peeta Mellark. I think about the bread that Peeta gives to those who struggle. I think of a little girl handing me a bag I dropped—small acts of kindness. I keep listing them until I feel better again.

But I'm here because of Gale. I have been happy he's not here, but now…I feel something different. I sit and try to figure out what is different. I don't know how long I sit there until I realize I don't feel relief that he's gone anymore. I'm not angry with him either. I had been glad he was gone—glad that I didn't have to expend energy to hate him, even if it's what I was sure I felt against him.

But I find that I really, truly don't hate him. I miss him. I miss the way he laughs, though it was rare. I miss the way we would hunt together. I miss him talking with me. I even miss him sitting silently beside me. My mind isn't filled with things that might have been, but things that happened. He saved my sister from starving while I was gone. He saved my sister and mother from the bombing while I was in the Quell. He saved Prim from the bombing in District 13.

How come it has taken me all these years to see that he's saved my life and Prim's life by disregarding his own?

"Was it your bomb?"

"I don't know. Neither does Beetee. Does it matter? You'll always be thinking about it?"

The words I can still remember after all these years.

I was angry. I needed someone to hate, and I chose him. I didn't agree with his idea to begin with—but what I've blamed him for all these years…he never did. That's the difference. I can finally see it. He could have used it, but he didn't. I search my heart and I find, once and for all that I don't hate him.

Hate isn't something I want to carry with me anymore. Not hate for Snow or Coin or anyone. They're dead and gone. I can hate them but the only person I'm hurting is myself and my baby. My hate will only eat away at me and prevent me from living the best life I can for those who are gone. I don't want my child to see me hating anyone.

As I sit there on fallen log, I release my anger like small birds in flight. They fly high and far away from me, and I feel lighter despite being heavy with child. Maybe all these years of therapy have worked.

Even though I know there are no cameras watching me now, I have to say it out loud. I close my eyes and imagine that Gale is sitting beside me. And he looks at me stonily.

"I don't forgive you," I say.

He stands in preparation to leave.

I struggle to my feet, "Gale." He stops and turns to look at me as I place my hand on his arm as I glance up into the grey eyes that are a mirror to mine. "There's nothing to forgive."