I looked at Gale, his smoldering brown eyes holding mine. This was not how it was supposed to go. Not how it was supposed to be. The heady scent of fresh dew and Gale was suffocating, intoxicating.
"Is this what you want?"
He finally broke the silence. Capering sunlight dribbled down from the treetops, casting Gales face in conflicting shadows. A face I knew so well. Used to know.
"Yes"
I felt my lips move, my voice breaking. His frown deepened, lips paring halfway, only to close and smile a broken smile.
"I thought so"
It was breaking my heart. Peeta was waiting. I had to go. I mumbled these clumsily as I stepped away, maybe forever, from the broken shadow. From these woods I learned to love. From the life I long abandoned.
The familiar ledge, and memories rush forth unbidden. Of happier times, Gale laughing, teasing whispers of 'Catnip', my face scrunched in annoyance, the hunts;
His smile.
Emotions flutter in my chest, and a painful, longing need grips me. We can never go back, never rebuild the ashes to resemble the warmth we once shared. Too much was damaged, too much broken, the thread severed.
Forever.
I could almost see it too. The thin web between him and me, the frayed edge of where my thread ends, glinting in the suns tentative fingers.
The dull ache drummed in the hollow of my stomach, increasing in intensity till all I could do was tumble into his arms, hating my weakness, relishing it, his arms strong, his fingers bruised and cracked. Like they always have been. Unchanged by everything, Gales hands were still rough, still cracked, still ugly,
And suddenly I hear a laughter, loud, hysterical laughter, and I realize its me. I am laughing. Because even after everything, everything, the deaths, the hurt, the fire; Gale was still Gale. The only one unbroken, unhinged, the only one who most closely resembles their former self. Gale looks at me quizzically, his eyes reflecting his bewilderment.
And hope. Just a tinge of hope.
But he doesn't say anything. He just strokes my hair, understanding that he should let me sort myself out, let me find myself and put some order to these feelings ebbing and flowing, leaving me in a stifled, turmoil mess. Because Gale always understands what I want, doesn't he, its almost reflexive, initiative now. How he finds no trouble in falling in with my step in the hunt, reading my every subtle movement, flick of a finger, the witch of leg. All in anticipation for the kill.
And finally, like a muffled memory clearing; I understand what I have been longing for, why this hollow feeling never leaves me. The only thing I have left, that will never be soiled by the blood forever on my hands, is my past. My memories of the sweet afternoons, of the hunts, of my father. That's what I want, isn't it, to relive those afternoons of blissful oblivion.
Of happier times. With Gale.
I don't even realize when I seek out Gales lips, or when we tumble and kiss, the world fading, receding into nowhere, with only his breath anchoring me to the now.