"We could still do it you know."
His terse statement fills her ears, impelling her heart to beat faster, with ragged intensity. Take on the Capitol, just they two, without any assistance from the resistance. "Do what?" Katniss asks, slightly dizzy from the blazing sunlight and the rock-hard security of Gale's voice. The recent memory of her resting her head on his broad shoulder trips her up. Having him close is addicting. She nearly spills into the fast-moving water, as her feet skid off the rocks like stepping stones. But he's there, his hands fly to her waist to set her level with the slick slabs. She's all ears, hearing him breathe, relieved, because he's saved her from a certain drenching.
"Watch yourself, twinkletoes," Gale chides, holding her tightly, never wishing to let her go, lest he lose her for good. Has he lost her already, to war, derangement, obsession? Yes, it's clear she loves Peeta, but is there no love in her heart for him? The man who'd gladly die for her, but would much rather live for her. Live to love her until he breathes no more. He doesn't hate Peeta for treason, per se; Gale disparages the captive for usurpation. The imprisoned blond has stolen the heart of the love of his life. And what can he do about that? Aside from pine in silence for a dauntless girl, who'd taken her sister's place to save her life.
Katniss clings to Gale as though he's the only lifeline available. She appears badly shaken. Lest he gets carried away by his comprehensive feelings of overwhelming dashed hopes, he smiles and gently his lips settle against Katniss' downy scalp; she smells like delicate hyacinth. He resists the urge to raise her, anchor her in his arms, where she belongs. He knows it's where she belongs, but does she?
Gale waits, as though he's mentally ticking off the countdown in his head. Impulse getting the better of him, he scoops the battle-tested veteran up into his arms, waiting for her protest. He waits, but one never comes, and he brightens.
Finally, after several moments of awkward silence, Katniss speaks. "What can we do?" she presses. If she's the least surprised by his actions, she doesn't show it. She's more surprised by his reticence. He's usually not one for holding back. He'd gone through a period of being laconic, but since the destruction of District 12, he's not like that anymore. He's vocal, volatile and loudmouthed, depending on the occasion. In the Mess Hall, no one had better crowd Katniss to get a closer look at her; they'd hear about that from him.
"Let's get out of here. You, your mother, Prim. Buttercup too." That onery cat as well, Katniss thinks, frowning; really? Following his sigh, Gale exhales, "And me, and mine." Hefting his girl in his arms he begins the rest of the trek across this stretch of rushing water, picking and choosing which rocks to alight on carefully. How would it be if, together, they fell in and got soaked?
He'd asked this of her before, what seems so long ago, pre-her very first Game. As was true then, is true now. The idea is preposterous; more so because whom she loves so much is depending on her to save him from Snow's cruelty. She hasn't the heart to tell Gale this is how she truly feels just as she hadn't been able to tell him back when she was no victor, and Peter Mellark was an unknown.
"I'm serious."
"I know that. You've always been serious about getting as far away from this as you possible can."
"That's never changed," Gale assures, firming his already tight grip on her.
Wreathing her arms about his neck more securely, Katniss rather enjoys being ferried in this fashion. It's much like gliding along in one of the rebel fighters, without all the noise, and the impending sense of doom, along for the ride. Gale, in his own straightforward way means well, but what he suggests is no option at all. What will become of the other tributes held in the Capitol? What about Peeta, his fate sealed by her thoughtlessness because she chose to run away instead of sticking with the rebels to extract him and the others? She knows Gale is only thinking of her, but his recommendation is flat-out unsuitable. It's unconscionable, unworthy of an ounce of consideration.
They're almost on solid footing; the sandy shore is coming up fast. Katniss feels Gale's anticipation, waiting for her answer. Hesitating before giving him hers, she gazes up at the sky just in time to see a proud mockingjay soar overhead. She doesn't have to wait long to see others commanding the sky above their heads. These birds, which had been created by mistake, fill her heart and mind with purpose. The pin she wears on her chest feels alive, as though by some inexplicable ability, it might free itself to take wing, joining the live fowl. Captivity isn't for birds, nor anyone.
"Well, are you with me?" Gale nudges with words patiently-spoken. Woods are plentiful, which is home for the game that will sustain them and the cover to hide them. They need to flee to The Wilds, or Norland, where the country is as broad as the eye can see. He begins detailing the daring plan of escape, seeing Katniss' faraway look slant her eyes.
"I'd never want to be without you." Said with the least bit of breath held, as though she's holding something fragile in her warrior hands. Katniss doesn't let herself down from his arms when she and Gale are standing on the shore and he begins lowering her. He does nothing to dissuade her from quitting him; he likes her in his arms like this. Just like this. He toys with the idea of pulling her quivering lips in for a solid, smoldering kiss, but he holds back. The look she's giving him, one too good to be true, is straight out of his many vivid dreams wherein they live blissfully content. Ever after…the way it should have been if not for this wretched existence the Capitol, of ill-conceived Panem, forces them to live.
"What are you thinking?" he can't resist asking. This is a side of Katniss he never thought he'd see again, not after those barbaric, senseless Games, where the odds are never in any one of the victims' favor. As far as Gale is concerned, even victors are victims. No one emerged from the bloodlust unscathed.
"I'm thinking I wish we didn't have to go back so soon. Maybe no one will miss us if we don't report."
Rolling his eyes, eyes many a pretty girl has gotten lost in, Gale nods. "They'd miss you all right. You're IT for them. The symbol of the revolt. Me…" He shakes his head. "Me they wouldn't miss so much. I'm just a follower. No one to get excited over."
"You're more than that and you know it," Katniss splutters hotly. "You're loyal and true—and you're smart. Smarter than Beetee even." She wields her words like an IED. "You're one of the major reasons I'm here, putting up with their being what they want me to be."
"Oh I am? Am I?" Gale pokes, fascinated by her groundswell of emotion. So maybe she is capable of feeling something for him other than pity. He can't walk off now although he wants to. They really need to get back; they've been ordered to. Fifty-ish Alma Coin, the 'silver fox,' his private nickname for the commander-in-chief, brooks no excuses when it comes to showing up late for official briefings. This is a rebellion they're orchestrating, which she's bent on winning, not coordinating some dog and pony show. "You have a problem with iconic?" His smirk taunts Katniss, but he isn't baiting her, she clearly sees. No, Gale is, in his own way, placating her. He's an expert at it.
She assumes he wants her to decide that his idea that they make a break for their own personal freedom has grown on her. Katniss is determined to let him down easy. They are friends for life; this is no time to put a crimp in what they've always had. Each other. So, she takes him by his hand and simply replies, "I have a problem with having problems. The biggest problem being rescuing the victors from the Capitol. Until they're here with us, safe, this is me—distressed."
"Seeing you distressed, distresses me," he utters, sounding at odds with himself. He's unable to express himself properly, for fear she'll lose faith in him, along with respect. The victor she's stressing over most is Peeta, her darling of the arena. She just won't come out and say so. Mellark, who may or may not be as wholesome as he seems, appearing with Caesar Flickerman, who's been doing interviews for 35 years, is the apple of her eyes. It's the pits. "So, I guess this means running away is out."
"One day, we'll be free to go wherever, whenever we want to. But for now, we need to remain in District Thirteen with these people. We need their help, Gale. They need ours." She clarifies who the 'they' are, seeing ambivalence strongly take root in his handsome face sullied by fatigue. "The victors, first and foremost."
Stepping in close to her again, he gives in. Only for Katniss will he concede. "For a better life. For us all," he whispers, gladdened when she allows him to wrap her up in his arms again and she stands in his unyielding embrace like she'll never be able to tear herself away from him. Gale works an arm free, enabling him to cup her face with a firm hand. Katniss' eyes are closed as she waits, not saying anything, waiting for what she won't reject, although torn.
Gale's lips, seeking hers, find them. Time does funny things, not the least of which is stand still as these refugees from the former District 12 revel in each other. All too abruptly, they are summoned back to the installation for the third time. Unanimously, Katniss and Gale decide Coin and her rag-tag band can wait. This, entwining of hearts, is infinitely more important…