I roll over in my bed, unsure as to why I am awake so early. Gossamer is still asleep beside me. Our three children are snoring in their own rooms. Then it hits me. Today is the twentieth anniversary of Katniss being reaped for her first Hunger Games. I let myself slide back to that long ago day. If I remember correctly, we met up in the woods and had a little banquet of cheese, bread, and berries. It seems horribly meager now, but then it was a huge feast. The memories come flooding back now. Mimicking that woman, Effie something. Prim's name being called. Katniss bursting through the crowd screaming. Dragging Prim off the stage. Saying goodbye. Seeing the fear in her eyes, however hard she tried to hide it. Wondering if she would come back. The list goes on and on. That day was the beginning of the end.
"I'll do it." I say to myself, finally making the decision that I've been considering for weeks, months, years. Today is the day. Gossamer moves, waking up.
"What, Gale?" she asks in that sweet voice of hers. I assure her it was nothing and tell her to go back to sleep. I get out of the bed and start getting dressed though. I'll have to get an early start if I want to see her today. And it has to be today.
I step into the train station, absorbing the noise around me. Buying the earliest ticket to District 12, I move to a small waiting area in which to pass time until my train arrives. Apparently I'm not the only one who realizes what day it is. The magazines have large 20's on them, and pictures of the tributes. I can't help but catch my breath when I see her scowling but perfect 16-year-old face again. Some masochistic urge forces me to pick one of them up and start reading the article.
Exactly 20 years ago today was the reaping for the 74th Hunger Games, the Games that changed everything. It was the year that Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, the star-crossed lovers from District 12, managed to win together, starting the rebellion that brought down the Capitol. The two are now married and living happily together in District 12 with their two children, having survived two times in the arena and a war. Today we commemorate their dramatic climb to fame and love-
And that's my limit. I scan the rest of the article and see my name doesn't even appear once. I'm a forgotten piece of the puzzle, one that thought he was somewhat important. Evidently not. My face settles into a scowl as the train pulls up. I get on and find I have a whole car to myself. Travel to District 12 isn't very popular because it's still so out of the way, though it is becoming more "in".
I smile to myself, remembering when Beetee told me he was the conductor of a train in his spare time. Usually, he was inventing though. Only he would ever think of being a conductor as a "spare time" kind of thing. I shake my head at his love for all machinery, but these thoughts drag me back to the hours spent in the Secret Weapon Development compartment of District 13. Formulating that bomb, the bomb that would kill Prim, not that we knew it at the time. Maybe Katniss was right when she said it was crossing the line. I wouldn't do it if I could go back in time. In fact, if I could go back I would change a lot of things. But I can't. So thinking about them is a waste of time. I'm forced to remind myself again that she probably would have chosen him anyway, whether I had left or not. Speeding off to Two is one of the main things I would change, though. Now my brain decides to provide me with several juicy images of the two of us together, reminding me of what I could've had. I fight them back with thoughts of Gossamer and the kids, but it's not as effective as usual. In the end I give up and let the deluge of memories wash over me.
They start all the way back with a small twelve year old girl murmuring a name I thought sounded like Catnip. Continue on to days, years in the woods. Slowly becoming a trusted friend and partner. When we first went to The Hob. The day I realized I loved, another day that changed everything. The reaping comes next, but I skim through that quickly. No need to relive it again.
Then comes the pain and jealousy of watching them together. Him confessing his love, protecting her from everything as I wished I could. She kissed him, and I punched my television, almost breaking it. Eventually comes the joy of realizing that she gets to come home, even if it is with him. But I couldn't quite forgive her for the things she'd done, and there was a distance between us.
I kissed her for the first time in that short period that she was back. She went on her Victory Tour. He announced their engagement. I forced myself not to kill him when they returned.
After that, the Quarter Quell. Hearing him say that they were married, that she was pregnant with his child. It came as a shock to everyone. It was all I could do to not run to the Capitol myself and squeeze the life out of his sorry face. It was only the split second of surprise on her face that convinced me otherwise. It was just another story he had made up. And that made it a little bit better.
But I still had to watch her fight for her life yet again. And then she shot the arrow. And the bombs came. This I only remember in brief flashes of terror and blood. Screaming. Running for the Meadow, the woods. The few that made it looking for their families. Being picked up by 13.
She was there. Still injured, very sick, but there. So I joined the rebels, heart and soul. I did it for her. Hatred of the Capitol was a part of it, I admit, but mostly it was her, what they had put her through. And he wasn't there. I had her to myself. Eventually she joined us too, became the Mockingjay. We were allowed to hunt again. And her fire, her fight came back. Then, so did he. But he was different. He hurt her. She couldn't take it. So she ran away to Two. I kissed her again. But it was like she was drunk, just looking for any reprieve from the pain. It meant nothing. Again. Once 2 was captured, she had to return to him. It pained her, but she went. Because he was in pain.
I could still see her training as hard as she could to get put into battle. And she succeeded. She was in my squad. But we weren't real. We were just going to be filmed. The "Star Squad" I believe we were called. Then he got sent in and Boggs got killed. And she took us on a mission of her own, to kill Snow. Fear permeates all the memories that follow. Running. The mutts. Shooting. Being captured. She didn't shoot me when I asked. And that bomb, my bomb that ended it all.
She shot the wrong person. Or did she? I was never quite clear on that. Both presidents were dead in the end. She yelled for me to shoot her. I heard, I saw. But I couldn't. Another regret. It was under the shame of my failure that I ran. I lived in something of a stupor for a while. I met Gossamer. I fell in love. But it wasn't the same. I never forgot. And here I am.
Finally the memories recede and I drift into a tortured sleep. A single dream comes to me, one that was once my favorite but now is forbidden. It features. Katniss and I in the woods behind 12, as they once were. We're training our children to hunt. We then return to our house in the village, larger than the hovels of our youth but nothing compared to the mansions in Victor's Village. It is what our life would've been if she never entered the Hunger Games.
The train pulls into the station at 12 sooner than I thought. The sun is just setting over the Meadow, now a mass grave. I find her house easily enough. She still lives in Victor's Village, which means her house is larger than all others. My feet wind their way to her door, a path I remember vaguely from being dragged down, half dead, after being whipped. She kissed me then. I never forgot that either. I stop at her door, hand poised to knock. The real door is open, only a screen stops it from being completely open. I can see her. Katniss. And him. Peeta. Their children. Nameless to me, just another broken promise. They sit around the table eating dinner. Her children are smiling and she laughs at one of his jokes. She sees me at the door.
"Gale? Why are you here?" she exclaims, her face lighting up. Even he smiles. I, on the other hand, feel as though I've been punched. She's perfectly happy. I stumble away from the door, hearing her call after me. I was wrong to come. I don't know why I thought this would do anything. It just adds to the ever present pile of regrets that is my life now. One more memory adds to the general despair of the scene. Me, drowning in regret after their wedding, begging Beetee to try and make a time machine. He told me no, saying it was for my own good. I crumpled to the floor sobbing. As soon as I'm far enough away, where she won't follow or think to look, I do the same thing again. I wish I could forget. Because as long as I can't, I'll never be happy.