The bakery is warm inside, and an electric fan buzzes from one corner of the room. One of Peeta's brothers - the one who's Gale's age - sits slumped over in a chair behind the counter, twirling a small metal whisk between his fingers. He sits up quickly when we open the door, but settles back in his seat when he sees it's just Peeta.

"That was fast," he remarks, eyeing me with mild interest.

"Is Dad around?" Peeta asks, drumming his fingers on the countertop. "This is Katniss, she wants the job."

"I know Katniss," his brother replies, standing up. He does? "You hang around with Gale Hawthorne, right?"

"Yeah," I say slowly.

"Right. And you sell Dad those squirrels every week. Duh, Peeta." He pushes open the swinging door behind him and leans into what I can only assume is the kitchen. "Dad! Peeta's got someone here for the job."

The door swings back towards us soon after, and Mr. Mellark appears, wiping his hands on his dark blue apron. "Katniss." He greets me with a nod.

"Hi," I say, suddenly nervous. I've interacted with Peeta's dad far more than anyone else in the family, but our conversations have never gone beyond our trades.

"You're interested in working the register?" His eyes flick towards Peeta, who's leaning against the counter and studying a loaf of dark brown bread with great interest.

"Yes. I would really like to work the register," I say, stilted. Is this an interview? I've never been close enough to having one to really think about it. "I...I'm a hard worker. And I'm always on time," I add lamely.

"Are you good at math?"

"I'm okay," I say honestly. "Algebra's kind of tough."

"Well, you won't need any of that here," he says, smiling gently. "Strictly the basics." Mr. Mellark gives me a long look, and then shakes his head. "I hate to say this, Katniss, but I just don't think I can do it. If you're working here, where will I get my weekly helping of squirrel meat?"

I know what he's really saying: You're not what we're looking for, but I'm too nice to say it. "Oh, okay," I say quietly, turning to leave. "Thanks anyway."

I'm halfway to the door when Peeta steps in front of me, brushing my forearm with his fingertips. I flinch away. "No, no - he's just kidding," he says, shaking his head. "He thinks he's funny." Peeta looks pointedly at his father.

Mr. Mellark makes his way around the counter, chuckling. "And I'm the only one who thinks so, right, Peeta?" He smiles and extends his hand. "I'm sorry, Katniss, I was just joking with you. We'd be happy to have you. When can you start?"

I'm a little stunned, but I force my hand to grasp his in a handshake. "Um - now? Anytime."

"How does Sunday morning sound? We open at six, so if you get here at five-thirty Peeta can show you the ropes."

"Okay. Yes." I nod, bewildered. Peeta is standing next to me, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and his brother is leaning over the counter fiddling with a whisk again, and how is this happening so quickly? This could be a terrible mistake. Prim, Prim, Prim, I repeat like a mantra in my mind. I'm doing this for Prim.

"Wonderful. We'll see you bright and early on Sunday. Here, have a cookie." Mr. Mellark hands me a sugar cookie with yellow frosting, then ambles back in the kitchen before I can blink, the door swinging after him gently.

I want to leave, but my feet feel glued to the floor. Peeta and his brother - what is his name? I wonder for one brief, panicky moment - are watching me like they have no idea what I'll do next. I'm not sure evenIknow what I'll do next.

Finally Peeta clears his throat. "I'm really sorry, Katniss, that was weird. My dad just has a weird sense of humor." He smiles weakly. "But we could really use your help. I hope he didn't scare you away."

"No, it's fine," I say quickly, "but I have to get home." I'm out the door before they can say another word.

Prim is at the kitchen table when I arrive home, picking listlessly at piece of toast made from tesserae grain. I can't blame her; the grain makes bread that's dense, tough, and completely unappealing on a warm morning late in the spring.

"Any luck?"

I hesitate for just a moment - if I tell Prim about the bakery, I really will have to go back there tomorrow morning. But the burnt toast before her on the table reminds me why I'm doing this. I place the yellow sugar cookie in front of her. "Actually, yes. I have a job at the bakery starting Sunday."

Her face lights up for the first time in days - she's been strangely withdrawn ever since the day of the Reaping, I think because it's the first time someone she really knew was carted off to the Capitol. By this time next year she'll be old hat at saying goodbye to familiar faces. The thought makes my chest ache.

"The bakery? Katniss!" Prim's eyes widen with excitement. "That's amazing! Like baking cookies and frosting cakes?"

My lips curl up into a smile as I remember ten-year-old Prim dragging me past the bakery every week after school. It was the long way home, but she insisted because on Tuesdays, the big cake in the main window was replaced and she just had to see what was new that week. Usually it was just the same old rose-like flowers in a different pastel color, but Prim didn't care. She'd press her hands up against the glass and stare at the treats, leaving smudged little fingerprints in the space between the letters that spelled out BAKERY.

"No, none of the fun stuff. I'll just be working the cash register."

"Maybe you'll get to eatthe fun stuff," she says, and I can't help but laugh. If Prim wasn't so clearly gifted at the work our mother does - healing - this would probably be her dream job.

"Maybe." I pour myself a glass of water and sit across from Prim. "Where's Mother?"

Prim's face falls immediately. "Mrs. Farren is having her baby."

It's about time - it seems like Mrs. Farren's been waddling past our house, looking ready to burst, for months now. But something must be wrong, because normally Prim goes with Mother when she's delivering a baby, to fetch her things and learn how the process works so she can deliver babies herself one day. "Why aren't you there? Did something happen?"

Prim sighs, her eyes on the cold toast on her plate. "No, I just...didn't feel very well."

"Doesn't she need your help?"

"She said it was okay. Don't want to get the baby sick." She shrugs. "I'm feeling better, though."

The quiet, tired disinterest - this isn't like Prim. A cold fist grips my heart: this is like our mother.

I lay a tentative hand on my sister's wrist. "Is everything okay, little duck?" She asked me to stop using that nickname over a year ago, but it still slips out sometimes when I'm concerned about her. "Are you okay?"

Prim pulls her hand away sharply. "I'm fine. I'm tired, I'm going to take a nap." She pushes her chair back abruptly and leaves the room, shutting the bedroom door firmly behind her.

I clear her toast off the table, a cold fear seeping into my chest. I can't go through this again. Not with Prim.

Gale knocks on the door a few hours later just as I'm about to leave for a walk in the woods, so we head to the forest together, droplets of sweat trickling down our backs as the sun rises higher in the midday sky.

We're silent until we slip beneath the fence - I never feel like I can speak freely until I'm out of the district's boundaries. "I'm worried about Prim," I confess. I tell him about her mood swings, her excessive napping, her lack of interest in the things she normally loves.

"She's fourteen," Gale says dismissively. "Do you remember what you were like when you were fourteen?"

"I wasn't sleeping all the time," I grumble, but he's right - I wasn't a ray of sunshine, either. I'm still not.

"She's fine. Rory and Vick pull shit like this all the time. You just have to knock some sense into them and let them know they're being a jerk." Gale stops and stoops down to pluck a blue wildflower, and hands it to me. I twirl it through my fingers a few times before tucking the flower behind my ear, trying not to feel strange about it. "It's definitely easier when you've got a cute little sister who can cry on demand, though," he adds with a grin.

I sigh. "Fine. Prim is growing up. I don't have to like it, though." I kick at a rock in my path. "You'll know how it feels when Posy gets this old."

Gale laughs a little. "By that time I'll have my own kids to worry about." And that's when I go tense.

Gale must be able to sense it, because his voice lowers and his steps grow slower. "Katniss..."

I let the word hang in the air between us. I had hoped we wouldn't talk about this, but there's a part of me that must have known it was coming.

He stops, half his body illuminated in a patch of sunlight shining through the trees. For an instant it looks like there are two Gales: the one that I see every day, who works in the mines and hunts in the woods. But the other half, the one in the sunshine, looks almost like he's made of gold. Light, carefree. Like someone who lives, instead of just survives.

"I came to your house this morning because I wanted to talk to you about something." He pauses. "I know that you have...misgivings...about the future. But I want you to reconsider." Gale takes a step towards me. "I want you to marry me."

All I can hear is my heartbeat, pounding loudly in my chest. Why do I still react this way, every time we have this conversation? After two years I should be able to stand my ground, tell him that I've made my decision and it's final. But instead I feel weak and woozy, doubting myself even as I know I'll give him the same answer I always have.

"Hear me out, Catnip," he says, and the pleading in his voice is so disconcerting that I almost want to say yes, just so I don't have to hear it again. Gale shouldn't sound desperate. He should sound strong, confident. Annoyed, maybe.

His fingers brush the back of my hand tentatively, and I let him grasp it loosely in his own. "You know how I feel about you." I can feel his eyes searching me but I refuse to look at him, keeping my gaze trained steadily on the ground. "I know you better than anyone. I get you." His hand wraps all the way around mine. "Who else would you marry?"

"No one," I say quietly.

"Prim won't stick around forever. You wouldn't last two weeks living with just your mom." I can't argue with that point. "I love you, Katniss," he says softly, and for just a moment I can imagine how this scene could play, if things were different: serene and romantic, sunlight dappling through the leaves above our heads, the quiet clicks and chirps of the forest folding around us like a warm blanket.

"Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

It does. It does, but I haven't figured out what it is yet - and I'm not sure it would be the answer Gale wants, anyway. "Yes, but -"

"Then let's get married." He clasps both my hands in his own, moving closer. "I want to make you happy. I know I can."

The thing is - maybe he could. It's a thought that's been in the back of my mind ever since he first kissed me two years ago, but each time the idea surfaces again I push it away, focusing on what I need to do now: feed my family, protect Prim. Tomorrow won't matter if I fail at what I need to do today.

But as Prim's grown over the last few years, I've had to face the inevitable: that I can't protect her forever, that one day she'll move on, and I'll have to move on, too. Practically speaking, a match between Gale and I just makes sense.

"I'm eighteen, Gale," I protest, shaking my head. "What is the rush? I can't get married now."

"Plenty of people get married now," he counters. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we don't live forever around here."

"Don't say that," I say quietly, pulling my hands away. "I'm not rushing into something with you because you have a - a death wish."

Gale laughs. "Believe me, I don't have a death wish." He looks at me steadily. "I do have a wish. But it's not a death wish."

I sigh. "You're asking too much of me," I tell him. "You've got to…give me more time." I start back towards the fence, picking my way over the rocks and branches before me.

"I'll wait for you," he calls after me.

I know, I think, and a shiver rolls down my spine.

Thanks for all the reviews, and thanks for reading!

This is also being posted on AO3, and since there are so many people waiting for accounts there, I set up a mailing list so you can get notifications when I post a new chapter here: [SLASH]nWMF5. My goal is to make an update every Sunday.

Also, just to clarify - this is basically AU from the beginning of THG books moving forward. All the backstory is the same as it was in the books leading up to when Prim & Peeta were reaped. There will be references to some of these canon events, but I don't think anyone needs to read the 50th rehashing of when Peeta gave Katniss bread, so I won't be going into much detail. Just know that it happened the same way.