Peeta came back briefly but left again for lunch. He's obviously giving Gale and I space, not that we need it. Gale is constantly near me, keeping a hand on my waist or tangled in my hair. Even when we're focusing on something, like how we're going to set up our new apartment, he takes a strand of my hair and wraps it around his finger, brushing it against my collarbone and speeding up my breathing.

Nightfall is coming soon and while my stomach is growling I'm too lazy to get up. Gale has pulled me onto his lap and taken advantage of the moment and rubs up and down my back. With my head rested against his chest I can hear the acceleration of his heartbeat. He kisses me gently and I make little to no effort to stop him, welcoming his open lips on mine and his hands on my waist, fingers digging into my hips.

"Tired yet?" he asks between kisses. I shake my head but when the door to our car rattles I move off his lap and disengage myself from him. Peeta glances in our direction but doesn't smile. He goes straight to his favourite seat and begins drawing again.

I still feel guilt for kissing Peeta. Gale and I shouldn't have any lies but Peeta's words also made sense. Gale leans over and whispers "Love you Catnip. Only you." His words make me bite my cheek until blood beads up from the cut. I have to tell him the truth; to stop the awful churning in my stomach that stops me from eating the meal Gale brings me minutes later.

Peeta has given us enough alone time today but he still makes himself scare minutes before we go to bed. In those minutes I guide Gale to the couch. He still hasn't pulled it out to make our bed and I don't let him, sitting down and settling my hands uselessly in my lap before he can.

Gale sits next to me and raises his arm to pull me closer but I shake my head. His arm slowly lowers but the look on his face is still baffled.

"I want to tell you something…" I start my voice small, and I bring my legs closer to my body.

Gale stays silent, he can tell he isn't going to like this but he keeps his body open, offering comfort I don't deserve. As the words tumble out of my mouth I remember my conversation with Haymitch before the Quarter Quell, begging him to keep Peeta safe, agreeing I wouldn't deserve him if I lived a hundred lives. Now I consider how much I don't deserve Gale, how I couldn't deserve him in a hundred lifetimes. If he's given me this many chances and I still don't deserve him, how could one more make me a better person. Better suited for Gale?

When I'm done he sits there for several tense moments and I see his body contracting from me. I know I have no right to his arms but it doesn't stop me from wanting wrap them around myself. When he speaks his voice sounds rough and restrained. "You kissed Peeta."

I don't deny it but I can't think of anything to say. I told him I wouldn't again, told him I'd talked with him, that we were friends, but there was nothing new I could say to assure him.

He doesn't say anything so I stand and walk to the other couch, putting distance between us that matches the distance I feel emotionally. Gale pulls out the couch and lays down in the bed, above the sheets, his back to me. This frightens me. Gale has always been ready to argue and yell when he's angry. His lack of words and avoidance of my gaze and, when I lie next to him, my touch makes me feel sick. It's as though his fury and his hurt have turned him to ice, cold and cracking and sharp. So I'm not surprised that when I pull the sheets up around me and roll away from him I feel cold.

We've passed District 3. In less than an hour we'll be at District 2 where we'll unload and walk to our new home.

It is almost evening and Gale hasn't spoken to me since last night. Despite Peeta's obvious sympathy, which he's shown by bringing me food and drawings of the passing landscape, I can't meet his gaze. He and Gale, as much as they dislike one another they have something in common. I've hurt both of them.

I'm fairly exhausted. While I can't remember my dreams last night I must have thrashed and moved around because when I woke up, early enough that morning light was still hindered by the mist outside, Gale had pulled out another couch into a bed and was asleep under the covers. I stifled a whimper when I saw him so far, missing his earthy smell and warmth. His rough hands and soft hair and the way his body molded to mine. It had been less than a day but right now I missed his grin and the shine in his grey eyes.

I tried and failed to go back to sleep this morning and when Gale got up I shut my eyes, feigning slumber, until I heard the door of our car open and close, indicating he had gone to get breakfast.

I showered and dressed and braided my hair, ignoring the ache in my chest and the weakness in my exhausted body. Still, I didn't have the heart to eat the breakfast Peeta brought me. I picked at the lunch he gave me, eating the roll and swallowing the applesauce without vigor.

Now the monotonous landscape of evergreen trees has appeared and I watch it as though fascinated, when it's only a way to keep my eyes busy while my brain turns off. For the first time since the rebellion, I'd welcome the drugs that I'd once been given. The comfortable haze morphling had brought to my head. But that was a while ago, when I was the mockingjay. Now I'm just me.

In a way I feel closer to Peeta. Not romantically, I feel too numbed to be close to anyone that way. I feel too close to the way I was after Peeta was captured. As though I've really lost Gale, as though I've really stopped trying. What's holding me up is the fact that Gale hasn't gotten off the train and turned around. That I woke up and he and his bags were still here. But now I understand how Peeta must feel, having had me and lost me. Now I've lost Gale. And who knows for how long?

Peeta comes through the car door and places another tray in front of me, though the one from lunch and the untouched breakfast are still on the table. For his sake I turn up the corners of my mouth and lift the spoon to my lips but I imagine what I must look like, shoulders slumped and expression bleak. As I chew and swallow mechanically I don't feel hungry.

The train pulls away from the landscape of greenery into an impressive city. District 2 is shining. Not with the candy colours of the Capitol but from what I can see most buildings are made with grey brick, silver metal or dark glass. Some are tall and others arecloser to the ground, grittier. The people walking around are not the strange doll-like creatures I once saw in the Capitol. They are more decorated than citizens of District 12 but less garish than the coloured birds I once associated these people with. Without the extravagances of the Capitol, they have less to hold themselves to.

Gale has been sitting with a book for an hour, waiting as impatiently as me to reach our destination. I can tell he isn't reading, he turns the pages at erratic intervals and sometimes his eyes stop scanning them, resting on one spot. He isn't much of a reader. Though he can read I've never seen him willingly pick up a book, he has too much energy to sit a silently stare at a page, constructing a story in his head. That's always been his way, that's been the way of anyone who's had to fight to survive. It unnerves me that he sits so still now.

Finally the train comes to a stop and I stand, stretching out the kinks in my bones and the pains in my muscles. Gale stands but does not stretch, though I can see he walks stiffly to the baggage. Peeta is already struggling to carry three boxes through the threshold and I help him, mostly to avoid brushing against Gale as he reaches for his bags next to mine.

Finally, when all our things are on the platform I turn to Gale, waiting for him to say something, anything, to assure me he hasn't abandoned me.

"It's this way," he jerks his head but does not start moving. I bite the inside of my cheek; he hasn't decided to leave me all alone, and that is enough to warm the ice in my stomach to chilly slush.

Another thought crosses my mind and I turn to Peeta, though I keep my distance from him. "Where are you going?"

Peeta has already spotted a trolley and is stacking boxes on the strong metal base. "Closer to the square. I've already arranged a ride. I'll be staying there until I find a place to set up the bakery." He doesn't say what I know is worrying him, that he won't find a place to sell his goods, or that they won't compare to those of District 2 but I don't bring it up either.

I think of how he might be the same distance from us as he was in District 12 and how it may be the same way. I may not see him for weeks on end until I wander far enough toward the square and happen to bump into him. I bite my cheek harder. "Will you stay in touch?"

Here Peeta smiles, looking like the boy with the bread that I always knew, so optimistic, with a spirit it would be too hard to break. "Yes. You gave me the number to your new place. It's in my book." It isn't until then that I realize he's clutching his sketchpad in his hand.

I nod, feeling relieved to have done something right. "Bye Peeta," I say because I can't think of anything better. I reach out and pull him into a hug, trying to apologize by holding him tightly. He holds me tenderly but wraps his arms around me waist, letting his hands touch his own wrists and not me. When we pull away he smiles.

"Bye Katniss." He nods to Gale but Gale is looking away, his mouth a hard line.

Peeta is still loading the trolly but Gale and I begin to walk, I a few feet behind him but keeping my eyes trained on his back so I don't lose sight of him. With the sights of the city though it's hard not to become distracted and once or twice I lose Gale for a moment, feeling the panic rising up in my throat until I glimpse him in the crowd and sprint close enough to fall into him. We pause at an intersection where people, too many people are crossing bumping into one another. I feel myself being pushed backward and it's a struggle to get to the spot where I just stood. Gale is no longer there.

"Gale?" I ask, but my voice is drowned out by the sound of the crowd around me. Before I can think to calm down panic rises in my chest. I call Gale's name again, pushing against people, some of whom appear to recognize me and respond with different faces, some I read as fear, surprise, and many face I cannot read. But I ignore them all, calling for Gale. I can feel the fear rising in my throat like bile as I called as loudly as I can.

A hand grabs mine, reaching through the crowd. I hold back a shriek and turn on the ball of my foot, muscles tensed. But it's Gale. He is there, broad shoulders holding people on either side of us as he grips my hand tightly. His face is impassive and I try to wipe mine clear of emotion. "This way," he says lowly and turns, still holding my hand, half leading and half dragging me across the intersection. I hold on for what could be, in a stampede like this, dear life.

I hold on and dread the moment I will have to let go.

The apartment is at the centre of what they call in District 2 "downtown." It sounds like an archaic term but seems to describe their version of the Seam. There is a trade center but with the urban landscape it doesn't appear like the Hob, with illegal trade and merchandise. The trade centre is made up purely of goods the people manufacture in the District.

The apartment is part of a three-story building, unusual in District 12 but here there are heights tall enough to make me dizzy by looking up at them. The apartment covers not only the ground floor but also the second and the third. The house is made of three apartments, ours being at the west end. It is made of brushed silver metal and while it isn't as pristine as many other buildings, it is far nicer than any residence I've ever seen in District 12.

The crowds have long passed us and Gale released my hand, which felt strangely cold without his holding it. He pulled out a key and soundlessly opened the door, holding it open for me. I wedged my suitcase in the way of it and heaved the rest of the bags over the threshold.

We let the door swing shut and I followed him to the kitchen with the first of the boxes. He set them down and before I could open my mouth he brushed past me, carefully avoiding my gaze but I saw the anger that smoldered in his eyes. He picked up one of my bags and began up the stairs. I grabbed my other bag and followed him, taking note of how clean and in tact the house was. It looked untouched by the rebellion.

Gale disappeared behind a door and I heard a thud as the bag hit the floor. He was out of the room and pounding down the stairs again before I could reach for the door. His coldness made me shiver but I opened the door and glanced at the bedroom. The one I wouldn't be sharing with Gale anytime soon.

The walls were off white and the window flooded with light. It was small but a bed was already stationed, clean sheets folded over the bare mattress. There was no other furniture but a closet to the side with shelves was fine for storing my clothes.

I stay in the room much longer than I should. I don't want to face the quiet main floor where Gale is probably unpacking without my help. It's guilt and hunger that eventually drive me to the kitchen where he is standing, until he sees me and brushes past, into the other room. I don't follow immediately, letting him cruse past me, away, cold settling around me.

What makes me turn around and follow him is only my instincts, letting pure hysteria overrule my senses and bringing me to a stop in front of him. Gale twitches his head as though he would look up at me but he keeps his eyes down on the box he's tearing open.

"Gale," I say but I've said it too softly and I can't tell if he's heard me or if he's ignoring me. I repeat his name loudly, half shouting, forcing him to look up at me. If I were smart I would wait for him to speak to me, for him to cool down. So much for strength.

"What Katniss?" His voice is as bleak as his expression, his shoulders hunched, his eyes shadowed.

"What's…going on?" I finish lamely.

He stares up at me and I bite the ragged flesh inside my cheek, feeling droplets of blood rolling down the side and pooling on my tongue. "Nothing."

It's the short one word answer that causes me to bite harder, tasting iron and bile at the same time. I feel like spitting at the ground but I have to get my words out.

"Am I not your girlfriend anymore? Are we even friends?"

Gale sighs and glances down for a second. When he raises his eyes again I can see he's about to speak to me the way one speaks to a moody teenager. As though I'm only annoying him, making him weary instead of causing myself pain by speaking to his closed off face.

"Katniss-" but I cut him off.

"It was nothing Gale. Peeta and I are nothing. But I guess we're nothing too. If we were back in District 12 we wouldn't even be hunting every Sunday because you'd be off with one of the many other girls that runs after you and I would have let the Capitol push me to Peeta. And you'd be fine with it because according to you Peeta and I belong together instead and you and I!" I didn't plan on saying much and I occasionally have to stop to swallow back blood but as I finish I can feel it's too much and I make for the sink. I don't want to see Gale's expression anyway. It's so strange and alien it makes me feel as though I've slapped him and as I bend over the sink and spit out wads of stringy scarlet I feel shame burning in my cheeks. As my tongue brushes over the tear in my flesh I cringe.

Gale has followed behind me without a word. He holds out a white cloth and I can imagine what I look like to him. Flushed red with gobs of blood stuck on my lips and cheeks, probably on my neck too. I ignore his cloth and go to get my own and I hear him sigh. I resist the urge to turn around and hurl a sulky insult.

I wet the cloth and rub my face until the cloth is not stained red. When I've washed it out I soak it in cool water and bite down, letting the water fill my mouth and soothe my cut.

Gale stands watching and eventually I take the cloth out, feeling foolish and still flinching at the soar in my mouth that will no doubt ache for the rest of the day. I turn on my heel and leave the kitchen, taking the stairs two at a time. I linger at the top, hoping for a moment that Gale will call me back but the silence crushes those hopes and puts a pressure on me so strongly I feel if I don't go to my room and find some noise I'll suffocate.

In my room I fling the window open so aggressively it's a surprise it stays on its hinges. Noises from the street flood the space around me, as relieving as an oxygen mask. I feel as I did after the first games, when I spent days in bed, in and out of consciousness, never sure if I was truly awake or not. I let the sounds of talk and cars and wind wash over me. I cannot hear Gale walking around downstairs, as if he isn't here and I never left District 12. As if I'm in that house alone, as if I never forgave Gale and asked him to stay, as if he had left for District 2 forever. That's exactly how I feel.

I wake up with my head on my forarm, aching with the weight of it on the windowsill. Outside there are still lights though the sky is pitch black, some flashing as cars drive past. I catch whiffs of gasoline and pull the window closed.

The house is silent and I wonder if Gale has gone to sleep in his room. Resisting the urge to check is hard but as I kick my shoes off and lay in bed I feel better about hardening my resolve against him.

My first thought is to call Peeta. To seek his comfort. But I'm not sure if I can, I know I don't deserve it. I've done too many unforgivable things to him and he has forgiven all of them. As if I didn't have any flaws. I wish he could see me for what I am, much more pathetic and selfish than what he thinks I am. But Peeta never has, except when he was hijacked.

A smaller voice in my mind chimes in that speaking to Peeta wouldn't help things with Gale anyway. A larger voice, the voice that tells me to run from danger or hide in time or trouble, tells me that it doesn't matter. Gale has clearly chosen to have nothing to do with me. He'll move on. He'll leave this house soon and when I can't afford it I'll move back to District 12 and live alone. Without Peeta or Gale. After dragging them here it's all I can do to choke back a bitter laugh, but I can't choke back the tears. My throat is thick and I wonder how I'll ever fall asleep but that is the last thing I remember thinking…

I dream too much, visions I can't remember but they disturb me enough to wake me every hour or so. When I know I can't go to sleep I force myself out of bed, even though I can see out the window the sun is barely rising over the tops of the District houses, mostly blocked out by the blinding glass towers.

My head pounds as I make my way to the shower, turning it on and stabbing at buttons, guessing at what makes it icy and scolding. When it's hot enough to turn my skin pink I sink to the bottom of the tubs and lean back, letting the water wash over my face and the steam fill the bathroom and block out thoughts of whoever else might be in the house right now. It is enough to cloud my mind but my fingers are remembering the softness of Gale's hair and my arms remember his warmth, enough to make me shiver under the steady jet of water. 'Running my tongue over the cut in my cheek I silently promise myself I won't bite it at all until it's fully healed. Great, I think. Another lie.

When the water begins to run cold I turn it off but stay in the shower a few moments longer, letting the feeling soak through my skin. By the time I climb out and reach for a towel I'm mostly dry.

I go to my room and dig out a plain shirt and pants, pulling them on with robotic movements. My hair is wet enough to drip down my back as I braid it but when I wipe a hand over the fogged mirror and look in the dim glass to see myself looking normal I feel almost better.

There isn't anything to do here yet. I could stay and try to figure out with Gale how we're going to make a living, what we're going to do. But maybe Gale really is planning on moving back to District 12, or maybe he'll kick me out of this house. I curse myself for thinking that second thought; Gale isn't cruel enough to do that. Still, I know that now it isn't a decision Gale and I are making together. Probably my best hope for today would be to wander around, get to know the area.

I go downstairs as quietly as possible, unused to the lack or creaking as I take each step. Gale is nowhere to be seen but he may still be in bed, since I did wake at the crack of noon. Thankfully he unpacked most of the food yesterday and I force down a piece of bread with cheese before heading out the door.

Unlike District 12 the streets are not full of citizens in the early hours of the morning. It appears most people around here can afford to sleep in, to not wake up and work for most hours of the day to put food on the table.

I recall Peeta telling me he lives near the square and I find myself drifting toward it, trying to remember which ways Gale pulled me yesterday across busy intersections where only a few people walk around, faces pulled down, not registering anything but their own paths.

I see no sign of schools or market vendors that District 12 offers, only the sleek buildings and strange colourful shop windows with luxuries I've hardly been able to afford or have never seen.

Thanks to years of walking around the forest my sense of direction must be stronger than I thought for I find my way to the square with ease. Peeta mentioned a shop but there are dozens around and his won't have his trademark cakes in the window so soon. It may take all morning to find his shop but I work strategically, starting at the corner of one street, walking down one side, up the other and around the corner to repeat it.

I feel the sun warming my back as I walk and eventually stores begin opening up, though many of the windows had been blocked through the night and I have to start my search all over to make sure I haven't missed any.

It's a comfort to be around human noises again. During the rebellion I would have given anything to be in District 12, friends with Gale and home with Prim and Mother, with things the way they used to be. I would have enjoyed the silence that now fills District 12. Though I love it, and I love the peace there now, I missed the sounds I heard during the peaceful times of the games. The first time Peeta and I really laughed together, or when Cinna first presented me in a stunning dress. The noise around me at those times were welcome and I forgot how to live without them. The noise around me now is the same, not he harsh screams and sound of bombs dropping, or the wind whistling through vacant branches and over the mossy forest floor. It's just there in the background.

I find myself pausing at some store windows, looking at the array of books and clothes and goods I had never considered buying, even when Peeta and I returned rich from the games.

I walk down and up three streets before coming to a window with nothing in it, but beyond the grimy glass I see a blond figure pulling various pans out of boxes. I cup my hands around my eyes to avoid the glare of sunlight and press my face to the window. I can't help grinning when I see Peeta and the stunned look on his face when I knock on the door. He puts his box down and comes to unlock it, then opens it for me to come inside. I embrace him quickly, the way I would a friend then turn to what he's already set up.

A brushed metal counter that came with the shop is already covered in his loaves, though some of them sit on a rack near the door. I see another empty rack against the adjacent wall and I can smell dough baking in a room off to the right.

"It's nice," I say.

"Thanks," Peeta picks up a huge sack of flour and disappears for a moment into the other room then returns with a loaf of bread. He looks at it for a second then holds it out.

"No thanks," I say quickly. "We still have a lot of bread at home."

"Okay, but you can always get some here Katniss." He puts the bread on the rack and wipes some flour on his apron. "How did you find this place?"

I shrug. "I walked around the square until I found it. It wasn't too hard and I liked the walk."

"Nothing like walking in the forest, huh?"

I shake my head. "It isn't, but I like it anyway. It's a chance to get out of the house." I didn't mean to say that last part, to give any allusion to what's going on between Gale and I. I also surprised myself by referring to the house so easily, as though I've been living there more than one night. Peeta's eyes narrow suddenly.

"How is it with you and Gale?" He doesn't sound accusatory, more worried and gentle.

I turn away and busy myself by looking at one of the overflowing boxes. "He's not… speaking to me. I didn't see him this morning but I woke up early so…" I don't really want to talk about Gale with Peeta but I need someone to say these words to.

Peeta sighs and squeezes my shoulder. "I wish he wasn't so angry with you. It's my fault Katniss."

I shake my head. "It wasn't. I kissed you, then I told him. I keep hurting him, and you."

We sit in silence and I keep my face down, convinced I'm not doing a good job of holding my emotions in. When Peeta moves to hug me I'm sure I must look tired and sad.

"Are you alright?" he whispers.

I nod, pressing my face to his chest. There isn't anything romantic happening right now, Peeta is just being a friend, comforting me. "He won't talk to me. Like when we first came out of the games. I keep thinking he's going to leave and…" but I don't say anymore because I don't want to start crying. I've done too much of that lately.

"Katniss, don't think he's going to abandon you. Nobody could abandon you."

I want to believe Peeta's words so much. "But I disappoint everyone, I don't even know why you're here. I don't know why he's here. I used to want to protect everyone I loved, now I just, I'm just selfish."

Peeta rocks my head. "You are not a disappointment. I'm here because I care about you and you aren't selfish. If he makes you feel that way then… You have no idea the effect you can have."

I let Peeta's words sink in, let him comfort me a little longer, then push him away, staring at the ground, embarrassed.

"You okay?" he asks softly.

I look up and nod, then manage a smile. My moment of tears and sadness makes me feel foolish, for not being strong, but Peeta just looks at me with concern and caring. He grins back.

"He'll get over it. He'll miss you. I know I would." He looks like he regrets saying the last part and I almost wish he hadn't but he's just being honest. I remain unconvinced by his words and he senses this, "You'll see Katniss. You'll go home and he'll be waiting there to kiss you and ask how you are."

I shift uncomfortably. "Gale once said kissing me was like kissing someone who's drunk," I murmur, expecting Peeta to laugh and chuckling a little at it myself because even though at the time we were in the middle of the rebellion and I was conflicted about him and Peeta, it feels strange to remember how I let him kiss me then and how I kiss him now. Peeta doesn't laugh though; he looks surprised, then angry. He shakes his head and is about to speak so I quickly say "That was a long time ago. And he had a point. That's when I still felt bad about kissing him because of," I bite my lip, instead of my cheek, to avoid saying you.

"I can't imagine kissing you being like that at all," he says and we are back to being awkwardly silent.

"I just wish he'd say something to me," I say and we are quiet a minute longer.

I gesture to the boxes around us, desperate to fill the silence. "Do you need any help unpacking?"

Peeta hesitates then smiles and nods. "Sure, if we can get it all done by lunch I can have some cheese buns ready." My mouth waters and I nod enthusiastically.

For the next couple of hours I unload pan after pan and arrange loaf after loaf on the shelves. Peeta and I talk occasionally and when it gets too hot in the store we open the door and let the cool air and outdoor sounds filter into the shop, creating a comforting atmosphere that needs no talking. This is what it felt like to be with Madge, to have a friend who I could talk to but didn't always have to. When we're done Peeta brings out fresh cheese buns and we sit outside the shop, eating them together on the step.

I take a brief moment to wonder what Gale's doing, if he worried when he woke up and I wasn't there. Inwardly I feel like a wasteland, especially when I think mayb he wasn't worried at all but relieved, but I push the feeling aside and focus on the warm cheese melting into the bread and the company beside me.

When we're finished I offer to help him further but he declines. "The only thing I have to do is unpack my paintings. I have a studio upstairs. When it's set up feel free to come by anytime."

"Thanks, I will." We grin at each other, finally feeling like friends and comrades. I leave smiling, feeling loose and for the first time in days not controlled by some emotional strain.

It is early afternoon and though I have little pocket money I decide to wander around the square, taking in the various shops. Though there are no vendors some shops have opened patios and booths outside so despite the crowds pushing against me and the oddly bird-coloured citizens, the square almost resembles the Hob. With the relaxations I feel is some nostalgia and homesickness but I distract myself by looking around for any vegetable stalls and come across a booth of greens being sold by an young woman with vivid purple hair curling around her face and blue eyeliner. She smiles in a friendly way. "Looking for something?"

I smile and shake my head. Gale and I don't need food just yet; it's only good to know where to buy them from when we do.

"Do you know where I can get fresh game?" I ask. The woman only furrows her brow in confusion.

"Fresh meat?" I amend. She smiles, understanding and points a painted finger across the square.

"Dirov will sell it to you. It's pretty expensive if you buy it from him but it's the best there is. He gets it straight from the farther districts." She doesn't suspect that I may be from one of those districts.

"Thank you."

I make my way across the square to where she was pointing and I see a table of pelts next to a take of slabs of meat rolled in plastic. She was right; the meat is good. It isn't the meat I'm used too, where every part is cut out of the animal and savored, but it is still good. The man selling them is younger than I expected, around Cinna's age but taller and pale with strikingly blue-black hair and circular blue tattoos traveling up his neck. He eyes me as I make my way to him and sneers in an unfriendly fashion but I had been trading at the Hob for years and I find his expression does little intimidate me.

I point to a slab of what looks like rabbit, something that would earn me a good loaf of bread or a couple of bowls of Greasy Sae's soup in the Hob. "How much is the carcass?" I ask firmly.

He looks down then back up at me, changing his sneer to a genuine smile. "A pretty penny." He's teasing me. "Or," he leans forward, "a kiss."

I back up, slightly shocked, but I stand my ground and shake my head. "Not going to happen." I work hard to fight the urge to turn on my heel and I keep my gaze on the rabbit. "How much?"

He folds his arms and his smile widens. "You don't strike me as the kind to walk around with a bloody hunk of dead animal." He's trying to disgust me, expecting to squeal, but I hold his gaze. He obviously thinks I'm a ditz and I laugh inside about how wrong he's going to realize he is.

"It shouldn't be that expensive. The hunter must have sawed off a third of the meat," I say and am rewarded a flash of surprise crossing his face but he masks it with a sneer again.

"It'll do you fine. Doesn't look like you eat a lot of it anyway." So he thinks I'm a silly Capitol girl who tries to be thin as opposed to a citizen used to fighting for food. Anyone could make that mistake. But it isn't anyone that's bothering me, it's him. I decide arguing won't get me anywhere. If he chooses to raise his prices for me alone he could. I hold out a hand and he looks at it suspiciously.

"Katniss," I supply.

His eye narrow, I'm not sure if he recognizes me but as he takes my hand and sake it he doesn't seem to.

"Dirov Owin, pleased to meet you."

"Are you always in the square?" I ask.

"Day and night," he says without explanation, though I know the square is closed in the night.

I've run out of things to say so I look over the rest of his meat. It is all good and well preserved. I wonder where he gets it. Though District 12 is surrounded by forest I know it would be a far place to trade with. And besides, nobody but me hunts there. Hunted there. I wonder what other district has access to the woods and how many people hunt. Looking around the square I can see few places with meat that hasn't been farmed. There must be few suppliers of hunted meat.

Looking up I meet Dirov's gaze but keep my face stony.

"Thanks," I say and walk away. Gale and I are fine for meat and I'd rather come back when Dirov is too busy to leer at me.

I avoid stalls where men and women marvel at shiny objects that couldn't be less interesting to me. To my surprise I see a store displaying shining knives, bows and arrows in the window. Through the door I can see guns, tridents, spears and other weapons inside. The sign on the door informs me that the store deals in merchandise from the games. Replicas of weapons the victors and losers have used. I recognize the trident now, it looks like the one Finnick used in the Quarter Quell.

I turn from the shop as quickly as possible, not wanting to see a replica of the bow I used in the games, of any weapon that I had once used. The joy I had felt when I left Peeta has dissolved, replaced by sickness at what I just saw. I take small comfort that nobody was in the shop, just the owner, lonely amongst the instruments of death.

I cross the square swiftly and interest myself in a bookstore. We never read in District 12, there was no time or reason and even schoolbooks had to be shared and treated like treasure. Through the window I can see a girl, around twelve years old, stuffing at least six books into a slim bag on her hip. She hands over a large sum of money and exits with a huge smile on her face.

I enter cautiously, receiving a grin from the shop owner, which I return nervously. The silence here is the hushed sound of people trying to be quiet as they travel through the aisles of books.

I don't remember ever reading a book that interested me more than the one filled with plants for gathering. In school the Capitol gave us books of our history, filtered the way they wanted us to see them. Now before me I see volumes of fiction, stories for children and adults. I pick up one and flip it open, reading the first few lines before shutting it again. I pick up another book, dark green and without looking at the title I open it, seeing it explaining the culture of each district. It is interesting at first but I can see it was a Capitol written book, supplied and edited by minions of the Capitol.

A tap on my shoulder almost causes my to drop it as I jump. I turn to see the man who was behind the counter. Like the bookstore, filled with pages and wooden shelves, he does not fit in with the grey and silvers of the square. His skin is natural and wrinkled, his eyes deep brown and his hair pale white. He smiles. "Looking for something particular?" His voice is deep and I find myself trusting it.

"No, I don' know what I like." I realize how stupid this sounds and blush. He doesn't seem to notice, only nods.

"How about a story?" he reaches past me for a turquoise coloured book. "Nice to get away sometimes." I'm not sure what he means but I accept the book and glance at the title. It is silver and in a curing script, reading the name Eleanor. "A simple story," he is saying and I snap back to attention. "A heroic girl, lots of tragedy but a good ending."

I open it, feeling the spine creak and I flip the pages and glance over the first page. I close it and nod, following the man to the counter and digging out my pocket change.

When I leave the book, smiling over my shoulder at the man, then at the book I feel better again. The sun is beginning to dip behind the buildings and I realize I'm exhausted. Waking up early and riding emotional ups and downs has tired me out so I wander around, letting my eyes barely take in the children being led away by their parents, the few teenagers who crowd around tables of clothing or in the doorways of some restaurants and the adults who mull around still haggling with vendors.

Finally I decide to go home. As I walk I feel dread clench in my chest. I'm not sure I want to see Gale but I pull myself up and decide to face it. He probably doesn't want to see me but we live together. Then I remember my doubts about him being there again when I return and find myself walking faster.

The bottom windows of the house are lit when I come to the door and walk in. Gale is sitting in the living room, boxes around him and their contents arranged around the room. He looks up when I walk in and his eyes widen. I set my book down and come into the living room. For a moment we look at each other and I'm not sure what I feel. His expression is of unveiled surprise. My chest feels heavy but I'm filled with relief that he's still here. His hair is still wet and I smell something herbal on his skin.

"Where were you?" he asks finally, leaning back to relax but I can see he is still clenching the muscles in his arms. I sit at the other end of the couch, giving him space and consider telling him about seeing Peeta.

"I went to the square," I say finally.

He can tell I'm holding back but he doesn't pry. I'm sure he's coming to the Peeta conclusion on his own so I continue. "I helped Peeta unpack, then I found a place to by meat from this guy called Dirov, then-" I stop, because Gale's face changed at the mention of Dirov. His eyes hardened, his jaw muscle twitched and his mouth turned into a thin line. "What?"

"Dirov is…" he shakes his head. "Nevermind. Just be careful around him."

I watch him, mystified. "Then I went and got a book," is all I can say. His reaction to Dirov startled me but maybe he met Dirov when he came to District 2 earlier. "What did you do?" I turn my face away. But I can still feel him shrug beside me.

"Nothing. Unpacked."

I nod. We sit in the living room for several minutes and I miss the outside noises, wanting to get up and open a window but restraining myself. Gale makes a gesture I catch out the corner of my eye and I turn to him.

"How's your mouth?" he asks.

I blush and run my tongue over it. The pain went away so quickly I almost forgot it was there but I wince as I push aside some torn skin. "Fine," I lie. Gale has the decency not to raise an eyebrow at my obvious lie. "Do we have dinner?" I ask.

He doesn't respond at first, then nods. "I made some squirrel, but we don't have much else."

I get up and check the kitchen. I find a great lack of any greens and we are down to the last crust of our bread. All we have is the cooked squirrel and another rabbit from District 12. "I'll go buy some stuff tomorrow." Neither of us mention what will happen when we run out of money. We haven't had that talk yet and it seems like we wont for a while.

Not that I'm a great cook at the best of times but Gale is even worse than me. The squirrel is sticking to the pan, the meat charred as I pry it off with a spatula. I don't notice him coming up behind me until the toe of his book hits the side of my foot. I whirl around, spatula raised like weapon out of surprise. He looks almost amused as I set it and the pan down. Then his face settles and he looks at me seriously.

"Peeta came to see me today."

My jaw drops. That is the last thing I thought would come from his mouth. He is watching me, obviously waiting for a response. "What happened?" I croak out.

"He told me to let you off the hook," he says seriously. I have a hard time drawing a breathe, too much shock is running through my system. I am watching Gale to see how he might have reacted to Peeta but all I find is anger. Anger at me? For what? Confiding in Peeta? For Peeta coming to talk to him? Does he think I told Peeta to come talk to him? I glare back at him, feeling anger rise in me like fire.

"So?"

"He says I'm being harsh and there's nothing going on between you two."

"That part's true," I mumble casting my gaze downward. All of a sudden I don't want to have this talk.

Gale is silent then he does the last thing I expect him to do. He puts and hand on my waist and pulls me forward until I'm less than an inch from his chest. His hair obscures his eyes so I cannot see his expression but I hear his words tickle my ear. "I get it."

I'm confused, not sure what he gets but when he lowers his lips to mine I forget. Hunger ignites in me too fast to think and I push, trying to deepen the kiss, but he pulls back. "Did you kiss Peeta like that?" he asks lowly.

I feel like he's slapped me in the face. Accusing me of sharing the same kiss with Peeta that I do with him. I feel my hand has raised itself and I jerk it down, forcing it to my side. "No," I hiss venomously. "I didn't kiss him exactly the same way I kiss you, happy?"

I pull myself away from him and stalk toward the door but Gale has already closed his hand around my forearm and though it doesn't hurt I know there will be bruises there tomorrow. He pulls me back but not to him. His face not shows blatant confusion. "I thought we were done this. I thought that you had finally chosen me. That you were done going back and forth."

I shake my head, not to agree that I wasn't done choosing but because I don't want to stand here and listen to this. "Let go," I growl. Instead he tightens his grip.

"How is it different when you tell me you love me from when you tell him how much he matters? How is any of it different? You go to him for comfort, you did today."

"Because I couldn't go to you," I splutter, taken aback by his accusation because I would have thought that was obvious. "You would barely speak to me."

He sighs and finally lets go but I don't leave. He runs his hand through his hair. "I know and I'm sorry Catnip." His shoulders fall but mine are hunched in defense. "I didn't know what to say."

"If you don't know what to say then maybe… Maybe we shouldn't say anything." I'm not sure where I'm going with this but Gale raises his head, his face white.

"Are you… are you leaving?" his voice sounds smaller but still leaves me shocked with his words.

"Of course not. I just meant… I just… I'm not leaving." I say firmly.

"And you're not breaking up with me?" Gale asks, moving closer.

I don't move. It's so strange to hear Gale ask that, as odd as it was to hear Gale call me his girlfriend since it wasn't a label I had even considered during the games and the rebellion. The words are just foreign but I still know how to respond to them. I can't meet his gaze.

"No. Are you?"

I have to look up when he doesn't answer and I see him shaking his head. He is now inches from me and reaches out tentatively to take my hand. "I know you're just friends. He says I'm lucky to have you and not to mess it up." Gale grins at me, for the first time since I told him about the kiss and as relief washes through me I grin up at him widely. "Like I messed up dinner."

I laugh loudly but keep my eyes on him. "Let me do the cooking in future. Or at least teach you," I say.

"Sure. We're good?"

I nod. Gale and I are fine. We're more than fine. He bends down and brushes his lips across my neck, causing a shiver to run down my spine. Then he really kisses me. I pull myself as close to him as I can, pressing down hard on his lips, letting him know how much I missed him when he wouldn't speak to me or touch me. His mouth opens hungrily and he tangles his fingers in my hair, running his other hands up and down my side. He wraps a leg around me so we are entwined.

He breaks away from the kiss and leans down to kiss the spot just below my ear. "Are you going to… make me… chase you again?" he asks between kisses.

I laugh and bunch my hands in his shirt. "No, you're stuck with me." It's the best feeling to be back in his arms but as I melt into them he pulls away, drawing my warmth with him. He smiles and backs toward the stairs.

"Catch me," he supplies simply before bolting up the stairs. Confused it takes me a moment to follow him and he is already halfway up the stairs when I take my first step.

I sprint after him, like I'm being chased by fire though I already feel it blazing inside of me. He laughs as I follow him down the hall and into his room where he waits next to the bed. I grab him and spin around, pulling him over me as we collapse onto his mattress. I let myself be pulled into his fierce embrace and don't let him go. Then we give into our hungers.