When you chose me.

Katniss plucks an acorn from the branch over her head, rolling the nut between her fingers before letting it fall to the forest floor. She can't stop hearing Gale's words, over and over again, as though a flock of jabberjays has taken up residence in her head. You chose me.

Is that what he thinks?

The obvious answer: yes. Because she had, in a way. She could have stayed in the Capitol with Peeta. She could have swallowed her pride, pushed past the rejection, and helped him fight back against the demons in his head.

She could have stayed.

But is it leaving, really, if the person left behind doesn't want you anymore?

She doesn't know. She'd just never really thought of it as choosing.

Circumstance had chosen for her, as it always did. When her father died. When Prim was reaped. When she was thrown back into the arena. When the Capitol stole Peeta, drained the love from his veins, and filled him back up with venom.

Nothing she'd ever done had felt like a choice. It was just…reactions. Learn to hunt, or starve. Volunteer, or watch Prim be killed. Live, or die.

Katniss shifts, letting her head tip back against the rough bark of the tree trunk. The sun is still bright, but slowly inching towards the horizon. The train from the Capitol will be leaving soon. There's not enough time for her to make it back to the fence, and then all the way through the Seam to the train station, in order to pick up her provisions for the next few weeks.

A pang of shame hits her as she thinks of the food, left unclaimed and likely shipped back to the Capitol. They'll probably throw it away. A total waste. She and Gale will be okay – with spring on the way, the game is already more plentiful – but her stomach turns nonetheless.

No one's starving anymore, at least not in Twelve. But there are so few of them here. Feeding the masses in Eleven, or Ten or Six…they had to be low on Coin's list of priorities, if such a list existed at all. She and Gale rarely turn on the television, but every time she catches a glimpse of the news it seems to be focused on the ongoing war trials in the Capitol, or memorials to those lost in the war. Always looking back, but never forward.

She can just barely admit that that's her problem, too.

Katniss reaches Victor's Village just as the sun is setting, vibrant splashes of orange and pink bursting over the horizon. There's a light on in Peeta's house.

She stops for a second when she sees it, frozen by the sudden twist in her gut. She imagines him watching the sky melt into darkness from one of his windows. He must still like sunsets. There was no reason for the Capitol to tear that away from him.

A shadow crosses behind the curtains, and her heart races, lurching up into her throat. She walks the rest of the way home quickly, forcing her eyes onto the ground in front of her.

The house is dark and quiet when she steps inside, save one overhead light on in the kitchen. She's surprised to see the familiar wooden crate of provisions, sitting in its usual spot on the kitchen island. So Gale did get the box, after all.

Katniss slips off her jacket and hangs it by the door, jumping slightly when she hears the sound of a thwack coming from the backyard. She follows the noise and opens the back door slowly. Gale is there, turned away from the house, butchering the deer on top of the picnic table in the fading light.

She watches him from the doorway, her arms wrapped around her middle to fend off the evening chill. "Hey," she says softly.

He glances back at her for a moment. "Hey."

"You need help with that?"

In their past lives, they would have taken a kill like this to Rooba, the butcher, and had her deal with the mess in exchange for a few choice cuts of meat. But Rooba is gone now, and so far no one else back in the District has stepped up to take her place. There's no need, really, with the only fresh meat coming from Katniss' and Gale's hunts.

Gale shakes his head. "Nah."

She watches him for another beat, then walks slowly down the steps, stopping on the grass a few feet behind him. "Thanks for getting the box. I…forgot."

His shoulders stiffen.

"I didn't get it," he says. "Peeta did."

Katniss feels her stomach flip. "What?"

"He showed up with it at the front door."

"Why?"

"Because no one went to get it," he snaps. His hunting knife slices roughly through cartilage, hitting the wooden cutting block with a loud thud. "I was dragging a hundred-pound buck through town. Not sure about your excuse, though."

Katniss flushes. "I'm sorry," she says. "I shouldn't have left you there. It was childish."

Gale says nothing, but the sound of his knife striking the wood is softer this time, and she takes it as his forgiveness.

"It's okay," he finally says after a long silence. "I'm mostly embarrassed by how out of shape I am. Not exactly 'Soldier Hawthorne' anymore."

Katniss can hear the smile in his voice, and she smiles a little, too. She steps closer, laying her palm against his back for a moment, gently between his shoulder blades. His muscles twitch beneath her fingers, and she steps away.

"Did he…" She stops, breathing in deeply. "Did he look okay?"

Gale is quiet for a moment. "Yeah, he looked okay." He doesn't elaborate.

"Did he say anything?"

"Not much," he says. "He wouldn't come inside."

She can't believe Gale would have invited him in the first place. "Oh."

"Yeah."

Katniss moves slowly back towards the door, dragging her feet through the damp grass. "Well, let me know if you need anything."

She doesn't exhale until she shuts the door behind her.

The light stays on at Peeta's all through the night, its eerie, yellow glow spilling through her bedroom curtains.

Katniss drifts in and out of restless sleep. When she shuts her eyes, she sees Peeta at his easel. She sees his paintings, each one its own twisted, gory nightmare: children missing limbs, bodies stuck full of arrows. Her own hands, covered in blood.

She drags herself out of bed just after dawn, pulling the same pants from yesterday up over her hips with weary hands. There's no need for a hunt today, not with pound after pound of deer meat stuffed into the freezer, but she knows herself well enough to know she needs a distraction today.

A few of the geese in Haymitch's little flock startle when she steps out onto the porch, but the village is otherwise silent and still in the hazy morning light. She's just a few feet down the way when she hears a door slam to her right, and she jerks her head around to see.

It's Peeta.

Katniss falls still, her entire chest hollowing out.

He keeps his chin tucked down as he thumps down his own front steps, something tucked beneath his elbow. He's only a few yards away when he finally looks up and sees her, too.

Peeta stops. He stares at her, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

"Katniss." The word sounds foreign on his lips. "Hi."

"Hi." Her own voice sounds odd and sharp, echoing between her ears.

Peeta takes a few, slow steps toward her, as though he's approaching a wild animal. "I was just bringing this over," he says, holding out the bundle in his arms. "Thought I'd leave it by the door, but."

He looks better than the last time she saw him. His eyes are clear instead of clouded, his hair neatly trimmed and parted to the side, the way they started styling it after they won the Games. She can make out the barest hint of stubble on his chin, something he'd never had before. His brown jacket looks tight across his shoulders, and it strikes her that the boy standing before her is seventeen years old – still growing.

Katniss accepts the bundle, taking care not to touch his fingers as she curls her own around the cloth. Squeezing gently, she can feel that it's bread. Peeta was bringing her bread. She wants to cry.

"You don't…" Katniss trails off, at a loss for words.

Peeta smiles slightly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Just being a good neighbor."

She presses the loaf against her stomach, wrapping her arms around herself to hold it there, and shifts her gaze away from him. Tries to collect herself. "Thank you."

"How are you?" he asks, his voice unnaturally bright. She looks back at him; his smile looks forced, almost a grimace.

"I'm okay," she says softly. "How are you?"

"Been worse," he says, and laughs a little. "Obviously."

And suddenly, it's too much. Katniss breathes in sharply. "Thank you. I have to – take this – I have to go."

"Katniss –"

"Thank you."

Peeta doesn't try to stop her.

Gale looks surprised to find her in the kitchen when he shuffles out of his bedroom , still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Thought you'd be out," he says, pouring himself a glass of milk.

Katniss shrugs. "We have so much venison in the freezer."

He takes a long sip of milk, then jerks his chin at the cloth bundle on the kitchen table in front of her, wiping his wrist over his mouth. "What's that?"

It's a simple answer to a simple question, and yet saying it feels like trying to pull a lead weight out of her stomach. "Bread."

Gale sets his glass down on the countertop. "Where'd you get that?"

She focuses her gaze on a knot in the wood of the tabletop, willing her features to stay neutral. "Where do you think?"

"Did you go over there? Because it's not safe," he adds immediately.

Katniss stares back at him. "It's perfectly safe."

"How do you know that?"

"I…I just do." She shakes her head slightly. "You said yourself, he looked fine."

"Yeah. He looked fine before he strangled you, too."

She feels it again, the sick, squeamish turn of her stomach that she feels every time they poke and prod one another into one of these fights. "I didn't even go to his house. I was going to the woods. We barely spoke." A lump settles in her throat, her eyes suddenly burning with tears. "He was bringing bread here. For us." She pushes her chair back from the table abruptly, stumbling to her feet.

Gale sighs deeply behind her. "Catnip –"

"I'm taking a bath," she says. "Have some goddamn toast."

Beneath the rush of water from the bathtub tap, she finally lets herself cry.

He had looked clean, and healthy, and sane. He had looked almost exactly like the old Peeta.

But he hadn't looked at her the way the old Peeta did.

Katniss stays in the bath until her fingers prune, splashing the lukewarm water over her eyes in a halfhearted attempt to soothe the puffy, red skin. She stands on shaky legs, crossing her arms over her chest instinctively when there's a soft knock at the door.

"Don't come in," she says.

"I'm not." Gale's voice sounds close, and she pictures his forehead pressed against the other side of the door. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

She shivers a little as goosebumps run down her arms. "I'm fine."

"I didn't mean to upset you." He pauses. "I'm just trying to be realistic."

"Okay."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

She isn't sure what to say. She steps out of the tub and onto the small woven rug she keeps beside it, tugging her towel off the hook on the back of the door.

"Catnip?"

"I heard you." She wraps the towel around her torso and leans over the tub, wringing out her hair.

"Well I mean it, okay?" he says.

Katniss opens the door, and he stumbles against her, catching himself on the doorframe. She steps aside quickly, avoiding his eyes. "I know."

He has lunch waiting for her by the time she comes downstairs: venison seared on the stove, with potatoes from their provision box. It's his version of an apology, and eating it means she'll forgive him.

They eat in near silence, until Katniss says abruptly, "We should give him meat."

Gale turns his head to look at her. "Who?"

"Peeta," she says, before she can think better of it. But she doesn't miss the way his features harden before he turns back to his plate.

"Yeah, okay," he says finally. "Fair's fair, I guess."

It is fair, she thinks as she stands before the open freezer a half-hour later, her eyes raking over the dozens of steaks they'd packed in the night before. Peeta brought her box; Peeta baked her bread. She'll give him her deer meat. Even.

Katniss pulls a steak out and weighs it in her hands. Two pounds, give or take. Satisfied, she slips it into her game bag and steps towards the door to grab her boots. Gale's already there, slipping on his jacket.

"Where are you going?" she says without thinking.

Gale pauses, his jacket half-zipped. "I thought we were taking meat over to Peeta."

"Right," she says, flushing slightly. We. She'd said we.

Gale walks quickly as they cross the gravel road, staying a step or two ahead of her, and raps his knuckles against the front door before she can do it herself. She hears footsteps from where the kitchen is, and after a moment Peeta opens the door.

Katniss is standing back a bit, half-hidden by Gale's larger body, but his eyes go straight to her anyway, before darting up to meet Gale's gaze. "Hi," Peeta says, sounding surprised.

"Hey," Gale says, and that's all. He's leaving it to her. Katniss swallows.

"I – we wanted you to have this. To say thank you, for the bread. And bringing the box over." She pulls the steak from her sack and thrusts it at him, moisture starting to bead on the plastic wrap as it hits the air.

Peeta accepts the offering, holding it awkwardly in his hands, like he has no idea what to do with it. "Um, thanks," he says. "It's okay, though. I just…like to bake," he says, his voice dropping off.

"It's a good cut," Gale says defensively. "Katniss just shot the deer yesterday."

"Then…I'm sure it's the best." Peeta smiles then, a tentative smile, locking eyes with Katniss. She stares back at him for a moment, looking away when she can feel Gale's gaze on her, too. "Would you…maybe want to share it with me? You could come for dinner," he says, looking between them uncertainly. "Both of you, I mean," he adds quickly.

Katniss glances up at Gale, but his face betrays nothing. This was her idea; it's her decision. "Sure," she says.

"I'll invite Haymitch," Peeta suggests.

Gale eyes the package in Peeta's hands. "You'll need more meat for that," he says.

"We can bring more," Katniss says. The only thing worse than dinner with the three of them and Haymitch would be dinner without Haymitch.

"Alright." Peeta nods. "I'll see you around six?"

Katniss nods, and he smiles again, stepping back into the house. Gale's hand comes to rest on the small of her back as they walk back down to the road. She never hears the door close, but when she looks back, he's gone.

As always:
- Thank you so much for your amazing reviews.
- I'm really sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. :-P
- I hope you enjoy it, and would love to hear your thoughts!