**What's up all you lovely people? So I apologize for the lengthy wait for this update. I thought I'd be able to get it up sooner, but I struggled with this chapter. I wanted to include just a hint of romance without making it seem too abrupt or awkwardly placed. I hope to get the next chapter up fairly soon to complement this one. The quote is one that I think is very fitting, not just for this chapter, but the entire story. I've played around with my formatting have you noticed? Haha**

Chapter 4

I Won't Object

To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead - Bertrand Russell

I walk towards the Seam eager to check on Gale; repaying the visit he paid me the other night. I know that he will be in the mines today, but sometimes he gets a break and makes a trip home to reconnect with his family, ensuring that there is enough food.

Once the charred remains of the Hob come into view my eagerness turns into anxiety. By the time I've made it to the worn dirt path that leads to the homely Hawthorne residence, I am completely terrified. What do I say to him?

I shake my head trying to rid myself of the nerves that cause my stomach to feel as if it's been invaded by a fleet of marching ants. "Don't be so ridiculous Katniss," I say under my breath. Why should I be getting nervous over the prospect of talking to Gale? Just tell him about your day. Tell him how you feel...my mouth goes dry.

I try to imagine myself looking into Gale's steely grey eyes and telling him that I want to explore a relationship that focuses more on passionate caresses than strategic survival. That I'm OK with him loving me, and if he should want to brush his lips against mine or wrap his arms around me in a way that suggests something more than friendship, I won't object...

At least I tell myself that I won't object, but by the way that my pulse starts to quicken and my hands start to sweat, I'm not all too sure.

I let my memory drift back to the time I coaxed Gale into the woods using gifts composed of food and fine leather gloves to lead him to where I sat huddled in the shanty near the lake. I ran to him with the lives of those I love nestled within my palms, begging him to help me keep them away from the Capitol's malicious reach. He embraced me with a promise to go along with whatever I asked of him; words of adoration dripped from his lips and covered me in a blanket that was too thick for me to endure.

Now that I know my days in District 12 are few, I feel like I need to try to take the step towards the door his confession of love created. I know I won't get married. I know I won't have children. But I hope to die feeling like I understand what it means to love and be loved by someone else, in a way that makes my heart swell with joy.

What scares me is that once I take that step, nothing will ever be the same between Gale and me. I will never be able to view the lopsided smirk that spreads across his roguishly handsome face as just a characteristic of his features. It will be the source of nervous butterflies that will flit around my stomach in erratic laps. When I look at his nimble fingers, they will no longer be viewed as the skilled instruments that are able to twine wires into elaborate traps to ensnare woodland creatures. I will think of the way they feel against my skin and how the tingling trail they trace upon my body seems to linger even when they are no longer there.

All of it will be new to me.

My romance with Peeta did not prepare me for what will come when I enter into a relationship with Gale. I consider my fling with Peeta as nothing more than a fabricated fairy tale courtship. Something we've both been forced into to keep us alive. All the kisses, the embraces, the lovesick exchanges are not real. Those things exist between the Baker's son and the Katniss who went away to the Capitol.

The real Katniss, the girl who stayed behind in District 12 while the doppelgänger flirted with the Capitol audience, doesn't really know how intimacy works. She views this thing called love, which makes you as vulnerable as a fawn in an open field, as terrifying. Fear of this vulnerability is what prevents me from reaching towards the rusted metal sheath that blocks the entrance to Gale's home and knocking.

Knock I will myself, but I can't manage to do it. I'm about to turn around and hastily walk back home when I hear a steady stream of footsteps heading towards me. Oh please let it be Rory. Please, please let it be Rory.

"Hey Catnip."

I inhale deeply, struggling to release the tension that's caused my shoulders to greet my ears and willing my hands to unfold from the stiff fists they've hid themselves in.

Gale grins when I turn around. Coal dust covers him, from head to toe. The upper half of the miner's suit slumps around his waist revealing strong broad shoulders and a stained sleeveless shirt. He wipes at his forehead, smearing it with black.

I try not to notice the way his shirt hugs his chest and focus on the lines of powdery black that decorate a significant part of his body. The sight of him covered in soot is so amusing that my nervousness ebbs momentarily. "Look at you," I gawk. "I've never seen you so dirty."

His eyes narrow seductively, "What? This isn't attractive to you?" He halts and puts his hands on his hips, puffing out his chest like a Mockingjay attracting a mate. "Women like a man who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. So I've heard."

I shift my weight to my left foot, slightly uncomfortable by what the joke is insinuating. "I think your hands are the only clean part of your body," I remark, glancing down at the thick gloves that cover his fingers.

He shrugs and continues walking towards me. "Were you looking for me?"

I don't know why he bothered asking, he knows I was. I begin to panic thinking about how long he might have watched me standing in front of his door before I heard his footsteps. He's able to tread so softly across the leaf strewn floor of the forest, it's possible that he could have observed me for a great deal of time before he made his presence known. I urge myself to regain control of my emotions and quickly deflect his question by presenting him with one of my own, giving me time to recollect my thoughts.

"How were the mines today?"

"Brutal, like every day," he takes a seat and pats the ground for me to sit down. I tentatively take the spot next to him.

I've sat beside him many times before at our meeting place in the woods. The two of us silently perched on our rock, basking in the blissful freedom of the forest. Before now, I've never thought about the way his muscled arm feels pressed up against mine. Or the way his warmth emanates from where he sits and envelops me.

When he opens his mouth to speak this time, his voice is overly sincere. "How are you?"

How am I? This is a pretty loaded question and I don't really know how to answer it. I could be honest and tell him that I'm a nervous wreck and sitting so closely beside him is making the words I want to say recede to the dark corners of my mind. Or I could just be vague, steering the conversation towards the Quarter Quell.

"I'm...managing," I shrug. I decide it's safer to talk about the Games. "I'm all cried out, Prim made sure of that. It's hard to think about going back in the Games, but then again it was torture thinking about having to watch a tribute die year after year under my guidance."

And that's really all I want to say about the emotional trauma that's invaded my life. I'm curious to know what Gale thinks about Peeta's approach to the Games though, and that is the next thing I bring up when I open my mouth again.

"Peeta's putting us on this strict regimen to get us in top-notch shape for the Games. It's kind of ridiculous..."

"It's not ridiculous at all," Gale cuts me off before I can say anything further. "The other Districts have done it for years."

"Yeah Gale, but that's how you lose yourself in these Games," I huff, thinking about the way the Careers viewed the other tributes as slabs of meat to hack away at.

"It's not about principle anymore Katniss. You going back into the Games is not a coincidence and I think you know that. Do you know what you are?"

I roll my eyes leaning back on my hands. Here we go. He is going to tell me that I'm the face of a rebellion. I'm a valuable asset to invoke a revolution. Though I'm glad that our topic of choice is one that won't cause beads of sweat to form a pool on my palms, I find myself getting frustrated.

"You're hope."

My face clouds with confusion and I stare up at Gale in utter bewilderment.

"You, Peeta, and all the other victors, you're the ones who made it. Who fought against the odds and succeeded. And when you take the strongest of the people and cause them to brutally fight against one another, exterminating each other, what do you think that does?"

He doesn't wait for me to offer an answer. "It not only subdues what little fight people might have had within them, it completely shatters them. What will be left Katniss?"

His words echo in my skull. Before the people of Panem were completely oblivious to the power the Capitol held over its victors. They were left peacefully disillusioned. But now they get to see that even the strongest of them cannot overpower the Capitol.

"Now's the time for you to fight for what you believe in." He whispers the last bit, "There's so much you could do."

He's talking about turning my time in the Games into a plan to further promote upheaval in the other Districts that could result in the people regaining control of their homelands. Of course, Gale would agree with the idea of training like Careers if it meant taking a swing at the Capitol.

Instead of being repulsed by his suggestion I consider it. Unknowingly, I've become a figure that inspires the disenfranchised citizens of Panem to fight their oppressors. Bonnie and Twill made that clear to me when they showed me the soggy biscuit inscribed with my Mockingjay pin. If I embrace this image, would I be able to give the rebels the fuel they need to succeed? My hate for the Capitol has only increased and why should I let them take my life without causing a bit of trouble.

I mull over this idea, idly looping my fingers around a stray thread that dangles from my shirt. I don't see when Gale takes his left hand out of the soiled glove and reaches for mine. The gesture causes me to stiffen and everything I was feeling before he showed up in front of me rushes back. Slowly, he entwines our fingers, testing the waters, waiting for me to move away from his touch. I make an effort not to resist.

I'm exceptionally aware of how his hand feels against mine. Over the years they've grown hard and calloused from all the scratches he received while setting up snares and hunting. I wonder if that's how my hand felt when it rested in Peeta's cushy grasp.

I force myself to tell Gale something just as brazen as what he told me about the Quarter Quell; something that will explain why I allow him to intimately curl his long fingers around mine in a way that has never happened before.

"Do you..." I begin, searching for the right words. "Do you remember what you said to me...the night of the Harvest Festival, in the woods?" Nerves start to set in again when I ask him this question so I keep my gaze straight ahead. I feel his breath on my neck when he turns towards me.

"When I said I loved you," he answers.

His acknowledgement causes the blood to rush to my ears. I fight the urge to flee from this moment. To escape within myself and push him away like I did when we stood with our foreheads pressed together basking in the glow of the fire. I take a deep breath and turn to look into his eyes. "Do you still feel that way?"

He chuckles and raises my hand to his cheek, "Just because we had a fight doesn't mean those feelings went away."

"Okay," I let my hand slip from his and place it against the pavement to steady myself. "Maybe we could...you know we can try..." the words stay trapped at the back of my throat so I do the only thing I can think of, I lean in.

His lips find mine and I close my eyes, determined to focus only on his touch. He starts off slow, pressing his peach mouth to mine in slow lingering pecks that cause my lips to tingle with anticipation. For someone so lean and muscled, his kisses are surprisingly gentle.

When he sees that I don't pull away he starts to deepen the kiss. His tongue lightly teases my bottom lip, beckoning me to come closer and to press my mouth against his soft moist lips without reserve. He places his hand under my chin and tilts my head so he can plant feathery kisses at the corners of my mouth. My body starts to react, growing warmer, completely aware of his nearness.

I gradually pull away from him, feeling almost light-headed. When I lift my heavy lids I am gazing into his joyfully sparkling eyes. I want my grey eyes to share the same look of endearment, but I find there is something at the back of my mind that prevents me from ecstatically embracing cloud nine. The best I can do is smile back at him shyly.

Gale doesn't seem to notice my hesitation. "I guess you're one of those women who prefer a man who isn't afraid of a little dirt," he smirks, reviving his earlier joke. I can't help thinking that his statement is also meant to insult Peeta.

I gaze down at my hands that are resting in my lap and notice the smudges of filth that jumped off Gale's body and found a new home on mine. "Apparently you don't know how to keep your dirt to yourself," I scold him, swiping at the dark blotches on my shirt. He playfully nudges me with his shoulder.

"You have to go back to the mines soon?" I ask. My question is more of an escape route than it is a concerned inquiry about his schedule. I'm not ready to put into words what this moment means for us.

He nods, "Yeah. I'm just going to duck inside and see if I can rustle up something to snack on and then head out." He places two fingers to his temple and then rubs his hand through his jet black hair, a nervous reaction. "Can I see you tomorrow?" This is new. Never before has Gale asked to visit me. We've always just...found each other.

"Uh...yeah, sure."

"I'll come to your house in the Victor's Village," he sees my reaction at his proposal. "I have some herbs for you." I understand that this is a cover-up in case anyone should wonder why he is dropping by my house. I'm a little wary about seeing him so soon after such an emotionally charged moment, but I guess the sooner we are able to make sense of what is happening between us, the better. I nod my assent.

Gale gets up, stretching his arms out to the sky and then peers down at me with a raised brow. "Hey Catnip, I meant to ask you before, how did you get that scratch on your face?"

I push myself off the ground and smirk at him. "Let's just say, my mentor doesn't appreciate it when people force him to lead a life of sobriety." I notice Gale's fists clench at the thought of Haymitch laying a hand on me. "It's nothing serious," I assure him. "Just a little mishap with a broken bottle."

I reach out and give his hand a light squeeze. He glances down taking in the sight of my fingers on top of his and stares back at me with eyes that gleam with want. I know there are many questions resting on the tip of his tongue, waiting to bombard me, but that's all for another day.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I say.

I wave goodbye before he can say anything more and let my feet carry me home while my mind sorts out my feelings about the kiss.

**And so it begins! Katniss has taken a step towards the door of love. What will await her on the other side? What does Gale want to talk about when he sees her again? How will Katniss explain her romance with Gale to Peeta? Hmm I wonder, I wonder ;).**