Title: Dandelion – Chapter Eight: Apologies
Warnings / Spoilers: Gale / THG, CF, and MJ
Pairing(s): Katniss/Peeta, future Haymitch/Hazelle
Word Count: 856
I'm up at the crack of dawn yet again, preparing for another day of hunting. The nightmares, although I had them, weren't as vivid as they have been of late. Maybe helping Peeta is helping me too.
No one else is awake. Even Peeta managed to sleep relatively soundly, with nightmares of his own and with me thrashing away next to him. The others are all in beds in their own homes, although it seems as if Posy is sleeping in the guest room again – I make a mental note to ask Hazelle about this later on as I head downstairs. I grab an apple from the basket on the table, lift my bag to my shoulder, and head for the front door.
And then the phone rings. I rush over to it and pick it up, hoping that the noise hasn't awakened Posy or Peeta. "Hello," I whisper, trying desperately to conceal how upset I am that my phone rang at four in the morning.
"I assume I didn't wake you."
At the sound of his voice, I seriously consider hanging up and walking out the door as if the call had never been answered. But he'd call again, at a time when people were around and I wouldn't be able to avoid him, so I reply, "Still an early riser, then, Gale?"
"I thought this'd be the best time for me to be sure you answered instead of my family or Haymitch or –" he pauses.
"Peeta," I finish.
"…Yeah."
After a pause, I coax, somewhat rudely, "Well, what do you want?"
"I'm sorry, Katniss. You can't even imagine how sorry I –"
I cut him off. "You're sorry?" I shout. Then I remember there are two people sleeping upstairs and lower my voice. "You weren't there. You never thought about what they would do with the information you were giving them. You trusted her, even when I tried to tell you there was something off about her."
"No, you didn't," he answers, raising his voice in turn. "You tried to tell me you didn't want me around her – not because you were worried for my safety, or anyone else's, but because you were jealous."
"I was jealous? You can't even say his name, Gale."
"Peeta," he taunts. "Peeta Peeta Peeta. See, I can say it."
"Grow up."
"I grew up a long time ago. You're the one who never did."
"See, Gale, now I'm confused. Did you call to apologize or to cut me down?"
"Beetee and I had no idea what they were planning to do with our plans. We expected they'd be used against the Capitol. And that would've been perfect. It wasn't supposed to target kids, and it wasn't supposed to target our own people. She took our ideas and twisted them to her own end. She killed Prim, Katniss. Not me."
By now I'm shaking I'm so angry. "You've tried to feed me excuse after excuse, Gale." After a short pause, I finish, "Don't call here anymore," and hang up.
Part of me longs to run for the comfort of the woods, but the other part wants nothing more to do with anything Gale and I ever did. I collapse in a chair at the table and cry into my hands.
He had been my best friend. We'd each always known what the other was thinking. We could finish each other's sentences. When hunting, we operated as such a perfect team we were almost one being. He'd saved my life, and the lives of my mother and sister, countless times.
And then he'd killed her. Whether he knew what was planned or not, he'd created it, orchestrated it, coordinated it. He'd lost sight of the goal, entirely focused on destroying the Capitol through death and destruction.
For nearly two years, Peeta and I had been groomed for this revolution. He was its voice, and I was its face. I guess that'd make Gale its brute force.
"What's wrong?" Peeta asks groggily from the doorway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Gale called," I answer simply.
Peeta approaches me slowly, a sad look in his eyes. He kneels down next to my chair and asks patiently, "What happened?"
By now I'm weeping, but I manage to gasp out, "We fought."
"About the bombs?" he continues simply, taking one of my hands in both of his.
I nod slowly, shaking from the sobs.
"It's all right, Katniss," he answers quietly, reaching up to wrap his arms around me. I slide slowly from my chair and kneel beside him, face buried in his shoulder. I can feel his hands rubbing my back and stroking my hair, and I can hear him whispering that everything's okay and I can cry all I want and he isn't going anywhere. I'm clinging to his shirt for dear life, as if by letting go I'd lose him forever.
None of this may be fair to Gale, because he did develop his weapons for use against the Capitol, not by it. But he was also too blind with rage to see that District Thirteen wasn't any better.
