A/N: Thanks so much for the feedback! You're all awesome. Here is the surprisingly much-anticipated Gale scene, plus some.

…

"Gale."

My voice reveals my shock and fear in a sharp, breathless whisper, and as quickly as our eyes met, I avert mine now, concentrating on the elaborate pattern of the carpet. I'm not sure why I'm so surprised to see him, since I had known well before now that he would be here. The suddenness of it, I decide, is what's left me quivering in my stilettos as a myriad of conflicting emotions washes over me. I still grip Peeta's hand as if it's my lifeline, tethering me to the reality of the situation and where we are.

Peeta is squeezing back just as hard, though for my sake or his, I'm not sure. He hasn't said much outside of that one afternoon about his feelings on Gale's reappearance. I glance at his face and his brow is furrowed, as though he's displeased by the man before us, and his strong jaw is clenched tightly. He looks agitated and guarded, two emotions not typically associated with Peeta Mellark.

They fit Gale Hawthorne flawlessly, however, and without a second thought I bring my eyes to his once again. Deep steel-grey pools meet mine, but they're practically unreadable, so I take in the rest of him quickly. He's as handsome as ever, maybe even more so now that he's properly fed and bathed on a regular basis, in addition to his tailored charcoal suit and purposely-mussed dark hair. I'd go so far as to say he looks downright sexy.

But like all the years behind us, the realization has no effect on me. I'm on the arm of the most beautiful, sexy man in the world, and nothing will change that in my mind.

I watch him shift uncomfortably on the spot, tugging at his navy tie and scratching his head right behind his ear. It's an endearing old nervous habit of his, and it almost makes me smile, but I can't bring myself to do it. Silence passes on for what feels like eons, but I can't speak; I don't know what to speak. I miss you? I hate you? I forgive you?

I have forgiven him, I remind myself. I feel all of these things. I guess then, more accurately, I don't know how to start to say them.

Gale saves me the mental configuring by finally speaking up. "Katniss, I – I'd like to talk to you. Maybe over there?" He nods to a secluded corner where I spot a door that leads to what I'm assuming is a storage closet, and shoves his hands in his pockets nervously. I've rarely seen nervous Gale, and it's a little disconcerting. What does he want to say to me?

"I…" my voice trails off, and I look up at Peeta for something, anything, in his expression that might persuade me one way or another. He gazes back at me, his eyes loving but hard, until finally he leans in to kiss me squarely on the lips. I give a tiny gasp of surprise, which he swallows eagerly as his lips mesh with mine, but soon I catch up.

Peeta pulls back a second later and moves his mouth to my ear. "I'll be with Effie. If you need me…" he leaves his sentence open-ended and I nod in understanding, releasing his hand from my death grip so we can go our separate ways.

It kills me to see him walking away; it's the last thing we said we'd do on this trip – together, not apart. But this is my ruined friendship, not ours, and I need to handle this alone.

I turn back to Gale, who is looking down at his shoes and carefully tracing a golden loop on the carpet with his toe.

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, my anxiety at an all-time high. "Gale."

His head snaps up at once, and upon noticing that I'm alone, gestures in the direction of the corner once again. He leads the way, and once we're there checks around to make sure no one's looking before motioning me inside. He slips in discreetly after me, and we stand there for a minute, staring at each other. I'm still at a loss of where to begin when Gale finally sighs heavily and speaks.

"I'm sorry, Katniss," he murmurs, his voice gentle and gruff. Now that we're alone, I see the sadness in his eyes, the guilt. "I'm so sorry."

My eyes duck and I cross my arms over my stomach, shaking my head; I'm not entirely sure what that was supposed to convey. Words never have been our strong point, and it seems like that hasn't changed a bit. I feel a solid lump form in my throat, all the words catching there and jumbling up like water in a dam: rising, but never overflowing.

"Look at me, Katniss, please," he says. I don't want to. Seeing his face right in front of me makes this more real than I want it to be, yet I still…want it to be real. Need it to be.

It's all very confusing. And painful. So painful.

His beg rings in my ears, though, and like the flickers of Prim's face and his look of utter grief that are suddenly invading my brain, it goes straight to my heart, so after a few moments I comply. A look of relief flashes across his features before they return to being somber.

I watch Gale chew the inside of his lip and wait for him to continue. He obviously has more to say, but is having an equally hard time as me getting the words out of his mouth. Our eyes bore into each other's for several moments, and he releases his lip to talk again. "I know you hate me Katniss. I would hate me too, if I were you. Hell, I do hate myself, each and every day."

"Don't," I whimper. I hate how pathetic my voice sounds, but I feel weak from this already. I clear my throat and try to sound normal. "Don't say that. I…I don't hate you." Right?

Gale lets out a short breath. "You don't have to spare my feelings. I don't want you to do that. I can handle the truth."

"If I truly hated you, Gale, I'd make no short order of letting you know. I don't think either of us has changed enough to deny that," I assure him, my voice finally gaining some edge of normalcy.

A sad, tiny smile crosses his full lips, and he ducks his head quickly for a moment. "No, you're right. I shouldn't have…assumed."

We're silent for a few moments and avoid one another's gaze. Suddenly, the words come to me, effectively spilling over that dam. I take a deep breath and hope I don't practically lose it here at this party, with all those people not that far outside this little enclosed space. "The truth, Gale?"

His eyes meet mine again, and he nods without hesitation. "Please," is all he says.

"The truth…" I bite my lip and close my eyes as I try to gather my strength, and then open them before speaking. "The truth is that I want to hate you with everything I have. I want to hate you for making Peeta feel like I only chose him because you fucked up. I want to hate you for being so irrational and headstrong. I want to hate you for the fact that I literally became my mother when I didn't get out of bed for months because I was so depressed." I squeeze my eyes shut to ward off the tears, because despite everything good in my life right now, I'm not okay. And Gale is just intensifying that fact. "I loved her more than anything in this world; more than you, more than Peeta, more than my mom. And she's gone," I whisper. "She's gone because of something you might have done, because you wanted them to pay, and it's just not fair! She had so much more life, Gale, she was going to be a doctor. She was going to make something of herself. She was going to help people."

I try to steady my breathing, which has become heavy and uneven in the course of my rant. "But the truth is," I open my eyes and am almost shocked into silence to see a single tear track down his cheek, "I don't hate you. I can't hate you. I'm angry at you; furious, really. And I realized that right now I don't… love you anymore." I check his face to see how he's taking all this, and my last words seem to have done it. More tears stream silently down his perfectly structured cheekbones, and in a moment of pure bravery I reach one of my trembling hands to grasp one of his. It feels familiar, weathered and strong. "But I miss you. Especially in the woods. You haunt me there." I swallow hard. "And maybe I do hate you for that."

I don't need to elaborate. The woods hold a special place in both our hearts, where we remember our fathers best. But now, for me, it's tainted by not only the loss of my father, but my best friend. Gale gets that.

I see another tear roll down his cheek, and I wipe it away hastily with my free hand. I don't like to see him cry; to me it's like seeing something bizarre and unnatural. Gale Hawthorne does not cry. But he's been too strong for too long, and it seems everything has caught up to him.

Gale takes a deep, shuddering breath and exhales just as shakily, wiping furiously at his tears. He squeezes my hand, and our watery eyes meet. We're standing closer to one another than we have throughout this entire conversation, and he looks down at me as he takes his turn to talk. "I loved her like she was my own sister, Katniss," he mutters hoarsely, and I finally feel my resolve slip at his words, tears of my own leaking out of my eyes. I knew he loved Prim; I used to tease him that he always treated her as he would an older Posy. But hearing it directly from his mouth makes it all the more real at what he's possibly done. It's Gale's turn to wipe my tears as he continues, his voice somehow steady, but audibly pained. "At the time when we last saw each other in the Capitol I was cocky and stupid and I didn't want to acknowledge that it really could be my fault that she's…gone. I was in denial about what exactly had happened, and I just didn't want to admit that I would never see her again. And these past few months in Two I've tortured myself every day, wondering if it was me. I can't sleep. I have nightmares about it all, that I murder her, that she hates me too even now."

I gasp at the image, but I shake my head. "She would never hate you either, Gale. She was so good, and…well, loved you like an older brother."

Gale offers a watery grimace, like he's trying to smile but can't quite manage it. "Prim," he whispers, and squeezes my hand in our old gesture of comfort. I fight the hitch in my breath at the sound of her name, and Gale looks up at me apologetically. However, as we stand there his demeanor slowly changes into one of confliction, and I have to wonder what's coming next. When Gale doesn't want to be read, he isn't. Finally, he blurts, "Katniss, I've asked the Secretary of Defense if he could find whose bombs they were."

My mouth drops open of its own accord. I don't know what to say. "Can he?" I ask. If he can, this could mean so many things. And not all of them good.

Gale nods. "I told him I didn't want to know yet. Only if you want to know, too."

I think about it for a moment. The idea that Gale's name might be cleared from the guilty column in my brain would have so many positive reflections on both of our lives. But if it turns out that they were his… I don't know if I could live with that. For the past year I've struggled with the 'maybe, maybe not' scenario, and when it comes down to it, I'd rather not know, than know for certain that my former best friend unintentionally killed my sister.

I sigh and wipe a few stray tears from my face. "Gale, I've come to forgive you for what may or may not have happened. And this is so selfish of me, but I can't. Every day I don't know is beyond difficult, but I wouldn't be able to deal with knowing that you killed Prim, however inadvertent."

Gale looks at me with wide eyes. "You…you forgive me?"

"Forgiving isn't forgetting," I remind him quietly. "I've already come to terms with the fact that I'll never forget. I think you should too."

He looks shocked, but nods solemnly. "Your forgiveness is more than I could ever ask for, Catnip."

It takes him only a second to realize what he's said, and immediately starts backtracking. "Katniss, I – I didn't mean to. I shouldn't call you that anymore."

I put a finger over his lips to silence him. The old nickname resonates within me and makes me feel warm and nostalgic. "Gale, I still care about you. And I don't mind that you called me Catnip. In fact…please do."

Gale looks surprised, but ultimately gives his first genuine grin of the night. "In that case, I miss you too, Catnip." He squeezes my hand.

I look down at our clasped fingers, at our matching skin, and wonder not for the first time what it would be like had he not done what he did. In the same beat I realize I miss the contrast of Peeta's paler skin against my dark tan, and with one last squeeze I drop Gale's hand from mine.

"I'll write you," he says, smiling again. "And you can write back telling me all about Peeta."

I blush and fidget with my dress. "Shut up," I mutter. "I know you don't care."

Gale raises an eyebrow. "On the contrary. He obviously makes you happy. And I want you to be happy more than anything." I nod slowly, still a little surprised that he has accepted my genuine relationship with Peeta so easily. "Though I could do without you kissing right in front of me," he adds, only half-joking.

My cheeks turn even redder and I groan, chewing my lip thoughtfully. "When he found out you would be here, he told me he was afraid that I would choose you over him, like when we came back from the games. I told him that would never in a million years happen, but he was still…unsure. I think he was just staking his claim, or something." I watch his expression, and if I'm reading him correctly, Gale looks a little hurt. "What?"

Gale shakes his head and smiles at me ruefully. "No matter what you may ever feel for me, Katniss, I'll never stop loving you – never stop loving you as my friend, and right now I can't stop loving you as something more. But I would never purposefully try to separate the two of you, especially not for my own wants. I know you've loved him for a while, and everyone knows he's loved you for even longer. Earning your love isn't easy, Catnip, and I'd at least never deprive him of that."

He's joking, but there's a truth to his words, and he still looks a little upset behind his smile. I don't really know what to make of the fact that he has just admitted a lasting romantic interest in me. it doesn't make my heart stop (in a good way, anyways, like it had with Peeta), but it's more of a lurching sensation that signifies guilt. I feel angry with myself for feeling like I should be guilty. Gale made his choices, and I most definitely have made mine. There's nothing I can do about that.

This is, however, the boy who has been my tether to survival and companionship for the better part of my life, and I the same to him, and seeing him so different: accepting, worn-down, sad – completely un-Gale traits – leaves me with the nagging need to comfort him somehow. He's as tied to my heart as Peeta is, whether I like it or not.

I can at least console myself with the fact that mine and Gale's levels of attraction to one another don't match. So, looking to brighten him up a bit before we leave, I push his shoulder gently, though it really does nothing because he's so solid. "You know, you're a pretty good friend when you're not being cocky and stupid," I tell him quietly, offering him a small, sincere grin.

Gale chuckles and sighs. "I'll try to remember that." He looks down at me for a moment and the next thing I know he's drawing me into a hug, his arms wrapping around my shoulders comfortingly. I rest my head on his shoulder and breathe him in. He smells like cedar and spice and man, and it's not what I'm used to smelling on him, but it's not bad at all.

I still prefer the scent of bread, though.

He squeezes me once and says, "You look beautiful tonight, Catnip," before releasing me and holding me at arm's length. "And I was serious about writing."

I nod and find a reflective surface to check my makeup, and we share our last couple of moments before inching open the door, unsure of what we'll find. I have no clue how long we've been in here, but it's as if no time at all has passed in the party scene. It's no surprise when no one notices us slipping back into the crowd as if we've been there the whole time.

Our eyes linger once more before we go our separate ways, silently bidding each other one last goodbye until we eventually meet again. Our goodbyes never needed many words, even on that reaping day that now felt like ages ago; we said what needed to be said, and that was enough. Tonight is no different.

I watch Gale take a flute of champagne before looking around to find Peeta. I spot his blond head easily, and hurriedly make my way to his side whilst snatching my own glass, feeling I may need it. Peeta is participating in a conversation with an older man, but I can tell he's just going through the motions; he seems anxious, and keeps glancing discreetly at the gleaming silver watch on his left wrist as he chats up the guy, who's clinging to his every word.

Right now I want nothing more than to ditch this place. Despite leaving Gale on good terms, the whole day is catching up to me, and I'm both physically and emotionally exhausted. I fight my way through the crowd and sidle up next to Peeta, grasping his elbow gently.

He looks down at the touch and his eyes light up immediately. "Katniss!" he exclaims, completely ignoring the man now. He sounds relieved and worried at the same time, but gathers me in his arms all the same for a brief embrace. I kiss his cheek and take his hand, and smile at the man he was talking to moments ago only out of politeness. I try to keep my expression normal as I observe him bouncing giddily on the spot; why he's so jumpy, I don't know. Peeta notes where I'm looking and flashes his most charming smile. "Oh yes, Katniss, this is Mr. Blayton Castor. He's one of the architects from Three that Plutarch was telling us about who are redesigning some of the Capitol buildings."

I smile again and shake his proffered hand, which is slightly damp and…gross. He's shorter than me and has a really unfortunate hairline that is receding more on the sides than it is on top, and large but thin wire-framed glasses. "Katniss Everdeen! I am just so excited to meet you and Peeta both! Your heroic acts in the revolution were just fantastic, so inspiring! I was just telling Peeta here that –"

That's when I officially tune him out; his hyperactive demeanor is giving me a headache, and as I stand there clinging to Peeta I just hope my randomly inserted nods and "mmhm's" will appease Mr. Castor.

I place my other hand on top of Peeta's and use the movement as an excuse to look down at his watch. It's nearly eleven; we've been here for nearly three hours. In my mind, that is more than a sufficient amount of time, especially since this is only the first of several more appearances.

I jump at the first break in the conversation (or really when Mr. Castor finally stops talking) to somehow let Peeta know that I want to get the hell out of here. I clear my throat and tap the face of his watch with my fingernail. Somehow Peeta reads this, and offers the man a very convincing apologetic look.

"Well, Mr. Castor, it's been lovely meeting you. I'm afraid we're both rather tired, though. We've had a very long trip from Twelve today, and then all the excitement from the party."

Mr. Castor looks visibly crestfallen, and I want to roll my eyes. The man really has no self-awareness, but his mooching of our attention is so obvious and he is so oblivious to it that I almost feel sorry for him.

Almost. I'm tired, cranky, and feel the faintest buzz in the back of my brain. The word 'lightweight' comes to mind, something that Haymitch had once described me as. Apparently it means I can't hold my alcohol. Fuck Haymitch, I growl in my mind, and I know I must be scowling.

I'm really tired.

"Oh yes, yes of course Peeta. It's been wonderful to get to speak with you and the beautiful Katniss." Without warning he picks up my hand that's resting on top of my and Peeta's held ones, and brings it to his lips.

I'm too tired for this. Too tired. I abandon all pretenses of politeness and make to snatch my hand out of his in anger and incredulity. I don't even have time to do that, however, before Peeta is tugging my arm away from Mr. Castor; he knows me too well, knew that that situation was an outright scene waiting to happen. "Thank you again Mr. Castor for the company," he calls over his shoulder, and leads us to the doors. I think Mr. Castor started to say something back, but by the time I bothered to listen to what he could possibly have to say as we were walking the opposite direction from him, we were out of earshot.

"He was annoying," I gripe, crossing my arms over my chest and scowling when we are standing in front of the elevators. I know I must look very petulant, but I don't care. Tired, buzzed, angry Katniss does not care.

Peeta chuckles and presses the button to signal the elevators. "A bit. He really was a nice man, and very smart. He was just a little…"

"Insane?" I offer, rolling my eyes.

"I was going to say enthused," Peeta corrects as soon as the elevator dings lightly, and I hurry into the compartment before one more person can stop me from getting out of these stupid heels and into my pajamas and a bed.

We're silent as the elevator travels upward, and it's not until floor seven does Peeta finally speak up. "So…Gale?"

I deflate slightly. Somewhere between my utter exhaustion and dealing with Blayton Castor I had forgotten Peeta would want to know what we had talked about.

I'm not sure that I'm up for relaying the whole conversation to him tonight, but Peeta more than deserves to know at least the general gist of it now. Hopefully it will calm his nerves some if he knows at least a little bit, for now at least. I sigh and lean into his arm to rest my head on his shoulder. "Let's get to our room first, and in bed. I can only concentrate on how my feet feel like they're about to fall off."

Peeta nods and kisses my forehead, resting his head on top of mine until the doors open on our floor. Peeta fetches his suitcase from his room and moves it into mine, and we dress for bed in relative silence, taking turns brushing our teeth and I do my best to scrub all the makeup off. I throw on one of Peeta's flannel sleep shirts and a pair of his boxers before climbing into bed with him, glad to find that his regular attire of just boxers hasn't changed.

I peck his shoulder and move to rest my head on his chest, but Peeta cups my face and brings our lips together for a slow, sweet kiss. There's no heat behind it, but that isn't surprising, seeing as we've had an extremely tiring day.

Peeta breaks away slowly and pulls away from my face as much as he can, looking down at me with big, sleepy blue eyes. He rolls on his side so we're facing each other and props his head up with his elbow on his pillow. "Now, please, tell me what happened. It's killing me not knowing."

I give him a little half smile, trying to ease his worries some, and stroke my hand through his curls, which are stiff from whatever gel they used to keep them in place. I pick through my brain for the simplest, but most informative, pieces of the conversation to tell him. "It went better than I thought it would," I murmur. Now that we're dressed in comfortable clothes, swathed in the dark and cuddling in each other's warmth, it's getting even harder to keep my eyes open. "Basically I told him I neither loved nor hated him, but that I'd forgiven him. He was surprised but pleased, I guess, and said he only wanted me to be happy. And he recognized that you are what makes me happy." Peeta smiles, his exhaustion making it crooked and adorable. "Will that tide you over until tomorrow? I can't stay awake anymore."

Peeta sighs and nods, wrapping his arm around my waist, and I nuzzle my nose in his throat to inhale his warm scent. "G'night, Katniss," he mumbles, already half asleep.

I kiss the skin of his throat in response, and within seconds we are both fast asleep, tomorrow's prospects of a Capitol dinner and mentioning that tiny fact to Peeta that Gale still loves me all but forgotten.

…

A/N: Super long A/N here, but anyways. I know the majority likes the really long chapters, and I really tried to make this one as long as the last couple have been, but I just couldn't think of anything else to put in here that I don't want in the next chapter. I sincerely hope the Gale conversation was something of what you hoped/expected, and that if it wasn't you were okay with it. I debated long and hard about how to handle it, and in the end this is what I came up with. I actually like Gale's character in the books, I think he's just misunderstood, kind of like Bender in The Breakfast Club (basically no dad, angry at the world, dark, mysterious, you get it.) Also I just threw in Castor as a random person from my brain because it's break and Netflix is my frenemy right now and I have wasted the last two weeks of my life away watching continuous seasons of random shows. But for him I basically I combined Ted Mosby/Buster Bluth/Sheldon Cooper. Can you tell I've had no life for a while? On that note, I'll do my absolute best to update before classes start again on Monday, but I do have to go back to work and have packing to do, so no absolutes. I hope you all had a great Christmas/New Years! Review if you have time:)