Disclaimer: Eventful chapter! Hope you enjoy!

"Hazelle!" Katniss sounds happier than I've ever heard her as she leans into my mother's embrace. Mellark's behind her, talking to Posy. "Vick, you look just like Gale!" she smiles up at Rory. "And haven't you grown two feet? Posy, you're so beautiful. And adorable. Oh my goodness."

I smile as I watch the interaction, the feeling foreign on my face. My mother came home that day too busy chattering about Katniss and Mellark's return that she barely noticed the bandage on my hand until much later. "Noticed a crack in the window," I had told her. "Cut my palm trying to fix it."

"Katniss, Peeta, dear, come sit down!" Ma exclaims, and we all follow into the living room. "My, have we got a lot to catch up on!"

My mother doesn't once bring up the war, the aftermath, and thank God, she doesn't about anything having to do with Prim. I see forgiveness in Katniss' eyes, but I know she's not exactly over it. Just because she doesn't hate me doesn't mean things will ever be like they used to.

Mellark is too nice; I just can't hate him. Or maybe that's why I hate him. He looks at Katniss like I once did. He praises my family continually, trying to include me in conversation; I know if Katniss hadn't seen me the other day, she'd be shooting me dirty looks for being less than enthusiastic at Mellark's attempts. Still, it's one of the best nights I've had in a while.

In a brief moment of silence, Katniss says, "I forgot something at home for you, Hazelle. I'm going to go get it." When she cocks an eyebrow at me, I follow her out. No one pays any mind.

"So explain to me this," I say before she can attempt any conversation. "Why are you so...happy?"

"Well, excuse me," she laughs, "I've changed my perspective on things."

"You mean Mellark has changed your perspective on things."

She rolls her eyes. "Just call him Peeta, will you? I've tried to put my bitterness in the past."

"Are you even the same anymore?"

We stops walking and takes my hand in hers; it's a lot warmer than my own. "Gale, I am the same. Just happier. Is that wrong?"

"Of course not," I whisper. We keep walking.

"I'm still the same," she repeats again. "I still don't like talking. I still don't trust people. I still like the color green... I still...Gale, I still care about you."

"Did you after...?"

"I never stopped caring."

The dark feelings that have encompassed me have only lightened some. I wouldn't say I feel better, but something about having Katniss back makes things seem a little easier. One night when Mellark - Peeta - goes to my house and bakes for Ma and the kids, Katniss and I are in her house, alone.

"I like it a lot better than the one I had in Victors' Village," she says as we sit together on the couch. I do, too. It's small, well-lit, homely. There's a box television in the corner. Pine-scented candles sit on the oak coffee table. The couch is overstuffed, a muted green. The walls are wood paneling. The curtains are patchwork. The kitchen has a small, round table, the cupboards are glossy with white knobs. There are a few photos, and my heart swells when I see one of Katniss and I.

I don't love Katniss. Not anymore. But I've forgotten what it's like to really have a friend.

We talk for a long time. Peeta calls to say that he'll be gone longer than planned. And as we grow more honest with each passing hour, Katniss asks, "So can you explain to me about Madge?"

I don't want to; I shoot her a look. But she doesn't back down.

I sigh. "She kissed me first."

"Okay. But how did you...how did you get to that point?"

I explain to her the whole story, from Posy taking me to that first show to our talk about the nightmares and the tears in my eyes. "Do you think it was wrong?" I ask.

"No," she responds carefully. "It's wrong that they take pictures." I remember that Katniss has had her fair share of privacy invasion at the hands of the Capitol.

When I mention the photo of her and Bristel and Thom, she smiles fondly.

"The Polaroid," she remarks. I look at her, confused. "It's an ancient kind of camera. Literally, hundreds of years. Her mother gave it to her."

I can't help but grin. "She had a whole wall of them," I recall. "I remember thinking she couldn't possibly have used it to take pictures with all those people before us."

"She didn't," Katniss tells me plainly. "She only used that one at certain times."

"When?" I furrow my eyebrows.

"When it was important," Katniss says. My heart skips a beat. "No one could take them from her and show them to the world if she kept them to herself."

I'm silent for a moment; this information tugs a heartstring. "But some were really old."

"Yeah," Katniss sighs, "well, she knew that she was going to be shipped off eventually. Someone was bound to find out about how her father treated her. Everything surfaces eventually."

I hate that wording, shipped off, like she was an object. But I know that's how Mr. Undersee felt about her. "She never had bruises in those photos."

Katniss looks up at me sadly, half-smiling. "She knew how to cover them up." I remember what Madge's father said to me, she's used to covering bruises of all different kinds, anyway.

"He stayed away from her face. Except...except the one time."

"How considerate," I spit out bitterly. The hatred I feel for Madge's father is rising; I tell Katniss about my short but eventful encounters with him. She nods knowingly. "He never wanted her to love anybody."

"What a bastard," I mutter. "Why the hell not?"

"She didn't like to talk about it," her grey eyes meet mine, soft and reminiscent. "I remember one night, Thom and Bristel and I walked her home, and I heard him shouting that she was going to end up a whore like her mother if she didn't stop going out all the time."

I sigh angrily, shaking my head. "Why did she...why did she...hide from me?" I don't know how else to word it, but Katniss knows my voice says don't lie to me.

"She loved you," she starts. "She was an angel. She never acted bitchy to me even when she knew that you liked me. She still talked to me all those times after you kissed me. She still cared."

I take a shaky breath. "To be honest, Catnip, if I'd have known about Undersee I might not have kissed you so many times."

Katniss laughs. "She always asked about you. But...with her father, she didn't pursue you. And she thought that you wouldn't like her. She thought you'd hate her. Because she was from town, and because you never went along when I traded with her."

"That's what Thom said."

"Yeah. And then...something happened and she stopped talking about you, and she begged us not to bring you up. She begged us not to say anything to you. She always had, but then we knew there was no chance of you two meeting after that happened."

"After what happened?"

Katniss looks at me again, her face now pale. "Gale, I..."

"Dammit, Katniss! Just say it!"

She clears her throat and shakily tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "She didn't want us to say anything. Ever."

"Katniss," my voice has become dangerously low and angry. Moments of silence pass and I start to think she's trying to come up with a suitable lie. I almost open my mouth to scream, to talk, I don't know what, but then she says,

"She brought you the morphling."

A/N: Ooooh. Next chapter is dramatic, too, but for Madge this time. Do you think the story's moving too quickly? I think it's gone so slow Gadge-wise that I came up with some plot twists to change that. ;) Is Katniss believable? If the conversation seemed awkward between them, I think Katniss is a very awkward person. Strong, loving, smart, but not good with words. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I have 17 watches on this story as I'm typing this! I love you all (keep reviewing, or start reviewing!:D)