a/n; Liam Hemsworth and Miley Cyrus. Yeah.
I'm shakin' my head. And crying.

chapter fourteen – understanding

'i am up in the clouds,
and i can't, and i can't come down
i can watch but not take part
where i end and where you start
where you, you left me alone
you left me alone.' - radiohead, where i end and you begin

Walking and running and jumping in the swamp are hardened in nostalgia.

The setting is different, but the meaning is the same. Gale can't shake the feeling, and he isn't sure if he wants to. It reminds him of so many things, like teaching her his snares and traps when he was fourteen, fifteen, and her showing him how wonderful she was with a bow at the mere age of twelve.

Well, Catnip, stealing is punishable by death, or hadn't you heard?

He thinks back to that day when he first met her, her going to touch the rabbit hung in his trap, then jumping like one when he caught her staring at them. Had it really been ten years ago?

He looks at her, and at her braid, almost able to find their tale hidden in its length. It feels like he's known her for half a lifetime, even with the five untouched years after he left her.

Perhaps it was because she's been on his mind more than he'd like to admit, over the years. Her and Prim, just circling around his heart, as if they were playing a game.

They get deep into the forest before they run into any game. Katniss notices it before he does, taking a crouching stance in front of him, lightly taking an arrow and knocking it back. She remains rigid and quiet as she anticipates her release.

Gale comes up behind her, eyes spying a young boar, the tusks barely breaking the surface around his nostrils. It dips his head every once in a while, grazing on the rough weeds growing around.

He's close enough to hear her breathe out, then the arrow whistles past her cheek. It flies and plunges squarely into the animal's right eye. It stumbles once, hesitating to die, taking one last stand before it falls to the grass in a huff.

Gale watches as Katniss lowers her bow, staring at the dead boar blankly, almost uncertainly, and he wonders – exactly how long has it been since she's been out to hunt? Truly hunt? Not by taking Vick out into the forest – counting that doesn't seem honest. Counting that would be like counting a practice trial.

He wonders if she's hunted alone, in 12. He never took into account that she hadn't, since she seemed to live there – her, and her bow.

When she doesn't move to check the boar, Gale stands and makes his way over to it. He leans over to examine the eye, blood trickling desperately around the arrow, a puddle forming into the grass around it.

"See?" he says. "I knew you still had it."

She places the bow on her back before getting out of her crouch, and walks up to him, glancing at the boar and then up at him. She crosses her arms.

"I told you I did."

Her voice holds a defiant tone, as if she's trying to prove something to him. He frowns at her, glancing to the boar. She doesn't have anything to prove to him. She only has to prove anything to herself. But maybe, he thinks, if she's able to show someone else progress, any progress at all, it'll help her in the long run. Maybe if someone else sees it, it'll be more believable to herself.

Gale's seen it, though. Those subtle changes. They are few, from what he's seen, but they're there. The way she moves, walks - it's less mechanical and more driven. She reminds him less of a statue. She even acts better around the squad - and Annie. Not that he's had much to go on. How she acts around him hardly counts.

So he crosses his arms back at her and tells her, "You don't have to prove anything to me, Katniss."

She purses her lips. "I wasn't trying to."

"Could've fooled me."

She steps around him, pulling her arrow out of the eye, the motion causing a wet punch to sound in the air between them. She doesn't answer him, and goes to avoid his statement.

"Are you going to carry him, or am I?"

He acts as if he thinks about it. "Well, it's your kill. It'd only be right to let you carry him back."

Katniss sighs, and she goes to move the boar's limbs around, almost motioning to lug him onto her back. Gale intervenes before she takes him seriously.

He lightly pushes at her shoulder, effectively stopping her. She's rigid at his touch.

"You didn't honestly believe I'd make you carry him, did you?"

Her eyes tell him that she did. But she lies, and says, "No, I just thought..."

He gives her a small smile, saying, "C'mon. When would I ever let you do that?" he shakes his head. "Besides, you're sore."

She hesitates. "I'm not...that sore."

He heaves the boar onto his shoulders, then he gives her a look. "You don't have to keep lying, you know."

She musters a glare, though it's half-hearted. She turns around and begins the walk back, straying into the lead. Gale follows behind her.

"I'm glad you shot this," Gale says after a while. "No disrespect to District 4, but fish isn't exactly my favorite."

Katniss grazes her fingers on a few passing trees. "Mine either."

"We've been spoiled on too much rabbit and deer, huh?" he asks, and she can hear the smile in his voice.

"I guess so," she says. "I've never had fish before today."

"Did you like it?"

She thinks about it, remembering the buttery but slimy texture. She frowns a little.

"It was okay. Annie made it taste really good."

"She's magic," he says, hefting the boar. "I tried fish once before Annie made some for me, and I hated it."

Katniss glances over to him. "Do you come to Annie's a lot?"

He looks back to her. "Only when I'm here. She's nice enough to lend me a room."

Though Katniss already knows the answers, she needs to hear it from him, just to see if he'll lie - or maybe just to see what he'll say.

"How did that happen?"

Gale sighs and shakes his head. "Long story shot, I messed up the first time I saw her here. I accidentally sent her into an episode. Her brother hated me after that, then made me leave. But after Finnick was born, she mailed me, and I came by the next time I was in town." He tries shrugging, but fails with the weight if the boar. "It's been like that ever since."

"Is that why you and Finnick are so close?"

Gale smiles at this, and it's a true smile. It isn't one he uses to conceal himself, or one he puts up for show. Katniss had forgotten what he looked like, wearing one.

"Yeah. He's a good kid."

Katniss stares at his smile. "Does he remind you of your siblings?"

He looks up to her, a little surprised by her question. "How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess," she half-shrugs.

"He just..." Gale starts, then trails off. "I don't know. Maybe it's because Posy and Vick and Rory are all growing up. And I've kinda missed it." The regret's too hard to keep out of his voice, so he doesn't try to hold it back. "He's about Posy's age when the war started."

Katniss bites the inside of her cheek, before tentatively asking, "What about what Anton said, about inviting your family over to the Capitol?"

Gale gives a half-smile. "It can be dangerous in the Capitol - we've gone through a lot of bad guys. And Posy and Vick need their education."

Katniss furrows her brows. "But they have breaks, and Rory can always ask for a day off. And maybe when it dies down more, they can visit you."

"Maybe," he says.

Katniss stops walking. "But isn't that what you'd want? To see them more?"

He stops, too. "Yes," he says. "It is what I want. But I'd have to leave them without watching over them, or I'd be busy with contracts, or - "

"Gale," she says. "Think about it. Paylor would cut you some slack. I mean, she's letting me bother you, and it doesn't seem to be much of a problem."

He glances at her, wondering why she's trying to talk him into it. He sighs. "Maybe my problem is that my family worries. They worry when I'm not there, and they'll worry when I'm around. It's easier with you," he says, smiling. "Because you don't worry. You've already made it clear that you don't like me. I can die tomorrow, and it wouldn't be a big deal to you."

She opens her mouth slightly, then splutters, "It would be a big deal."

He raises a brow. "Would it?"

Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. "Yes. Your family would be devastated and - you shouldn't even talk that way, and..."

He shakes his head. "I know it'd be hard on my family. I'm only talking about you."

She looks as if she's not sure what to say. She avoids his gaze, glancing around to the trees, cheeks slowly tinging pink in embarrassed hesitation.

"Even...even if I don't like you, it's not as if you dying wouldn't affect me," she says after a while.

Gale can't tell if she's lying again, but he doesn't want to feel the full effect of her words if she's really telling the truth. So he says, "Like I said, you don't have to keep lying."

Katniss's eyes gain a glint. "I'm not lying!"

He takes a step closer to her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she says tersely.

"So if I did die tomorrow," he says, slowly, and she glares at the words. "What would you do? Would you let me call you Catnip, just for today?"

He's got a feeling she'll slap him, from the look on her face. He's surprised when it doesn't come - and even more surprised when her face is conflicted.

"I...I'm not - " she says, before Gale hears something. His eyes look down sharply, and he takes a step back, crouching and lowering the boar from his shoulders.

"What are you - " she starts, but is silenced by his look. He raises one hand.

"Don't move," he says, voice low. He pulls out his knife from his belt, then moves closer to her legs. She refrains from taking a step back, instead following his gaze. She's shocked to see a snake almost coiled up all along her calf. She gasps a little.

"Shh," he says gently. "It won't bite you if you remain calm."

"Right," she breathes, though she feels her leg seize up, her muscles go rigid. She's not sure she's ever been in such proximity of a snake before.

He makes quick work of it, finding its head and pressing his thumb on the top of it, wrapping his fingers around the line of its jaw. The snake hisses loudly, though it seems to be paralyzed from biting. It's body writhes and jerks, easily uncoiling from her leg in a vain attempt to get free.

Katniss takes several steps back once she's free, but she doesn't take her eyes off the snake.

Gale looked about to slit its throat, before he puts his knife back in his belt and throws the snake out somewhere in the forest.

She watches him walk back to pick up the boar. When he stands, his shoulders hunch just slightly, but he still surpasses six feet. She hasn't taken to noticing his height, or his build, these past few days, but it's hard ignore it now. When he comes to stand by her, her eyes come up to his upper chest, and she has to tilt her head up to meet her eyes with his own.

"Thanks," she says, a little quieter than she means.

"Don't thank me," he says. "I've always got your back, remember?" Even if you don't care goes without saying, he thinks.

Katniss isn't sure what to say, and she watches as he turns away from her and begins walking toward the beach. She stares at his back as she follows him, noticing how it moves under the weight of the boar and the weight of many other things.

"I wasn't lying, you know," she says after a moment.

He stops at her words. She sees his shoulders give a little.

"You sure you wanna give me that much hope, Katniss?" he asks, a bit defeated.

She wonders at his words, before she realizes that...maybe what he really wants is what they used to have. But the thing is, he's never openly said it. Perhaps he implied it last night, but he hasn't said a single word directly, or openly, or honestly.

Is that thought - that idea, desire - something that he's frightened of? Something he doesn't want to release, to make it fully known? Is she really so scary?

He turns to look at her when she doesn't answer him, and his eyes are a dark, charcoal grey. They hint at something, something he's trying to hide. She can see it with his stare so direct and unyielding. His stance is a little defensive, and she wonders if he wants her to take her statement back.

Why does he not want her to give him just an inkling to work with? Hope...wouldn't he want that? Just a handhold, just a glimpse of an opportunity to make their relationship better?

It strikes her that she does. She wants it - she wants that hope. It's there and flying, and she can feel it in between them, inside this forest, inside this protective web of branches and shielding leaves. It's there, and the force is tremendous.

But she can't tell if he feels it or not. He certainly acts like he doesn't. And she's not sure if the feeling inside of her is disappointment or relief. It's been a while since she's felt so much of either that they're hard to discern from one another.

"You can call me Catnip," she hears herself say, through the pounding in her ears.

His eyes are unreadable. His resolve is quickly failing. Looking at her, standing feet away from him, her eyes wide and heartbreaking, makes him almost falter. He isn't sure what she's thinking, and he's almost afraid to venture out into the unknown any further than he has. As much as he wants to take it a step further, he holds back. She comes first - she always comes first. There is no point in placing his desires before her again.

He's too afraid of what will happen if he does, this time.

He looks away from her. "Wasn't Sourpuss a nice substitute?"

She almost smiles at his teasing, no matter how empty it echoes around them. "No."

He closes his eyes for a moment, and inhales through his nose. "Alright, then," he says. "Whatever you wish, Catnip."

And strangely, she thinks as they find themselves on the hot sands of the beach, the nickname doesn't hold the weight of the years, like it used to.

She finds herself wishing that it did, and this time, she stops her mind from lying. This time, she lets herself believe in her feelings.

Once they make it back to Annie's, Finn goes wild over the boar. When he first catches sight of it, he tugs on Gale's pant leg as he makes his way to Annie. Annie, when she sees them, hurriedly stops them and forces them back outside.

"That is not going to make its home in my house," she exclaims. "I'll put it in the freezer once you gut it."

"Gut it?" Katniss says, wrinkling her nose.

"Meat's just like fish," Annie announces, placing her hands on her hips. "Just more massive and inconvenient."

Gale rolls his eyes at her while Katniss raises her eyebrows. "Is the table still in the shed?" Gale asks, rolling back on his heels.

Annie grins. "Yes. It should be clean."

"Should be?" Gale trails.

"I use it for the really big fish," Annie says, shaking her head and walking around them toward the shed. Then she waves her hand at him. "Don't worry, I cleaned it the other day."

"If you say so, Annie."

Gale and Katniss follow behind her, while Finn asks all the questions he can about the boar. Finnick adamantly sticks to his belief that only Gale was able to take it down, and doesn't believe for a second Katniss was able to kill it with one arrow. Katniss doesn't try to refute his claim, only giving Gale a look, then a little hesitantly, a smile.

Gale's eyes flick to it immediately, but he doesn't return it, instead turning away and walking a bit ahead of her.

Reaching the shed, Gale places the boar on its side onto the table. He sighs and looks over to Annie, who switches on all of the lights available in the room.

"The bigger knives are over on that side wall," she says, pointing. "I moved it around from the last time you were here. And use that big tub sink to clean out all the blood. And then you can package everything in these bags," Annie points to the side of the table, where all the parchment and plastic bags are kept. "And once you're done, you can bring it to me, and I'll make room in the freezer for it!"

"Always making me work, aren't you?" Gale asks Annie, though it sounds teasing. Annie merely shrugs.

"I'm better with fish. Besides, I can't have you sitting around doing nothing all day. What kind of hostess would I be?" she says, smiling, and goes to usher Finnick out of the room. He protests loudly.

"No buts, Finnie. This is a job these two must do alone," Annie says, then her eyes flick up to Gale. "Right, Gale?"

The glance she gives him holds a lot of suggestion behind it, and it makes him nervous - or anxious. It's been a long time since a task had made him nervous before. When he first saw Katniss - he thinks he would have been nervous, if it hadn't happened so quickly, and if he wasn't so caught off guard.

He glances quickly to Katniss, then away to the boar on the table and the knife at his belt.

"Right," he says, slowly. "This job might be too messy for you, Finn."

He goes to protest again, but Annie hurriedly takes him out of the shed and closes the door.

And suddenly, it's just them, again. Except it's different, this time.

Gale rolls his sleeves up before taking his knife out of his belt. He looks at Katniss.

"Ever cut an animal up before?"

She eyes the boar. "Does chicken count?"

He scoffs a laugh. "It can. This one has a few different parts." He hesitates, before saying, "If you don't want to do this, you can - "

"No," she interrupts. "I want to."

He looks at her for a second, then he puts his knife lightly on the skin of the boar. "Alright. Well, first, I have to skin it."

"Have you done this a lot?" she asks as she watches him.

"A few times," he answers. "Annie makes me do this each time I bring something to her house."

"Does she not like meat?"

"She does," he says, discarding some of the fur off to the side. "But she never buys it. I have a feeling she just likes putting me to work."

"Just because she can?"

Gale smirks. "I've long ago gave up on figuring out the inner workings of Annie."

Katniss smiles at this, then watches him finish removing the skin. Then he lifts it and takes it to the sink, cutting open the underside and using the faucet to help drain it.

"Do you need any help?" Katniss calls over.

"You can help when I cut it. Alright?"

It's a good thing the boar isn't too big. Draining doesn't take very long, and Gale has it back on the table in minutes. He ignores the knives on the wall, preferring his own. It's large enough to finish the rest of the job. He looks over to Katniss.

"We can start with taking out the organs," he says, and at the look on her face, he has to hide his amusement. "There are some gloves in the drawer over there," he points.

She looks up to him. "Are you going to use any?"

"No," he says.

"Then I'm not either," she answers, and he raises his brows at her.

"Alright," he answers, a bit skeptically, back.

Katniss isn't completely sure why she forewent the gloves, besides keeping up with him. Taking out organs from a boar is a lot slimier and messier than she had hoped.

"Wanna take out the liver?" he asks her after they've discarded the ones they didn't need. She doesn't mean to, but she makes a face.

"I can get you a bag for it."

He quirks his face at her. "Have you never got over your phobia of this kind of stuff?"

She frowns at him. "I like selling it, not butchering it. But I don't have a phobia."

"So you're not scared of liver?" he says, then forces the organ into her hands. She hadn't even seen him cut it out.

Katniss makes a squeak, the liver bouncing out of her hands and onto the table. It makes a loud splat.

She gives Gale a quick glare, but it's softened when she sees his smile. It's wide and easy, like it's one he isn't thinking about. She tries not to stare, in case he notices her looking and stops.

"I'm not scared of it," she tries. "That wasn't even fair!"

"You're not very convincing."

"You caught me off guard," she says, staring at him pointedly as she picks up the liver and lifts it up to his eye level. "See? I'm fine."

He holds up his hands, as if backing off. "You'll need more than that to completely convince me, Catnip."

It slips off his tongue easier than he imagined it would. And though he has permission to use it now, it still feels as if it's a new thing, as if she'll suddenly change her mind and turn into spikes against him.

She doesn't. Instead, she gives him a small smile, and some of his nerves go away. Some multiply in strength.

He shifts and acts like he's focusing on the boar. "I'll get the stomach out next."

They continue on like that until the boar is fully cleaned out and bare. Gale teaches her some of the cuts on the boar, like the pork loins and the ham. He shows her where the bacon comes from, too, though he isn't sure if she's all that eager to learn.

He lets her cut some of them out, and gives her another smile when her concentration outweighs her squeamish tendencies. The meat cuts aren't bad, either. He compliments her on them.

"They're just meat. You could still cook them even if I did them wrong," she says in answer.

"But they taste even better when you cut them well. You did a good job."

She ducks her head, but gives him her thanks.

They clean up the room the best they can, taking the parts they're going to use back to Annie, and discarding the ones they aren't. Some parts Gale gives to Annie to sell to the markets in town, if she wants to.

"I guess I'll make this for dinner," she says when she takes the pork, placing the pork loins onto the table, and going to place the others in the fridge.

More time had passed than Gale realized. Once they let Annie have her way with the pork, the clock is already rounding toward 6:30. How long had they been hunting, or taken cutting up the boar? Two hours, three?

He glances over to Katniss, who has taken up roost on the couch, curling up by the armrest at one end with newly changed clothes. Finn had taken a place on a chair near her, flicking on the television on the wall, news feeds displaying across the screen.

Gale takes his chances and walks into the room, sitting on the opposite end from her. The middle cushion, he has to admit, is a little tempting.

Finn, upon seeing him, immediately loses interest in the TV. He bounds off his chair and takes up the space in between them.

"Why didn't you let me go with you?" is his first question as he peers up at him. "I'm strong, too."

"I know you are," Gale says, ruffling his hair. "But it's a very dangerous place. Even for me."

"Really?" he asks, his voice above incredulous.

"Yeah," Gale says lightly. "But I promise I'll take you, one of these days."

Finnick frowns at him. "You say that every year."

"Finnick," he says, shaking his head. "You're five. You've got plenty of time to get stronger. Maybe one day, you'll even be able to beat me up."

"I can beat you up right now!" he exclaims, shifting on the cushion with a bounce, punching Gale with all his might into his shoulder.

Gale moves his arms to shield himself, acting like Finn's recklessly thrown arms really do damage. "Whoa, Finn, that hurts."

Finn laughs at him, jumping into his lap. Gale takes him by his sides and rolls them to the ground, Finn shouting out surprise and making strange shrieking sounds. Katniss smiles at them as they roll around, Gale taking more punishment than he has to, and Finnick climbing his back and grabbing at his hair. But Gale doesn't seem to mind, spinning around and making Finnick shriek more, going to poke and tickle Finnick's sides.

Annie strolls into the room not long after the noise starts, hands on her hips, saying, "How many times have I told you boys no rough housing in the living room? You'll scratch the wood floors."

They don't seem to hear her.

"Katniss, how could you let them do this?" Annie asks, though her frown quirks. "I can't trust anyone these days."

Katniss looks over to her. "Sorry. They're having fun."

She gives Katniss a small smile, watching the boys for a few more moments until breaking it up and calling Finnick to the kitchen with her.

"You boys can play later, outside, thank you." She gives Gale a look as she turns, but her eyes sparkle.

"Stop being such a mom, Annie," Gale calls to her, lying on the ground.

"Someone's gotta be in charge!" she calls back, voice echoing from the kitchen.

Gale smiles softly at that, closing his eyes and spreading his arms out beside him on the ground. Katniss takes the chance to look at him - hair tousled all over, a brief, contentment taking over his face. He's never truly looked like a boy - he's always had the look of a man to him, ever since the day they met. There was nothing to promote the kid inside you all those years ago, and there's not much to help now, either. But he might look the youngest he's ever been, laying half on the rumpled rug and half on the dark wood of the floor.

She watches him until he places his hands behind his head and opens his eyes to the ceiling. He turns his head to look at her, and she averts her eyes, finding the news casters on the TV.

"Are you ticklish?" he asks.

She blinks at him. "What?"

"Ticklish," he repeats. "Are you?"

She raises a brow. "If I was, do you think I'd tell you?"

He smirks. "Probably not," he says. "But don't worry, I'm not going to do anything." He looks back up to the ceiling. "I just realized I never knew."

The sentence strikes a sad note inside her. She bites her lip. "A little, I guess. I haven't been tickled since dad died, I think."

The thought shocks him. "You mean, you and Peeta don't tickle each other?"

She furrows her brows. "Not really. I don't think we've ever thought about it that much."

"Oh," he says, not knowing what else to say. Maybe he always imagined them to be more...he doesn't know. Maybe he made up a lot of things about them during his time away from her. Her life has been so untouchable until now.

"Are you ticklish?" she asks after a few moments. He glances over to see her looking back at him.

"A little..." he starts, deciding that he wants to tell her. "On my stomach. And if you grip right here," he says, indicating the area right above his knee. "It's the worst."

"That's a strange place," she says, her eyes following his hand.

"Yeah. Don't ask me how I figured that out."

She tilts her head at him. "How did you figure it out?"

He gives her a look, then he shakes his head, smiling a little. "I can't remember. I think it was Rory."

"Rory?"

"Don't sound so surprised," he says. "We acted like kids every once in a while."

"You?"

He gives her a small glare until he realizes she's joking with him.

"Yeah, me."

"I don't think I've seen you so not serious as you've been today."

He peers up at the ceiling, squinting his eyes in thought.

"I bet we could think of a time..." he trails. "I thought I was a pretty fun guy."

She raises a brow again. "Really?"

"Yeah, sure," he says, glancing at her. "What? You didn't think so?"

She stops herself from impulsively answering, and she breezes over a few memories in her mind. They flicker over the bread with an arrow struck through it, and when they would go to the small pond and when he would push her under the water. She remembers him trying to chase her up a tree, only to laugh at him when he miss-stepped and fell through a few branches, landing in a heap on the ground.

The memories are dusty and worn at the edges. They play like an old film through her mind, but they still surprise her. There's so many she's left untouched, in fear that they would hurt her.

"Yeah," she says. "I thought you were a fun guy. If you weren't, I probably wouldn't have hung out with you so much."

He smiles a bit at this, and she finds that she likes it when he does.

"I'm pretty sure you only liked me for the rabbits I caught."

"Are you calling me shallow?"

"Of course not," he says, but she can detect the hint of sarcasm. "I'm not a jerk."

"If you're not a jerk, then I'm not a sourpuss."

He gives her a serious look. "Are you sure?"

She takes the pillow lying beside her and throws it at his head. He barely evades it.

"This is scarier than your arrows," he says, gesturing to the pillow.l

She narrows her eyes. "I know how to tickle you."

"Is that a threat?"

He honestly doesn't believe she'll voluntarily touch him, though she's got a defiant, bold look on her face.

"What do you think?"

His mind goes a little blank at the thought of her clawing at his stomach. "I, uh, I take it back."

It's a second before her lips creep over her teeth, a slow smile splitting her face. Then she lets out a small laugh.

Gale's stomach is the first thing to start swelling. The second is his heart.

He grabs the pillow off to his side, and he throws it at her. It hits her in the shoulder before bouncing back to the cushions. She stares at him with wide eyes.

He shrugs at her. "You started it."

She reaches beside her, grips the pillow, and throws it back at him. It hits him in the face.

"We might need more pillows," he says, picking up the offending object and lowering it to his chest.

"I don't think Annie would like feathers flying everywhere."

"Maybe not," Gale says. "But we can always try when she isn't around."

It sounds like the Gale of old talking, a tinge of rebellion in his tone. Only this time, it's easy-going. There isn't anything dark in the background of his words, like when they were in the forest in 12. It's lighthearted and simple, slipping off his smile.

She looks at him for a few seconds.

"Okay," she says.

There are surprisingly few things Gale doesn't know about Annie. Of course, he isn't sure about the superficial things - like favorite color or favorite choice of attire. But he knows the details, like the choices in her moods, her family life with Finn. But there's another thing he knows about.

It was another night of sleepless hours. He had gotten up to go to the kitchen, to sit at the bar and drink a glass of water. He went to the porch and decided to take a walk down the shore, when he heard Annie's voice, somewhere above him. She was talking freely, almost casually, like having a conversation with a close friend.

Listening further, he realized she was talking to Finnick. Dead Finnick, her Finnick.

He let himself sit on a porch chair, eavesdropping on her - them - for just a minute. He listened to an intimate conversation that almost wasn't intimate at all. It was a conversation among friends, like a reunion, like Finnick never left her at all.

He found himself waiting for Finnick to talk and to answer. To tell her something she hadn't mentioned. But he never did.

And he still doesn't.

Gale finds himself going outside, once more, silently slipping into his porch chair, ears picking up Annie's soft lulls of conversation. It's a strange, secret habit he has, but there's a freedom in it. There's a freedom in her voice, no holds barred, and he's addicted to it. He's tried to talk to Prim before, in the dark of his bedroom, staring at his ceiling. But it's never as open, as freely flowing as Annie's voice is. His are always stilted and rough. It's always been hard to get the words out, every time he's tried. He's given it up for the time being, until the words are easier to say.

He hears Annie talk about Finn and life and him and Katniss, for a while. Then she talks about other things, like the beach and the constellations that are visible that night. Gale looks out and tries to find them, too.

He makes his way back to the kitchen sometime later, only to be surprised to find Katniss sitting in one of the bar stools, spinning around the empty glass he left.

"Hey," he says quietly, walking around behind the counter.

She looks up, eyes betraying her surprise. "Hi."

"What are you doing up so late?" he asks.

She shrugs a little. "Sleep is hard to come by, sometimes."

"Yeah," he says. "Tell me about it." He eyes the glass. "Want something to drink?"

"Oh, no thanks. I wasn't planning on staying in here long."

"Alright," he says, going to take his empty glass and filling it with water from the tap for himself. He notices her watching him.

"What?" he asks.

She blinks, looking away. "Nothing," she says. "Just thinking."

If they were speaking earlier like this, Gale's certain he wouldn't ask her any further.

"What about?"

She hesitates, pinning a stray hair behind her ear. "I've been...thinking about - Finnick a lot," she admits. "I know you didn't like him much, but I...I miss him, and I look around," she says, staring at the walls. "And it's like I can feel him. It's like he's still here, inside the walls."

"It's because he is still here," Gale says, trying to catch her eyes. "He lives inside Annie. He's always with her, you know."

Against her fears, she looks up to him. He gives her an earnest smile.

She takes a breath and shakes her head. "I wish...I wish I couldn't feel it, sometimes. I wish I didn't feel him. It'd make it so much more bearable, and I wouldn't have to deal with..." she trails off, aches starting to take their toll on her. She feels her head pound, and her eyes grow wet. "Prim's is enough."

He looks at her a while before looking away. "I know," he answers her, leaning against the counter in front of her. "It hurts a lot. But she's inside me, too. I feel her all the time, and sometimes I wonder if I think about her enough, it'll help withstand the pain better."

She rubs a finger on the granite of the counter. "Has it helped you?"

"...no," he says, honestly. "But the memories can make me smile, every once in a while. And thinking about her...I can still remember what her smile looked like. And I remember how it'd swindle Sae some of her best items. I remember a lot of good things, and I'd rather remember her and know her than forget her. Wouldn't you?"

She feels the warmth of a tear slip from her eye, and she roughly wipes it away. "No," she says immediately. "It's been so long, and I still feel the same way - I shouldn't be like this - she shouldn't be -"

Gale reaches across the bar, gripping her shoulders, and gives her a disbelieving look. "Take that back, Katniss. What would Prim say, knowing you'd rather forget all your time together?"

Her eyes flash. "But she's not even here anymore, Gale."

He lets one of his hands release from her shoulder, pressing his palm harshly against her breastbone, striking her silent. "Yes," he says. "She is."

Another tear falls from her eyes, then three, then four, all abrupt and sudden, as if they've been waiting for her to let them go.

He feels her tremble beneath his hand. He wants to console her, but first, she must understand, and she must accept it.

"She's always been here."

She doesn't look away from him. Her breathing is uneven, and her heart shudders. A shaky hand reaches up and touches his, and grasps it, and pushes it harder against her.

She wonders if this is what it's supposed to feel like, to reject anger and try to look past it, and to encompass the glow of Prim's smile, to feel the glow burn her, to melt her. To think about Finnick inside Annie, too. To think that both Prim and Finnick aren't as far away as she imagines them to be.

She doesn't release Gale's hand until she stops crying, and he hands her a few tissues in silence. He isn't going to tell her it gets better, because he isn't sure if it will. But he tells her what he knows is true.

"You're going to be okay, Katniss," he says, because he can see her, that girl and that woman, through the redness of her nose and her eyes and her cheeks. For the first time in a while, he doesn't have a doubt about her.

She says nothing back, but she eyes him in between using the tissues. The stare is much more intense behind glassy eyes. He's able to hold it for a few seconds before he looks to the forgotten water glass. He dumps the rest of it out and sets it into the sink.

He lets her recover for a few minutes, not wanting to leave her. He hesitates before saying, "I'm gonna go to bed. I can walk you to your room."

"I'm okay," she says.

He shakes his head. "No, I... " Then he stops himself. "Alright."

He walks around the counter, having to pass her to get to his bedroom. He slows, coming beside her, and before he can keep himself from doing it, he wraps his arm around her shoulders in a quick hug, touching the back of her head briefly before letting go. It's over so quickly, she doesn't have the chance to react.

"Goodnight," he says as he steps toward the hallway. "I'll see you in the morning."

She watches him, following his movements out of the room.

"Goodnight," she whispers back.

a/n; definitely don't know how to cut up a boar.

anon replies:

mae: cann you feeelll the looveee tonighttt. it was my version of simba and nala reuniting in this chapter, just more angst and less licking. (;

everyturnasurprise: look, a hug! that's like, the equivalent to making out. ;D

anon: backstory! yay! haha. and you basically guessed what happened some in this chapter, too. With the Gale/Finn thing, and the Katniss/Dead Finnick thing. Sometimes, you just gotta talk to someone who knows grief just as much as you. thanks so much about Annie! she's a tough one to get down, but i like her so much. and don't even get me started about why the hell Finnick had to die. i refused to believe he died until like, a week after i finished the books. ergh. sometimes i forget how much of a love/hate relationship i have with the books. ANYWAY, thank you. :)