a/n; a line from The Dark Knight in here. it's obviously not mine.

chapter twenty-five – you were a kindness

there's a radiant darkness upon us,
but i don't want you to worry – you were a kindness, the nationals

Katniss arrives without flourish. Nobody is there to greet her as she steps out of the plane and onto the outskirts of District 12. She didn't call Peeta. She was going to, but her fingers hesitated over the numbers before she put her phone back into her pocket, deciding that she could surprise him, instead.

She knows he must be worried – though she told him not to the last time she called him in the hospital. He never listens when it comes to her. But it hasn't been two weeks, and Peeta is so durable in waiting.

She walks parallel to the old fence line, the open forestry the only indication of what used to be held as a restriction. She sees what used to be the Seam, and she picks out where her old home had been, years ago.

She's avoided these places over the years. Or maybe she's never taken the time to truly look over them. Thinking back over all she's done in the last five years doesn't seem like much – it's much less than Gale's succeeded in doing. But she was content, and Peeta was content with her. With working side by side in the bakery, meeting at the house later in the evening after closing, sometimes cooking dinner together, him trying to teach her how to make different recipes. She remembers when they finally started to sleep in the same bed, how he'd kissed her sweetly and didn't push her into anything she didn't want to do.

She turns down the path, coming up to the bakery. The smells find her first as she stands in front of the doors, all but consuming her as she enters. Nostalgia bites at her as she takes in the scenery, everything in the exact position as it was before she left. It's strange to think she's only been gone a few days – it feels like years – though she still wonders why it all looks the same.

Her eyes spot Peeta behind the counter, talking to a customer with one of his signature smiles, not noticing that she's arrived.

She wants to go to him. She wants to tell him that she's better, that she's overcome herself and her grief and Prim. She wants to tell him that he was right about her all along. But she feels like she's stuck, like she can't move to him, because how is she supposed to tell him about everything else? About the things she did that he'd never do?

She guesses she can blame it on vulnerability and misguided judgment, but she can't do that to him. He's been so good to her, all these years, and she…

"Katniss!"

She jerks, looking over to her side to see a girl rushing over to her, a giant smile shining in a pretty face. Katniss has to blink before she's wrapped up in a hug.

"We've missed you," she tells her, letting her go enough to stand back and look over her.

Katniss can't believe she doesn't remember what Delly had looked like before she left. She's far from that pasty-faced, lumpy girl from years before and during the war. Her cheeks have gained a regular flush, either because she's helping out and working, or because she smiles so much. She's also thinned out some, whatever fat she retained emphasizing her shape. She's grown into her body. Her hair's grown up, too, becoming a flaxen type of blonde. Katniss had never paid much mind, mostly because Delly had been out of her periphery during the past years. She owned the shoe store with her younger brother, and she's visited every once in a while – Delly and her brother had even come to eat dinner with them a few times. But like with everyone else, Katniss paid attention halfway.

"Peeta said you might call before you came back – did you call? Oh, that doesn't matter. Peeta!" she calls over her shoulder, though it's unnecessary. Peeta is already walking toward them, wearing an apron blotted with flour and a large smile on his face.

He doesn't say anything. He just comes up and kisses her, mumbling against her lips, "I'm so happy you're here."

At those words, Katniss feels herself rip open – that attachment of emotions unhinge. She immediately feels her eyes burn, all the tears she hadn't cried all day rushing up through her. She wraps her arms around his neck and buries her face into his shoulder.

"Katniss – "

She shakes her head. "I'm okay. You were right. It fixed me."

One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of her head. She hears him tell Delly to take over the counter and the answering sound is the pattering of her feet as she walks away from them. Peeta's breath mixes with the loose strands of her hair in a sigh.

"I'm sorry you had to leave to be okay."

"No, Peeta," she says, shaking her head again, more vehemently. "I'm not. Prim doesn't bother me, anymore. She still makes me sad, and I can't think about her for too long, but…" She leans back, catching his clear blue eyes with her own. "I've let her go."

And, she thinks, she's let go of all the nastiness, too. The nastiness of the old Capitol. The ghosts. The things that will still give her nightmares and make her wonder what she became in those dark years.

Peeta reaches up to wipe her tears off her cheeks, a soft, cheerless smile gracing his face as he gazes at her. Then he drops his hand and finds hers, curling his fingers around her own.

"I knew you would," he says quietly. "I didn't have a doubt you would."

She smiles back at him, trying to off-put the somber demeanor he has, though she feels it, too. She feels that indescribable weight between them. The thing that had, perhaps, always been there, but now is not able to be ignored. She squeezes his hand.

"C'mon," he says after a moment, leading her away to the door. "Let's get you home. You can tell me all about it."

She tells him most of the story on the living room couch, sitting side by side with some kind of tea he made for them, her luggage off to the side and forgotten, for now.

She tells him about Paylor and the squad – Johanna and Anton and Jack and Bolts. They treated her like a family, and she tells him how grateful she was for that, because none of them had any type of obligation to be so nice to her.

She explains her living situation, and Peeta isn't surprised. He's actually happy about it – "I wouldn't like you living alone. Who would take care of you?"

And Peeta's right. It's something that makes her fill with regret – because he's had to take care of her these past few years, even though she was fully capable of it herself. She just chose not to. And looking at Peeta, she thinks she'll never be able to make it up to him.

She continues, telling him about Eddie's, and how for a bar, it wasn't so bad. She informs him of Atlas and Reeva and the crazy ones that the old Capitol still had a spell on, and how there are still some people like that out there. She tells him about how she got into a catfight – much to his amusement. She's able to un-garble what she had told him over the phone when she was in the hospital, about Prim and Snow. Tells him as much as she can without losing her voice to the thickness of emotion.

Then she moves to happier grounds, like talking about her mom, telling him about how they reconciled whatever it was between them that had been broken and forgotten. She talks about Johanna's romance, and how she watched it unfold firsthand. She tells him as much as she can about Jack and Bolts. She tells him about Paylor, too, though something twinges at the job offer, and she doesn't tell him about that.

She doesn't tell him about Gale, either. Of course, she tells Peeta about him going to the hospital a few times, because he got caught in the line of fire, because he strives to find it. The unnecessary details she can't seem to form with words. She'll have to tell him later – she knows that full well. But not right now. She'll tell him when it's time. Why hurt him more than necessary when she doesn't have to?

She's grateful when he doesn't bring it up. And he doesn't talk much – he only listens, taking in all her words, eyes coming alive like they do when he's excited or pleased.

"I see it," he says to her, looking at her deeply and thoughtfully. "I see your spark."

And all Katniss can think is that she's so sorry it took this long for him to be able to see it so clearly. He's said these lines to her before - but not this fervent. Not with this reverent tone in his voice. And these words that should bring her joy only bring her regret.

So she kisses him, because they both need it. They both need this raw, eager type of affection. Peeta needs this love. Because this - this - is a victory of the most absolute kind.

But Katniss can't shake the feeling that she's losing.

They spend the rest of the day there, inside the house, basking in the company of each other. Peeta smiles more than she remembers. He steals kisses from her like he always used to. The atmosphere slowly fades back into the normal of every day, except it's sweeter, because Katniss feels and hears and sees all of it. There is no fog around her eyes. She doesn't feel guilty for living, anymore, and it's all suddenly from a different perspective. Peeta and his radiant, golden hair. He's got old freckles, the kind that've seeped into his skin like dust. They aren't there if you don't look closely. But she can, now. His grin is classically crooked, whether he means it to be or not. He's a beauty. She wishes she was able to appreciate that more.

She offers to help him cook when the time comes, chopping up the vegetables while he chops up the meat and creates dough for biscuits. There are at least four pans going at once on the fire, and at her comment on them, he comes up to her and says, "A feast for your homecoming."

The words are warm in her ear. He comes up behind her and smiles against the side of her face, hands planting on her hips as she stirs the sauteeing vegetables. When he goes to kiss her neck, it takes all that she has not to jerk away. This is too familiar. This is intimate and close and normal, but it's now also something shared. Even as his hands squeeze her and he whispers, "God, I missed you."

And she wishes she can say it back - she wishes ardently for her voice to have the ability his does to flicker that way. With passion and love and heat. But she fears it won't. She fears that whatever she felt hours before will come to ruin this.

And how can she do that? How can she shatter years of devotion?

So she doesn't. She turns her head and finds his lips, and kisses him hard. She slides her fingers into his hair, feeling the residue of flour from the bakery. She pushes into him and he pushes back - and his movements are surprised. She hasn't been this forceful in who knows how long, but she feels the pressure rise between them, and she feels the lightweight burn that connects them and she wonders if it's possible, is it possible - to be in love with two people?

They let whatever food is cooking burn in their pans. They move somewhere, fall onto something that cushions them, and she let's them make love in their home, in their life, the walls barricading them from all the monsters banging at the doors.

And as they come together, as they hold each other close right here and right now, she wonders if she'll be eaten by all those monsters the moment she walks outside.

They lie there quietly when they're done, his fingers running up and down her arm. She's close to dozing off, exhausted and worn, more emotionally than physically. He gets up soon, to go save what he can of the dinner they were making. He persuades her to stay where she is, and she doesn't mind. She let's herself fall asleep, to keep from thinking too hard about what she's doing.

The days trickle by like leaky faucet water, every hour holding onto each other before gravity pulls them apart. It's a menacing remembrance of years past, mixing with the sluggish movement of time.

Gale goes through his daily routines just as before. Wake up, exercise, shower, work. It takes a few minor adjustments to settle in to his regular life, but he's been exposed to circumstances like these. He's had enough changes in jobs to categorize this one as a singular change, too. Going from non-caregiver to caregiver back to non-caregiver is easier to look at in the long run.

What makes it better is that the squad is as normal as ever. Work outs consist of the same runs and the same exercises. He's been able to get great running times. Some mornings he's able to sprint most of the five miles, though he admits that the first few times he had to keep himself from throwing up.

Johanna and Anton are surprisingly not as publicly affectionate as he was anticipating. There's a subtle shift between them, but he doesn't have to deal with the annoyance of walking in on make-outs behind trees or them rolling around in the grass, and he's more grateful about that than he thinks he should be.

Sometimes he goes to Paylor's office to ask if there're any disturbances, any questionable commotion in the area, anything at all. He knows it's extremely rare to have another mission so soon after one has already been solved, but it doesn't discourage him from hoping that there might be another crazy person hiding in the tall shadows of the Capitol.

She always sends him away empty handed, though she does take pity on him. That's what he calls it. Pity. She offers him more chances to travel, even if there aren't meetings or conflicts. He almost takes them, though there won't be anything he hasn't done if he goes to District 6 or 7 or 8 or wherever, so he ends up turning them down.

He knows the real reason he doesn't take the offers is because they are pity offers. At first, he didn't believe it. Paylor doesn't do pity - in regards to him, least of all. But he doesn't know what else to call it. And there's no emotion in the world Gale hates more.

It's been a few days. Tranquil, lazy days spent with Peeta, in the house or at the bakery. It's been a time of relearning, almost. She's been seeing the things that make him - his compassion and his unadulterated peace with the world. His smiles. How he's happy, even through everything that's happened to him. She wonders how that wasn't able to help her, sometimes. And she knows he wonders why, too. She can see the doubt in his eyes, at times, when he looks over her, when he pushes her hair out of her face. He hasn't asked, not yet, because he wants to enjoy this time. But he's going to ask, just like he's going to ask about the other things Katniss can't say. Peeta's always been able to base things on honesty and trust. He trusts her with all of this, and he trusts her to speak honestly. But he's given her time. It's what he's best at doing.

She listens to the day wake, if she slips out of bed early enough. She's brought Peeta with her, once, a long time ago. But these days, she lets him sleep. The forest has always been the one place that doesn't connect them - not just because she spent most of her life there with a different boy, but because it isn't as familiar to him as it is to her. They can't share this place as a home. He's been persistent enough to try, but every once in a while, he'll have a false flashback and he'll briefly question and briefly wonder, though he's always strong enough to look at her without the fear or the difficulty. Katniss doesn't want to put him through those falsities, so she's stopped his persistence with following her there. Ever since that time, she's been alone.

The forest isn't different than she remembers, either, her spot untouched, grass cradling her as she sits and watches the sky turn blue. It's strange when it happens - there's a shift somewhere while she watches the sun blaze a disastrous orange. It's in its eight minute incline, before she can feel its warming rays, when she hears it.

"Lying is so much easier than the truth," says a voice, and she jumps, jerking her head toward the tree several feet away from where she's sitting. She inhales sharply and blinks at his figure - because even though he's always been quiet and never fails to surprise her when he wants, he never mentioned coming to visit her. It's only been five days. They've been short, a hiccup of time, and she can't fathom why he's already here, why he's...

"Because, sometimes, the truth isn't good enough," Gale says, as he continues not to look at her, a knife in one hand and wood in the other. It seems as if he's whittling something, but Katniss can only stare at the cool, calm collection of his face.

"What..."

"The only problem is..." he smirks, going to stand and making the finishing touches on whatever he's carving. He struts over to her, and he drops the item over her. She reacts by catching it in her hands, looking up at him. "...I'm not leaving."

Contradicting his words, he turns and escapes through the forestry. She breathes out, and glances hurriedly toward her palms. And the wooden carving is a heart, perfectly smooth and striated. She blinks, and it starts to wither. It starts to rot in seconds. It clumps along the lines of her hands. She glances up again, standing up and rushing forward. She calls out his name several times, but it echoes, and she can't find the entrance to the forest. She's walled in. She passes the same trees over and over, and she starts to sweat, and the rotten wood in her hands starts to flake, the wind carrying it away and then -

And then Katniss wakes up. She lies in a cold sweat, her lungs quaking as if she was really running. Peeta shifts behind her, his arm curled over her, and it should comfort her. He's been the only thing she's needed, but she can't believe that anymore. Not when she lifts her hands and expects there to be black residue. Not when she's so surprised when there isn't.

She doesn't call it pretending. It's only pretending if you don't feel anything. And Katniss feels. She feels all kinds of things. And love is one of those things, but she's noticed that it isn't effortless. It isn't easy to smile back at him, to let it grow, when she knows as each day passes, she's losing something else. Is what they have supposed to outweigh everything else? Is she not supposed to mind letting herself love him completely? Is she not supposed to care about what she's losing?

She's ignored comparing them, ignored comparing the revelations she had in the Capitol compared to all the compartmentalized emotions she's felt here in District 12 for so long. It seems unfair to compare the now new freedom of the Capitol to the prison of her home.

And it's far from a prison anymore. It's one of those things she's relearned. This is a hopeful place, and baking with Peeta establishes everything she missed out on fully being able to appreciate. But her new eyes aren't blinded by the prospects. She isn't consumed with a marathon of joy, but she wants to be. For Peeta.

It happens during one morning, when she wakes up with him and goes to open the bakery, helping with the early morning breakfast rush. Delly comes in later to help out, and she's not a moment too soon. It's supremely busy, and the time it takes Katniss to get used to it puts them a bit behind on their orders.

Peeta's talked about Delly coming in more frequently, offering to help Peeta out when he was manning the counter by himself. She didn't ask for any money or any type of payment, which was just naturally Delly. And she'd been coming in ever since. Her brother, Jacob, was now old enough to head the shoe store, and wanted to be able to get experience by himself. That was Delly's small excuse for finding herself in here, working just to work.

Delly's too kind to her. She smiles at her and jokes with her as if they've been friends all their life. It makes Katniss almost feel guilty for looking on with disdain toward her when they were younger. She was so well fed that some days, Katniss wanted to raid her house and steal food from her and her family.

After the rush passes, Katniss is more than surprised to see Hazelle walk in, taking a booth seat by a window. It reminds her that Peeta's talked about her coming in occasionally, more during this time than the whole year. It takes a moment for Hazelle to glance up and catch Katniss's eye. She doesn't look surprised, not as surprised as Katniss feels. Hazelle gives her a small smile, but Katniss reacts by looking away, acting like she has something to do behind the counter.

"I think she'd like to talk to you," says Peeta, coming up behind her. He must have noticed Hazelle before she did. She looks up at him.

"How do you know?"

Peeta smiles. "I don't. But she might want to know how Gale's doing."

Her eyes avert to the counter. "Maybe. But she only saw him a few weeks ago..."

"It's almost been three weeks since you got back," Peeta says, as if reminding her. He kisses her cheek, and she immediately feels embarrassed with Hazelle being so near and watching. "Besides," he continues. "When was the last time you two had a real conversation?"

The question has her thinking. The terrible thing is that she can't really remember. Peeta gives her an encouraging gesture, before going back and checking on something in the oven.

Katniss sighs at his back, then steels herself, walking around the counter toward Hazelle's booth.

"Hi, Hazelle," Katniss greets, trying not to feel uncomfortable under Hazelle's all-seeing stare. "Would you like something to drink, or a pastry, or..."

"No, thank you," she tells her. "But do you have a few minutes? I'd like to speak with you."

It's almost as if Peeta had been anticipating her to come in and ask. Katniss isn't very surprised, but she wishes he hadn't said anything. Then maybe Hazelle wouldn't have asked.

But that's mostly because Katniss is dreading this conversation.

"Sure," she says, taking the seat across from her. "What do you want to talk about?"

She waits for her to start her next sentence with Gale. But Hazelle throws her off guard by starting with something else

"I actually wanted to tell you something, about your mom and I."

Katniss furrows her brows. "What about her?"

"We've been...communicating, these past few years," Hazelle says, smiling at Katniss's confusion. "She had contacted me when she started working in the Capitol. She was concerned, for Gale. And she wanted to notify me about how he was and how he was doing. He was in the hospital so often." Hazelle looks at the table top a bit wistfully. "We've always had a fierce protection over both of you. She had asked me if we could both keep in touch, every once in a while, with updates on how each of you were doing. I had no problem with it. I'd been keeping my eye on you since we got back from the war."

"Oh..." Katniss breathes, not truly knowing what to say. "My mom...I met up with her in the Capitol. She didn't mention any of that."

"It was something we decided to keep to ourselves," she answers, a knowing look gracing her features. "Your mother didn't think it would be wise to have you know she was still looking after you, through me. And I didn't want Gale to worry about me knowing about all the scrapes he got into." She shakes her head. "You know how he is. He doesn't like to brag about what he does."

Katniss holds back a smile at that. He never was one to let on how much he hurt. She almost forgot that he had broken ribs when she was with him.

"He's not very careful with himself," she allows, looking up to Hazelle. "But how come you're letting me know this now? If it's a secret..."

Hazelle smiles at her. "I called your mom when I noticed you arrived a few weeks ago. I wanted to let her know you made it alright. She called me yesterday, and she told me the next time I saw you, to let you know that Gale hasn't landed in the hospital, yet. She guessed you would have been thinking about him."

Katniss laughs a little. It comes out slightly nervous.

"I'm glad he's doing okay."

Hazelle glances over her thoughtfully. Her eyes gleam at her statement. "So, I take it you two made up?"

Her stomach recoils at Hazelle's sudden change in demeanor.

Katniss blinks. "Um, my mom didn't tell you?"

"Some. But I want to hear it from you."

Katniss suddenly wonders if Peeta's watching them. "We're friends, again."

Hazelle looks at her for a while before she hums. "You let him down easy, I hope?"

Katniss almost turns to stone in her seat, until she realizes that this is Hazelle, and Hazelle knows. That, and her mom probably told her everything she knew. Katniss almost hesitates to say anything, because this is Hazelle. They've always had a silent pact between themselves and surviving. She doesn't truly know her, besides for being Gale's mom and helping to provide for her. They've never had such a direct conversation about this. It was always only implied.

"I don't...I don't know if there was an easy way."

Hazelle doesn't look surprised at her answer. "Maybe not. But it's always easy to know when you love someone." She glances over toward Peeta, who's making some kind of pastry, talking to Delly, who's in between serving patrons. "And as long as you're with who you love, and you're happy about it, Gale's going to let you go. He can be chivalrous when he wants to be." Hazelle laughs lightly.

Katniss's face contorts at her words. She knows full well Gale will let go, if he hasn't been in the process of it. She keeps feeling that black residue on her hands. She keeps seeing him when she sleeps.

"But it's not easy," she ends up saying. "To know when you love someone."

Hazelle stares at her for a moment. "Do you love Peeta?"

"Yes," she answers automatically. "But - "

"You see, Katniss?" She reaches out and places one hand over hers. "It is easy. You didn't hesitate."

"But - I've been wondering," she tries, not sure about the words she's grasping for. "Can you love someone more than someone else?"

Hazelle's eyes soften. "Yes," she says slowly. "But you can also be in love with someone, while only loving someone else."

Is that what happened? Katniss looks back to Hazelle before letting her eyes fall to their hands. It would help explain things. Loving one with her mind and loving one with both her mind and her heart. To be fully encompassed by something so frightening and by something so unforced and fluid. By something that crept up on her or by something that had always been there.

She takes a breath, and she stares into the dark, grey eyes of Hazelle.

The first step is to accept it. That's the beginning of many things. Then she'll have to let it push her, and she has to let herself fall.

It takes her a few days to build up courage to broach the topic with Peeta. It isn't because she's scared of it, anymore - in fact, she's become sure of this. She'll be able to talk to him, as candidly and honestly as she can, knowing that he'll understand. There's just something about this place. This has been her home, forever. They rebuilt this place from ashes. And she could live here, as content as she's been this past month, without regretting to spend the rest of it here with him. She's happy to cook with him and work with him, and maybe she'd be okay with having a family with him, far down the future.

Because she loves him. Because she'd happily devote her life to him just as he's devoted his life to her. And she loves this place. And she loves how easy it is to survive, weeks passing and dissolving into the past like raindrops. That's one of the things she's noticed here. This place eats time. It's already been a month, but she can't distinguish days from each other. And somehow, that makes it simple, easy. It makes it become effortless where it hadn't been before.

Peeta is good for her. He'll always be good for her. But he'll be good to any woman he falls in love with. Any girl will love him. His love is never half-hearted.

And wouldn't the truly unfair thing be to give him a life with a girl who couldn't provide him with all that she is?

He had asked her about what Hazelle said to her that day, after they closed the bakery, but she hadn't been able to bring herself to tell him. Not everything. She had wanted to enjoy a few more days with him, as selfish as that might have been. But as they're about to go to bed, one of those nights out of many, she sits next to him.

She says, "Peeta?"

He glances over to her, his simple smile fading at something he sees. It looks like he knows.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just..." she stops. "I didn't tell you all of what Hazelle and I talked about. We talked about...loving two people. And I wasn't sure if that's what I was feeling, at first. I didn't want to think that." She finds herself scooting closer to him, but he's already turning resigned. She's barely said a word, and he looks like he lost. She forces herself to continue to gaze up at him.

"But...it turns out that that's not true. I don't just love two people. I'm in love with one of them. And I wish I could tell you that it was you. I wish it so badly," she rushes to say, throat already filming with remorse. "You've done so much for me, and I can't - I can't give it back."

Peeta watches her start to cry, an arm wrapping around her waist while the other catches in her hair as his fingers comb through it.

"I couldn't be the one to make you better," he answers her, eyes deceptively neutral. "I tried. God, did I try. I wanted you to smile without it being some kind of chore, and every once in a while, a rare one would show. But not every day. And I wanted to make you happy, happier than you'd ever been. It's my fault," he says, smiling a melancholy, crooked smile. "I should have kept trying. But then Gale came back into town, and I wondered...if you were able to forgive the one person you blamed everything on, it might help. It might do all the things I couldn't achieve by myself. Just a little. You might not forgive the Capitol or the people, and you might still be bitter, but it was a chance I was willing to risk." He wipes at a stray tear that falls down her cheek. She can't say anything.

"I knew what might happen. I knew that living somewhere else and feeling different things and seeing the new world might make you ache for that kind of freedom. I knew Gale still loved you. I knew he'd fight for your well-being, but that was okay. He was your friend, and I trusted that."

"But Peeta," Katniss croaks. Peeta hushes her, kissing her cheek, then kissing her forehead.

"I knew. That week and a half was hard to go through. I thought about you every hour of each day. But I held onto the hope that by letting you go, maybe you'd be that happy girl I wanted you to be. You'd be the girl on fire that I loved so much. You'd be Katniss Everdeen, again." He kisses her other cheek this time, and she almost can't take it. "And when you walked unannounced through the bakery doors a month ago, I saw that same look in your eye I had only seen glimpses of in the past five years. And I knew," he emphasizes, his grip on her tightening. "I knew that this was the best decision I ever made."

It turns out Katniss didn't have to say much of anything after all. This whole month of wondering how to say it, how to talk about it, how to let him know. And how she didn't have to.

It makes her question why he thought he deserved her - why he's put so much effort into something he knew he might not get back, like a painting he works so hard on, only to sell. But that doesn't mean she doesn't understand what he feels. This rip and this break won't be clean, won't be a seamless cut down the middle.

She's never hoped so hard about something in one singular moment. In one second. Besides Prim dying, this might be the worst tragedy she's had to go through. But it's funny, because Peeta isn't going to die, and he isn't going to traipse through broken concrete and rebuild anything he lost. He might go through grief, and he might hurt for a while. But Peeta is nothing if not resilient. He has the heart of a lion. And he loves her enough to let her be happy, even if it's not with him.

"I'm glad you made me go," she whispers into his chest. "You were the first one to believe in me. And you were right."

She leans up and kisses him, for one of the final times, putting all of her gratitude in the action. She hopes he feels it, knows he will as soon as she thinks it. He's the person that's known her the best these few years, and she hangs onto him for just a while longer, to remember this.

To remember what it felt like at the beginning. To remember what it feels like at the end.

It's been a goddamn month. Gale doesn't look at calendars or watches, but he can't force himself to ignore the timestamps on contracts or the dates of meetings. It doesn't feel like it's been a month. It feels like it's been a year. Days are weeks now, and weeks are months. Years must be decades.

He's ignored the guest room so far, but it's the little things that eat at him. Like how he realized she used his shampoo her entire visit. Or when he used a different pillow when he slept, and it smelled like him - but there was something different about it. She lingered there, and he could tell - just the barest of scents. The barest scent of a girl. He had thrown it across the room, and he's left it lying there, though her stench has more than likely left it. Either way, his apartment reeks of her.

He tends to stay out late – either in his office after hours or stalling at the block of bars downtown. It's supposed to make time go faster. Staying in his apartment would make him go stir-crazy. And crazy. And insane. Before he knows it, he'll be talking to ghosts.

He frequents one bar - not Eddie's. That place is almost as bad as his apartment.

The bar he goes to is the one on the far corner of the block, the words Dead Horse spelled out in fine, red lines. It's less lighted than Eddie's, less open armed. Statues of horse heads stand on each side of the entrance like gargoyles, bearing the same height as the entry door. It's more for a sinister decoration than anything else. They have beady eyes that follow the people who walk by, to fend off the weak of heart. The place has a 'reputation', but it's nothing that Gale's ever taken seriously. He's been there before, after really bad days at work or when he's over his anger limit from a meeting or some odd disagreement he was close to winning. He'd more than likely start a fight with someone, or he'd drink until he'd burn out some of his liver. He hasn't needed the place in a while, and as it's reputation consists of rowdiness, a penchant for getting stabbed, and a smoky, questionable atmosphere, it's the perfect place for the down-and-outers, the creeps, and the men with too many tattoos.

It's safe to say that the only tragedy about the place is that there are never any women there. Usually. He's heard stories.

It takes a while for him to start feeling the effects of the whiskey. They've got nasty bourbon here – it's rough in his stomach and it's almost enough to make him sweat.

It's a lot better than beer. He's not exactly sure why he drinks beer in the first place.

He hears the first wolf whistle on his second drink, the jeers on his third, and when he finally takes a gander over his shoulder to see what all the fuss is about, he shouldn't be surprised to see a woman sitting at the bar, trying to fend off a few leering men like annoying flies. Typical. Just because there's not supposed to be a woman here, there manages to be one.

Generally, in a situation like this, Gale would swoop in and be a gentleman, taking out a man or two if the situation demanded. It would be a sure way to take the girl home, receive a thank you fuck, and be on his way.

But tonight, Gale's not going to do that. He turns away from the scene, not feeling motivation for any saving. He's never witnessed a girl to be stupid enough to make her way in this bar, but the surprise ebbs away as the interested shouting gets louder at the front of the bar. He wishes he cared, but the worst thing that could happen would be in consequence of the girl's own lack of intelligence. She asked for it. The best thing is an unending supply of free drinks thrown her way.

Gale finishes a fourth whiskey, waiting for any type of effect. It's been harder and harder to get drunk. He doesn't think it's because he's been abusing alcohol more often in these past four weeks, but his tolerance has always been on the high side.

He doesn't think it's because he took Johanna's words to heart – not really. He scoffs. He prepared himself to be alone. It only happens to be harder than the first time. And maybe that's because all the ill feelings have been dissolved between them. The pain he feels is magnified because he can't hide behind any anger. It's a losing battle.

Never did he think he'd miss the anger. He stares at the newly replenished brown, semi-opaque color in his glass. He's become so pathetic. It'd make him mad if he had enough energy to be mad. He takes his glass in hand and raises it in salute to the date. Four weeks to the day she's been a thousand miles away. And it might be a milestone. If he can wake up with a massive enough hangover and still get to work, he'll finally start to get somewhere. That's the point. He's got no reason to be like this, really, but it's hard to switch off wanting what you want. Once he stops wanting, he'll seize the day and find a wife.

He shoots the glass back, feeling the warmth coalesce at the back of his neck. He heaves a sigh and caps the bottle of whiskey he bought, going to stand. He rolls his shoulder and turns toward the exit, having to pass the bar. By this time, there aren't many men there, and most have scattered away from the lady for whatever reason. Her face isn't ugly – far from. And even if she was ugly, the guys that frequent here wouldn't care. She's got that wavy, dirty blond hair. Lip gloss makes her lips shine under the smoke and the lights. Her jeans are like paint, she's wearing fuck-me heels, and her top is easily filled.

Gale thinks about it, defying his previous thoughts. He guesses she can hold her own if she hasn't already stumbled off with a stranger, though several eyes are still on her, strategizing on how to force her out of here.

Gale stops when he steps on a discarded sugar packet on the ground. It's still full, dirty and trampled, and it's labeled Sweet Thing. He leans over and picks it up, and as he passes the girl, he tosses it in front of her, and he says, "You dropped your nametag."

He doesn't wait for her reaction as he continues to walk. It turns out that he doesn't have to.

"Hey, wait!"

He almost grumbles under his breath. He stops against all the better judgment he still has. He looks over and finds her standing in front of him, eyes a startling olive green. She scans him, then she smiles.

"I know you."

Gale answers with a leering look. "It was a sugar packet. You don't have to pretend."

Her mouth curls up to evolve into a smirk, and places a hand on her hip. Gale watches it. She's very curvy. He has a mind to think that she'd get in a taxi with him. Gale knows he's attractive enough to get whoever he wants.

"No," she says. "I do know you, even if you weren't trying to hit on me."

"Then who am I?"

"You," she says, pointing for emphasis. "Are the guy who secretly saves the Capitol."

He raises his eyebrows. "Have you been spying on me?"

She giggles. "No. My dad works at the District Commerce Chamber. He tells me about you."

He absently wonders if he knows her dad. Then realizes he hopes he doesn't. "Good things, I hope. Miss…"

"Call me Catalina," she answers, and she has this tilt of her head and eyes that are so vivacious, he wants to just…

"Catalina." He drawls out the syllables against his tongue and glances around, catching eyes with a few of the intimidating patrons that don't look very intimidating. He holds up his whiskey bottle at her. "What's a nice girl like you doing here?"

"Long story," she says, annoyance under her breath. "I don't really want to go into details…"

"I hate the fine print, myself," he winks, gaining him another smile. He forgets how easy this dance can be. He's almost missed it. Having a girl slip like this for him, flutter her eyes like she's trying to catch him, too. "You know…I'm getting extremely drunk tonight." He takes a step toward her. "Want to join me?"

It takes her no persuading. For some girls, it takes a more aggressive approach. A longer battle, flirtation, and easy charm.

But it seems they're both pliable tonight. She might be running away from something, too, but Gale doesn't care. As long as he gets what he wants - finally something he can have for a night. It's been too long since he's done this. Why'd he wait so long?

And she's wonderful. It doesn't take much for her to react. She's incredibly responsive to his touches, and Gale appreciates it. She's so distracting with her movements and with her delicate sighs, her moans. She's like an eraser, how she travels around him like she does, her skin and body taking up residence in his bed and his apartment. Her hair coats his sheets, and her eyes cloud his vision, and for moments at a time, his mind is blank enough to think of nothing.

He is free. Katniss is gone. Catalina will cover up her scent.

This is the beginning.

sasha: i mostly named the chapter not because of the song, but because leaving someone/someones that love you can kill some of the spirit inside them, for a little while. people are leaving me for college. i feel like i'm dying. even though i know i'll see them again, i can't help but wonder if it'll be the same. i tried to incorporate my feelings in the chapter ;)

everyturn: NO. IT'S NOT WEIRD. it makes me excited that you almost cried. (and that's weird.) ;) Yeah. Gale was ROBBED. Sort of. haha. And yeah, this is coming to a close soon. i think maybe two more chapters. there might be more, but i'm not sure. (: you're so sweet! i'm so happy you enjoy them so much. but it's definitely going to be weird to finally finish this. i've been writing this for what seems like forever now. not having it is going to take some time for me to adjust, haha.

Jamie: that chapter was pretty serious. Guess why it took me so long to post it. ;) and thank you so much! writing that one was almost like a workout. haha, i'm glad i'm not the only one that glares at the books. but i bet this one makes up for her indecision? she seems pretty sure now. i'm so proud of her. she's growing up, omg. but yeah, now maybe two more chapters. it's been so fun writing (albeit challenging and at other times, i absolutely detested), but i'm going to miss it, too. i'm going to do my best to make it as satisfying as i can. (: and never apologize for review length! i love long reviews.

Rebeca: i think it's so cool that you're from madrid. i hope this chapter helped with knowing her doubts and her denial and decisions. and Peeta's too nice to be real. let's be honest.

Guest: you're even more fabulous.

Other Guest: next chapter!

Wahh: i hope it picks up the pieces. ;)

mae: I actually wanted to make Gale a little more mean to Katniss in that chapter. but figured, it was her last day, and he couldn't stay completely cold the whole time. hot make out scenes? is that what you said? how did you know that's what's going to happen?! working out this Peeta problem took me a few nights. hopefully it's decent. ;) anddd yep. bread. he's gonna keep bakin'.

Nicole: you're welcome. :D and you're not emo, don't worry.

m: it's funny how you said a month... ;) and thank you! this chapter isn't as long, but i think it's all set up for their reunion, now.

Katy: thank you!(: hope you enjoyeddd.

Ceese: hahaha. (: