The next time I wake is most certainly not from a vivid arousing dream like last time, but a far more normal cause; the sky is lightening, indicating that dawn is approaching. This time I sit up in bed as my eyes adjust to the greys of the sky coming through my window and yawn, feeling a whole lot more content after sleeping than I usually do. I suspect it has something to do with that dream last night and my slight disappointment that it wasn't real, but as my consciousness comes back to me I realize that I'm probably not ready for that.

Gale is still asleep in the armchair next to my dresser, where he must have a stiff arm where his head is resting on at a sort of awkward angle. Despite being so angry and upset with him about not a few things, it's a little difficult seeing him like this, sleeping, when he's so vulnerable. It's sort of like when I held his hand when he was whipped and I watched him sleep, thinking that he could be the boy I met in the woods so long ago. Right now I still don't see the boy from the woods, but I know it's because we've both changed, mostly for the worse. Even sleeping I can detect the bags under his eyes and the scars that are faint but still there from a war that crushed us both in different ways. Scars and sleep deprivation for both of us, and I suspect like me, the worst of his scars are not visible.

It's so…easy to just let whatever I felt before Prim died, before every single little thing went terribly wrong to wash over me right now just watching him sleep in my room. So easy to try and let everything go that has kept us apart-the lying, the bombs, the effects of war-and think of him how I truly want to, or at least getting there. So easy to just think…maybe I could make my dream a reality.

That is, until he wakes up and his hazy grey eyes waking from sleep meet mine. Then my mind blocks anything I had that was letting me let it go and I'm back to where we were. At odds. Or at least partly.

"Hi." I greet him, not knowing what to say.

"Hi." He replies back, a silence filling the air and I want to sigh in frustration. Suddenly the very person I could say or do anything with I'm awkward around. Though I suppose some of that has to do with my stupid behavior yesterday. Which reminds me…

"How did I get here?" I question him, the one thing I couldn't understand when I woke up before or now. I still can't remember walking back home and into my bed, let alone leaving the woods. Or Gale in my room, sleeping. It's not something I really would have allowed no matter what I said yesterday. Or at least I don't think so.

"You fell asleep at our meeting spot." He informs me quietly, fidgeting with the blanket he has over himself. Oh great, now we both feel awkward when I'm supposed to be angry and upset with him and he at me, or at least partially on his part. This isn't getting any better. I think I prefer not awkward to be honest. "I didn't want to wake you so I carried you back."

Oh, well that explains why I didn't remember. Despite being a little angry that he didn't wake me to walk me home because I'm not a child, it was sort of…sweet. And I was exhausted from not only my trip there but my emotional drainage. I probably fell asleep in his lap, crying myself to sleep. But there are a few questions I still have about that.

"How did you even get me through the fence? And wasn't I too heavy?" I ask, my hand automatically going to my stomach, rubbing it. It probably looks like I'm feeling for marks from the fence, but really I'm just shocked. He got me through that hole in the fence and managed not to wake me up? Either he's highly skilled or I was out like I was drugged.

He snorts softly at my questions and I half glare at him, though I'm really too tired to put any force behind it. "No, you're not too heavy." He claims first, as if I'm stupid for thinking so. Well I don't; I'm a whole person and pregnant, it's not like I weight the same as a bird or something in his game bag. Even if I had lost weight I don't think it would be an easy feat to carry me for at least a few miles, up a set of stairs, and into my bed. "And I didn't get you under the fence; I took you through where we pulled down a part of the fence when the hovercrafts came."

Oh right. How could I have forgotten about that? It was even very far from my normal entrance into the woods, but once again I guess it was just an old habit. I wasn't even thinking of a different place.

"Oh." I answer, suddenly feeling dumb.

"I wouldn't just leave you there." He points out, as if that's what was on my mind.

"Thanks." I reply quietly, even though it sounds more like a question than an answer. I don't know why it's bothering me though.

Then it hits me; Gale didn't leave after he put me in bed. He stayed right there where it couldn't have been very comfortable. Whether I would want him there or not, whether I was mad at him or not. Maybe just so he could explain to me how I got here so I wouldn't strain myself to come find him for the answer. But one thing keeps repeating itself in my head. He didn't leave me.

He did once, we both know it. And though it's what I wanted at the time, perhaps it wasn't what was best for me, or the baby, or even Gale. We didn't know what to do with ourselves after everything went so wrong, more than he could ever know since I lied to him. But he left me alone, even though he knew what I probably needed most was someone there for me (and not about the baby since he didn't know then, just about all my loss and the after effects of war). He knew that Peeta wouldn't be coming with me at least for a while, and Haymitch would be no help. So even if I would have hated him…maybe it would have been better if he came anyway. He left me in every sense of the word.

Until now.

I know we still have our issues and we're nowhere near solving any of them, but I think yesterday was at least a step in the right direction. We both did things we needed to, trying to make up for the past. I finally after all this time admitted even if I was surprised by myself that I loved him, as in the real sense of love. As in the 'I want to sleep with you every night (in the real way and the dirty way) and kiss you, hug you, all of it' way. Every single thing I've been terrified of my entire life. And he didn't leave me no matter how much I may have wanted him to.

And even then, I know I'm not ready to go back to what we were if that was even possible anymore. Clearly we're so past the line of friendship that it's not even in the cards to just be that again, even if I wasn't practically six months pregnant with his baby. And even though I might be able to set that issue aside since there's nothing either of us can do about that one at this point and it was as much his fault as mine, there's still Prim. And the war, and all the other things we disagreed on.

But if I can forgive him for getting me pregnant (or at least as close to forgiveness as I can get), then perhaps one part of my dream can be true. He's just sitting there in the chair, unmoving clearly until I give him sort of order to leave and never come back again or whatever, but that's not what's going to happen. If he's refusing to leave whether I personally want him here or not, then I might as well at least do one thing for him, for all the good things we've had in years past.

I sigh, but motion him to come over. Clearly confused and astonished, he just stares at me from his place for a moment, deciding if I'm playing a horrible joke on him or if it's just to hit him or something. But no sense of either of those must cross my face or posture because eventually he trusts me enough to slowly get up and silently walk over, sitting on the edge of the bed hesitantly.

He looks so much like he's waiting to bolt should I do anything wrong, and it's an odd feeling to see on him. He was never one to back down, always confident in himself. But I suppose I've given him very mixed signals lately. Clearly at battle with my own hormones, he doesn't know which way I'll jump next. So trying not to scare him, I allow my hand to slowly creep over to his as he watches my face and take it in mine gently, feeling it tense under me as if he doesn't know what I'm doing. Then I as he watches his hand in mine, he allows me to take it from where it was resting on my comforter and place it on my swelled stomach.

His eyes widen as I do so, and they are almost at awe which would be funny if this wasn't such a screwed up situation. I let my hand go limp from his and allow him to explore my large stomach that he made me have, maybe even looking from a kick from the baby. And while the baby is kicking as if it knew Gale's hand was searching for something, it's obviously too light for him to feel because he doesn't react at all. Eventually he looks up to me with his hand still on my stomach, questioning me with his eyes, asking clearly for an explanation.

Well I'm not going to tell him it's because it was okay in my dream, or the fact that my hormones have apparently decided that they hoped that it would end up like my little fantasy that followed this step, even though I push those thoughts aside. Besides, the feelings of Prim being gone and the hairs on the back of my neck standing up from the thought that Gale may have taken her away from me are enough to not let it get there right now even if Gale had done something. I really need to work on this battle in myself, because it's going to drive me insane.

"I just…thought you should." I end up telling him, a sort of lie but at the same time sort of the truth.

He only smiles at me, but it's still bitter. "Thanks."

Well we're nowhere near done with fighting, but it's nice to know we can at least be sort of nice to each other, even if it is just this. Besides, I'm sure the battle within myself is going to come out soon and we're going to be back to almost square one.

I'm not really looking forward to it, and at the same time I am because that makes more sense. I really need to get a handle on myself.