A/N: Guys, I can't believe it, but we have actually reached the end. This is the last regular chapter of my story, but there is an epilogue which I wrote weeks ago already. I'll post it right after this chappie. So, for the last time - I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 34
"You know, if you insist on killing yourself a bullet would be much quicker and easier than trying to overdose on pain medication and cheap liquor."
Johanna Mason's voice is pulling Gale out of his warm, numbing haze. He doesn't ask her what she's doing in his hospital room - or in the Capitol, for that matter.
"I wasn't trying to kill myself," he mumbles into his pillow, avoiding her gaze at all costs. "Would be stupid, after struggling to stay alive for all that time, wouldn't it?"
"Of course," she says and casually slumps down next to Gale as if the bed was hers. "You know, that's exactly what I told my mentor after I was crowned victor. That was before I learned that the true nightmare often begins after the fight." Johanna tilts her head sideways and eyes him with a strange expression. "You'll have to be very brave in those weeks to come. Very strong. And I trust you – no, I expect you not to take the easy way out, do you understand me, Hawthorne?"
Gale doesn't answer. Johanna's fiery stare has taken his breath away.
They brought his family to the Capitol to see him. When Hazelle doesn't kiss his forehead like she usually would, but simply sits down in a chair next to his bed and asks him how he's feeling, Gale realizes that they know about the bomb that killed Prim and so many others.
Rory's flying fists break Gale's nose. Rory's empty eyes break Gale's heart.
As Gale stands behind Katniss' chair and watches their reflections in the mirror, he can't help but wonder what happened to the boy and girl that met in the woods of District Twelve so many years ago.
Give me a reason to come back, he begs silently. Just a small sign that you still care, that's all I want. My future is in your hands.
But she doesn't give him anything except an accusing glare and he knows instinctively that the flaming shadow of a blue eyed girl will forever loom over them.
That's the moment which decides it for Gale. He won't return to Twelve. There is nothing left back there for him.
He smiles sadly but acceptingly at Katniss and says: "Shoot straight."
Before he leaves for good, his fingertips brush her cheek, touching her for the very last time.
When the last shot of the war hits the wrong president and the Mockingjay screams for her hunting partner to kill her, Gale doesn't react. The girl he once promised to look out for doesn't exist anymore – neither does the boy who made said promise.
They don't allow anyone to visit Katniss in her solitary confinement. Gale isn't sure if he would, even if he could. The more broken he sees her, the harder it'll be for him to let her go.
"They won't convict her, will they?" he asks Haymitch worriedly, the day before the public trial.
"Of course not," the older man answers grumpily. "Everyone thinks she's crazy – might even be right about it. They'll probably appoint some poor shrink to try and fix her and send her to a cosy little place where she doesn't get in anyone's way."
Gale nods silently. At least there's a slight chance that she might be okay someday, that she might have a peaceful life. That's more than he could offer her.
The freshly elected President Paylor stares Gale down mercilessly.
"So," she starts and folds her hands on the desk that separates them. "You are asking me for a position in civil service, Soldier Hawthorne?"
"Mister Hawthorne, please," he whispers in return. "I just can't stand to be called a solider anymore."
The President cocks an eyebrow. "There are a lot of people in the military who have a great deal of respect for you, Mr Hawthorne. Some even go as far as calling you a war hero." The sharp creases around her mouth as she presses her lips together indicate clearly that she doesn't share this opinion.
"I don't want to work for the military anymore," he answers firmly. "Beetee taught me a bit about engineering – I never had formal training in that profession, but I'm a quick learner and I'm willing to work hard." He knows he's begging now. Paylor knows it, too. She sighs.
"Alright then. I just appointed a rebuilding commission. I guess we could really use some help in District Two, rebuilding what's left of it after the collapse of the Nut. If you do a good job, I'll consider giving you your own projects and therefore more responsibility."
She watches Gale's reaction to those words closely, monitoring every hint of emotion on his face. And suddenly Gale remembers that she was one of the rebel leaders who voted against his plan to take the Nut during that phone conference back in Two.
He doesn't flinch when she tells him that he's expected to live and work amongst people whose friends, family and neighbours died a horrible death because of his actions and to look them in the eye, day after day, knowing he has caused their sorrow.
It's painfully obvious that President Paylor intends this job to be Gale's penance. He willingly accepts it.
That night, Gale haunts the corridors of the abandoned office building that's used as makeshift barracks like a ghost. He doesn't even realize his restless feet took him to Peeta's door until he's face to face with the sleepy blonde boy.
"I'm not going back to Twelve," he blurts out.
Peeta musters him curiously. "Because of her?" he asks.
"No," Gale answers. "Because of me."
Peeta just nods, ever understanding, and Gale – unable to stop himself - continues: "Just promise me you'll take care of her. Promise me you'll never leave her, that you'll always have her back. Because there is one thing I know for certain – Katniss can't survive without you, Peeta."
His train leaves the next morning. When he's standing at the station, holding a small suitcase filled with everything he owns in this world, Gale is truly ready to leave behind his past. But the problem is that some parts of the past turn out to be quite clingy.
"I see you are still alive, gorgeous. And you look even quite sane. For a mass murderer, that is. I have to say, I'm impressed."
Gale turns around to find Johanna standing directly behind him.
"I'm not a mass murderer," he hisses. "I didn't want this bomb to be used. I didn't know."
"Yes, you are," she answers, not the slightest bit impressed by his tone. "You are a merciless, coldblooded killer – or, you'll be, with the years."
He blinks a few times. "What do you mean?"
She takes a step towards him, closing the gap between them. "Do you really not understand, gorgeous? Come on, use your pretty head!"
But Gale is tired and broken and absolutely not in the mood for her games. "Just tell me, Johanna."
"Isn't it obvious?" Her palm is flat on his chest now, right over his heart. "Katniss and Peeta will be remembered as the great heroes, the flaming role models whose bravery and spirit won our freedom. But people like you and me? What do you think how we will go down in the history books?" Johanna laughs a short, dry laugh. "Me, the crazy girl who split another kid's skull with an axe and grinned at the sight. You, the ruthless military strategist who blew up dozens of innocent children for the sake of victory."
"That's not true," Gale whispers, not looking at her. His hands are shaking with anger. "That's not who I am. I… I just felt helpless so often in my life. And when I finally had the chance to do something, I simply needed to take it! All I wanted to do was the right thing..."
"Well, you know what they say - the road to hell is paved with good intentions." Johanna shrugs. "I know you never meant any harm. But what about in a hundred years' time, when all your friends, all the people that knew you are dead? All that'll be left of us are the words of some daft historian who had no idea what was going on in our heads, who didn't understand anything, who just wrote down the obvious… and this is all future generations will ever learn about us. Slowly but inevitably we will become those images on the pages of the history books.
And you know what, gorgeous?"
Gale's heartbeat fastens under her touch. His eyes are glued to hers when she continues: "It doesn't matter."
He bites his lip, trying to prevent a bitter laugh. "Doesn't it? Really, Johanna?"
"Of course it doesn't!" she shouts exasperatedly. A few other people at the station cast them curious looks. "We can't change anything about it, anyway. But what we can do, gorgeous, is live. Don't you realize?" There's that fire in her eyes again, the glowing ember that reminds him so much of Katniss. "We are free – for the first time in our lives we are truly free to go wherever we want! So, let's be spiteful! Let's spit fate in the face and live the rest of our lives to the fullest! Who cares what other people think! "
It's the first time Gale Hawthorne sees Johanna Mason truly excited; genuinely happy. She might be even more broken than him – and if she can manage to live again, so can he.
"Where are you planning to go?" he asks.
She shrugs. "District Four, when Annie has the baby. Promised to help her out. Until then…" She shrugs again and points at Gale's luggage. "What about you?"
"District Two. Got a job offer there."
"Ugh, District Two? You sure about that? You know, after…" There is a vague hand gesture.
Now it's Gale's turn to shrug.
"I never assumed it would be easy."
He stays silent for a while, just staring at Johanna, searching her face for a hint of an emotion that's hidden beneath her carefully built façade. Then he continues, slowly, carefully, as if testing the waters: "Would be easier if I had a friend…"
It wasn't really meant as an invitation, but that doesn't keep Johanna from taking it.
She rests her head on Gale's shoulder as they stare silently out of the train window, watching the Capitol get smaller and smaller and finally vanquish in the distance.