Gale
Staring out the second-floor window of the newly constructed Justice Building I look down on what used to be the town square. It's not recognizable compared to what it was the last time I was here. The burned-out rubble has been cleared, all the broken buildings raised and the bodies...the bodies of all those I couldn't save... "Where'd you bury them all," I ask Thom, not moving my eyes from the window.
"The meadow," he says with reverence.
"That's good, it's very peaceful there."
"Once we get the money together, we planning on installing a monument to remember everyone who was lost."
An image of an obelisk flashes in my mind, every inch from the tip to the base, covered with the names of the dead. The list of names turns into an image of thousands of burned bodies strewn in the very street I'm looking out on. A tremor runs up my spine and I swear I can smell the sickly-sweet smoke coming off the smoldering corpses. Gripping the window sill, I fight back the urge to gag. "A monument's a nice idea," I manage to get out.
"No, it's not; it's depressing. It will be a stone reminder of the horror this place has seen, but I guess that's the point." Thom recants.
Turning my back to the window I look at my old friend. "How do you do it? Live here, work here...after everything?" I ask, desperate to understand.
Thom rubs at the shaggy growth on his chin, considering his response. "After the war was over, I guess I coulda anywhere, the beach, the north woods...hell the Capitol if I could stomach it. In the end, it came down to a question of comfort, not beauty or adventure. I mean the war made pretty much everywhere ugly and scared, but I was somehow comforted by the idea that at least I knew what to expect here," he says matter-of-factly. "I'm glad I chose to come home, it's been an honor to witness the transformation of this land from a place of pain, hunger, and death into a place with a promising future," he adds. I nod, but the simple task of breathing while I'm here seems to be hard, I can't comprehend how he does it. Giving my old friend a closer inspection, I easily spot crow's feet around his eyes, worry lines across his forehead, and gray hairs speckling his dark brown hair; maybe living here isn't so easy after all. I won't ever understand why he's chosen this, but I've never respected my friend more than I do right now.
Pushing myself off the windowsill, I make my way to a table in the middle of the room. "Well, I guess we should get down to the brass tacks," I say, bringing us back to the task at hand. Thom nods and goes to a messy desk in the corner and grabs a few file folders and a large rolled-up map. He's just laid the map flat on a table and begun walking me through the construction schedule when there's a light knock on the door.
"Come in," he calls.
A sandy-haired man with green eyes enters the room, glances at me briefly, then turns his attention to Thom, "I'm sorry to interrupt your meeting Sir, but Miss Everdeen is here to see the Captain." He says look at me again.
A large smile splits Thom's face. Based on the genuine look of affection I can tell that he and Katniss are more than the mere acquaintances they were before the war. Crossing to the door, Thom calls down the staircase to her. "Katniss Everdeen, you should know better than to stand on formality, get your skinny Seam butt up here!"
After a few beats, Katniss appears in the door, a basket on one arm and she's shaking a disapproving head at him. "Thom, you're the mayor of Twelve, have a little dignity," she tisks sarcastically.
"I see Haymitch's charming personality continues to rub off on you," Thom returns. "and that's "Acting Mayor" to you," he adds, laughing.
Katniss joins the sound with a light chuckle of her own. Taking the basket from the crook of her arm she hands it to him. "Peeta said to tell you that he didn't have time to make the rosemary rolls you requested but he'll have them for you at dinner tonight."
Lifting the cloth that covers the basket Thom peeks inside at his delivery. "I'm guessing he's been too busy keeping the pretty girl down the street company instead of making my rolls," he teases.
Katniss's cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink at the comment and I feel my back teeth grind together. I don't really know why I'm responding this way, I've known for a year that she and Peeta were both back in twelve and back in each other's lives. I turn the possibilities over in my head for a moment before I realize that it's not their proximity or even the time she and Peeta spend time together that's irking me, it's the blush on her face.
"Gale, do you have time for a walk?" she requests, turning her attention to me.
Tossing my spinning thoughts aside, I raise an eyebrow at Thom. "Would putting this off an hour throw off your whole day?" I ask.
"No of course not! " he says. " Plus I'd never dream of standing between you two, might end up with an arrow in my ass if I do," he smirks.
Katniss rolls her eyes at him, then looks at me expectantly.
"I guess I'm all yours," I tell her.
I hear Thom scoff under his breath. "Yeah, well you'll have to get in li..." he beings to say, but with one a quick look from Katniss his words screech to a halt. An odd silence falls between the two of them as they stare at one another.
I clear my throat and try to ignore tension building in my own stomach. "Shall we?" I venture, gesturing towards the door. Katniss gives me a small nod and starts for the exit, but pauses at the door. Glancing over her shoulder she offers Thom an apologetic smile, "I'll see you and Becca at dinner tonight." she says. Thom returns her smile with a wide one of his own, clearly he knows he has been forgiven for whatever transgression passed between them. "Oh, by the way, Becca wanted me to tell you that she's bringing a pie. That should allow Peeta time for my rosemary rolls," he smirks. Rolling her eyes theatrically, Katniss chuckles softly before turning on her heels and heading out the door.
Following her small frame down the stairs and out the front door, I come to a halt as the midmorning sun blinds me momentarily. When my eyes adjust, I find her looking up at me from the bottom of the stairs.
"Not spending much time in the sun these days?" she asks, her eyebrow raised.
"Spend most of my time working in a cement bunker, so no, not much time in the sun," I answer honestly as I make my way down the temporary stairs of the justice building. As my foot hits the last stair a loud crack echoes across the square and I'm ankle-deep in a mud puddle. "Damn it," I mutter under my breath, shaking the mud from my boot. "Never thought I would wish the Justice building was still standing," I mutter offhandedly as I glance back at the two-story wood building we just exited.
"Of everything that was destroyed, that building is the only one I'm actually glad is gone, "Katniss says resolutely before turning her on her heels and marching off across the square.
I stare at her for a long moment. With the long hem of her sweater swaying at her knees, I'm reminded of the first day I met her in the woods her small 12-year-old frame wrapped in her father's hunting jacket. The memory warms my stomach, that is until a realization creeps into my consciousness. My long legs close the distance between us quickly, but once I've caught up I find I haven't had the time to consider the thoughts buzzing in my head before the words spill out of my mouth. "Nice sweater Catnip, but won't Peeta catch a chill without it?" Immediately I want to put the sentence back in my mouth but it's too late.
When she doesn't respond to my snarky comment, I glance down and find her mindlessly running a finger along one of the knitted sleeves, her face impassive.
Her lack of reaction annoys me and sets me on edge. In the past when the subject of Peeta has come up she always went on the defensive with statements like "it was an act " or "he's my friend", so to see her unfazed leads me to an unpleasant conclusion. "So you two are official now," I state, seeing no reason to beat around the bush.
She chuckles mirthlessly, "I don't see how that's relevant to why you're here," she shoots back.
I sidestep her evasiveness and push the subject, but even as I do I know I'm putting my nose where it doesn't belong. "So that's a yes," I say trying to keep my voice neutral but failing.
Stopping mid-stride, she turns to face me, "I don't want to discuss it with you, Gale," she states emphatically.
Something has indeed changed, I can feel it in her odd calmness. I clench my jaw tightly, shutting it against the questions lining up on my tongue. "Fine," I mutter through clenched teeth.
Turning back to the road, we silently wind our way down street after street. It's not until I see the boarded-up entrance to the mine that I realize we are in what used to be the Seam. I look around trying to find another landmark by which to get my bearings, but nothing is familiar. The entire area has been transformed. Where once there had been small broken gray houses and muddy streets, there are now bright white single-story structures with kitchen gardens and roads paved in crushed gravel. "How is this the Seam?" I ask in awe.
"There isn't a Seam anymore," Katniss replies simply. She points to one of the small white houses, "It only takes about two weeks to build one of those believe it or not. All of the walls come in on the train preassembled. Yet in spite of easy construction people still had to sleep in tents over the winter," she says a hint of outrage coloring her voice.
My head snaps in her direction at this information. "What happened?" I ask.
Coming to a stop she looks up at me, scrutinizing my face. "Delays in the prefab construction in Two and constant train delays," she says, "But you already know that," she says suspiciously.
"I suspected, there are similar issues all over the country," I confess.
Without reply, she turns back to the road and we continue walking in silence until we reach "our" place in the woods, the rock ledge overlooking a valley. Taking a seat on the ledge, I let my legs dangle over the side and take a deep breath. The scent of the trees and the vegetation all call me home and I can't help but I sigh.
Katniss settles down next to me on the rock, tossing her legs over the edge as well. "Do you miss it?" she asks, her voice quiet.
I glance over at her and find her looking out over the valley, her hair blowing gently in the breeze. She looks peaceful...beautiful. Being in this place again, with her sitting so near, I'm immediately struck with the sting of long-buried emotions. They're a mix of nostalgia for our past, longing for our lost friendship, but most disconcerting of all, a deep yearning to hold her. The very thought of her in my arms makes my heart tumble sickeningly into my stomach.
"You don't miss home at all?" she asks when I don't respond.
Shoving my troubling thoughts aside, I look over at her and give her an uncommitted shrug. "I don't know, I guess I have mixed emotions about this place now," I respond, turning to look back over the lush green valley below me. "I do miss this. These woods, I mean. I miss hunting, and going to the Hob for wild dog stew," I laugh remembering all our days sitting on Grease Sae's counter eating her most recent concoction, but even as this happy memory surfaces so do dozens of the bad ones. "But I don't miss the mines or watching people starve to death and I certainly don't miss being a puppet of the Capitol." I spit out. Pushing my hand through my hair, I take a calming breath. "Honestly, I don't think I will ever be able to come here without reliving that last day. Walking through town I swear I could smell the smoke," I admit shaking my head sadly. When I turn my eyes back to hers, I find her with tears in hers. It takes all of my self-control not to reach up to brush them away. "How do you do it?" I ask reiterating the same question I had for Thom.
Katniss's eyes soften in thought for a moment before she answers my question. "I've been broken, burned, and scarred just like this town. Watching it be rebuilt into something new, a place with a new purpose, has given me hope that the same thing could happen to me one day," she says swiping at a tear that has managed to escape.
"I couldn't live with all of the ghosts," I admit.
She titters, "Gale, I don't think our kind of ghosts are hindered by such a mundane thing as a district border. We're bound to them no matter where we lay our head."
I think of Prim's sweet smile and know she is right. I moved to Two, bury myself in work to keep from thinking about her, but she still finds me every night in my dreams. Tears prick the back of my eyes as the familiar feeling of regret mixes with grief in my chest. "I think of her every day," I confess through a tight throat.
Katniss's eyes glistened with fresh tears. "So do I," she says her voice thick with grief. "She would have been 16 this spring."
I swallow around a lump in my throat. "I know you can never forgive me...and I don't expect you to, God knows I can't even forgive myself, but will we ever be able to... to..." My voice trails off, I don't know how to end the sentence. Am I honestly going to ask her if she will ever be able to be my friend again? I already know the answer to that question. After what seems like an eternity I finally finish with, "be amiable, in each other presence?"
"All things considered, I would say today has been the very definition of the word," she returns thoughtfully.
"Peeta threatening to hit me and the daggers you were shooting from your eyes is what, you call that amiable?" I inquire darkly.
Leaning back on her elbows she gives me a shrug. "Well...yeah," she says sounding almost amused, but too soon her face becomes serious again. "I'm so very tired of being angry...and sad," she confesses.
Hope springs up amidst my misery and I try to ignore it. Forgiveness is very unlikely, so to hope for it will only lead to disappointment. "Do you think we will ever get past it?" I ask.
"Peeta says we will never forget, and we shouldn't, so we can honor those lost, but that we also need to be stewards of good lives. He says we need to love, laugh, and...forgive. That, that is how we honor those who were taken too soon," she says wistfully.
The utterance of Peeta's name irks me more than it should. "I asked what you thought, or are you two one mind these days?" I ask, working very hard to keep the annoyance out of my voice. I must not be completely successful because she's eyeing me, anger flushing her cheeks. To my surprise she doesn't rise to my needling, instead, she calmly pushes herself up and turns to sit cross-legged in front of me. Reaching under the hem of her sweater she pulls out a small off-white envelope and holds it up between us. Across the front, I can see someone has penned "President Paylor" in a fluid script. My heart begins to race, this is the answer I've come so far for. She stares at the envelope and lets her index finger toy with one of the bent corners. "We have decided to attend, but we have a few conditions," she says quietly. Clearing her throat, she looks back up at me. "You will be there? At the gathering?"
"Yes. I've assigned to the event since the inception."
"That means we'll be attending the same events and spending a reasonable amount of time together," she states.
"Yes...most likely..." I agree cautiously.
"If we want to get through of this event without fists flying you're going to need you to put your personal issues with Peeta aside. I'm not going to spend the entire event playing referee," she states emphatically. "Peeta's a veteran of the uprising, just like you and me. The wounds he suffered in the pursuit of this freedom will haunt him the rest of his life, so the least you could do is speak to him with a little respect."
"Wounds? You're acting like he's lost an arm or a..." I'm about to say leg when I realize that my analogy is deeply flawed.
Her eyes flash at me, "GALE!"
I raise my hands, "Look I'm sorry, that was a bad choice of words, but he's dangerous Katniss! I know it's not his fault, but he is, and moving back here, two doors down from you, that's just fuckin' selfish!" I yell, feeling a bit lighter now that some of my pent-up resentment has been freed.
Katniss's eyes go dark and she stands slowly. "You're wrong," she growls, glaring down at me.
I get up and follow her, "I don't think I am. You seem to forget that I've seen him try to kill you," I grind out through clenched teeth.
She begins to paces, the note now crumpled in one hand. "You know what Gale; you don't have to believe me and you certainly don't have to like Peeta. What I need to know is if you're capable of showing even the slightest restraint when speaking to or about him," she demands, dismissing my concerns for her safety.
"And if I can't?" I bite back bitterly.
Stopping her pacing, she turns back to me and shows me the crumpled letter in her fist. "Then I need to add another condition to my list," she states evenly.
Throwing my head back, I growl in frustration, "So you'll ask them to what, send me home?"
"If that's what it takes." she answers evenly.
Staring down into her pretty face, I can see from the set of her jaw and the steel gray glare of her eyes that she will not be swayed. She has and will always stand by him, which is the main reason I dislike Peeta so much. Yes, he's dangerous. Yes, I think he's a selfish bastard for putting her in danger, but mostly I hate how unwaveringly loyal they are to one another.
"Well, what's it going to be?" she demands impatiently.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I turn to look out over the valley. There's really only one choice to be made. If I choose to go forward as I have, she will no doubt send me marching back to District Two, after all, Katniss is not one to make idle threats. It's hard for me to admit, but the truth is Peeta has her allegiance, I do not, not anymore. If there is to be any hope of mending things between us, I'm going to have to make peace with Peeta Mellark...at least for now. Turning back to face her, I reluctantly nod my head in agreement.
Placing hand on my arm she gives it a light squeeze, "Thank you," she whispers.
The warmth of her hand on my arm sends heat up and into my shoulder. What does this girl do to me? I wonder absently. Much too soon she pulls away. I want to groan at the loss of contact, but manage to swallow it back. Clearing my throat, I order my thoughts, "So you have a letter for me to deliver?" I ask.
Looking down at the crumpled letter a frown pulls down at the corners of her lips. "Damn it," she mutters and rubs the envelope between her hands in an attempt to smooth the creases from it. Hesitantly, I raise my hand and place it on top of her frenzied ones. "It's okay, it would have gotten wrinkled traveling in my pocket anyway," I tell her. Her hands still and for a brief moment, we stand together in silence, my hand covering hers. Lifting her eyes to mine, I see they are shining tears. Concern bubbles up in my gut, but it's immediately waylaid when I see they are accompanied by a soft smile. I'm about to ask her what she's thinking when I feel her press the envelope into my hand. "Just so you know, I agree with him," she says, withdrawing her hands from mine.
"Agree with who?" I ask distracted by her retreat.
Raising a sleeve up to dab at her eyes, she laughs a little. "Peeta," she says softly. "We are not "one mind", as you so eloquently suggested, but we do agree about the importance of moving forward."
I feel my earlier hope rise up and do my best to ignore it. "Yes, but the logistics of the act is easier said than done," I return.
She nods in agreement and lets out a deep sigh. For a briefest of seconds, I can see the weight the last three years has had on her. "Yes, it most certainly is," she mummers.
I gather my never and ask, "Can I spend some time with you...when we're in the Capitol. Outside of the conference I mean?"
She looks at me for a long moment before respondingm "Yes. I think I'd like that," she finally agrees.
I know I must be smiling like a fool, but I hardly care. "Katniss," I start, but I'm interrupted by a beeping from my wristwatch. I look down at the time and frown.
"You need to go?" she asks.
I nod, "Ugh, yes, I guess I should. I still have a lot to do today."
"I understand," she says. "Would you have time to join us for dinner tonight? I shot a huge turkey yesterday and we're having a few people over for big dinner."
If it weren't for the "we're" part of her request I would jump at the opportunity, but seeing as I've just agreed to "play nice" with Peeta I don't think it's the best idea to test the waters just yet. "Thanks for the invite, but since I've gotten your answer I think I'm going to try to finish up my meetings early so I can catch the 2 o'clock train."
She eyes me suspiciously.
"Look, I'm not proud of it, but the truth is I really hate riding that thing at night, gives me motion sickness." I fib. While I do hate sleeping on the train, my issues have more to do with my vivid imagining of bedroom happenings between the woman before me and her district partner rather than the motion of the train. "I'm scheduled to be in Thirteen tomorrow anyway, so if I leave here at two I might make it there in time to sleep in a stationary bed."
She seems to buy my story and gives me a small nod. "Well, if things change, the invitation stands. We're eating around six," she offers.
My watch beeps again and I curse under my breath. "I'm sorry, but I need to get going, can I walk you home?" I offer.
She shakes her head. "Thanks, but I have salad greens to scrounge up."
I out a long breath, considering some sort of appropriate goodbye, but I not sure what gesture to make. "Well, I guess I'll see you in a month," I finally offer awkwardly. With that, Katniss raises up on tiptoes and laces her arms around my neck in a gentle hug. I nearly fall over in surprise. "See you in a month," she says softly in my ear. Then as quickly as it started, it was over and she's stepping away from me. My watch beeps for the third time and I curse aloud.
Katniss snickers. "You better go," she urges.
I sigh. "Take care of yourself Catnip," say with a smile.
She returns the smile with one of her own. "You too," she says. Then without further ado, she turns on her heels and begins to pick her way deeper into the forest.
As I stand and watch her retreating form for a moment, I replay how she felt in my arms just seconds before. The gesture, as simple as it was, has let loose a longing that I've been suppressing for months, no, years. A dull aching comes to reside in my chest. "Shit," I mutter, shoving my hand through my hair. I thought I was over this. Well...okay, maybe not over it, over it, but definitely on my way to being over it. "Shit!" I growl again, "What am I going to do now?"