A/N: Hey guys! Thanks so much for all the kind words and reviews! I just wanted to let you know this is basically a Gale/Katniss get reaped fic. I will make it as close to the book as possible, but there will be some changes. For one, I made both of them eighteen. Now that I'm an adult I realize how young 16 is, and don't feel comfortable writing characters of that age range. Not too mention, it'd be weird to have sixteen-year-olds have the type of mature relationship I want Katniss and Gale to have. There are more reasons but no spoilers ;) You'll see. I also want to make the games a bit different, not too much, but enough to keep you guys on your toes. I feel that introducing the Gale and Katniss dynamic to the games would really change things up realistically. Plus, Gale's a bit more blood-thirsty than Katniss so that'll def. make some new twists. sORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! Either way, enjoy!
OH! IMPORTANT: For those of you who will wonder this is just a recap of Gale and Katniss's relationship. An intro chapter really, it'll blend into the reaping day so don't turn the story away here, please!
Special thanks to the TeamGale Community who put my story in their community along with other amazing Gale-centric fics!
"We are what we are, don't need no excuses
For the scars from our mothers
And we know what we know
'Cause we're made of all the little bones of our fathers."
- The Woods, Daughter
Chapter 1: The Woods
The day I met Gale Hawthorne was the day I had finally gathered up the courage to go into the woods behind the gate near my house by myself for the first time. I had never gone without my father's guidance but, at that point, I didn't have a choice. My father had died six months prior in a mine collapse.
To this day I still wake up from nightmares trying to scream out a warning to my father. He never hears it.
I was twelve years old then - young, scared, starving and, utterly desperate. The hunger and desperation was so intense, so all-consuming, that taking a bullet for poaching no longer fazed my twelve-year-old self.
Even then, I would have rather taken the bullet then starve.
Being the same age, I had seen Gale around school before that day. He was a tall boy for his age, gangly and long-limbed, with steely eyes that shined with a peculiar blend of determination and mischief that drew other children towards him and left adults weary.
I never paid too much attention to him, no more than the next person at least. I had always been a quiet girl, content with singing lullabies to my baby sister Prim, braiding my mother's hair and learning the ways of the hunt from my father. I never bothered with basic childish interactions or friendships of any kind. I wasn't interested in them - that hasn't changed - but Gale snuck up on me.
Literally.
I was a couple of miles into the forest, picking blueberries and edible roots that I recognized from my families plant book when I heard the whine of an animal and the rustle of movement. I whipped toward the sound, creeping in its direction with bent knees, pulling at the string of my bow. I evened out my breathing as my father taught me to, hearing the echo of his words mix with the wind.
'Focus on the animals Katniss; it's just you and nature. Think of nothing else.'
I was surprised when I finally circled the tree, arrow nocked and aimed, to see that the creature - a jackrabbit - was already dead, hanging limply in a perfect snare. I shuffled closer, eyeing the tight, intricate knots when a recognizable, yet not quite familiar, voice broke the eerie quiet.
"Stealing is illegal or haven't you heard," I spun around to see the lanky form of Gale Hawthorne leaning against the tree trunk, looking at me with annoyance and a hint of mirth.
"I wasn't trying to steal it," I had defended, "I was just looking."
There was a beat of silence while Gale studied me, deciding whether or not I was truthful. It seemed like he decided in my favor because his stiff position relaxed and he took a couple of steps forward. "Can you use that," he asked, nodding at the bow in my hands.
"Yes," I whispered, painfully shy and unused to speaking to anyone who wasn't Prim or my father - I tried not to think of my broken mother.
"Wow, that's cool" he appraised, making me flush lightly but Gale was young and oblivious at the time, he hadn't noticed. "I saw you at the recognizing ceremony."
The ceremony where they awarded my family with a medal as some lackluster apology for killing my father. My blush fell off my face, and I glared, not feeling so shy anymore. I nodded in response.
Gale glanced at my face, looking almost approving at the hate tinging my expression. His father died in those mines too. He must've felt the same rage I felt at the world.
It was good to know I wasn't the only one.
"What's your name?" he questioned, genuinely interested.
I was slightly hurt Gale hadn't known my name; we had been in a couple of classes together throughout the years. "Katniss," I whispered.
"Catnip?" he crowed, having misheard and obviously giddy at the ridiculous name. I had flushed again, unable to find the words to correct him.
"Well, Catnip," he mocked gleefully, puffing his chest importantly, "how about I show you my snare. My dad taught me, you know."
That was the beginning of our partnership, and it was a rocky one at first.
Both of us were (still are) temperamental, stubborn and competitive. We enjoyed the company in the woods (neither of us would ever admit that we were both a bit scared traveling them alone at the time), we watched each other's back but, once we crossed the fence that led to the District, the competition for business led us to petty, childish arguments. It took months before we put those arguments aside and came up with a system that allowed us to share our catches and do trade together instead of apart.
As time passed and our fighting dwindled, we became friends.
I taught him to shoot; he taught me to make snares; we foraged together, hunted together, got into trouble together, and took care of our families together. Eventually, I became a frequent guest at the Hawthorn residence, and Gale became a regular at the Everdeen house; everything we did stopped being for our own families - our actions became driven by the needs of both our families combined, and as the years passed, in the eyes of the District, we became one entity; two halves of the same whole.
There was no longer just Katniss Everdeen, the quiet girl with the scowl or Gale Hawthorne, the troublemaker with a loud mouth. There was only Gale and Katniss; the hunters, the team, a force to be reckoned with.
And, despite my misgivings about codependency and my sureness of the inevitable disappointment that comes with needing other people, I didn't mind.
Seasons came and went, the years flew by and, with the passage of time, came change. One that was inevitable, subtle, riveting, terrifying.
It was a change I didn't necessarily want and one that took ages for me to acknowledge, much less accept, but once I did it become my biggest strength and my most debilitating weakness.
Some days I'm still not sure how I feel about that.
It began when we were fifteen years old - three years after we met.
In those three years, I knew I loved Gale - like a partner, a best friend, a lifeline.
Despite the hardheadedness and fights, I grew to trust Gale with my life, with my family, with my friendship, with my trust.
To me that was the most precious part of me I could possibly give anyone; trust is everything and if losing my father had taught me anything, it was that it needed to guarded fiercely. Trust is so powerful, so fragile, so easily shattered, so very hard to earn.
Trust scared me. Putting your trust in other people leads to pain, to heartbreak and disappointment; not even my own mother had - has - my trust.
I swore to myself I would never be so careless with it again, that I would live my life never giving it to anyone. That I would do what I do best, survive and keep Prim safe.
During the winter of my fifteenth year, I got a cold. Being the driven person that I am, I didn't go to the town healer or invest in medicine or rest, I kept on going. Kept hunting and foraging and staying out late in the bitter frost and snow. My cold grew worse, it got so bad that everyone - my family, Gale's family, The Hobs patrons, me- thought that I wouldn't live long enough to see the snow melt.
Gale and Prim were beside themselves.
To this day I've never seen either as upset and so utterly heartbroken as they were then.
I seemed to be the only one unconcerned.
I'd never been too concerned with whether or not I live or die; I had come to terms with my mortality and my probable yet unavoidable premature death at a very young age. The only thing that has ever worried me, the only reason I had to keep fighting, is Prim.
But, sitting on my deathbed at the ripe age of fifteen, I didn't fight to hold on, I didn't need to. I knew that Prim would be okay, that she would be taken care of, and it wasn't the thought of my mother that brought me that relief.
It was Gale - it was always Gale.
I realized that winter that I trusted Gale with everything in me, trusted him with the person most precious to me. Not once did it occur to me that Gale wouldn't take care of Prim, that he wouldn't spend the rest of his life being anything she needed. I knew that he would be to her all the things he was to me, that he and I were to our families - a protector, a caretaker.
I never gave Gale my trust, I didn't know how, but he had managed to weasel it out of me anyway, and he took it all. The faith I demonstrated when I was prepared to hand over my sister, essentially my child, to him proved it.
Which is why when I actually lived through that horrid winter something between us changed.
I had to face the fact that he had the most important part of me, that he had taken it without my permission and it was hard.
But, it was too late to put a stop to it, I was too far gone already.
If there is one thing I know about myself, it is that I may not love often, but I love hard - with every ounce of my being and every beat of my guarded heart - and I knew, eventually, that would be Gales too.
I was not naive enough not to know that if my trust was already his, it wouldn't be too long until my heart followed.
I think Gale made some realizations that winter too because I wasn't the only one contributing to the shift in our relationship.
Gale was different too. His touches grew softer and lingered, his stares became loaded with emotions that thrilled and terrified; when his eyes trained on me they barely strayed and whenever we were together his body seemed to gravitate toward me, curved around me, warmed me.
We both felt the gradual shift of our friendship becoming more; both sensed the undercurrent of emotions brewing between us, sizzling and electrifying, just below the surface. But neither of us were ready to act on it - not then, not yet.
So, like a match catching flame, we waited and watched as the flame grew to dizzying heights, as it blazed and burned until it filled every crevice of our bodies, our hearts, our souls.
After my near-death experience, though we never acknowledged it, we tentatively tended the flame.
We started spending less time in the woods hunting and spent more time being. We spent long hours talking under the morning sun before our hunts, we got into the habit of not only doing business at the Hob but, going to have fun too and, as the months passed, family meals became a joint experience for us both.
Our hands linked whenever they could, our arms grew used to being wrapped around the other and closeness was no longer just an option - it became a necessity.
That didn't mean my misgivings suddenly disappeared though. The lingering threat of upcoming pain and heartbreak and abandonment that came from testing the waters the way we were was still there, lurking around in the dark places of my mind, sneaking up on me, and there were days that I wanted to pull back.
But, like the dependable partner he was, Gale was there right beside me on those days.
He didn't need to be told and we didn't speak of the scary thing that was happening to our relationship, that new and terrifying thing we were attempting and simultaneously downplaying, he was just there.
Gale rode out every storm of fear with me, held me above the water before I could drown in my doubts, planted himself like a tree next to me whenever I wanted to push him away, held me together when the uncertainty of the future made me want to fall apart and never pressured me for more even though we both knew he was ready for that - for us - way before I was.
In the midst of all that change that show of loyalty and strength was the doorway to both acceptance and sanity for me, and he was my key.
Gale waited for me and, because of that, after nine months of hovering and dancing around each other, I allowed myself fall in love with him for it. By that time I had already turned sixteen, and like most aspects of our relationship, there were no words needed to convey how I felt for him.
Neither of us had ever been any good with words.
All it took was one shared look as we curled up together after a long day of foraging, one warm embrace, one first kiss under the shade of a willow tree that tasted of hope and heat and fear and apples and promise, for us to know.
To know there would be no going back, no more barriers between us, no more holding back.
"Gale is mine. I am his. Anything else is unthinkable."