Guess what? I don't own "The Hunger Games." No copyright infringement is meant!
Gale's POV
The streets of District 2 are clearing as night draws near. Everyone is packing up shop, ready to go home to their families, eat their dinners, and get into their warm beds. I, on the other hand, am only beginning my day. Dressing in the black cargo pants and army green jacket that is the customary outfit of Special Weaponry employees, I take a look at myself in the mirror. I'm taken aback by what I see, just as I am every night at this time. Dark grey eyes, sunken into my head. Dark brown hair, just beginning to show signs of graying, even though I'm barely 21. Dark skin, tanned, even though I'm barely ever out in the sun nowadays. Dark, dark, dark. "Would she even recognize me if she saw me now?" I ran my hand through my hair, disgustedly wondering why my mind was always springing to her.
Katniss would never forgive me for what she thinks I did. She could never forget that bomb or watching her sister burn before her eyes. And, to be honest, I can't blame her. That bomb could have just as easily been mine as Snow's. There's no way to deny that. I created those bombs to kill. No-not just kill. Murder. I wanted anyone affected by them to feel all the pain that the Capitol had caused me and my family. And Katniss and her family, too. But I never expected that a member of her family would be one affected by them.
"Shit!" I said aloud to my reflection. "Shit." I said again, more quietly. I couldn't deny how difficult it was getting to live without her. Thinking about her laugh, so hard to provoke, make me near dizzy with memories. I would give my right arm to have one more day with her in the woods, just the two of us. I had no clue how much I was in love with her until she denied me. Sure, I've tried getting over her. Dated a bit. Used what the Capitol had to offer. But nothing gets her off my mind.
My communicuff beeps to let me know of an incoming message and suddenly I'm snapped back to reality. "Captain Hawthorne, are you available?" a metallic voice rings out. Jayvon, our new assistant director of Weaponry, has prototypes for me to approve, so I'm sure he's anxious for me to get to work. It's easiest for me to work at night, while others are sleeping, so I'm not plagued with the nightmares that overtake my sleep. In fact, I hardly ever sleep at all. Why torture myself?
"I'm here." I say gruffly back to the cuff. "You can tell Jayvon that I'll be in shortly. I'll meet him in the 5th floor Weapons suite." Taking one more glance at myself in the mirror, I push the image of Katniss out of my mind.
Being at work , surprisingly, is the one time where my mind actually feels semi-clear. The minute I walk through the 5th floor elevator doors, Jayvon is there to meet me. I note his excitement—he must have something good to show me to be this anxious.
We id ourselves and walk through the heavy iron doors that keep our weapons in and all else out. Sitting in front of me is the most fantastic bow and arrow set I've ever seen. Made of metal, it practically glows underneath the lights. I can hear it humming softly and, as I approach, one of the arrows practically jumps out of the quiver, eager to do my bidding. I run my hand over the arch of the bow, lifting lightly, expecting weight. To my surprise—it's as light as air.
Jayvon clears his throat behind me. "It's a prototype sir. It's sort of a replica of the bow Beetee fashioned for Ms. Everdeen as the Mockingjay, but this one is programmed to you only and each of the arrows have their own special surprises built in. That arrow there," he motions to the one I've picked out of the quiver, "can track whoever you're sending it for. It's kind of like a missile, actually." I turn, and can instantly tell how pleased Jayvon is with himself.
"Have you set up a space for me to try these arrows? How am I to know how they work if I can't use them myself?" I slip the missile arrow back into the quiver and pick up the bow. Jayvon presses a small blue button behind him and, instantly, a door to the far left of the Weaponry room opens, revealing targets and a wooded backdrop.
"Well done, Jayvon. Well done!" I can't contain my pleasure at the opportunity to try out the bow so quickly. The first few shots are exactly what I want them to be. Quick, painless, and deadly accurate. The fifth shot, however, rocks my world. I hit a fake squirrel directly through the eye.
I only know one other person who is a dead shot. Katniss.
Suddenly, something in my mind snaps into place. I turn and hand the bow back to Jayvon. "It's excellent work, Jay, but I've just remembered something. I've got to go. Make my excuses to command?" I'm running out the door and into the elevator before I've even heard his answer. Katniss is the only one that can make me feel like a person again. I'm through giving her space. I have to know if she's forgiven me for the bomb. Even if she hasn't, at least I'll know. At least I can go on with my half life knowing that I tried to get her back.
It's as if I've come back from the dead. I run full speed through the streets of District 2, knowing that my uniform and communicuff will grant me impunity from anyone trying to stop me. When I get back to my small apartment, I throw some clothes hurriedly into a travel bag, pausing only to change out of uniform and into civilian clothes. No point in reminding her that I still belong to the organization she's distanced herself so far from.
I make a quick call to the train station to determine when the next train leaves. If I hurry and have a little luck on my side, I'll be on a train within the hour and in District 12 before lunchtime tomorrow.
"I'm going to get Katniss back. I'll do anything." I think as I slam the door to my apartment.
Thankfully, because it's close to two in the morning, I'm able to get a ticket with no problems. I wander through the nearly empty train, trying to find someplace that will allow me room to pace. I know I won't be getting any sleep tonight. I'm too keyed up. It's as if the thought of being around her again has breathed new life into me-given me some sort of purpose again.
I will the train to go faster, take me further down the line. Eventually, I sit because I get the feeling that I'm making the old man in the cabin next to mine nervous, but I can't stop my mind from racing. The tempo from the train is repeating in my head: "Kat-niss Kat-niss Kat-niss…"
Eventually, I must have dozed off because when I wake it's not only fully light, but we're pulling into a station. I launch out of my cabin and grab the closest attendant. "What station are we at?" I ask forcefully.
"District 12, sir. The last stop on the line." He answers respectfully, but I can tell that my wild mannerisms have startled him. Many of the train attendants are Capitol natives that are used to manners and high-brow behavior. Nothing I do could be considered high-brow. Ever.
Pulling my bag down from its compartment, I make my way through the aisles, practicing some deep breathing like they taught us in training to calm me down.
Getting off of the train and out of the station is like an exercise in memory rehabilitation. Everywhere I look, memories of my and Katniss' family linger. I walk past where the Hob used to be before the Capitol burned it to the ground and I swear I can still taste a little coal dust mixed with Greasy Sae's soup of the day. Ahem, week. Past the coal mine where both of our fathers were lost in a mining explosion. Past our grammar school. I was never one for school—I always wanted to be in the woods instead. I see children playing in the streets and notice with pleasure that they look well fed and well cared for. Apparently things have gotten better here since the Rebellion.
I found myself at Katniss' old house before it dawned on me that she wouldn't be there anymore. Of course, she would be at her new home in the Victor's Village, right next to Peeta.
Peeta—shit. How did I forget about Peeta? They're probably cozied up together in his house right now. I don't know that I could control my temper if that was the case. All of those punches I couldn't throw during the Rebellion are fair game now. I flex my fist and feel adrenaline coasting through my arm.
"Yeah, that's good, Gale. I'm sure punching Peeta would get you right back in with Katniss." I try to let that sudden adrenaline rush fade back out of my system as my good sense comes back to me.
Walking up the flower lined path to the victor's houses, I'm reminded how different things are in the rest of the District. Much has been done over the past year to repair the damage inflicted by the Capitol, but the village still stands in stark contrast to everything else.
I come to the pathway that leads me to both Katniss and Peeta's houses. I decide to try Peeta's first. If she's there, I'm going back to 2. If she's not, then I still have a shot. Steeling myself for whatever is to come, I climb slowly up the stairs to the front porch and knock solidly three times.
Peeta answers almost immediately and see the emotions run across his face like watercolors. Confusion, lack of recognition, disbelief, anger. Finally, defeat settles on his face.
"Peeta, how are you?" I ask civily. "It's been a long time." I extend my hand. Peeta takes it weakly.
"I'm good. I suppose I've been waiting for you to show up for a while now. It's been a long time, but not long enough." He lets go of my hand and opens the door wider. Suddenly, he appears to change his mind and steps out onto the porch with me. "No sense in hiding you inside. She'll be back from the store soon and we might as well get this over with. She was actually preparing to come-well, I'll let her explain." He gestures to the porch step and I understand what he's trying to do. He wants Katniss to see me as soon as she returns. I appreciate the gesture.
We sit on the bottom step, shooting the breeze for what seems like an eternity. Finally, he turns to me and says what I've been waiting to hear.
"You nearly killed her, you know that? And I was here to pick up the pieces. As usual. But it's killing her now, living without you. She loves you, she would do anything to be with you—she just doesn't know it yet. You know how stubborn she is when it comes to love. Katniss will always love me, but she'll always be in love with you. "
With those words, a small figure comes walking down the street. Tiny, at first, more a shadow than a person, and then slowly the figure starts to fill out. I can see her braid, still trailing over her shoulder. Her trademark scowl as she struggles to carry things that are probably too heavy for her, but she would never admit it. I chuckle softly as I realize that she is still wearing hunting boots, even after all this time.
I watch her expression as she sees Peeta sitting on the steps with me, struggling to figure out who he is talking to. Her face goes from speculative to shocked in five seconds flat. Her arms fall, releasing everything she was carrying. Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I stand and approach her slowly, unsure of what she would do next. She begins to walk towards me as well, so I quicken my pace, eager to meet her and hold her again. I notice Peeta following behind me, anxious to break up any unpleasant moments.
At the last second, she stops, punches me full in the face, and then runs into her house, leaving Peeta and I standing in the road.