I don't own "The Hunger Games," but I may or may not be in love with Gale. No copyright infringement is intended!

Peeta's POV

I try not to burst into audible laughter, especially since Gale's nose has suddenly turned into a hydrant that's spewing blood all down his shirt. I can't stop my shoulders from shaking, however, as I lead him up the stairs and into my kitchen where I can at least attempt to help clean him up.

I show him the sink and a washcloth and let him take the lead from there. We stand there for awhile, him with the cloth halfway up his nose, me by the kitchen table, and size each other up. He looks different. I'm sure I probably do too. We've both been through a tremendous amount over the past three years-enough to change anyone. Even someone as strong as Gale Hawthorne.

"So, you came back for her?" I ask acerbically. "Can't say I wasn't hoping to avoid this day. What happened? You run out of girls in District 2?" After uttering that last sentence, I fully expect Gale to lunge across the kitchen and punch me, but he merely laughs drily, without much humor.

"If you only knew, Peeta. If you only knew. I'm not here to fight with you. I'm here to make things right with Katniss. I don't know what that means for you, or what you and she have going right now, but I have to do this. I don't have a choice anymore. "

For some reason, rather than placating me, his words only infuriate me more. Something in my mind switches into place and I decide to use a little logic on Gale. I'm hoping logic isn't his strong point. "Why didn't you kill me when you had the chance? During the rebellion, it would have been so easy for you to let me step on a mine or misfire one of your arrows. Why exactly did you let me live?" I can tell that he doesn't understand what I'm trying to get him to admit. Fine. All the better for me. The muscles in his arm flex as he tenses. He knows that I'm gearing for a fight, but he can't ascertain where I'm leading him.

"I…I couldn't kill you. You meant too much to Katniss. She would never forgive me if I hurt you." His grey eyes searched my face, looking for something that would give me away. I see recognition flicker just as I lay my final trap.

"Yeah, exactly. You couldn't kill me because she loved me. So what makes you think that she's going to drop me and come running back to you?" I could tell my point hit exactly where it was supposed to. Gale's eyes darkened and he took a step towards me, thought better about it, and stepped back. Before he speaks, he takes a deep breath. In that moment, I can tell that we've both merely been tolerating each other. There is no friendship here.

"Listen. I'm here to make things right with Katniss. Whatever happens between her and I is between just that—her and I. You can't tell me that you don't wonder what would have happened if that bomb had never hurt Prim. You can't sit here and have no qualms about your life with her. Because you know her as well as I do. She might not think she could survive without you. But now I'm back. And you'd better believe I'm going to do everything I can to show her she can't survive without me either." Gale finishes his speech, throws his bloody washcloth back into the sink, and stomps out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

"Well, don't think I won't be there fighting too." I said to the closed door.

Katniss' POV

Listening to the clock tick tock its way through the minutes, you'd think it had been five hours since I'd punched Gale in the face. "Oh my God, I punched Gale. Gale. Gale's back," I keep thinking over and over. In reality, however, time is moving much more slowly. I have been hunched by the front door, furtively sneaking glances out the windows, for about twenty minutes.

Suddenly, I see Gale stalking down the street. He shifts his gaze to my house and I know he saw my face peering out the window. He quickly changes his direction and marches up my walkway and up the front steps. After about a minute of silence, during which I try to pretend he has walked away and left me alone with my confusion, I hear the doorknob turn above my head. He pushes in slowly, and encountering resistance (because I'm planted right on the other side) softly says, "Katniss? I know you're sitting there. Let me in please? We have to talk-you know we do."

"Gale…I don't know if that's the best idea." I don't trust myself to talk to him face to face, so speaking through the crack in the door is the best concession I can make right now. I thought that I was so ready to see him, to forgive him and move on, but now that he's here, I can see that the process is going to be more difficult than I anticipated. Just like everything else.

"Katniss, come on. My nose is bleeding, I'm halfway in your house—just let me in. Please just let me in?" He's asking for more than just entry into my house. He wants me to let him back in to my life. "You want to see him-you were even going to find him youself. Get up, Katniss, and let him in. At least hear him out." I nod as if agreeing with my inner thoughts, and rise to open the door.

I am not prepared for what happens next. Gale crushes me to his chest and holds me so tightly that I feel a little panicked for air. "Oh god Katniss, I can't believe you're really here in front of me. I'm so glad you're here," he repeats over and over. I feel the words rumbling in his chest. I can't help but notice how muscular he is under his thin shirt. Gale, who has always been close to manhood, has arrived. In his arms, almost all of my anxiety over seeing him melts away, much to my relief. I realized, for the first time, that a part of me was actually very afraid that I wouldn't have been able to forgive him. That seeing him would have gone to waste and only served to reignite my anger.

I feel something wet dripping on my head. "Are you…crying?" I ask with trepidation. Clearly, this is not the same Gale I left at Snow's mansion. Looking up, I realize that his nose truly is still bleeding, which explains the dripping. Gale looks mortified, having realized that his bloody nose was soaking into my hair, but I just started laughing with relief. "Come on. Into the living room you go. Tilt your head back when you sit down. I'll get you some ice." Gale finds the couch and eases himself into a sitting position. I make my way to the kitchen to create an icepack for him.

"Jeez Katniss, you never punched like that before! Where did you learn that?" he asks as I apply the ice gingerly to his nose. A bruise is already beginning to bloom under his right eye.

"Not much to do around here anymore," I shrug. "So I keep training. On dummies, of course. It helps me get my anger out." I sit on the opposite side of the couch, not quite trusting myself to sit closer to him.

We sit in silence for quite awhile, taking each other in. I notice that his eyes haven't changed at all—kind when they look at me, analytical when they look elsewhere. His hair is shorter than it was, but the cut suits his face. Still as olive skinned and tanned as the last time I saw him.

Finally, he breaks the silence. "Katniss, I-" I realize that I have to interrupt him. I want to tell him that I don't care whose bomb it was before he tells me that it was his and I lose all control over my temper.

"Gale, I know. I know we'll never know who created those bombs. I…" my throat begins to clog as it always does when I'm about to say something I consider difficult or heartfelt. "I've missed you. Things haven't quite been the same here without you, you know." His face immediately relaxes and he exhales with a whoosh. He begins to shift closer to me on the couch, but before I can control myself, I place my hand in a halting gesture on his arm.

"I've, um, I've changed, Gale. I mean, we haven't spoken for a year! Do we even know each other anymore? I really don't know what you've been doing in District Two, you don't know what it's been like in Twelve. We just-we have a lot of catching up to do. " It hurts me to see the pain that flickers quickly in his eyes, but he manages to compose himself almost immediately.

"Right. No, you're right. It's been a while." He clears his throat, but when he speaks again, his voice is deeper, huskier. "But I still know you, Katniss. I'll never forget what makes you tick." He passes his palm quickly over my cheek and I'm startled to find that I shudder at his touch. I can tell that he felt the shudder, too, because the smugness that seeps into his features is nauseating. In the spirit of goodwill, I decide to ignore my impulse to re-open his recently stymied bloody nose. I make a point to scoot as far away from him and his hands as possible.

"So what are you doing here, really? You just show up after a year and I see you hanging out with Peeta like you have no problems with each other? I have to admit, Gale, I'm completely confused by you."

Here it comes. I don't have time to figure out how to react to his confession because he has no hesitation when he says, "I came for you. Plain and simple. I don't care what it takes—I want you back in my life." He says this so plaintively, so without any ulterior motives that my heart can't help but jump. "Not to mention, I was never the confusing one. I've wanted you in my life all along. It was your decision to stop talking to me." My eyes cloud with anger at his reference to my decision to distance myself. "Not that I blame you!" he adds.

Letting his conciliatory addition slide, I try to keep my mind on the conversation at hand. "Where are you staying? The Larks are living in your old house now." I say this with no particular pleasure, knowing that Hazelle and all of Gale's siblings were relegated to some random house on the other side of town. I barely see them anymore.

Gale sits, puzzling over this question. I can tell that he had not stopped by home to see his family before coming here. I huff frustratedly. "Stay here then until you figure something out. I have more rooms than I know what to do with in this house, and we both know my mother isn't coming home any time soon." We both hang our heads at the grim reminder of why I have this house all to myself. I can tell that Gale is pleased with my suggestion, though.

I lead him upstairs to an empty room, a bit embarrassed by the amount of dust that has accumulated on the dressers and fixtures. I make a halfhearted attempt to wipe things down, but give up as Gale begins to settle in. That evening, I fix beef that I bought from the market and some rice with a gravy. It's a good meal and I can tell that Gale enjoys it. We eat in awkward silence, neither one knowing where to begin a conversation. I hate this awkwardness. It shouldn't be this way between us. This is going to be a painful and unproductive visit unless one of us gets over our tongue-tied situation soon.

After dinner, I move to the living room again and Gale joins me. We find ourselves back on the couch, facing each other. I speak first. "So, tell me about what you've been doing in District 2. Your life must be so different from here." He's grateful for the conversation starter and begins to tell me about his Weaponry position. From the sound of it, he's pretty high in the ranks. I'm sure he enjoys that, I think. Gale never has liked to have too many people around to tell him what to do.

"Katniss? What's been going on with you?" I could tell he had to repeat his question from the look on his face. Wow, that was quick, I think. "Well, like I said, I've just been training so I don't get soft. Hunting when I can. I like to help with the rebuilding too. It gives me hard work to do to take my mind off of everything, you know?" he nods, encouraging me to continue. I can tell he's waiting to hear one thing in particular, and I decide to concede. "Peeta and I are still close, but I keep myself busy." His whole body shifts with relief. I decide to move the heat back to him. "What about you? How many girls do you have falling all over you in 2?" I'm dismayed to note the jealousy that has somehow crept into my voice.

He laughs dryly. "Katniss, there's no one. I think of no one but you. I know it intimidates you to hear that, but I'm not going to sit here and lie to you. When I said I came back for you, I meant it." His bold declaration, at least the third he's made today, touches me. I feel my guard come down, just a bit, and I allow myself to sidle up to him. He places his arm around my shoulders and I can't deny how perfectly we fit together. There's always been something right about Gale and I, something that is missing from my relationship with Peeta.

The rest of the evening passes relatively quickly. Conversation comes more easily and we find ourselves laughing and poking fun at one another, much like we used to. When the grandfather clock in the hall strikes midnight, I realize that this day has exhausted me. Gale and I make our way upstairs and when we get to my room, he stoops to give me a kiss on my forehead. I think of the kiss Peeta gave me in the exact same place only a day before. Gale's kiss sends shivers down my spine, whereas Peeta's gave me comfort.

So, what can't I survive without? Passion or comfort? I fall asleep fitfully, finding myself wishing that Gale, who is just down that hall, was right next to me.