August 16th, 2011
Note: Thank you all for the kind words and encouragement! I'm still working out the details of this as I go, so suggestions are welcome. Reviews too. ;)
Disclaimer: Still don't own any of the characters below.
Yes, what have we done? The question plagues me as we crunch our way through the fresh snow. It's heavy, the kind that sticks to our boots and makes our feet feel leaden with each step. Neither of us has spoken since we… Well, that's not true. I mumbled something brilliantly romantic like, "We should probably head home." Now, all I can think about are the consequences that await us there.
I don't regret it, this I know for certain. But Gale and I have crossed a line. No, more than that. We may as well have knocked on President Snow's front door and spit on his shoes when he answered. I imagine Gale's life hanging in one of his own snares, dangling him precariously close to the snapping jaws of those mutant wolves as Snow leans in to cut the rope.
I shudder at the thought, drawing a concerned look from Gale. The worry is evident in his eyes. Though he hasn't pressed me, I know my relative silence is gnawing away at him. His footsteps always fall a little more harshly when he's agitated. His breaths puff out in hot bursts of steam. I want to say something to alleviate his anxiety. I want to talk about our next move. I want to be closer so we can't be overheard.
"I'm cold," I say loudly, as if I'm addressing the trees around me. And I am to some extent. Just in case someone is watching.
Gale opens his arm and I gladly sidle up to him. He's warm as always and my paranoia begins to melt away. Our bodies bump as we navigate the drifts. After a moment, I feel at ease enough to speak.
"Gale?" My voice still sounds frightened.
"Yeah, Catnip?"
"We're in big trouble."
I do not expect him to laugh, but he does, and soon I am laughing too. Maybe it's the stress. Or the insanity of this situation we're in. When our throats are sore from choking down the freezing air, I look up at him, my expression serious.
"I mean it."
His brow furrows, casting his eyes in shadow, and he frowns. "I know."
"We have to run, Gale," I say. Somehow the words sound shallow and naïve when voiced in the gloom of the forest. "They'll never leave me alone to live my life as I want."
"Or mine," Gale says. His voice is harsh and his grip tightens around me.
"Or yours," I agree.
"We'll have to be smart about it," he says. "Gather supplies, be careful who we tell…" He looks down at me.
"Keep up the façade…" I finish. The words are barely out of my mouth before his jaw tightens as he registers what that means. I know it's been nothing but torture for him to play the role of my cousin, but surely he can see the necessity of continuing the charade.
"It's only for a little bit longer," I insist.
"Were you planning on asking him to come too?"
My hesitation is his answer.
"Figures." Gale's arm falls off my shoulders and he storms forward, mumbling something about "them always taking everything."
"Gale," I call after him. He doesn't turn. This enrages me and I'm bolting forward, throwing my hands on his chest, and shoving him hard.
"Stop!" It takes a second for him to see something other than red, and I manage to ratchet my own frustration down a notch. My voice is lower, softer, soothing. "I can't leave Peeta behind. They'll destroy him."
Gale rolls his eyes and looks away, clearly not wanting the lecture.
"Hey!" My gloved hands find either side of his face, forcing him to look at me. "I choose you! Are you listening? I choose you. But Peeta helped me out of that arena, and I'm not going to just abandon him!"
Gale stares at me hard, then relents, and nods once. I slide back underneath his arm – there is still tension rolling through him— and I can only let his anger dissipate as we walk. The movement of his body next to mine is comforting and my thoughts wander back to the cabin, replaying moments with surprising clarity. His hot breath on my neck. His weight pressing against me. His knowing grin when I come unglued.
It's a good thing my hands are gloved or my nails would've drawn blood, my fists are clenched so tight. I shouldn't ask but the flare of envy is so raw, I do anyway.
"You've done that before, haven't you?"
My accusatory tone catches him off guard.
"Yes." Gale draws out the word, unsure of my intent.
"A lot?"
"A few."
"Do I know…?" My teeth are gritted and I don't know whether the word I want is her or them.
"Does it matt…?" Gale starts, takes in my posture, and asks, "Are you jealous?"
"No!" Even I can hear my voice dripping with it.
His smirk is infuriating, and I really think I shouldn't care so much. He is older and I'd be kidding myself to think otherwise. I'm aware of the old saying about a pot and a kettle, but I'm still aggravated.
His words are soft against my hair. "I believe you."
Gale backs away because we've reached the fence, and I can see he totally doesn't believe me, but his playful mood is back. I guess I'll take that even if it's at my own expense. He brushes off the wet snow from his coat as I slide under. When he drops my hand after helping me up, I'm disappointed, but I cannot argue. Facades. Only a bit longer.
The lights are off when we pass Gale's house, several tracks of little feet leading away towards the Victor's Village almost invisible under the newly fallen snow. I can see Gale is itching to stop by the Hob, wants to trade his turkey, but I suggest we head home. The wind is picking up and the sun has vanished behind the dark clouds storming their way along the horizon. It makes me uneasy.
The snow is falling in huge flakes by the time we reach the center square of the Victor's Village. All the houses' windows are dark, save mine. From the front, light blazes from nearly every window and smoke rises from the chimney. Gale raps on the door.
My mother answers, her mouth breaking into a beaming smile when she sees its only Gale and I. "Oh good. We were just about to start."
We means my mother and Prim, Gale's family, and the Mellarks. There are two empty seats next to each other at the end of the table that have been saved for us. As we take our seats, I can feel everyone's eyes on us and hope that they think my red cheeks are from the cold outside. My gaze catches Peeta's watchful stare for a second before I focus intently on my plate. Suddenly, my body seems to burn, every track of Gale's touch and kisses blazing forth with brilliant clarity. I'm wondering if I really am glowing when my mother, of all people, saves me from a meltdown.
"Only the turkey?" she asks, motioning for people to begin eating. I don't yet trust my voice and am thankful Gale answers her.
"Yeah," he says, loading his fork with mashed potatoes. "This storm must have driven everything to ground early."
Small conversations begin, pulling attention away from us and I feel the relief flood my veins. So when Gale's socked foot finds mine under the table, I let him linger. Our plates were loaded already with a little of everything when we sat. There's chicken with gravy and mashed potatoes, fresh bread donated by the Mellarks, and two side dishes of canned beets and peas. Without a word, Gale and I switch so he ends up with the beets and I the peas. It's so natural to me that it doesn't cross my mind that anyone would take particular notice.
"Gale?" Rory is looking expectantly at his older brother, who continues to devour his food.
"Yeah, champ?"
"Are you and Katniss soul mates?"
There's a clatter as someone drops a fork on a plate and a hush silences the friendly chatter. Frozen with my spoon submerged in peas, I glance nervously first at Gale, then Rory, and back again. I refuse to look at Peeta.
"What makes you ask that?" Gale says, stabbing some chicken as if this were a perfectly normal dinner topic. No one else is pretending otherwise.
"You just switched vegetables without talking," Rory explains. Gale's gray eyes glint with amusement.
"Switching beets and peas makes us soul mates?"
Chuckles break out from around the table and my own mouth pulls up into a genuine smile at that logic.
"No!" Rory's voice rises, clearly annoyed that Gale is making fun of him. "You did it without talking. Anya says only soul mates can do that."
Anya, Gale told me once, is a girl from Rory's class that has a story in her honor at least once a school night at the Hawthorne dinner table. Gale said he thought it was sweet. I warned him to let Rory be.
Gale sets down his fork then, frowning to really consider his younger brother's argument. The mock seriousness on his face makes me want to laugh, but I stifle it. I don't need anyone really considering what we are discussing.
"I didn't know that," Gale answers, after contemplating. "Besides, everyone knows Katniss likes peas better. Don't you?" He turns to me and I nod emphatically, maybe too much so.
It is Rory's turn to frown, because if everyone knows this simple fact, then he looks foolish. Unfortunately for me, Prim pipes up and not in Gale's or my defense.
"I didn't know that. And I'm her sister."
I can't stop the stare I aim her direction. Her blue eyes don't waver, holding mine intently. I see her mind working furiously to piece together this information into a picture that explains how this detail escaped her. Sometimes, I really wish she weren't so observant.
"Well, now you do." The smile Gale gives her is completely inescapable, all dimples and warmth, and Prim flushes, her cheeks bright against her blonde hair. She ducks her head, mashing her potatoes and reaching for the gravy boat.
Utensils begin clinking, conversations resume, and I reach for my glass. Only then, do I release a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
~Fin