April 26th, 2012
A/N: I wish I knew why sometimes it is so easy to write the next chapter of this story and sometimes why it is so hard. My current theory is that updating seemed like a far better idea than studying. So instead of fighting, I went with it. Path of least resistance, you know. :) Also, thank you all so much for your endless patience and wonderful reviews! I probably deserved less than the open arms that welcomed me back after such a lengthy absence. So, in regards to all your kind words, there may be something as a bit of a thanks at the end of the chapter... ;) Enjoy! And as always, reviews are greatly appreciated!
I know better than to go after Gale, but I do anyway. When he doesn't want to be found, he makes sure that he isn't. I'm able to follow his tracks through the Seam for the first two turns of his path. Then, his tracks completely disappear, obscured by the drifting snow. I curse the whistling wind and press on into the darkness.
The cold wraps around me with its chilly fingers, worming their way through the worn fabric of my pants and the loose spaces of my father's too-big jacket. For once, I actually welcome the frigid sting. Cold eventually numbs.
I find myself before the Hawthorne house in the Seam. There's no light coming from the windows. Not even the telltale glow of a fire in the hearth. I peer through the window anyway. Only complete darkness greets me and while I wait for any sign of movement – I don't see any—my breath fogs up the glass.
Trying to determine my next move, I look up and down the empty street. Several houses have thin wisps of smoke streaming from their chimneys, the yellow eyes of their windows staring at me as if to ask, "Why are you out so late, little girl?" I feel like a little girl, lost and wandering aimlessly to find her family. Except I'm not the one who is lost.
My indecision heightens my solitude. I start walking for the sake of action and scowl at my feet because the one person who usually has a plan is not here to direct me. Anger seeps into my blood and I wholeheartedly embrace the emotion. It is much easier to deal with than despair. And I have every right to be angry. At Gale, for thinking that I had wanted to kiss Peeta. At the Capitol, for making me have to kiss Peeta. At Haymitch, for instructing me to kiss Peeta. At Peeta, because… well…
I really don't have a legitimate reason to be mad at Peeta, other than to be angry at his existence. Which isn't fair because he didn't ask to be brought into this district, or reaped into the Games only to emerge as my co-Victor. But I am mad at Peeta. For loving me. No one forced him to do that. If he didn't love me, then he wouldn't have confessed at the interviews and thrown us into this hopeless and tiresome charade to convince the Capitol that we are star-crossed lovers. It all comes back to the Capitol!
I kick at a pile of snow, the little flakes I send high into the night sky not nearly as satisfying as I wanted it to be. Now I know why Gale yells in the woods. The woods!
I'm running as hard as I can back the other direction. Skidding on frozen pools of black ice doesn't stop me from taking the shortest route I know. Even running over the narrow ledge of the dam. I pause before the fence, hunching over to catch my breath, choking on the sharpness of the cold air. It tastes bitter in the back of my throat as I stare into the dark expanse that would be the Meadow. Trying to ignore the lack of imprint in the snow beneath the loose part of the fence, I'm about to slide under when I hear it.
The faint buzz of electricity. Voltage so high it could kill arcing along the wires at some incomprehensible speed.
Panic starts to overtake me again as I think of Gale stranded on the other side. The forest is no place to be after dark. The thought makes me instantly calmer. Of course, Gale knows this. He was the one always cautioning me not to venture there after sunset. Humans are at a distinct disadvantage to the nocturnal predators that roam there, he had said. I scowl at the fence anyway, because that just leaves me with the Victor's Village and I know Gale won't be there.
It feels like it takes less time than usual to get back to the square. I think it's because I needed my own time alone and now that I've arrived, it appears that I will no longer have that luxury.
Hazelle is bent over a steaming mug of tea when I push through the kitchen door. I already know they will be empty, but I search the other chairs anyway.
"He's not here, Katniss," she says softly. The kindness in her eyes seems unwarranted after the pain I just caused her son, and I have to look away as my throat constricts, my body finally shuddering against the first wave of grief. "Let me get you some tea."
Not even bothering to remove my coat or boats, I slump into a chair. The frozen clumps of snow that have fallen begin melting into muddy pools on the tile. I can't find it in myself to care that my mother will be disappointed in me when she sees the tracks tomorrow. I have no intention of cleaning them up tonight.
"Here." Hazelle sets a mug in front of me, and I gratefully wrap my fingers around the warm ceramic.
"How did you know who I was looking for?" I ask.
"Haymitch and Peeta came back about an hour ago," she says. "They said you and Gale had a fight. That you went after him."
I have a vague memory of Haymitch exasperatedly yelling somethin g about history repeating itself, but the door was already slamming behind me. I think of Peeta, once again, having to calm our mentor and briefly feel guilty.
Hazelle studies me for a moment, then reaches across the table and gently squeezes my arm. I cannot bring myself to look at her as I continue to fight back tears. "Don't worry, Katniss. Gale will come around," she says, smiling sadly. "He always does."
I nod my agreement, not trusting my voice. Hazelle doesn't pry, so we sit silently, our thoughts both revolving around Gale. She adds another sugar cube to her mug, stirring it gently, before looking up to catch me staring at her. I know I should look away, but I can't seem to. Something in her eyes waits patiently for me to speak, and it occurs to me that she knows before I do that I'm struggling to find the right words.
"I love him," I say. There is no surprise in Hazelle's expression, though I can feel the stretch of surprise on my own face. That was not what I had expected to come pouring out of me. I think that I should feel embarrassed at admitting this, but there is no rush of heat to my cheeks. Hazelle simply fixes me with another smile.
"I know," she says, a pleasant laugh trailing her words. "I think I've known well before both of you realized it."
Now I feel sheepish. "We were that obvious?"
"Well not then," she explains. "Oblivious was more like it. Recently, yes, it's been more obvious though." I bite my lip, not sure how much I'm willing to reveal just yet. She mistakes this for discomfort. "It's okay, Katniss."
"Except it's not," I say, shaking my head. Hazelle's forehead knits in confusion. "All I do is hurt him. I don't meant to but…" My voice trails off, though I gesture to the empty crate that held my wedding dresses, still sitting on the kitchen floor.
Hazelle looks sadly at the box and then back to me.
"He just needs some time," she says. She stands and collects our mugs. "Come on. Tomorrow is another day."
Taking one last long look at the crate, I follow her out of the kitchen.
Gale comes back sometime in the night. It must have been in the early morning hours, because I stayed awake for a while. Well past midnight. Tossing and turning. Wrestling with worry. Losing to exhaustion. When I wake wrapped in his arms, I think I am dreaming. Partly because I don't startle at the sight of an intruder in my bed, but mostly because I find it hard to believe he has forgiven me so quickly.
"Where did you go?" I ask, my voice slow with sleep. I watch him through bleary eyes as he shakes his head, smiling at me almost bashfully.
"It doesn't matter," he says. "I shouldn't have left you."
Gale pulls me closer, tucking me under his chin before I can argue that it matters to me.
"I won't tell Prim on you," I mumble into his chest. His soft laugh makes me look up to catch the light in his eyes.
"Promise?"
My kiss is my answer. I mean it to be sweet, chaste even, but when I pull back, Gale's eyes burn into mine. He leans in again, shifting over me to kiss me so deeply the headiness leaves me clutching his shoulders for support against the invisible sensation of falling. Which is utterly impossible when I am trapped so securely beneath Gale.
"I've got you," he whispers. He smiles against my lips, his hands starting to track the expanses of skin under my nightshirt.
"I believe you," I say.
And I do. Enough to let him teach me an entirely different kind of vertigo.
~Fin