Peeta walks to the back door of the kitchen. Opening it, he calmly informs Gale he's allowed to come in. There is a creaking of wood, accompanied by the thud of boots on the steps, and Gale is now standing in the doorway. Stepping forward, he seems almost reluctant to come in, afraid of me, yet at the same time, determined. Determined to do what though, I don't know.
"Hi Catnip." Those two words, the ones I've heard since I was eleven years old, haven't lost their conveyance of friendship. They're not spoken with hostility, or bitterness, or want. No, maybe there is want, but I don't think it's what it used to be. I'm trying really hard to forget what happened the last two times I was in a kitchen here in 12 with Gale. I hope his is too. Because it will never happen again. Those were the last times I will ever willingly and conciously kiss Gale Hawthorne.
"Hey Gale," I manage to reply. We stand there in awkward silence, Peeta looking on. "You know what, I just remembered something I needed to do," Peeta says breaking the silence. "I'll leave you two to get...reacquainted, so to speak." He walks casually out of the kitchen, giving me a slightly concerned glance as he passes by. Gale leans against the counter, his brows knitted together, his eyes downcast. "What are you here for Gale?" I ask. He looks up, putting a small smile on his face. "Well, it is your birthday, and my memory hasn't gone bad or anything." I frown slightly at this. Could he be insulting Peeta, or me? He rolled his eyes, noticing my displeasure. "I didn't mean that in a bad way Katniss, lighten up. I'm not here to be the bad guy." He looked back down at the floor. "I've already felt like one for the past year." I can't think of what to say to that. He looks back up, pain in his eyes.
"Katniss, please tell me you don't still blame me for what happened to Prim, please. I wish every day I'd never thought of those damn bombs, that I could just take it back. I have nightmares about it, every night. Prim's screaming my name, pleading for the children's lives, then the second bomb goes off, and she's screaming in pain, and then...she's gone." Did Gale just say he wih he'd never designed the bombs? "I've been living with the guilt of Prim's death for almost a year. And with the knowledge that my best friend hates me for having a part in it." He looks away. "I can understand if you still do. But please, if you don't, tell me. I can't live with both burdens."
How do I answer to this? How do I even know if I blame him still? I blame the bombs, and therefore by default blame him, but I also blame Coin, and the Capitol, and the need for the rebellion. The tension of being torn two ways is too much. I'm starting to tremble with my inner struggle. "Katniss?" Gale's voice is full of concern, but he keeps his distance. I try to think of what Gale's gone through, and I realize it's similar to what I've gone through. Every death that I've had a part in, haunts me, and makes me wish I could have prevented it, done something differently. I know what's it like to be tormented at night by the people who have lost their lives because of something I did. I still struggle with many of them. Peeta keeps trying to convince me I can't blame myself for every death that happened during the rebellion, that most gave their lives willingly for the sake of freedom, and that all the deaths are to be blamed on the Capitol for making a rebellion necessary. Then I realize, the same applies to Gale. How many times did I see in the games and rebellion that not everything is black and white? Too often things are blurred, smeared, undefinable. I can't say that I wish he'd never thought of those bombs, I hate them with all I am. However, I can no longer say I hate him for what happened.
"I don't hate you Gale. You did what you thought was right at the time. I can't blame you for something that in the end is Coin's doing," I say quietly. "And I know Prim meant a lot to you, too. I know what it's like, to feel the guilt of lives being lost, and you feel as if you only have yourself to blame for it. So no, I don't hate you." His sigh of relief quavers, like he's been trying to keep himself together. "Thanks," he whispers. We just stand there for a minute, letting the closure, the forgiveness, hang in the air for a minute. Finally, he looks back at me and asks, "So...how are things going with you and Mellark?" I cock an eyebrow warily. "Why do you want to know?" He shakes his head. "I'm just asking. Trust me, I know I lost that battle a long time ago. You never loved me like you did him. I was just the big brother, I should have seen that and stuck with it instead of trying to make it into something more." I realize he's finally described how my live for Gale worked. He's right, we were best friends, siblings practically, rather than pretend cousins or assumed lovers. I shrug. "You really want to know? You're not just trying to sneakily find out if you might still have a chance?"
"Catnip, I mean it. I want you to be happy, to have what will make you happy. If that's Peeta, I'm okay with that now. You deserve to be happy now more than most people." I look at him, slightly surprised. He's changed in the past year. Then again, who am I to talk of being changed? "We're doing...good." Gale gets that concerned sound in his voice again. "You don't sound too confident about it. Why? Is he having episodes again?" I quickly shake my head. "No, no, he's been really good. He hasn't had a full out flashback in over six months. It's just...he proposed to me today...and I said yes."
