I did some re-writes for this chapter but I can't seem to get the second half of it right. Being my typical lazy self I gave up on trying to make it better, partially because I realized I probably won't be able to without setting it aside for a month or two and I promised I would post it real soon. I think it holds up okay enough but it does get a little rushed towards the end.

Also, this chapter may differ slightly from the version on AO3, since I did some on-the-fly edits on that site and then kind of forgot which parts I had made changes to... My bad.

I wake up early, a smile on my face. I'm lying on my side, face to face with Peeta who is still sound asleep. His curly hair is in disarray, his breaths slow and even and there's a stain on his pillow that tells me he's drooled in his sleep. I don't know why but I find that endearing. Since he never complains when I drool on him in my sleep I suppose I would have no room for complaining even if I thought it was disgusting. I lay there for a few minutes in the dark, a patch of early dawn light coming through the open window and illuminating him where he lies beside me. I should get out of bed but I want to take just another couple of minutes to watch him sleeping. He sleeps so peacefully most nights now. I love that he gets to have peaceful dreams when daytime sometimes forces him to deal with terrors that are worse than my nightmares.

Today is his 21st birthday. He doesn't like birthdays, though I've never understood why. He doesn't want to tell me and I try not to press the issue but I think it's time someone helped him appreciate the one day each year that signifies that he's gotten a year older and, most importantly, celebrates the fact that he was born. I like my own birthday and I want him to like his as well. I want it to be something we celebrate during our life together. I can't change the reasons why he dislikes them, even if I knew what the reasons were I wouldn't be able to undo them, but I can give him reasons to like his birthdays from now on. And that's exactly what I intend to do. I have something special planned for him today.

Lately I haven't seen as much of him as I would like. The committee that's been set up here in the district to deal with dangerous and unlawful hunting techniques has been taking up most of my time for a few weeks now. At first I was very uncertain about joining the committee but President Paylor herself called me and talked me into it so I figured I might as well comply. If I do then perhaps I can be allowed to leave the district soon and go visit my mother in District Four. As it turns out, working with the committee has been fun, challenging and informative in ways I had not expected. Everyone on the committee has some form of knowledge about hunting and we've had many interesting conversations about weapons, techniques, different kinds of game and basically anything else that is of interest to a hunter. We've spent hours at the training range they built last year, teaching each other new techniques, new weapons and having friendly contests, all for the purpose of better understanding what we're dealing with. We spend the days studying the various traps we are trying to get rid of, looking into who the perpetrators might be, writing up suggestions for new legislatives and the like. Gale and I have shown the others parts of the woods here and I have taken them to some of the locations where people have gotten hurt by traps. In the evenings we sit at a large table in one of the district's two hotels and continue to discuss the same things we went over during the day, only at that time of day we tend to become less professional and more like a group of friends hanging out. It's been fun. I don't feel like I've ever been a part of a group of likeminded people this way and it's been good for me and, I believe, helped me come out of my shell and aided in my recovery.

The downside is I've been spending a lot of time away from home. Peeta hasn't voiced any objections but that might have more to do with him being a decent and supportive significant other than with him not caring that I've been away a lot. Several evenings I've wished he was there with us, even though I know he wouldn't find our topics of discussion interesting, and sometimes I've left the group early so I can have an hour or two with him before bedtime. The committee's work is wrapping up and they will all be leaving in a week or so and things will go back to normal once they are gone. I've taken today day off, anything but willing to change my plans for the day. I've been making these plans for a while now and it has to be today.

Allowing myself one more minute of the luxury that is watching my boyfriend sleep I smile and daydream about what the rest of the day will be like. Then I get out of bed as quietly and carefully as I can. Peeta groans and smacks his lips, rolling over on his other side but staying asleep. I grin a little and resist the urge to lean down and kiss him awake. Instead I walk quietly to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Dressed in my hunting clothes I open the front door ten minutes later, letting Buttercup out. I follow him down the pebbled path that leads to the road and to our mailbox, grabbing the newspaper so that Peeta can read it while he eats breakfast. Leaving the paper on the kitchen table I grab my game bag and head out the door, drawing a deep breath, filling my lungs with fresh October air. It takes me about twenty minutes to walk into town, and from there an additional ten to reach the Meadow, which is where the gate in the fence is located. I'm halfway through town when a familiar voice gets my attention.

"Always an early bird, huh Catnip?"

I turn and smile shyly. Gale is standing outside his hotel, leaning back against the wooden bannister of the front porch, one leg crossed over the other. He's got a smirk on his face, crossing his arms over his chest. It's strange to be around him. We haven't been alone together since he arrived and all our conversations have been polite but a touch cool. I don't know how to talk to him anymore and whenever I look at him I can't help but picture him sitting with Beetee, coming up with the trap that killed my sister. I wish he hadn't come, but of course they selected him for the committee. Aside from me he's the one who knows the woods of District 12 the best. It would be foolish not to ask him to be part of it.

"Where are you off to?" asks Gale. He smiles a bit and begins to walk closer. "You know, it's been a while since I've actually hunted. Do you mind if I come with you? All the talk these past days and our little excursions into the forest has made me miss the good old days."

I can't help but wonder if this is an offering to get away from the rest of the committee and clear the air between us. It's been three years since the war ended and Prim died, enough time for me to get through the worst stages of grief. I don't hate Gale, nor do I miss him as my best friend, but finding a middle-ground would be good for us both. I would like to at least say we have some form of friendship between us, even if years go by between each time we see one another. It's better than animosity. I know I have about five or six hours before I need to be back home and Gale might actually be helpful to me while I'm hunting. I can't seem to find any good reason to turn his offer down.

"Okay," I say. "Just… One condition."

"Name it."

"I get first call on whatever we catch out there today."

He chuckles and nods for the hotel doors.

"You've got it. Let me just run and get my stuff."

I smile slightly as he runs off to get his gear. Gale and I coming to an understanding and finding some form of footing for a future friendship might actually fit very nicely in with what I have planned for the rest of the day.

It's beautiful out in the woods today. October has not seen any frost this year and leaves are all coloured in red and yellow. Birds are tweeting above and around us and even the upcoming conversation with Gale, which will no doubt be difficult, can't seem to ruin my bad mood. I almost want to whistle a tune to the birds but stop myself since I don't want to risk scaring away all prey within a two-mile radius.

"So, are we hunting for anything in particular?" asks Gale as we walk through the forest, loosely following the route that leads to the glade – our old glade.

"Quail," I tell him over my shoulder.

"Quail," he echoes. "So why quail?" he asks after a minute.

"It's Peeta's favourite."

I mention my boyfriend's name without any trace of the old guilt I used to feel. I haven't made any effort to hide my relationship from Gale since he's been back in the district. I see no reason to. Peeta and I have been together since the year the war ended, which is more than three years now. Even though we've never made a public announcement about it we haven't kept it secret either. I don't feel I have any obligation to take Gale's feelings into consideration, if it even does bother him to know that I live with Peeta these days. We live separate lives now, Gale and I, and I honestly think he's happy for me rather than jealous or begrudging.

"What if we can't find any quail?" asks Gale with an upbeat tone. "What's Peeta's second favourite animal? If the answer is moose then you're on your own."

I suppress a laugh. If we can't find quail then it's not the end of the world but I am hoping to be able to bring home Peeta's favourite game so we can cook something nice tonight. If my hunting is unsuccessful I plan on stopping by the butcher shop and buying something we don't normally get, like beef or pork tenderloin. I want tonight to be special.

"So you and him…" says Gale behind me. "That's the way it ended up, after all?"

"That's the way it ended up," I confirm with a nod.

"Yeah I had a feeling it would." There's a pause. "I'm not going to deny that I hoped you would have a change of heart but I knew you wanted him more and in the end…" He pauses again and I turn my head to look at him. His face is contemplative. "Maybe you and I weren't right for each other anyway, you know?"

"Yeah maybe…" I say.

We're both silent for a little bit, knowing we'll reach our old glade any minute now. When we do reach it we sit down in our old spots and smile awkwardly at each other. It seems unimaginable that we could go from being as close as we once were to being where we are today. If you had told me this four or five years ago I would have protested and fought tooth and nail to keep Gale beside me. Sitting here today I wonder if our friendship was doomed from the start. We came together through a mutual need to feed our families and for a brief period in our lives we were very likeminded. Fundamentally, though, we've turned out to be too different from one another. I don't know if my world-view and moral compass was changed by being a tribute and by knowing Peeta and I'm not sure what influenced Gale's mind but here we are, two former best friends who now have far too different views of life to be able to be compatible.

The issue I can't get past with him is his opinion that the ends justify the means and that sacrifices must be made for the greater good. I can't hate him for killing Prim – his intention was never to hurt her. In fact he was almost as devoted to keeping her safe as I was. Even so he ended up being one of the masterminds behind the trap that took her life. To me that proves that all of my objections to his line of thinking are valid. He and Beetee thought up that trap with the best intentions, to give the rebels a strong weapon in warfare. In the end it took the life of one of the people Gale wanted to protect the most. When you gamble with other people's lives as acceptable risks you inevitably put your own and your loved ones' at risk also. What worries me is that I don't know if Gale's viewpoints have changed after what happened to Prim or if at the end of the day he felt it was a sacrifice worth its cost.

"Are you happy?" I ask him, surprising even myself with the question.

"Happy?" He looks a bit taken aback. "I'm okay. I've got my demons…" He looks away, making a pained face. "I never thought I'd see the day when this place wasn't my home. I'm building a new life for myself in Two, and it's a good life. So I suppose you could say that I'm happy." There's a pause. "I miss you though, Katniss."

"I don't know if we'll ever be whole again," I say, talking about more than just his and my friendship. "Sometimes it still surprises me that I can feel really happy. That it's not just all doom and gloom. That despite everything I've been through and lost my life still has space for genuine happiness."

"If Peeta can make you feel that way then I'm happy for you."

I smile a little.

"I'm lucky to have him." I hark my throat. "So tell me about your life. What's it like in Two these days?"

We sit there for a while and talk, though not about anything substantial. He tells me about his new life in the other district, I tell him about some of the things that have been happening here. He laughs when he finds out that Buttercup and I have buried the hatchet and now actually even get along. After a while I begin to feel like too much time is passing by so I rise to my feet and suggest we get on with the hunting, seeing as no animals have passed us by yet. I've spotted quail near the lake recently and in the hopes of finding them still nearby we set off in that direction, Gale walking ahead of me. We walk in silence, though it's a fairly pleasant silence. As we head deeper into the forest I begin to let my mind wander, smiling to myself as I think about what the rest of the day will be like.

The special plans I have made for Peeta today will only cover the afternoon. We then have all evening together to do whatever we feel like. Peeta has said he wants a romantic dinner and to me that sounds like a lovely idea. It's been a while now since we've last sat down to dinner just the two of us, with candlelight and toe flirting and the unspoken promise of pleasurable things to come. That brings my mind to how the night will undoubtedly end and I'm grateful that Gale is walking ahead of me and unable to see the blush on my face. It's been a few weeks since Peeta and I last had sex, which actually makes this our second-longest dry spell. With my committee schedule we haven't had much time, and I haven't had much energy, to get physical together but tonight I plan on changing all of that.

I feel a surge of excitement run through me. I have a feeling it's going to be different tonight. Our sexlife has for the most part been very good and satisfying but for a while now it's gotten a bit, dare I say, formulaic? We both always leave satisfied and happy but we've found a method that works for us and rarely deviate from that anymore. Our foreplay stays creative but it almost always leads to me being on top with Peeta and I both focusing on bringing me to my peak. Once I'm finished we switch places and shift the focus over to him, which sometimes also brings me to my peak again. There's something about Peeta's energy and passion in those moments that makes me feel highly satisfied, knowing that he's being driven to that point by me, that my body can get him that excited and that gratified. It's a satisfying modus operandi that works for us both but every now and then it's fun to mix things up and do something different.

Tonight I'm willing to do anything. Anything he wants to do. However many times he wants to do it. Thinking about it makes me grin widely and I wish we could find the damn birds already and head back home so I can wrap my arms around him and wish him a happy birthday in ways only I am allowed to do.

I hear the metallic sound a fraction of a second before the commotion begins but it's already happened long before I can react or call out a warning. The bear trap snaps shut around Gale's right calf in the same instant he sets his foot down on it. The shock makes Gale drop his weapons and the combined sound of the trap snapping shut and the weapons hitting the ground causes a flock of birds to scare and fly away. I hear Gale's scream of pain the same second I send an arrow flying at the flock of birds, my hunter's instincts reacting before any other part of me does. This was not how I had hoped to find quail but since I got one bird I might as well try for two and I manage to take another one down before dropping my bow and quiver and kneeling by Gale's side. He's on the ground, his foot locked in the bear trap, the leather of his boot pressing into his ankle along with the metal spikes. His face is white and contorted with pain and I feel panic rising in me. We're three hours into the woods by now and we have neither the tools necessary to unlock the trap nor any method of communicating with anyone in town. God only knows how I'm supposed to get Gale out of here.

"Gale?" I say. Despite my inner turmoil I manage to keep my voice steady and commanding. "Gale! Are you okay? Look at me. Is anything broken?"

I know what force those traps close with and how sharp they are. Best case scenario Gale's right foot is going to be broken and bloodied. Worst case scenario he could end up losing it, just like Peeta lost his left leg.

"Get the birds," Gale hisses through gritted teeth. "Get the damn birds. I won't have this excursion be for nothing."

Relieved to be given something to do that doesn't involve his foot I dart off to find the birds I shot, my absence allowing him a moment to get a handle of himself and, possibly, the situation. My heart is pounding and I'm not thinking entirely straight so it takes me a minute or two to locate the birds, even though I saw where they went down. Once they are in my game bag I run back to Gale, who is trying to pry the trap open with his hands, though he must know it's futile.

"Don't try," I say, kneeling beside him.

He lets go of the trap and leans his head back, screaming in pain. Trying to suppress the panic I study the trap as carefully as I can manage to make myself do, trying to think of anything I've learned about these contraptions that might get them open. I know they come with a key to unlock them but there's naturally no key to be found.

"Shit," I mumble through gritted teeth.

"Katniss get me out of this thing!" says Gale, sounding pained and a little bit panicked. "Get me out!"

I reach inside my game bag to try and find something, anything, which can be of help. I find the army knife Haymitch gave me once and hastily look through the various tools on it, trying to think of one that might be helpful. My eyes land on the hinge screws on the trap and using the blade of the knife as a screwdriver I begin to try and get them out. Gale hisses and groans through gritted teeth, trying to pry the trap open with his hands. I know he feels he has to do something to try and get it off himself but his right hand keeps getting in my way and with irritation I try to swat it away.

"Keep your hand away so I can work!" I snarl, stress making my voice harsh. Despite the cool autumn temperature my brow is starting to get damp with sweat and I have to pause and wipe my forehead with my sleeve.

"Make it quick, please," he pleads in a strangled voice.

It feels like I'm working forever but finally, finally, the screws come undone and I can take the trap apart. Gale cries out when I pull the metal from his flesh, his torn boot coming off halfway in the process, but my own relief quickly vanishes when blood begins to pour out of the puncture wounds.

"Damn it!" I snarl, instinctively pressing my hand against as many wounds as I can cover which causes Gale to scream out. "Shit!"

"Thank you," says Gale in an exhaled relief, his jaw then clenching. His eyes squint and I can see a few tears escaping. "Damn it, this hurts."

"We've got to do something about this bleeding," I say, trying to think of what my mother or sister would do in this situation. "Focus Gale! Do you have anything in your bag to help bandage a wound?"

He gives me a look. I try to think of anything I might have that could do the trick but I didn't bring anything like that with me. I think of what I'm currently wearing but my pants and my jacket can't be made into bandages and it's too cold for me to go without the shirt I'm wearing. Then I look at Gale's attire. I bark at him to put his own hands over the wounds and he does, but he protests when I try to shove his jacket down his shoulders.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What are you wearing underneath the jacket?" I demand to know.

"A sweater," he says, wincing in pain.

"Okay. Okay… That might work."

I get him to remove his jacket and I try not to cringe at the blood that flows more heavily when he lifts his hands from the wounds. Grabbing the army knife I find a small pair of scissors and use them to try and cut one of the sleeves off his sweater. Gale seems to think I've lost my mind but he's more busy moaning over the wound on his foot and lets me work without interruptions. It takes considerable effort but after a while I manage to cut through some of the fabric, miraculously without giving Gale further wounds, and I use both hands to try and tear the fabric apart. After what feels like forever I get the sleeve off the sweater and I use it to tie around Gale's ankle, trying not to be affected by the sound he makes as I tighten the fabric as much as I can. I cringe when I see that his foot, ankle and calf have begun to swell up and that his foot is looking rather pale. Memories surge to the forefront of my mind, of Peeta in the arena with a wounded leg. I tell myself that this is nothing like that, that it will all be fine.

"How do you feel?" I manage, trying to ignore that I'm trembling.

"Peachy," Gale groans. "Actually it's a little bit better now… The tourniquet helps. Just not sure how I'll get my boot back on…"

"Forget about the boot, it's useless now."

I take a moment to try and catch my breath. I'm on my knees on the cold ground, blood and dirt all over, sweating from the exercise even though the warmth of the sun can't quite reach us where we sit. Gale is breathing heavily, trying to fight against the pain and gather his composure. His hands grasp his right leg just above the tourniquet. His foot is badly injured, bleeding and probably broken. Who knows what damage has been done to his ligaments and muscles? I remember the last time I tried tying off somebody's leg wound and I'm scared that Gale might end up losing his limb. We're out in the forest, two and a half hour's walk from town at the least, and now it's going to take longer to get back.

It's Peeta's birthday. I have plans for us today. It's been a while now since the trap closed around Gale's foot and I would need a brisk walk to get back in time to make all arrangements without stressing. But with Gale in this condition there's no way that is going to happen. In my head I try to calculate how long it will take to get Gale back to safety. If we get moving now we might make it back in time.

"Come on," I say, rising to my feet. My legs feel stiff and my feet have fallen asleep from staying in the same position for too long. "We can't stay out here. We need to get you back to town."

"Yeah," Gale nods, holding out his hand. I help him get up to standing and he takes a moment to put his jacket back on and brush himself off. I can tell his foot aches badly but he puts on a brave face. Gale has been in pain before. He can handle this. He has no other choice. I move to stand beside him and he drapes his arm over my shoulders to support himself. He then takes a step, shifting his weight to the damaged right foot. The scream that follows sends chills down my spine but I refuse to give up. "This is not going to work," he grimaces.

"Yes it is," I insist. "It's going to work because it has to work."

"You should leave me here," he suggests. "Run back to town and send somebody here to help me. A hovercraft would be nice."

"I can't leave you alone out here. You're as defenceless as Peeta when Cato had stabbed him in the leg." I can't help but wince. Peeta's injuries in the arena are the last thing I want to be thinking about. Dwelling on it will do us no good right now. I need to make Gale focus and try to help him see past the pain. "You have to move. Hop on one leg if you have to."

"All the way into town?" he questions, giving me a look despite the pain he's in.

"All the damn way to the Capitol if need be," I snarl, having no time for compassion. "We have to get back, Gale. You need medical attention, as soon as possible. I can't leave you out here and I can't carry you so you're going to have to figure this out somehow. Now focus and try to help me be constructive."

He makes an anguished face and slowly, slowly shifts his weight to the damaged foot. Immediately he winces and lifts the foot up again.

"Can't," he grunts through gritted teeth.

"Then hop," I bark.

Something in my tone of voice must be getting to him because obediently he begins to do just that. He manages a couple of yards this way, wincing with each hop as it reverberates to his injury, but then he stops.

"I can't go like this all the way back."

"Okay…" I say, my mind working as fast as it possibly can. "Okay… A crutch, then. A sturdy tree branch or something. Something for you to steady yourself on."

He seems highly sceptical but doesn't bother protesting. I leave him for a few minutes and set off through the trees to find something that would suit the purpose. My eyes scan the area in search of something suitable but I'm so wound up by now that I know I'm not looking properly. I can't help it, each passing second feels like an eternity and the clock keeps ticking. Even though Gale is the one in trouble all I can think about is how I won't be able to make it back to town in time. Why did I have to go out hunting today in the first place? Why did I have to bring Gale with me? Why couldn't I have stayed at home and dedicated the entire day, from its first moment to its last, to Peeta?

I don't know which is worse. The grunts and groans of pain that escapes Gale's lips every two or three steps as we hobble our way back through the woods, knowing that we've been walking for an hour and still have at least four times that long to go before we'll be getting near town, or the fact that I really need to pee. The broken tree branch I found for Gale to use as a crutch lasted about forty minutes and then broke. Right now he's using my shoulders as a crutch and it's starting to hurt. I tell him to take a breather and sit down on a nearby tree stump so I can go looking for another branch.

"This is insane," he groans as he sits down. He reaches down to touch his ankle and winces. The blood has stopped flowing but the foot looks more swollen now. "We've covered, what, twenty minutes' distance at a regular pace?"

"We'll get there," I say grumpily. "Just sit tight while I find you a crutch that isn't my shoulders."

I walk through some trees trying to find another branch. I take the opportunity to take care of my bathroom emergency but when I glance up at the sky I feel anything but comforted. It's still early in the day but the plan was for me to be back no later than an hour past noon. There's no way I will be making my deadline now. I think of Peeta and I long for him, badly. If he were here with us we could work together to get Gale back to town. Better yet, if I was back at home with him I could be showing him just how happy a birthday I want him to have and how utterly grateful I am that he was born in the first place. I sincerely hope we'll be able to get back early enough that Peeta and I can spend some quality time together. I would love to sink into a hot bath with him after all of this and forget about the way Gale's wound looks, the smell I think I'm beginning to detect, the worry of what might happen to Gale with his foot in that condition, the ache in my shoulder and everything else. What I wouldn't give to fill my nose with the scent of Peeta's baking, have Peeta's body be the one pressing close to mine and to spend the rest of the day showering him with affection instead of trying, and failing, to encourage Gale to believe that things will work out fine.

Finally I find another branch, hopefully sturdier than the last one, and make my way back to the path. Gale is sitting where I left him, eyes closed, face looking pained. He's a touch pale and it worries me. I feel bad for him. The only reason he came out here was to try and mend the bridges with me and the only reason he went as far into the woods as he did was because I wanted quail for Peeta. I know I'm not being very compassionate with him and on some level I feel bad about thinking far more about my boyfriend than about him and his wound. But I can't help it. This is not where I want to be and while I try my best to hide it I'm growing increasingly frustrated with Gale's injury each passing minute.

"How bad is the pain?" I ask to announce my presence.

"It's alright," he blatantly lies, taking my hand to help get to his feet.

"There are all sorts of medicinal plants around," I say, mostly just to say something. "I can identify a lot of them but I don't know how to use them. Except willow bark but we'd need to boil some water for that."

"Katniss stop talking about medicinal plants," Gale grunts. "It's easier to imagine that there's nothing around that can help than that there's tons of stuff I could take but we don't know how to administer it."

I nod and do my best to help steady him as we again begin to move at a snail's pace through the forest. I'm half convinced I will lose my mind completely if I don't get to move faster soon but that doesn't change the fact that Gale can't go faster than this and I still can't leave him behind to go get help.

"I want you to know…" I begin hesitantly, hoping to find something to talk about that will keep both of us distracted from the situation at hand. "I don't hate you. For Prim."

He nods slowly, his shoulder slumping a bit with relief.

"That makes one of us, then."

"I don't hate you for her death," I insist, "because I know she was never meant to be hurt. We just look at things too differently, you and I. There has to be a way to win the day without making it about who racks up the highest kill count. Peeta taught me, very early on, that you have to be able to live with yourself afterward and that diplomacy is worth a try."

"Diplomacy would never have gotten us anywhere with President Snow," argues Gale. At least for the moment I seem to have his attention enough that he doesn't think as much about the pain in his leg. "It's a lovely sentiment but it doesn't work in the real world."

"Peeta seems to think it could," I argue back.

"If everybody thought like that we would have been under the Capitol's thumb until the end of civilization."

"If everybody thought like that there wouldn't have been an oppression in the first place," I retort. This seems to silence him for a moment but I realize that's not a good thing since it will make him think about his foot again and we were actually moving faster when he was a bit riled up. "Peeta is an idealist. Amazingly he is still like that, in spite of what they've made him suffer through. I would be lying if I said I was exactly like him. I think violence is necessary sometimes, for the preservation of your own life if nothing else. Where I can't see eye-to-eye with you is when we start talking about acceptable loss. Disregard for life is…" I can't bring myself to finish the thought. It's a harsh thing to accuse him of to his face, even though I've thought it about him a thousand times.

"It's not about that," he says sourly. "It's about a bigger picture. What do you think would have cost more lives in the end, huh? One big attack or a drawn-out war?"

"First of all you have no way of knowing that the war would have continued without that attack," I reply. "The bombs that killed my sister weren't designed to end the war. They were propaganda."

"That was not the idea when Beetee and I designed it," says Gale sharply.

"No…" I admit. "But the idea was to kill as many people as possible. To kill people coming to the aide of others. Brave, selfless people like Prim."

"Prim should never have been out there in the first place," mutters Gale through gritted teeth. "She was too young."

"Is there an age limit where it's suddenly okay that you're killed?"

Silence falls between us again. I realize we're taking the discussion into dangerous territories but if it helps us move faster I am all for it.

"Have you honestly forgiven me for her death?" Gale then asks.

"I have," I say. It's the truth. With the help of dr. Aurelius, Peeta and Haymitch I have, in time, come to realize that holding on to anger and resentment won't do me any good and won't honour Prim's memory. I forgave Gale a long time ago but that's not to say I'm okay with every aspect of who he is now. "I'm having a hard time making peace with your values and morals, though, truth be told."

"I've oftentimes found it hard to understand yours," he admits, wincing, grunting and huffing as he painstakingly makes his way through the forest. "How you could care about your prep team when their sole purpose in life, in your life, was to prepare the lamb for public slaughter. How you could call Cinna a decent person when he willingly was a part of the Hunger Games." He puts a bit of weight on his wounded foot by accident and cries out in pain and stops, biting his bottom lip and breathing heavily through his nose for a moment. "There was no future for us as a pair, was there?" he then says. "Even before Prim died and even if you hadn't already fallen in love with Peeta."

"I don't think it would have worked out, no," I say. I don't add that his view of the world scares me sometimes. There's a cold quality to him that sometimes gets a touch too reminiscent of the oppression we were fighting against. "Come on, Gale, we've got to keep moving." I give his arm a tug and he takes a deep breath and begins to move again.

"You and Peeta are a good match though," he says. "Strange… I thought he was all wrong for you when I first became aware of him. I thought he was too meek, too sheltered, too… Well, too peaceful, I guess. That he wouldn't understand the fire and passion in you."

"We're different on surface level," I agree. "Different in all the right ways. We balance each other out. It causes conflict at times and it's not always easy. Deep down though we are a lot alike. The rest can be dealt with, but those basic parts of you…"

I don't finish the line of thought. Gale doesn't either. Neither one of us speaks for several minutes and I understand that my attempt to divert him has played itself out. I can tell the pain and the strain is getting to him and that there won't be any point in trying to have a meaningful conversation anymore. He's too wrapped up in his situation and while I want to trigger as much of his zest as I can I also need him to stay focused, and pushing him further won't accomplish that. I look up at the sky, trying to determine what time it is. We're not moving fast enough, even by my calculations of how long it should take us with Gale in this condition. I'm starting to get really worried.

Hours pass by and we don't seem to be getting any closer to town. I know we're still about a mile or two from the glade and we still have quite a ways to go once we've reached it. It's been hours since I gave up hope on being back in time and I force myself to try and not think about what I had planned for Peeta today. It's too painful to recognize that none of it will come to fruition. Right now I need to focus on Gale whose physical condition is more pressing. The sun is beginning to set and I am growing concerned for real. It's going to get cold once the sun has gone down, Gale's foot needed medical attention hours ago and we're both out of water and quite thirsty and hungry. Or at least I'm hungry. Gale threw up a few hours ago and I'm guessing food is not very high on his list of priorities at the moment. It's difficult, though, to not let my mind drift back to Peeta. He'll have dinner ready on the table in less than half an hour and I'm not even in the glade yet. I hope he didn't go to too much trouble preparing it since he will have to eat it by himself, or invite Haymitch over. No offense to Haymitch but he will be a lousy substitute for me when the plan was for a romantic, candlelit dinner.

"I can't keep going," Gale sighs, completely spent. "My right foot is killing me and my left is aching like hell too from this strain. Let's not even begin to talk about my arm and hand working crutch number four…"

"I don't care," I say. "We're getting you back to town and that's the end of that."

"We've been out here for almost ten hours," he points out. "Somebody's going to start to miss us soon. Let's just find someplace to hang tight and wait for them to find us. Shouldn't Peeta be getting concerned and send someone out here to look for you? Or go looking himself?"

"He has no reason to get concerned," I say bitterly. "I haven't been home to have dinner in weeks. For all he knows I'm hanging out with you and the others in the committee."

"Then someone in the committee will go looking for us."

"Who?" I snort. "Who knows that we're out here? Face it, Gale, we're on our own. Now shut up and keep on moving because I'm cold and hungry and Peeta expects me home in about twenty minutes."

"Didn't you just say he won't be surprised if you don't come home to dinner?"

"That doesn't mean he stops expecting me," I mutter, my heart aching with longing for the man who would be welcoming me into his warm embrace if I could only get to set foot inside our home real soon. I need his warmth, his steadiness, his comfort, almost as much as I need to be there and reassure him that today matters.

Gale doesn't argue the point and we keep on moving. My back and shoulders ache from carrying both mine and Gale's weapons along with my game bag, and from helping Gale. I almost want to suggest that he gets down on all fours and crawls but I know that's far too undignified for him to ever agree.

"Look, we'll reach the glade in a bit," he says. "Once we're there you can sit me down and go get help. We'll be close enough to town that it won't have to take forever."

"And leave you in the dark and cold without any means of defending yourself? That wound has bled enough that predator animals will be more than happy to get a chance to come closer to you."

He doesn't argue with me. Not that I'm not very tempted to take him up on his suggestion. I'm beginning to feel an ache in my chest, knowing that Peeta is expecting me at home and I won't be there. I'm beginning to realize that I probably won't make it home until six o'clock, at the earliest, and by that time dinner will already be in the past tense. Not only have I missed the chance to carry out my own plans but I won't even be able to be there to start off his request for the day. One thing is for sure – the instant I walk through our front door I am going to absorb myself completely in him, letting his presence wash away the awfulness of what I've experienced today and do nothing for the rest of the day but show him how much I care about him.

But the minutes keep ticking by, now seemingly going so fast whereas before they felt like hours. I can only hope Peeta will understand once I get back to him.

It's dark when we finally reach the gate. The Meadow is deserted and without the light from the streetlamps reaching far enough to illuminating it it looks dark and dreary. Gale, who is running on some extra energy I never knew he possessed, makes it across the grass to the road and then sinks down on the ground underneath a light post, completely spent and moaning in pain. I haven't taken a closer look at his foot for a few hours now and I'm afraid to see what the damage is.

"Go," he groans. "I can't move another inch. Get someone to come for me."

Knowing he's somewhat safe now that we're on this side of the fence I summon my own spare energy and take off running in the direction of the small hospital that's half-way finished but thankfully at least has a working emergency room, a surgical unit and two or three small wards. I don't know if one of those wards is orthopaedic but if not they can airlift Gale to another district. Right now the immediate concern is getting him warmed up, giving him some fluids and tending to the parts of his wounds which they can treat in the emergency room.

Under normal circumstances I could make a run of this distance without too much effort and strain. These, however, are not normal circumstances. I'm exhausted, aching all over, thirsty, hungry and the knot in my stomach gets more intense with each passing minute. It doesn't take long for me to feel the taste of blood in my mouth as I run and I'm not even halfway there before I have to stop and take a breath, my heart pounding in my chest and my side hurting. I groan, each breath burning hot as it enters and exits my body, and I lean forward for a second to try and compose myself. There are a few people out and about and most of them seem to be looking at me yet none of them come up to me. Which is just as well. I don't have time for any of them right now.

I'm forced to settle for a brisk walk the rest of the way to the hospital and when I barge through the doors the nurse by the counter jumps to her feet, seemingly thinking that I'm the one in need of medical attention. Between gasps for air I manage to explain to her that there's a man with an injured foot in need of serious medical attention as soon as possible. She goes someplace to spread this information but I'm barely aware at that point. I stumble over to a nearby chair and collapse onto it, feeling both cold and sweaty at the same time and so hungry and thirsty that I don't even know which is more pressing. I shut my eyes hard for a moment, trying to gather my wits, and when I open them I immediately begin to scan the room for a telephone. I can't make it home just yet, not until I've gotten a little bit of rest and I know Gale has been taken care of, but I can at least call Peeta and let him know where I am and what's going on. Just hearing his voice would make me feel better. With whatever energy I still have left I force down the longing to be near him and I make myself stand up from the chair, walking slowly over to the counter where the nurse is busy gathering papers.

"Phone?" I croak, my throat feeling incredibly dry.

"In a minute," she says without looking up. "First of all I want somebody to check you out. And you need some fluids in you."

"To hell with that," I reply. "I need to call Peeta."

"Sorry, mam, but we don't have any phones," says the nurse. She finishes with her papers and places the stack on top of the desk.

"You just made a phone call," I point out with a scowl that would frighten many a less brave person.

"The phone line is internal." She walks around the desk and takes me by the arm, leading me over to sit on a gurney. She grabs a cart nearby and pulls open its top drawer. I barely pay attention at first, trying to figure out what my next move should be, but when she pulls up my sleeve and fastens a tourniquet just above my elbow I react.

"What are you doing?"

"Placing a line," she answers calmly, wiping a spot on my lower arm with an antiseptic swab.

"Are you insane?" I bark. "I'm not the injured one! I'm in a hurry! I have to get home."

"You need fluids."

"So give me a damn glass of water!"

The needle goes into my arm, about a decimetre above my wrist, and I wince automatically. The line is quickly placed and fastened with some transparent adhesive material and before I know it she's got me hooked up to a dripping IV bag. I scowl at her and she pays me no heed. The second she gets up on her feet and turns her back to me I reach up and speed up the drip, hoping to flush it all in as soon as possible so I can get out of here without further argument. Unfortunately she turns back around and notices and finally that pleasant veneer of hers cracks and she scowls right back at me and gives me a lecture on why it's not good to flush an entire litre of fluids into your system.

"Then get me off of this thing so I can go home!" I bark.

"The doctor needs to see you first."

"I'm fine! Gale's the injured one. It's not like you can force me to have medical treatment anyway."

"Just give it a few hours," she sighs. "You'll feel better then."

"Hours?" I rise to my feet and reach over to yank the IV line from my arm but she's quicker than me and manages to stop me. "I can't stay here for hours. Peeta expected me home ages ago!"

"At least wait here until your friend is brought in," she says, slightly exasperated. "We might need your help to figure out what's happened to him. We don't know what shape he'll be in. And please, let the fluids go in. You won't get home any faster if you pass out right here on the floor."

I sink back down on my seat, wondering what condition she expects Gale to be in. I glance up at the IV bag and hold back a sigh. I suppose I might as well allow it to stay in while I wait, acknowledging that she's got a minor point. But I have to get a hold of Peeta.

"Can I have that thing placed on something with wheels?" I ask. "I at least need to head over to the hotel where the commission members are staying and talk to them."

"Out of the question, miss. You can move around in here but not exit hospital premises." Just as I'm about to snarl at her again she looks over at a nearby corridor. "I can send someone to run over to that hotel for you, if need be."

"Need very much be," I say dryly. "And someone needs to go to my house, out in the Victor's Village."

"I can't spare anyone to go that far. But someone will speak to those commission people real soon, I promise."

Realizing I'll have to settle for that I sink back on the gurney, my feet still on the floor but my upper body lying down on the semi-soft surface. I close my eyes shut for just a second, exhausted both mentally and physically. It feels good to be lying down for just a brief moment. So good, in fact, that I'm lulled off to sleep for a good two or three minutes, awakened again by the sound of the doors flying open as four men come carrying a gurney with Gale lying on top of it. I sit up straight and fly to my feet, forgetting about the IV until its plastic line jerks me back slightly. With a groan I reach behind me and grab the bag, putting it on an IV stand with wheels beside the gurney and bringing it with me to Gale.

"Gale!" When I say his name he turns his head in my direction and opens his eyes. Now that medical personnel have got their hands on him he seems to have collapsed entirely. He looks at me, his face ghastly pale. "Gale. How are you feeling?"

"Go home," he says, managing to smile. "Apologise to Peeta for me, will you? For keeping you all day. They're promising me some good drugs, Catnip..."

They roll him through another pair of doors and I remain standing there, all alone, nothing to do but wait for someone to come ask me the necessary questions.

"Katniss you have to come out with us and it has to be now." Peterson's voice is firm and unyielding. Peterson, the head of the committee. Peterson, who won't listen to my objections even for a second. "That trap needs to be found and confiscated and investigated, and it can't wait."

"Yeah?" I say tiredly, leaning back on the gurney. "How do you plan on finding it in the darkness? It will still be there tomorrow and we can find it then."

"You should have brought it with you," he sighs.

"I had enough trouble getting Gale back with me!" I protest sharply.

Peterson makes a face and runs a hand through his thinning hair. I glare at him with no intention of giving in. We've been over this three times already and the way I see it nothing's going to change. There is no point in trying to go out there tonight and find the trap. Even if we did, how much is the trap going to prove anyway? I've spent the past thirty minutes trying to get a hold of a telephone but nobody seems interested in allowing me to leave this gurney. I would have pulled the IV out myself and just headed out the doors if it hadn't been for the many questions a nervous young doctor asked me shortly after Gale was first brought in, the very insistent officer who wanted to know all the details of what happened to us and now Peterson. However, I am done suffering Peterson's inflexibility.

"You really want to head out there tonight?" I ask.

"Yes!"

"Well I won't go with you," I say matter-of-factly. "I have Peeta waiting for me at home and I'm exhausted and, by the way, may I remind you that heading out into the woods in the dark only puts the rest of us at risk for stepping on traps ourselves? If there's one out there you know there'll be more. It's a terrible, terrible idea. We wait until morning."

"We have headlamps."

"Oh, well in that case," I say, rolling my eyes. Enough of this already. I sit up and without further ado yank the line from my arm. It smarts and a stream of blood immediately begins to roll down my arm and down onto the floor, mixing with the IV fluids spilling from the catheter that was previously inside my vein. "Here's what's going to happen, then. We head over to the hotel and I call Peeta to let him know why I haven't come home yet."

"Since when is that important?" snorts Peterson, handing me a plaster from a nearby cart. "You've been out later than this every other night and you haven't called him."

I try to ignore the painful feeling in my chest at hearing him point that out so casually. Clearly I haven't been the best girlfriend of late but that's nothing compared to my failure today. I stick the plaster on my arm and press it against my skin to get the bleeding to stop as soon as possible, hopping down on the floor as I do. Trying to keep my voice steady I give Peterson a glare.

"I need to call him and once I've done that I will show you on a map roughly where to go look. I will not come out with you."

"You will," he replies confidently. "One of our own got hurt out there today. You know you want to sink your teeth into this just as much as the rest of us do. Boyfriend at home can wait."

I don't answer, grabbing my jacket and putting it back on. With a very surly expression on my face I push back the fatigue as best I can and stride out of the emergency room, ignoring the nurse calling out to me. It's gotten windy out and I shiver as Peterson and I head for the hotel. I wonder if there's ever going to be an end to the mess I'm experiencing today.

The car that drives me home later that evening has tinted windows, including one that separates the driver from the person in the back seat. It's a government car, designed to allow important people to have secluded conversations while in transit. Sinking back against the plush leather seats I am grateful for the tinted glass that shields me, as I almost instantly break down and begin to sob. It's been an indescribably exhausting day on all fronts and I keep hearing Gale's screams of pain and the sound of the trap closing around his foot and when I close my eyes I see the horrible wound inflicted. I keep hearing the sound of the signals going through as I tried to call home and tell Peeta what was happening, but there was no answer. In my frazzled state of mind it didn't occur to me until later, when I was guiding the other committee members to the glade, that he could have been with Haymitch and I should have tried calling there. My mind is a jumbled mess and my emotions are in turmoil and I'm so indescribably disappointed that I didn't get to carry out the things I had planned for today.

Peeta, my thoughtful Peeta, will understand. I missed his birthday though I was the one who wanted to celebrate it in the first place, but he will accept it. That's just who he is. I vow to myself, and to him, to make sure he knows I don't take such a thing for granted and that I didn't just blow him off today. That all I wanted was to be with him and make his birthday special. That getting Gale back to safety through the woods and sitting in an emergency room waiting for news and trekking with the committee out to the glade and then showing them how to navigate to the place where the trap was set out were the last things I wanted to do today. That I didn't have much choice in the matter. That when the choice is up to me I will always choose him. Hopefully he will believe me, though if I am to be honest with myself I haven't given him much reason to lately.

The driver stops half a kilometre from the Victor's Village. There's a no-drive zone leading up to where we live and I'm okay walking the last stretch and letting the cool October night clear my head. Sticking my hands in my pockets I begin my walk, no longer in any rush, knowing that it's almost midnight and even if I hurry home it won't make much of a difference at this point. I hope Peeta is still up. I hope he's waiting for me. I hope I can explain right away what's happened and seek solace and forgiveness in his steady embrace and that I can at least end this day focusing on him and only him. I'm shivering in the cold, barely remembering when I last didn't feel freezing, and my feet feel like they weigh a ton. The short walk takes me longer than usual but finally I reach home and walk up the porch steps, stepping inside to the familiar warmth.

The house is dark and empty. Quietly I take off my outerwear and my shoes and walk to the kitchen, craning my neck to glance into the sitting room. Peeta isn't there. With a heavy sigh I look around and draw the conclusion that he's already in bed. I almost begin to cry again from sheer disappointment. I missed his birthday completely. Midnight isn't here yet but he's gone to bed. Looking around I see no signs of any dinner having been prepared, nothing out of the ordinary at all. He didn't want to celebrate today anyway so hopefully he just shrugged it off when I didn't show up and carried on as if it were any other day. Any other day like the recent days when I've been home late and missed dinner.

Buttercup is lying on the kitchen table and I shoo him down. He runs slalom between my legs and purrs slightly, a sound that I find reassuring.

"Did you at least wish Peeta a happy birthday?" I ask him with a sigh, leaning down to scratch him on the head. "Do you know if his day was good? God, Buttercup, my feet are killing me…"

I haven't had anything to eat so I open the refrigerator but find no leftovers from whatever Peeta had for dinner. I'm too exhausted to cook so I grab a slice of ham and wolf it down while I make my way up the stairs, each step feeling heavy, my whole body exhausted. The house is quiet and it's hours past when Peeta normally goes to bed so I open the bedroom door quietly and move silently to the bathroom. A quick glance at the bed confirms that Peeta already called it a night before I got home. Biting back my disappointment and fatigue I wash my face by the sink, use the toilet and brush my teeth. I stare at my own reflection for a full minute, about ready to cry again. This was not how I intended on ending this day.

When I lift up the covers and crawl into bed Peeta is on his stomach, face turned away from me. He's pretending to sleep. He does that sometimes, rarely, and I always let him think he's got me fooled but I can tell from the way he breathes that he's not asleep. If he wants me to think that he's sleeping he doesn't want me to disturb him. Pain shoots through my heart. He hasn't done this any other night when I've gotten in late. He's upset with me. It's not hard to guess the reason why. No doubt he actually did want to make something special of this day and I never showed up. Even if I give him a kiss and beg for his attention right now his birthday was over a few minutes ago and it's too late. Instead of all the great things I had planned for him this year I ended up inadvertently making his birthday something worse than it would have been if we just let the day go by unnoticed. That knowledge really hurts. The last thing I ever want to do is cause him pain. I want to be the opposite of that in his life – I want to be a source of happiness and comfort and pleasure. But I failed him today.

I bite my bottom lip hard, trying to keep myself from breaking down. I need his arms around me and his reassuring voice telling me it's alright but I've disappointed him and he wants his space. How can I ask him to tend to my needs when in his mind I must have abandoned him today? I want to curl up to him and apologise from the bottom of my heart and explain everything to him but I know that I will have to wait until tomorrow. If the only thing I can give him tonight is the space he's telling me he wants then I can't deny him that, no matter how much I need him.

I twist and turn for a while, my guilty conscience keeping me awake despite the fatigue in my limbs. Peeta makes no move to acknowledge that I've joined him in bed. When I do fall asleep I do so with the full knowledge that I let him down today and with the full intention of making it up to him in any way that I can.

I borrowed/ paraphrased a snippet from "the Brothers Lionheart", one I think I've used before actually. Astrid Lindgren fans might recognize which bit of dialogue I'm referring to.

Since this chapter ended up quite long I decided to go with the three-way split, meaning an epilogue will follow in roughly a week or two. Thanks for reading!