Gale

"No."

The word is out of my mouth before Katniss is even done explaining. I storm off in the opposite direction, away to the door of her Victor's Village house. She knows how much I'm against the Victory Tour, knows more than anybody else how much I despise this cruel tradition of remembering the 23 children—or in this case, victors—being sacrificed for the Capitol's amusement. And now she wants me to take the front seat for it?

Get real, Catnip.

"Wait, Gale, please!" she cries out, and by the rustling behind me I can tell she's trying to follow. With the speed and condition she's in, I doubt she'll get far from the village before some Peacekeeper tracks her down and drags her back. She gets a hold of my arm and pulls me back into the house, looking at me with sad, pleading gray eyes. "Gale, I talked to Effie, she says it's fine, really, it's no—" she begs, rushing. I let out a loud, sarcastic laugh in reply.

"Oh, she says it's fine? I get the honor—no, the privilege—to go out and celebrate the deaths of all those innocent people?" I demand, putting my hands on my hips accusingly. I don't dare look at Katniss though; I know if I do, and if I see the desperation in her eyes, it'll only force me to agree with her plans. "Katniss, this isn't about permission!" She flinches, knowing that I usually say her real name for her safety or if I'm upset.

"Gale, I don't think you understand!" she says quietly, tears brimming over her eyelids. I look at her out of respect, and try to focus on her nose, ignoring her saddened gaze. "Last year…" She takes a deep, shaky breath, then begins again. "Last year, the only reason I didn't go crazy—didn't go completely insane from my nightmares—was because of Peeta." My jaw clenches at his name, but she ignores it, just like I've been ignoring her own signs of weakness. "He was my…my only…anchor to real life. And now he's gone, and I can't go there by myself, Gale."

I risk a look at her eyes, and I immediately realize how selfish I'm being. My best friend, the girl I love, is being shipped around Panem, becoming subject to a different kind of torture, and I'm actually willing to sit by and watch—literally—in the comfort of my own home, seeing as she slowly deteriorates back into the empty shell she was only weeks ago. "Fine," I growl in the lowest voice I can muster. Then I point a finger at her before she can say anything, and add, "But I'm not going to let them groom me!"

She actually smiles and flings her arms around my neck, bringing me down to her level. I'm so surprised I find myself wrapping my arms around her waist, and I'm taken back to another time we were this close together, rejoicing in the chance of leaving our flawed, brittle little district. Suddenly I remember what else happened that night. I love you. I'm actually considering whether or not to test that option again, now that she's not being forced to fake being in love with Peeta, when I feel it. Them, actually. Her lips, soft and light, brushing over mine. I can sense her smile in the movement, smile myself in return. Suddenly her eyes burst open and she steps away, leaving me standing there confused. It's not until I see how she's averting her gaze and blushing ever so lightly that I put two and two together.

She's embarrassed.

Suddenly I hate the way that she's hastily combing her fingers through her undone braid, the awkward silence that falls. Why does she feel so guilty kissing me? It's not like it's the first time. "Catnip, hold on!" I call out to her, rushing to follow her into the kitchen where she's busily stacking cups and plates into different piles, though I can tell she's waiting for me to continue talking. "That was—why did you—"

She turns around abruptly, and I can see that her face is brilliantly red. "I don't know, Gale. I honestly don't. I have too much on my plate right now—the Victory Tour, being confined to the district and this damn house—to think about romance." She spits out the word disgustedly, and then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as if to rid herself of the taste.

I finally am able to process what she's said, and my eyebrows shoot up in confusion. "But…Katniss," I say incredulously. "You kissed me."

She freezes, and I know she's trying to piece it together. She kissed me. Not the other way around. But why is it so hard for her to remember that? "Oh," she says quietly, and looks up at me apologetically. "I did. I'm sorry."

I roll my eyes, frustrated. Why is she sorry? Why does she feel so damn guilty? "Stop saying sorry," I growl under my breath, leaning on the kitchen counter. She sighs and shuts the cupboard, then wipes her hands on the apron I hadn't even noticed she was wearing and makes her way to the table, sitting at one end. I sit at the other. "Why is it so wrong for us to kiss?"

"Because we're cousins, Gale," she retorts coldly, fixing me with a look that suggested I stop questioning her. "We're cousins, and, at least for the time being, I have to grieve. You can't let me slip like that again."

"But why not?" I demand, becoming increasingly angry. She's just trying to please the Capitol, but, aside from a few empty threats and the total replacement of our Peacekeeper force, they've done nothing to make me question my ability to ruin all their perfect, pristine little plans. "Just because of the Capitol? Is that it? You're just going to sit here and play the good little widow, while—Oh, get this, you weren't even married!" I finally just allow myself to explode, say all the things I've been holding back since her first kiss with Peeta.

She shakes her head in disbelief to my acclamations. After I'm done shouting and settle down, I realize how much steam I've been boiling up. She looks at her hands remorsefully and says in a low voice, "You don't know what they're capable of."

"Then enlighten me," I hiss sarcastically, leaning across the table. Though I meant it as a mean comment, I couldn't help the curious tone that escaped. What were they capable of? Killing innocent children every year? I knew that. "Just what are they capable—"

"Darius," she says finally, her voice strong and firm and cold, her eyes staring at me with a hard, intense look. "Darius is what they're capable of. He's an Avox, and you will be too, if you don't play the good little cousin."

Throwing my own words back at me. Huh. Go Katniss. I didn't think she had it in her. But then my mind puts the pieces together, and I stand up, even more infuriated than before. "What do you mean, an Avox?" I ask in the lowest voice I can muster. She quickly explains to me, and by the end of her speech I'm so repulsed by the Capitol that I sink back into my seat. "Is there anything else I should know?" I ask finally. She sneaks a look at me, then glances out the window just as a couple of Peacekeepers march by the window, staring indoors. One elbows the other, and laughs, and they shake their heads in disbelief and continue to walk.

At first it seems she's going to shake her head, but she changes her mind and says instead, "Do you remember District 13?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: You guys all probably hate me (maybe) for procrastinating, but understand that that is not the case at all! I've had some…complications and haven't been able to update. Anyways, would this count as a cliffhanger? And as always, to my anon reviewer that I can't PM:

noname: I haven't had the chance to read it yet, but I will, when I have more time. And thank you! And yes, his house is bugged, but less so than the one at the Victor's Village. (Even then, they still don't talk too much in his house anyways.)

I'll try to update ASAP!