A/N: Just a few quick notes:
1) Yes, I know that I suck for not having updated in forever. The past month has been very busy and very stressful for me. I really hope that I can get the next chapter out a lot sooner.
2) Um, I feel bad for making some of you think that this might turn into an Everlark fic. I assure you that it won't. I did mention that there would be some one-sided Peeta/Katniss, but that's it. I added him into the story for friendly, platonic support only, because I could see him trying to help her even if he knew he had no chance with her (Which he doesn't. Sorry, Peeta).
3) I have about 4 or 5 chapters of this left to write. The following chapters will be much more eventful. I think I have the gender and name picked out for our Baby Everdeen-Hawthorne, but if anyone has suggestions, I will gladly consider them.
Seasons of Wither, Chapter 21
I've seen Gale riled up before—well several times really—but never, ever like this. While he had taken on the role as father-figure to his younger siblings at a very young age, I've never actually witnessed him snap on one of them. But I guess there's a first time for everything.
"You...signed up...for tesserae," Gale says slowly, allowing this shocking bit of information to sink in. "You...and Prim. You two signed up for tesserae?"
Rory rolls his eyes at his brother. "Yes, tesserae. You know, that grain that the Capitol sends to keep people like us from starving to death? You have a crap job working in the mines to support ten people, and it's not like your hunting skills are exactly impressive these days-"
In a matter of seconds Gale's hand is twisted into the collar of Rory's shirt. While Rory is a pretty skinny kid at age 12, he's only a few inches shorter than his brother and doesn't duck away at the intimidating gesture. He must have a lot of faith that his older brother won't hit him, but right now I'm not so sure.
But it's not Gale's stance that worries me most, it's the way that his voice booms, undoubtedly audible to everyone within the half-mile radius of our house.
"What the hell have you done, Rory!" he yells, and I flinch at his tone. "Do you know why I spent every spare hour of every day over the past five years out in those woods hunting? Why I work 18 hours a day down in the mines? So you would have a chance! And then, not only do you sign up for tesserae, but you drag Prim along with you. Were you out of your mind!" he demands, giving Rory a slight shove while tightening his grip on the the fabric of the boy's shirt.
The younger Hawthorne smacks Gale's hand away dismissively. Rory has always been a kid with nerve, probably got it from his older brother.
"Things weren't getting any better around here," he says. "I mean, look at your girlfriend. She looks like a pregnant twig! You want your kid to starve to death before it's even born? And Prim isn't much better; she's looked sick for weeks now. You could work 24 hours a day and still not afford to keep us all afloat. Besides, it was our decision to do it. Now can you just swallow your damn pride for once so we don't all have to die-"
I gasp as I witness Gale shove his brother with enough force to send him flying back into the porch railing. Rory emits a grunt before quickly righting himself.
"You have no idea what you've done, Rory! You haven't done anyone any favors! I signed up for tesserae because dad was dead and there was no one else. We had no one, and you do. This was never supposed to be an option for you!"
Rory just glares back at his older brother as he adjusts his shirt. "I'm not some dumb little kid. I can make my own decisions."
"You're a stupid 12-year-old!"
My eyes fall on Prim, who stands twisting the skirt of her dress in her hands nervously. When her eyes look up to meet mine, I realize that my heart is rapidly beating within my chest.
I shake my head at her, feeling as if I'm on the verge of an emotional breakdown. Everything I've always wanted to protect her from feels so imminent now. It was stupid to think I could keep her safe in a place like this—a place where people die meaninglessly every day.
"Why?" I croak out, but I can't even hear my own voice over the heated exchange taking place between Gale and his brother.
She looks down at her shoes.
"How many times?" I ask her when she doesn't answer right away, literally shaking at the thought of even one extra slip of paper in the bowl with my sister's name on it.
"Four," she answers quietly. "One you, Mother, myself, and the baby."
My fingers grow numb and my palms sweaty as I do the math to figure out how many times she'll be in when she's 18, if she even makes it that far.
"Katniss, it'll be okay. I wanted to do this for you. I wanted to contribute," she assures me, but her words only succeed at making me feel so much worse.
If I hadn't had gotten pregnant.
If I would have just denied myself that one selfish thing I'd done with Gale.
My own stupid actions are what caused this. I am completely to blame. Now my little sister—the person who means more to me than my own life—is basically risking her life to fix the terrible mess I've put us in. Now I understand where Gale's anger comes from, though the unbearable guilt that I feel affects me in a much different way.
It feels like my throat is closing up, and I begin to have trouble breathing as my legs go weak, giving out from beneath me before I fall roughly to my hands and knees. I keel over, holding my stomach as I brace myself on the old, splintered boards of our porch.
"Katniss!" Prim screams out, dropping down beside me, and suddenly all of the arguing stops at once.
"What's wrong?" Gale's voice rasps from across the porch.
He is there in a second, scooping me up off the floor and into his arms. Rory throws the front door of our home open, standing back to let us through. Hazelle and my mother are already making their way towards us, having heard the heated exchange outside, no doubt. As Gale takes me into the kitchen, Rory and Prim follow closely behind.
"What's wrong?" My mother asks him as he lies me down on the table.
"I don't know, she just collapsed."
I'm still struggling to catch my breath when my mother takes my wrist into her hand.
"Katniss. Katniss, you need to calm yourself down," she tells me as I begin to wheeze. "Are you having contractions?"
I shake my head.
"What was going on out there before she fell?" My mother asks us, but no one can seem to find the courage to speak up, and I'm still in no shape for talking. "Someone needs to tell me what's going on!" my mother demands again as she lies me back and fetches her old stethoscope from her bag and places it to my chest.
Rory scoots the tip of his boot across the floor before finally explaining.
"We, uh... Prim and I signed up for tesserae."
The stethoscope falls from my mother's fingers at the boy's confession, clanking loudly against the floorboards.
"You did what?" Hazelle demands, her voice cracking.
"We did what we had to do, okay?" Rory says defensively. "Everyone's going hungry, and we did the only thing there was left to do. It's not like we had a choice."
"That's stupid," replies Gale. "Everyone's got a choice," he spits.
Posy watches the whole exchange from the side of the room, fingers in her mouth and holding the old ratty teddy bear she always carries around.
"Vick, take her back to the bedroom," Gale tells the 11-year-old. He quickly nods, taking his little sister's hand and leading her to the back of the house.
By now my mother has calmed herself down enough to listen to my breathing as my pulse begins to slow.
"I think it's stress," she says, frowning as she folds her stethoscope in half before tucking it away. "Not that I can blame her. You told me you were going to the store for bandages and fever reducers, Prim. Signing up for tesserae isn't an errand you just run by yourself. What makes you think you can go and do this behind my back?"
I don't point out that I'd done the same at age 12, not that she's likely to remember that day.
Prim glances at Rory, biting her lip unsurely before looking back towards our mother. "I knew that we needed it, but I also knew that you and Katniss would never let me. So today after school, Rory and I agreed to go to the Justice Building on our own and sign up. I didn't mean to upset you so badly, Katniss!" she says as she emits a soft sob. "We didn't want to disappoint you guys, we only wanted to help!"
"So this was all Rory's idea?" Gale asks, shooting another glare towards his brother. "I asked you months ago to keep an eye on Prim, and this is how you do it, huh? Getting the dumb idea to-"
"It wasn't his idea," Prim admits weakly, tears rolling down her cheeks. "It was mine."
"And it was a good idea! Better than watching everyone slowly starve to death," Rory argues. "You might be okay with standing by while your girlfriend turn into skin and bones," he tells Gale, "But I, for one, am not."
"I am not your girlfriend!" Prim informs him, finally breaking down into full sobs.
"You two," Gale mumbles into the palms of his hands where he's now buried his face. Shaking his head, his arms drop back down to his sides. "We don't need the extra food, and you can't un-sign up for tesserae once you've taken it. Do you know how much anxiety I have the way it is? Katniss is still of reaping age for the next two years, and now you and Prim both have your names in the bowl multiple times! Do you realize how much more it's going to hurt this family if one of you gets sent off and never comes back!" he groans.
The idea of Prim being called up on that stage and shipped away to the Capitol to prepare for slaughter causes my throat to all but tighten up completely. My entire body shakes at the thought of my sweet, innocent little sister in the Hunger Games with 18-year-old male tributes he could snap her neck in one-
My arms are now masking my face as I try to ward off unwanted thoughts of my little sister being killed in the arena. It's like I'm living one of my nightmares, and in the midst of all the arguing taking place around me, I now realize that all of those terrible dreams I have been enduring for months are finally coming true.
Between Gale and his brother bickering, Prim offering and endless string of tearful apologies, and Hazelle just trying to make sense of it all, I feel like my heart is about to burst out of my chest.
It's my mother who finally has the good sense to yell at everyone to shut up.
The room goes silent in an instant.
"Katniss," she says my name gently as she pulls my arms away from my face. "I need you to breathe for me, sweetheart. Slow, deep breaths okay? You're panicking again, and the baby needs oxygen. Prim is here; she's safe."
Well, for now at least.
I feel a small hand begin to rub comforting circles on my shoulders.
"I'm so sorry, Katniss," Prim whispers. "I thought I was helping; I didn't mean to cause all of this trouble. I just didn't want to see you sick anymore. You never tell us when you're not feeling well, and well, when you were washing up the other day, I realized how frail you've gotten. I can see the bones in your chest and your hair is falling out. I thought it was worth the risk."
"It's not worth the risk, Prim," I whisper. "It's never worth the risk."
I'm still crying when she cradles my head in her arms, my own fat tears soaking through the rough wool of her cardigan.
"You should get some rest, Catnip," Gale tells me in a much calmer tone. "Your mother says the stress isn't good for the baby."
I go to stand, but Gale is afraid that I'll fall again and will have none of it. Instead, he scoops me up again into his arms and deposits me into my bed before kneeling at my side. The others busy themselves with cleaning up the mess in the kitchen that is still left over from dinner as Gale attempts to help calm me, his hands smoothing through my hair.
"This was never supposed to happen," I whisper as Gale's palm travels down my back is a soothing manner.
"I know," he agrees. "But none of this was ever supposed to happen. We're both making this a lot worse than it has to be," he says, taking a deep breath. "I know that you're scared for Prim. I'm just as scared for Rory. But I made it through with 42 slips, so maybe they'll be okay."
After the Hawthornes leave, I fall into a fitful slumber plagued by nightmares.
"You don't look so good," Madge tells me the next day at school as I stare across the cafeteria at the merchant kids' table, wondering what it would be like if the worse famine you've ever had to endure was the absence of preserves on your baked goods.
Delly Cartwright always has raspberry jam on her muffin.
"Bread?" Madge asks me, grabbing my attention while offering me a fresh slice, which I graciously accept. "Did something happen?"
My eyes find her blue ones across the table as I devour the soft, white baker's bread with a shrug.
"My sister signed up for tesserae yesterday. So did Gale's younger brother. We were really trying hard for it not to happen. They did it behind our backs."
Madge doesn't reply right away, maybe because she has no idea what it feels like to have someone you love sign up for tesserae.
"I'm sorry."
I shrug, because there's not much I can do about it now.
"I guess it was wishful thinking—assuming we could get by without it," I tell her with a sigh. "I guess it was my own fault," I admit, passing the palm of my hand over my abdomen. I'm usually not so self-pitying. I'd like to blame that on the hormones, but I know it isn't the case.
Madge bites her lip uncertainly for a moment before digging down into the backpack at her side, withdrawing six coins, and placing them into the palm of my hand. My eyes widen at the gesture.
"Madge-"
"You need it," she whispers adamantly.
"I can't-"
"Please, Katniss," she begs. "I don't think I could ever forgive myself if anything happened to you or your family when I had the means to help you all along."
"But I can't pay you back," I tell her, confused. "I have no way to repay you."
"You don't have to," she assures me. "I don't want anything in return—you're not in debt to me. I'm doing it because I want to and because I can...and because it's the right thing to do. Don't you know how friendship works, Katniss?"
I still feel awkward and confused as I pocket the coins.
"There's no shame in accepting help when you need it the most," she insists, but it's still too hard for me to grasp the concept of someone going out of their way to help me just out of the goodness of their heart.
I look up when I feel someone looking at me, and meet another pair of blue eyes staring at me from across the room before Peeta Mellark suddenly looks away.
Right after school I go to Gale's knowing that he'd met quota yesterday and will most likely already be home from the mines. As I stand on the Hawthorne's front porch, awaiting an answer, I can hear the sound of a shovel cutting through sod coming from the back of their home.
I leave my overloaded backpack on the porch, following the noise curiously. I find Gale piling a large mound of dirt over where he must have dug a hole in the ground earlier. I watch as he finishes up by packing down the dirt with the back of his shovel. He then straightens himself, stretching the soreness out of his muscles before looking up at me.
"What's going on?" I ask, nodding towards the loose pile of dirt at his feet.
With a sigh, he drops his shovel to the ground and walks towards me, wiping the sweat from his brow the the sleeve of his filthy miner's shirt.
"The dog, er...Rocky, died."
"What happened to him?" I ask, thinking of how upset the children are going to be when they return home.
He doesn't answer me right away, instead taking me by the arm and leading me up towards the house.
"Gale?"
He shakes his head. "Couldn't afford to feed him, Catnip," he voice struggles.
My mouth drops open as I shrug free of his grasp and stand back to stare at him, exasperated.
"Gale, please don't tell me you killed the kids' dog."
He blinks.
"You-you did, didn't you?" I'm completely shocked by his act of cruelty towards his siblings' beloved pet. Okay, sure, I did try to kill Buttercup a few years ago right after Prim had found him, but I was a scared little kid with a huge burden on my shoulders at the time. And it's not like Buttercup is a prized companion anyway.
"Don't say it like that," Gale grumbles. "The thing was skin and bones. No one else would take him. It was either let him slowly starve to death or put him out of his misery. I think the latter was much less cruel."
There's so much irony in that statement that I can hardly bare it.
"They cut back hours at the mines this week," he mutters. "All of this worrying about trying to meet quota, and once we do, we end up screwing ourselves over."
I sit down next to him on the porch as he finally relaxes for what is probably the first time today.
I hate the hopelessness of everything. Trying to figure out what else we can do to make things easier, and coming up with nothing.
"Have you checked the fence lately?"
Gale looks up in an instant. "You stay away from the fence, okay? I mean it, Katniss. Someone knows we've been out there, and it's not worth it. They'll execute you whether you're pregnant or not."
Staring down at my lap, I nod.
"I picked up some things after school," I suddenly remember, fetching my backpack from Gale's front step. With a frown, he accepts it from me and opens it up to peak inside. It's filled with the least expensive foods I could find this time of year—canned vegetables and fatty cuts of meat. It's nothing fancy, but I was able to spread the six coins pretty far with my frugality.
"How'd you get this?" he asks.
"Madge. She wanted to help, so she-"
Gale shoves the bag roughly back towards me.
"Take it back," he snaps.
"Take it back? Are you insane?"
"We don't accept charity," he reminds me.
"I know that, Gale, but that's before we started struggling to feed our own siblings. Before Prim and Rory signed up for tesserae. Before you had to kill your starving dog and bury it in the backyard. The mayor has more than enough food to eat, and Madge just wants to help-"
Gale stands quickly. "We don't need anything from them, okay? People like the Undersees are the reason half of 12 are starving to death! We're better than that, Katniss. Now take it all back to them or I'm going to dump it all over by the slag heap!"
And then he escapes back into his house, slamming the door behind him.
I know better than to try and follow him.
I lie in bed that night, exhausted, but my mind is racing so quickly that I can't seem to fall asleep. I think about Gale and his pride and how important it is to him to be able to provide for his family on his own. It's the sort of determination I've always found so admirable about him, but right now it's only holding us back.
I didn't take the food back to Madge's. Unlike Gale, I can easily swallow my pride if it means keeping my sister full. I wanted to leave some with the Hawthorne children, but of course Gale would have none of it. But maybe I could unload some on Rory Monday at school; get him to sneak it into the house. Even if Gale refuses to eat it, I'd like to at least keep his younger brothers and sister fed.
Mother and Prim are sleeping in their bed across the room when I hear a faint tap on the windowsill. For a minute, I assume it's just the sound of the wind which often shakes the tin roof of our home on breezy autumn nights. But when I hear the sound again, I finally manage to roll myself out of bed before pulling back the curtain to see what it is.
Gale is standing on our porch in the moonlight, his arms curled around himself and holding the large sack I recognize as his game bag limply at his side. With a sigh I walk to the front door to allow him in.
"Gale, do you know how late it is?" I begin, but I barely finish my question before he pulls me against his chilled body and wearily wraps me into his arms.
"I love you so much," he breaths into my ear. "Do you know how much I love you?"
I have to wonder where this sudden reminder of his undying love for me comes from. Hadn't we just been in an argument six hours prior?
Scrunching up my nose and acknowledging how un-Gale like this is, I push him at arms length as I stare into his bloodshot eyes. He's unsteady on his feet and slurring his speech and it only takes me a moment to realize what, exactly, it is that's wrong with him.
"You're drunk!"
He offers me an impish smile, not acknowledging my appalling accusation.
"You're so beautiful, Catnip," he goes on, cupping my chin into his hands. "We're going to have a beautiful daughter."
I push his hands away from myself, disgusted.
"Gale, you need to go home. Sleep this off, " I tell him, still in shock. Gale has always held a a strong disgust for drunks—never understood the point of it when so many people can't even afford to put food on their tables. And hardly anyone in 12 can afford the bootleg liquor with the exception of Cray and Haymitch Abernathy or other Capitol officials. How he had even managed to get his hands on enough alcohol to actually become intoxicated was beyond me.
Instead he pushes past me and into the sitting room before plopping himself on the couch. Sighing and wiping the weariness from my eyes, I follow him.
Gale is drunk. How on earth am I going to explain this to my mother? She's already angry enough at him the way it is, and her finding out the father of her grandchild is intoxicated certainly won't put him in her good graces.
"Why don't you love me, Katniss?" Gale asks me before I can even suggest that he take off his especially muddy boots. He's been to more than the Hob tonight.
"Wh-what?" I stutter, a little peeved at him for ignoring the situation at hand.
"You wanted me to love you, but you don't love me back," he slurs.
My mouth gapes slightly, and I stare at him speechlessly.
"Do you know how long I've loved you?" he asks me. "I couldn't even tell you because I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same," he admits, letting out a sarcastic chuckle. "That day out in the woods, when you first kissed me? I thought that it was real. I thought it was because you," he tells me, poking me lightly in the chest, "wanted to kiss me."
"I did-"
"You did it because you felt too innocent. You felt weak. You had something to prove."
I sit up, alarmed and insulted. "You have no right to tell me how I feel, Gale."
"You certainly don't know yourself."
I frown, shaking my head at him.
"I never said that I didn't love you."
"And you never said that you did."
I find myself unable to meet his heavy gaze and quickly look away.
"It's not that easy, Gale," I mumble, playing with the thin fabric of my sleeping gown as my face heats at our awkward conversation.
"Why not?" he asks me. "Why can't it be that easy? It's not hard to love someone, if you let yourself..." he goes on, looking at me with the saddest expression I've ever seen.
"I...care...about you," I finally admit, choosing my words carefully. I can't tell him what he wants to hear. I can't say those words unless I'm certain, because once you do, there's no taking them back.
Gale's mouth forms a tight, thin line. "Of course you do," he says spitefully, suddenly pushing away from me.
My heart sinks when I realize that I've still hurt him.
"You don't know!" I exclaim as I reach out to grasp his shoulders. "Okay? You don't know what it's like to love someone and have them disappoint you. To put all of your trust into a person when you need them the most, and have them leave you behind."
"My father died in that blast too, Katniss," Gale says dryly. "People aren't going to stop dying just because you love them."
"I know," I whisper. "But I wasn't talking about my father."
The room grows eerily silent, the howling wind outside and the ticking clock on the wall the only sounds to be heard.
I've told Gale how I can't forgive my mother. I've explained to him that even though I want so badly to, some things you just can't forget. I want to believe that she's really here for me now, but I feel like if I try to trust her again, I'll end up sorely disappointed.
And if the very person who gave you life lets you down, who can you trust?
"I'll never leave you behind," Gale finally tells me. "I'm going to do everything that I can to make sure that you never have to suffer again." And there's no doubt in my mind that, even though he's wasted right now, he still means what he says. Gale has sacrificed so much for myself and my family—working endless hours at a job he loathes, making sure that I stay fed, taking care of my mother and Prim even though he has no obligation to either of them.
His eyes are glazed over, and I can tell how tired he must be. Despite Gale's current state of inebriation, I find my way into his arms anyhow. He holds me for a good while, his face buried into the crook of my neck and my hard, massive belly sandwiched between us.
"Why won't you marry me, Catnip?" he asks me in a whisper, but I don't answer him. Instead, I lie there, squeezed tightly in his arms before I feel the even, steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling and I know that he's fallen asleep.
When I'm certain that he's out for the night, I scoot off to my bed to find a more comfortable sleeping position for my pregnant body. My back can't tolerate the awkward position of sleeping sitting up anymore, as I learned a few weeks ago in Panem History class.
When I wake in the morning, Gale's still out cold and snoring loudly. And that's when the burlap sack he'd left by the kitchen door last night catches my eye. Curiously, I pick up the half-empty bag and peek inside, expecting to find maybe an empty ale can or a half-flask of white liquor that would need to be poured out.
I gasp loudly when I find the remains of a freshly-killed chicken instead.