A/N: A really long one - but I couldn't cut it off or break it up. All the dialogue here comes directly from Catching Fire, and are Suzanne Collins' words, not mine. I'm just trying to capture Gale's perspective.
As usual I'm up before dawn on Sunday, heading out into the woods.
I haven't seen Katniss since the Victory Tour, since Peeta proposed to her. I don't know if she'll be in the woods today, or even if I want her to be. Of course I want her to be there, she's still my Catnip, right? But I couldn't face the Harvest Festival or that welcome dinner, seeing her with her new fiancé. Ugh, I hate that word. At least in connection to them. Of course I want her to be here. I need her to enlighten me as to how exactly she could possibly want to be engaged to him. She at least owes me some explanation, doesn't she?
I go to our usual meeting place, as I always do, hoping she'll come. As I approach, though, I see she's already come and gone. There's a pair of fur-lined gloves, a flask of hot tea, food and three twigs in the snow, pointing off to the east. It's a message from Katniss, for me to follow. If she wants me to follow, of course I'll go.
Soon into the walk, I hear the unmistakable gobbling of wild turkeys. It's a small group of young males. Just as I take aim with my bow, something startles them and I'm just able to quickly take the largest of them down. I sling the turkey up to my belt as usual, figuring I'll be able to get a good price from Peacekeeper Cray, and continue in the same direction as before, cautious for any sign of whatever startled the gobblers. I'll sell the turkey to Head Peacekeeper Cray. Unlike some families, mine still relies on the snares and hunting for our livelihood, and selling to Cray has the added benefit of lessening the chances he'll ever enforce any of the many laws I'm breaking when I hunt.
By the time I see the old cabin at the lake, and guess this must be where she's led me, I could have finished the snare run. The days are getting short, so the time counts all the more today. I can't imagine why she'd drag me way out here. Whatever it is, it had better be good.
As I approach the cabin, I see the thin wisp of smoke coming from the chimney, though it's mostly obscured by fog and I don't notice it until I'm pretty close. Still, it seems soft for her to build one. She can't have been here long. Can't she stand a little cold anymore? The window on this side of the cabin is broken. I wonder how she knows about this place, if it's something her father showed her or if she found it on her own. She's never told me about it, so I'm guessing her dad brought her. Otherwise she'd have told me, right? I didn't think we kept secrets from each other out here. This just reminds me of how much it seems she's kept from me recently, and fuels my anger and frustration at everything I've been through over her.
I'm in the doorway about to tear into her for dragging me out here, for coming out here in the woods when she doesn't have to, for being only halfway present, for agreeing to marry that baker boy when she should know I'm the one who truly loves her, when she blurts out, "President Snow personally threatened to have you killed."
Well, that's not what I expected. But this is Panem, and I can't think of anything too low for our President. Still, how am I supposed to interpret that?
"Anyone else? I ask, obstinately.
When she mentions our families, though, I have to relinquish some of the bitterness. I know Katniss would do anything for Prim, and I'm the same - the idea of my family singled out pulls me up short. I'd never hold that against her.
"Unless what?" I ask, still not understanding.
"Unless nothing, now." She doesn't even try to explain. What's wrong with her? What am I supposed to do with that?
After a few minutes, it seems clear she's got nothing else, or if she does, she doesn't know how to tell me. There's nothing I can do about any of this, it's so useless I can't help but apply my usual sarcasm, so I quip, "Well, thanks for the heads-up."
She turns and I hope she sees I'm trying, desperately, to find a reason to stay. She smiles at me, and a little of the tension breaks. "I do have a plan, you know." She says.
"Bet it's a stunner" I snark, tossing the gloves to her. I don't want them. "Here. I don't want your fiance's old gloves." I almost choke on the word fiancé.
"He's not my fiancé. That's just part of the act. And these aren't his gloves. They were Cinna's." Finally she says something that makes some kind of sense. I'm relieved the engagement isn't real.
Naturally, I take the gloves back. They are luxurious, something we wouldn't even be able to buy here in district 12, even if we could afford them. And I have nothing against Cinna.
Then Katniss lays it on me. Snow's anger about the trick with the berries, the visit to her house, the fact that he knows about the kiss. The kiss – the very reminder embarrasses me, let alone knowing that Snow knows about that kind of stuff here.
Back on that first day I saw her after the games, things seemed to be getting back to normal between us. It had been so long since we'd been alone together, she had always been surrounded by her camera crews and whatnot. I knew I had to tell her how I felt, while I still had a chance, with the whole Peeta thing and her being a victor now. Until that day I hadn't even gotten to talk with her alone. So before we went back into town, while she was rambling about taking over the snare run, I just did it. I kissed her.
It was weird, though. She hadn't exactly kissed me back, but she hadn't pushed me away either. In my experience, it's usually one or the other, and you know where you stand. But not Katniss. So I'd just told her, "I had to do that, at least once" before I stalked off to lick my wounds. I hadn't dared bring it up again. I kept hoping she would. She still came to the woods, and I knew she wasn't spending time with Peeta. I thought maybe she just needed time. So I pretended nothing had happened and waited, still trying figure out what she wanted from me, hoping she would see that we belonged together, but she never said anything. She never came for me, never told me what she thought or felt toward me. And then there was the Victory Tour, and there she was on Peeta's arm again. I couldn't bear it.
I can't look at her thinking about that kiss, so I tuck the gloves in my pocket and empty out the bag of food Katniss had left. It's late enough, we might as well have some lunch, and I need to be doing something with my hands.
She says the engagement was just the last attempt to pacify Snow, but it failed.
I stop her once she's covered the whole victory tour. She says she's not done, but I'm not sure I could absorb any more.
"Let's skip ahead to this plan of yours," I suggest. It's what I care about. I need to know what she wants from me.
"We run away."
"What?" I'm completely stunned. Did I hear right? She wants to run away? Together?
"We take to the woods and make a run for it. You said yourself you thought that we could do it! That morning of the reaping. You said—"
I lock my arms around her and pull her off her feet, cutting her off. She wants to run away. With me, just like I'd suggested. Like I'd been wanting to do for so long. I laugh with the surprise of it, spinning her in my arms.
"Okay, let's run away." I agree, elated.
"Really? You don't think I'm mad? You'll go with me?" She asks as if she still doubts me. How could she still doubt me? Haven't I been here all along waiting for her?
"I do think you're mad and I'll still go with you. We can do it. I know we can." I declare. "Let's get out of here and never come back!" I've never been so sure of anything. She's choosing me, just when I thought she was turning away, she's brought me out here to tell me, in her own strange and wonderful way, that she wants to be with me.
She wants me to be sure, because we both know how hard it will be with the kids, but I've thought about that before, and our families can handle themselves. Katniss' mom will probably have it the hardest, but I watched a lot of the games with her and Prim, and I know they'll go along with it. And we'll help them. I know we can do it.
"I'm sure. I'm completely, entirely, one hundred percent sure." I assure her, pulling her into me, lowering my forehead to hers. My Katniss, my Catnip. It's such a perfect moment, I can't help myself. "I love you," I whisper.
It's a mistake. After a tense pause, she says, "I know." Which is about the last response I'm looking for. It hits me right in the heart, and I let go of her.
She grabs my hand, repeating, "I know! And you… you know what you are to me."
I pull out of her grasp, because I guess I do know what I am to her. I'm a hunting partner. I'm a friend, at best. But she's never shown the slightest indication of anything more. The cold truth cuts through all my daydream fantasies.
Uncharacteristically, she keeps talking. "Gale, I can't think about anyone that way now. All I can think about, every day, every waking minute since they drew Prim's name at the reaping, is how afraid I am. And there doesn't seem to be room for anything else. If we could get somewhere safe, maybe I could be different. I don't know."
I don't want her to be afraid, I really don't. I want to comfort her, but obviously that's not going to work. I don't know if I can do this, not right now. It would be terrible to go to the games. I try to remember that. But even that reminds me of all those hours she spent with Peeta in that cave. She didn't seem too afraid then. I don't know how love works for her, but for me it's not something I have to think about. It's just there, whether I think about it or not. I turn back to the fire, trying to hide my devastation. But I can't turn away from the barest hope that she might still want me. I choke out, "So we'll go. We'll find out." Then I change the topic to something easier to handle, convincing my mom to come.
She thinks her mom won't want to go either, but I know she'll go, if that's what Katniss wants, and I tell her so.
I think I've found some new balance between us, at least to get through this conversation. I can deal with logistics. I can set aside my feelings and give her time. Again. At least, I thought I could until she brings up Haymitch.
"Haymitch? You're not asking him to come with us?" I ask accusingly. She's not talking about my plan to run off together. She's got her own plan. But it's when she says his name that I can't contain hold on to the dim hope anymore.
"What?" she says, as if she has no idea why I'd be upset learning that she wants her pretend fiancé running off with us.
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize how large our party was," I snap angrily. I can't help it. I can't help my jealousy, after having to watch the two of them, cuddled up in the cave together, the Victory Tour, everything. All those kisses.
How can she think it's a good idea to take Mellarks into the woods? When I warn her about the all-too-true dangers of inviting the Mellarks to the woods, and ask her what happens if Peeta decides to stay, her voice cracks when she says, "then he stays." She does love him. Or, like him, at least. I don't want to know, but I can't stop myself.
"And me, would you leave me? Just if, for instance, I can't convince my mother to drag three young kids into the wilderness in winter."
"Hazelle won't refuse. She'll see sense," Katniss says avoiding the real issue.
It's unbelievable. She can't even give me a real answer. She still won't .. or can't … choose between us. How can she let the Capitol decide her life for her like this? Anger possesses me completely. "Suppose she doesn't, Katniss. What then?"
"Then you have to force her, Gale." She argues angrily back at me. "Do you think I'm making this stuff up?"
My jaw clenches. She's not making it up, but that's not the point! Why can't she see that? "No. I don't know. Maybe the president's just manipulating you. I mean, he's throwing your wedding. You saw how the Capitol crowd reacted. I don't think he can afford to kill you. Or Peeta. How's he going to get out of that one?" I ask accusingly.
She practically shouts back,"Well, with an uprising in District Eight, I doubt he's spending much time choosing my wedding cake!"
An uprising? What? An uprising would change everything. It's what I've waited for my whole life. Suddenly I'm completely quiet. "There's an uprising in Eight?"
"I don't know if it's really an uprising. There's unrest. People in the streets—" Katniss says – I can see she didn't mean to tell me. She knows how I feel about the Capitol, why would she hide this from me?
I grab her by the shoulders, solemnly asking, "What did you see?"
"Nothing!" she squeaks. "In person. I just heard something. I saw something on the mayor's television. I wasn't supposed to. There was a crowd, and fires, and the Peacekeepers were gunning people down but they were fighting back…" She bites her lip, looking for a way out, but I'm hanging on her every word again.
"And it's my fault, Gale. Because of what I did in the arena. If I had just killed myself with those berries, none of this would've happened. Peeta could have come home and lived, and everyone else would have been safe, too," she cries.
Her fault? Doesn't she see this is what we need? How could she want to be dead, to think we'd be better off if she'd killed herself in the arena? I mean I hate the very idea of those berries, but they got her home. She's alive. And now she thinks it would have been better to die and send Peeta home? How can she think that? How can she feel blame for the uprising, because she wouldn't die? An uprising doesn't mean saving one life. It means real change. It would mean our families never facing reapings again. Yes, people will die, but we die anyway – we die of starvation, we die in the mines, we die in their cursed hunger games.
But somehow she doesn't see that. She just sees more bloodshed. This is what she's been carrying around, alone. This is why she doesn't "have time" to think about love.
"Safe to do what?" I ask quietly. I have to make her see that if she sparked the districts to action, it's a gift, not a curse. I spend my whole life trying to protect Vick and Rory and Posy, just like she would do anything for Prim. But I thought I'd be watching reapings for years just praying they don't get called. Even with the talk in the mines, I hadn't really grasped the potential.
"Starve? Work like slaves? Send their kids to the reaping? You haven't hurt people—you've given them an opportunity. They just have to be brave enough to take it. There's already been talk in the mines. People who want to fight. Don't you see? It's happening!" I can't keep the excitement from my voice. "It's finally happening! If there's an uprising in District Eight, why not here? Why not everywhere? This could be it, the thing we've been—"
"Stop it!" she interrupts. "You don't know what you're saying. The Peacekeepers outside of Twelve, they're not like Darius, or even Cray! The lives of district people—they mean less than nothing to them!"
"That's why we have to join the fight!" I insist.
She yells back desperately, "No! We have to leave here before they kill us and a lot of other people, too!" Why is she so adamant? Can't she see what this means?
I can't make her see it. She's heard all my arguments against the Capitol before, a million times. I thought she agreed. But I know that if she wants to run away right when there's hope for an uprising, she doesn't see what I do. I push her away from me. "You leave, then. I'd never go in a million years."
She still argues, "You were happy enough to go before. I don't see how an uprising in District Eight does anything but make it more important that we leave. You're just mad about—" She cuts herself off, too late. And I am, I am mad, but right now I'm mad because she doesn't want the uprisings, doesn't understand what they could mean. "What about your family?" she asks.
"What about the other families, Katniss?" I push back, disgusted that she can't see the bigger picture. "The ones who can't run away? Don't you see? It can't be about just saving us anymore. Not if the rebellion's begun!"
Katniss, with those berries, she admitted herself that she sparked this. Even President Snow thinks so, that's the only reason he's trying to manipulate her. I shake my head at her, pleading, "You could do so much."
But my words don't move her. She's not interested in the uprising, just in saving herself and her precious friends. She's not the same, she's not my Catnip. Snow's manipulations have changed her, turned her into a ghastly shell of the old Katniss. I throw the gloves in her face, spitting out, "I changed my mind. I don't want anything they made in the Capitol."
I take off back into the woods. She's wasting my time talking about running away when what we need to be doing is organizing our own uprising. Would the miners rebel against the Capitol? I know some of them would. Would it be enough?
I'm not interested in hunting now, but I force myself to stop at enough snares to collect a couple of rabbits for my family. I race back through the woods, depositing my bow and arrows in their usual hollow log. I take the rabbits to Ma, and hurry out again. I'll explain things to her later. I still have the wild turkey, anyway. I might as well sell it to Cray. I'll get whatever pennies from him I can before we're on opposite sides of a war.
I stride confidently through the Seam, my mind already racing with who to go to first, how we can unite the miners in a revolt. I head straight to Peacekeeper Cray's lodgings, knocking loudly on the door. Then the door opens, and I'm looking into the unfamiliar black eyes of a new head Peacekeeper.