A/N: As some of you may have guessed, the last chapter was more of a filler if anything. lol. Honestly, I just wanted to get it up and be done with it because I have a hard time with Katniss. Anyway, another chapter for you good people. Reviews are appreciated. Helps me write ;)

This chapter is for my cousin, who loves drama. Not much else to say is there?

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, its characters, or places. Just a PC and an overactive imagination.

Chapter 7 – The Calm Before

Time can heal, but the scars only hide the way you feel,
And it's hard to forget how I left you hanging
On by a thread, when everything is said, I will regret it, yeah
I was doin' alright, thought I could make it,
Then I see your face and it's hard to fake it

"Crawling Back to You" Daughtry

I shouldn't be here. Those were the words being screamed in my head. That little angel sitting on my shoulder is jumping up and down, swinging his little harp and halo at me. I could tell that Katniss wasn't so sure about the idea of inviting me in, but I didn't turn her down. I knew she wasn't sure how she was taking my return and I'm probably taking advantage by being alone with her in her house. Before I walked in, I caught a glimpse of a curtain moving in a window next door. I expected Haymitch to be watching. He didn't trust me much fifteen years ago and he probably distrusts me more now. After all, I'm alone in Golden Boy's house with his wife. It isn't that Peeta trusts me. I'd be a fool to think he does. But he trusts Katniss. He trusts his wife enough to allow her to be alone with someone that not only loved her once, but she loved in return. I haven't deciphered that one yet.

I felt Haymitch's cold gray eyes following me until I crossed the threshold of the Mellark residence. There's something about him that just freaks me out. It has nothing to do with the fact he won the Games when the odds were, literally, doubled for him to have died in the arena. No. It's something else. I can't exactly put my finger on it, but there's something about him I know I wouldn't want to mess with. I'm glad to have escaped his watchful eyes when I enter Katniss's home. I wasn't exactly sure what to expect, but what's before my eyes definitely isn't it.

The plain white walls are covered with the most breath-taking paintings I've ever seen. Most of the paintings were of District 12. Not the reformed city outside the front door, but the broken, deprived, depressing District that struggled to stay alive. Each building, every person, every emotion is captured like a picture perfect memory on the canvas. The purpose of the paintings was obviously to get the viewer to feel something and maybe make them remember what their past was like. To never forget. The artist was unnaturally talented in capturing emotion and memories. It was pretty unnerving really.

"Peeta did them," Katniss says, as if she could tell what I was thinking. She smiles as she stares up at a picture above the fireplace. It was of the original Mellark Bakery on a rainy day. A skinny dark-haired girl is huddled by a tree and a blond boy stands a fair distance from her with what looks like burned bread in his hands. "Of all the things he paints, I love these the most."

"Why?" I'm compelled to ask. I really want to know. I don't think I'd be able to be surrounded by the past every day. To see what I've lost and what I had to go through…I couldn't do it.

"Because they're not of the Games," she said softly. Her eyes are fixated on the painting. "Or me. He loves to paint me. It's been his own sort of therapy since we won the Games."

We stand there staring up at the picture for a while. "That's you and Peeta isn't it?" I suddenly ask. I can see her nod in the corner of my eye.

"The first time he saved my life." She looks over at me, her eyes sad now. "I'm sorry, Gale."

"For what?" I ask as I turn toward her.

"For the other day. For…for the last fifteen years." I can see that she's really struggling. She hasn't had to deal with the lack of closure between us for a long time, but now that I'm standing right beside her, there's no running.

"I'm sorry too. I was upset and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. As for the last fifteen years…"I shrug, not exactly sure what to say. "I have no excuse, other than I'm stupid."

"I wrote to you."

I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "I know," is all I can say. She looks at me with this look that says she wants an explanation. "I'm sorry I didn't write back."

"Why didn't you, Gale?"

I didn't know the answer to that. For months, I sat at my desk with a blank piece of paper in front of me. I willed myself to pick up the pen and write something; anything. I just couldn't. I didn't know what to say and feared what I might. When she lost Prim and the possibility that my bomb could have killed her, we knew things would never be the same. I thought it was easier to just leave. To act as if we weren't important to each other. But we were. Answering her letter meant that there was something between us, even if it was long gone. It meant that I had walked out of her life when she needed me the most. It meant I would have to admit the mistakes I had made. I just wasn't ready for that. I'm not sure if I ever will be.

"I don't know. I know it's not the answer you were looking for, but it's the truth. I am sorry though. If it counts for anything."

She lets out a heavy sigh. She isn't happy with my answer, but she's accepting it. "How about I make us some tea and we can talk?" she asks. I'm thankful we're dropping the subject. I nod and she turns to get us some tea. "The living room is right in the other room. You might be more comfortable in there." I know what she's saying: I won't be surrounded by Peeta's memorial to the past. I gladly walk down the small hall into the next room.

This room is a lot different. The room is better lit, making it brighter. There are more paintings, but these aren't so…depressing. There are vibrant colors on the canvases: yellows, oranges, greens, blues. The furniture in the first room was a cream color (almost like the color of a ball of dough) as if only they only sit there when they have guests. Here, the couch is a light brown and made of a soft material. It looks like it was meant to be much more comfortable. It's obviously where they spend time with the kids. I can't imagine them allowing their son and daughter around white upholstery. The pillows thrown on the couch are shades of green, making it look almost like a tree. It's cute really.

I take this opportunity to take a better look around. The book shelf is mostly children's books. There are also a few ones on art, music, and even a cookbook or two. The collection of books Peeta and Katniss seem to have made themselves catches my eye. The leather bound journal that Katniss's father made on plants he's come across sits at the end of the row beside a book permanently stained with food dye. The name "Mellark" is printed down the spine in neat, bold letters. I figure it is Peeta's family's book of recipes. I spot an unlabeled book and curiosity gets the best of me. I pull it from the shelf and open it. I nearly drop it when a familiar set of bright blue eyes stare up at me. Prim's smiling face looks up at me from the page and I feel a chill run down my spine. I don't read what's on the page beside it, but flip through the book.

With each turn of the page, a new face stares up at me, each belonging to someone who died. Finnick, Rue, Thresh, Cinna. I wonder how or why they would have a book like this in their house, let alone why they would make one. When I get to the pages dedicated to Madge Undersee, I slam the book shut. I can't bear to see her face. My heart aches just thinking about her. She didn't have to die, but I couldn't save her. God knows I tried. I quickly replace the book when I hear Katniss returning. I manage to force a smile when she enters the room with two mugs in her hands.

"I'd offer you some food too, but we don't have anything prepared," she chuckles. "Peeta usually brings home some bread and dessert."

"Don't worry about it. I'm not very hungry anyway," I say as I take the cup from her. It's true. I'm not hungry. I actually don't think I could hold anything down now if I tried. "Thanks," I smile before taking a sip of the tea. I hope she doesn't notice my unease. "You have a nice house."

"Thanks," she says quickly. "Pe…" She stops herself from mentioning her husband again. "It wasn't my choice in décor."

"You have a choice in décor?" I ask, holding back my laughter.

"I wanted everything to be simple. Plain. But no. Some people want visitors to know we personalized the place." She shrugs. "I just told him not to put those paintings of the Games up and he could do whatever he wanted."

"Hey, why aren't there any pictures?"

"There are. The paintings."

"No, I mean real pictures."

"Cameras have been following us around since the day we were reaped. I don't want every moment of my life to be followed by a stupid camera. We have a few pictures." She pointed over at a table beside the couch. "There's the day Juliet was born, when Aden was born, a family picture Annie snapped of us when she came to visit this past summer, and…Peeta's and my wedding picture. The, um, one we did publically. You know, the one Plutarch insisted we have."

I just nodded. I had heard that they were planning to marry publically a few years ago, but that kind of news wasn't exactly important in District 2. If it wasn't a matter of national importance, we wouldn't hear about it until long after the fact. In this case, it was something I was very thankful for.

"It must have been some event," is all I can say.

"I guess," she says nonchalantly. "They just wanted us to do it for the sake of publicity. We'd actually been married for a while before that." I raised a brow. This I didn't know. She caught onto my shock quickly. "We got married a little after I wrote you. It was a small thing. Just Haymitch, Johanna, Annie and Finn, Delly, and my mom were there. We had our toasting and that was it." It was hard to miss the smile. She was really happy. I could tell that day truly was one of the best days of her life and it pains me to know that I wasn't part of it in anyway.

Another silence settles in the air. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but neither of us knew what to say. We both knew what we wanted to say: if I had written her back, she would have asked me to come. My response would have been the real question. The pain of losing her was still fresh. It was probably best that I wasn't. I was likely to have made a fool of myself. The long ring of Katniss's telephone cut through the air. She looks toward the kitchen, where the phone must be located, for a moment and turns back to her cup. I expect her to answer it, but she doesn't budge.

"What day is it?" she asks instead.

"Monday," I reply suspiciously.

"What time?"

I look at my watch and reply, "Twelve-thirty exactly." She just nods and sips her tea. "Aren't you going to get that?"

She shakes her head this time. "It's for Peeta," she replies simply.

"How do you…"

"I said it's for Peeta," she interrupts sharply.

I shut my mouth quickly and we listen to the phone ring three more times before it finally stops. I decide to drop the subject. There's no need to start another argument when we're actually getting along again. Though, curiosity is itching at the back of my mind. She knew that the call would be for Peeta. It had to have been a weekly thing because she wouldn't have asked for the date or time. But who would be calling Peeta that made Katniss so edgy and upset? For the briefest moment, my mind entertained the idea that perhaps Peeta was having an affair, but I knew Peeta. The sun rose and set on Katniss. He's loved her longer than anyone. He wouldn't be stupid enough to cheat on her and have his mistress call the house while his wife was home. Right?

"You still hunt?" I ask, needing to get my mind off of the thoughts of Peeta and adultery.

Katniss smiles again at the thought. "You know, there are some things that are still the same around here," she teases. "I go a few days during the week. It's easier now that Juliet is in school. I don't have to worry that Haymitch will lose her and or Aden while I'm gone."

"Ok, I have to ask. You really trust Haymitch with your kids?"

She looks at me as if another head has sprouted from my neck. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because he's Haymitch? Old, drunk, profane Haymitch Abernathy, bitter to everything around him."

She shakes her head. "Not anymore. Things have changed, Gale. If you came to visit more, you might know that."

"The trains work both ways, you know. You're always free to come to District 2."

She looks down at her cup in her hands. "No I can't," she whispers. "I'm still not allowed to leave."

My mouth goes dry. Katniss's confession catches me off guard. It's been fifteen years since she killed Coin in Snow's place. Panem has lived in peace for a decade and a half because of Katniss. I doubt people knew how cruel Coin could have been. Honestly, after having worked closely with her, I think we could have been headed toward another dictatorship. Maybe one worse than when Snow was president. Luckily, we'll never have to find out.

"I'm sorry," I say softly. "I thought…I didn't mean to…" She just shakes her head, understanding what I was trying to say. "I would have come home, but I wasn't ready. I have a lot of demons to face and they scare the hell out of me. I'm not ready to face them."

"Am I one of them?"

My throat tightens. She wants the truth; it's all she's ever wanted from me. "Yes." Her eyes are glued on the cup now. I'm afraid I may have hurt her with my answer, but I couldn't lie. She would know. "People were always careful not to talk about you around me. Most of them knew our past and I thought they weren't telling me because they thought I wouldn't care. It took something to happen with someone…important for me to see that they weren't telling me so I wouldn't be hurt."

"Your wife?" she asked looking at me finally. I nearly drop my cup. How did she know I had been married? I wasn't someone important enough for people to want to know. The only person that knew in 12 was… "Hazelle told Peeta."

"She told Peeta?"

"Well, not really. She came to the bakery to order a special cake and went on a trip. When she came back, she said the people it was for loved it. She saved up for it and he made up a special event at the bakery so she didn't have to pay full price. It was really good too. Buttercream and…"

"Hazelnut. With a white cake dipped in buttermilk. A pearl fondant with blue, yellow, and purple lilies." The realization hit us at the same time, but I was the one that said it aloud. "Peeta made my wedding cake didn't he?"

She was trying hard not to laugh at the irony of it all, but was failing miserably. We just laughed. The girl I first loved's husband unknowingly made my wedding cake. As we laughed, I couldn't help but feel as if a weight had lifted off my shoulders. I wasn't tense or afraid around her. I felt comfortable. Like I had when we were young. It felt good to be around her again, laughing like there wasn't a care in the world. Like so many years ago, we would have to come back to reality. There were deeper issues at bay.

"So where is Mrs. Gale Hawthorne?" she asks with an odd tone in her voice. I can't quite figure out what it is, but it is a bit unnerving.

"Back in District 2, I would assume," I reply. "But she isn't Mrs. Gale Hawthorne."

"Trying that thing where the wife keeps her maiden name? Peeta said I could, but I knew…"

"We're divorced," I interrupt. Katniss's mouth shuts quickly. "Um, it didn't work out so we divorced a few months ago."

"Oh, Gale, I'm sorry."

She covers my hand with her own and I feel my entire body heat up. Even after fifteen years apart, she still has an effect on me. I'm finding it very difficult to forget that I cannot win her affections. She isn't a girl I can court and eventually settle down with. She isn't just some guy's girl. She's a man's wife – Peeta Mellark's wife. She married him; not once, but twice. It isn't right for me to feel the way I do, but I can't help it. She's Katniss. She's that girl I hunted with in the woods every day for years. She's the girl I'd given my whole heart too when she had split hers into two, giving me one piece and the other – the bigger part – to Peeta.

I don't know what's come over me but I feel myself moving closer to her slowly. I can tell by her look that she doesn't realize what's going on. She doesn't know what I'm about to do. I don't even know. We won't find out because there's a cheerful rap at the door and Katniss quickly pulls her hand back and stands. I think she finally realized that my intentions may not have been so friendly a moment ago. I should feel embarrassed but I don't.

"I should get that," she says as she sets her cup down. She doesn't wait for my response before leaving the room.

I regain whatever is left of my sanity. I was telling myself that she was off-limits and a second later I was trying to…what was I trying to do? Kiss her? Take her away from Peeta? I let out a sigh because I never thought I would be that guy. I never thought that I would be trying to steal another man's wife, yet the thought is there. It's enough to make me feel dirty.

"What are you doing here?" I hear Katniss ask her visitor. "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

Suddenly, I feel panic rising. Is it Peeta? What would he do if he caught me in his house alone with his wife? She'd tell him about what happened between us. She'd tell him I tried to kiss her (though it's still debatable that's what I was doing). He'd kill me and Haymitch would help him bury the body. I'd never been one to run from a fight, but the feeling is growing. I'm ready to search for an exit until Katniss's guest walks in.

"I thought I'd come early and surprise you," the woman says. "Besides, I wanna see the little Peeta and Katniss. I went by the bakery, but Peeta looked mad. He was screaming at that boy again. What's his name? Rory? I don't know, but they were going at it." Her eyes are brown and wide-set. Her hair is short and spiky. Her frame is thin, but she's about as tall as Katniss. I know her. The moment she sees me, I know she knows me too.

"Johanna…" Katniss starts, but Johanna spots me.

She tilts her head to the side and raises a brow as I rise to my feet. "Well, what do we have here? Katniss, I didn't think of you as one to have an affair."