It's been five years since my return to District 12. Five years of relearning, five years of growing, five years of trying to put what is left of myself back together again. It's been a lot of sleepless nights, and a lot of moments that Peeta and I have to work through. He's come a long way in that time, but it's harder sometimes than others. Some days we need a little bit of time to ourselves, not because we don't love each other, and not that we don't get split up enough during the day with him at the Bakery and me in the garden, but for our own peace of mind.
Peeta has worked so hard to come back. I laugh now at the thought, but thinking that Snow had completely made him forget he loved me, I was right…no one could do that. We've had time enough to talk about the things he went through, but even that is little bit, by little bit, because the reality of it is sometimes too much for him. We spend our nights in the kitchen of our house - he moved in with me after about four years of sleepovers - we manage the nightmares together. Not as often as they once were, we've pretty much lived through the worst of it. I now know what Peeta meant when he said all those years ago, "My nightmares are usually about losing you, I'm okay when I realize you're here." It's true though, he's here. Not altogether whole, but he's mine, and no one can ever take him from me again. That will never happen again. I won't let it.
I've spent the last two hours out in the meadow, my meadow. I brought Peeta here almost immediately, because it's quiet and serene and it's somewhere you can feel safe, and protected, and if you're going to cry or struggle through something, this is the place to do it. The Mockingjays can still be heard singing from time to time. Peeta loves my singing, so whether I like it or not, I've become something more of a singer - but only for Peeta, and only when we're alone. I don't sing for anyone else, no one else needs to hear it. Peeta keeps telling me that I'll put a baby to sleep with ease, but I'm not ready for that yet. I will say the idea doesn't terrify me quite like it did before, because there are no more Hunger Games, there's no way that any child of ours would be forced to go through what we are. I know they teach about it in school, so that's something we would have to explain, but I can live with that.
I make my way back from the meadow now and head straight to town. It's been slow, and arguably kind of painful, rebuilding. It took us weeks to clear away all the bodies and it took a toll on Peeta and I, that we hadn't anticipated and made it harder for the entirety of the time. It was my fault of course, that they bombed the district, that they killed nearly every soul that lived there. I think the hardest area to clean up was the Bakery. I never liked Peeta's mother. His father was always kind to me, but I suppose that was in part because of my mother. His brothers, well, they were another thing all together. They didn't make it. Not a single one. Peeta immediately broke into tears when we discovered all the bones in one corner, right by the stairs to the cellar. They must have thought that they might make it, if they could only get down to the cellar. Unfortunately, they weren't fast enough, or maybe the Capitol was purposeful, maybe that was the first place that the bombs dropped.
The second most awful place, though I'd argue it would probably tie with first, was the school. So many bodies didn't make it out of there. A small handful of the district came back, not everyone, and I don't blame them, the destruction was a lot to handle. However, the more that we've done, the more they've started trickling back to District 12. For a long time people were rooming in the other Victors Village houses, because there simply was nowhere else to go, arguably, that's why Peeta eventually gave his up. It didn't make sense to take up two houses, when we were so comfortable in one. He wasn't attached to it, there were no memories there for him, so he moved in with me, without complaint.
Haymitch, while he still drinks, is not so heavy a drinker anymore. He'll come over for dinners once a week, it was more frequent at one point, when he wanted to talk to Peeta about what happened to him…but it's much less commonplace now. Though, if he can smell Peeta baking something sweet, he'll stroll over and lean against the door until we open it to him. He's always tired, always exhausted, but I sometimes wonder just how many people live rent free in his mind that he can't get away from. His family and his girl died because he challenged the Capitol during his games. It finally made sense to me why he was so bitter and so angry all the time. I can imagine the pain that it caused him, because of all that we've been through, and all that we have lost.
I'm so lost in my thoughts I walk straight past the stairs of the Bakery.
"Katniss?" Peeta's voice comes from behind me.
I spin to see his golden locks neatly hanging around his face, and his blue eyes, the ones I get lost in whenever our eyes meet, even now after all these years. His shoulders are hunched as he's patting his apron with the flour so obviously covering his hands. He must have been doing something with the dough.
"Are you coming in or not?"
The way he says it makes me suspicious.
"Of course," I say, spinning quickly and making my way up the steps quickly. I stand on my tip toes and without any effort, his hand - still covered in flour - encircles me and pulls me close to him as our lips touch. It's always been so easy for us, the kissing, but it changed in the Quarter Quell. I agonized over the absence of those kisses when he was in the Capitol, when he was with us in 13 and wishing I was dead, and when I kissed him just after Finnick…I don't like to think about that. The kisses that make me want more, that make me feel that different kind of hunger, that make my love for him more fervent. Peeta is mine. I am his. Anything else is impossible. Slowly he lets go of me, but not before placing a delicate kiss on my forehead.
"We have a visitor," he says, rubbing my back gently.
"Who?" I ask.
"Just…" he hesitates, "come in."
"Okay…" I say with trepidation as he grabs my hand and pulls me through the door. We haven't had a visitor in ages, and most of the time my mother just calls. He gingerly lets go of my hand and circles around to stand behind me, more than likely to steady me as I see who it is.
"Gale," I say, matter of factly. We haven't spoken since Prim's death. I so rarely think of him these days, that it never would have dawned on me that he would ever want to make an appearance. That he would ever want to show his face again after what happened to Prim, but here he is. Standing in the Bakery, maybe he thought this was a better place to see me, where I'm not surrounded by sharp things, or near my bow.
"Hey Catnip," he chokes out. Clearly this meeting is hard for him as well.
I start to feel weak and Peeta's arms find me and wrap protectively around me, holding me steady, and reminding me that I don't have to do this alone. We'd had conversations about what would happen if Gale ever reached out, but we always assumed it would be a letter, or a phone call. I don't think either of us thought that he would come all the way here.
"What are you doing here, Gale?" I croak. I think I must be shaking, because Peeta is rubbing my arms as well as holding me steady. I am. I am shaking. Is it from rage? Pain? Guilt? No, not guilt. I'm not even sure that it's pain or rage. I simply am so caught off guard at his presence, that I don't know what else to do. My throat is tight, and I can feel a sob coming, but why?
"I thought," he says, pausing. "I thought it was about time." He nods, and awkwardly claps his hands together and sighs. "I thought it was best for awhile that I stay as far away from here as I can get. As far as I could so that you could heal, so you could mourn, so you and Peeta could…" he stops, looking at us. "So you and Peeta could heal together." He shifts awkwardly. "Katniss, I owe you so many apologies, and I don't even know where to start, but I think it must start with my anger at you, for feeling the way you did about Peeta, and my making you feel things for me that you didn't." He crosses his arms over his chest now, "It was wrong of me. It wasn't fair of me to tell you how you should feel. Anyone could see, especially in the Quarter Quell, that it would never be me. I knew that, and in my anger I threw myself into weaponry."
"Gale," I hiccup. "Stop."
He stares at me, with tears in his eyes, and a look that asks, why? Why am I telling him to stop anyway? It sounds like he's got an apology that he's been working on for a long time, five years long time. How can I not let him finish? I should let him finish, after all, maybe there's something I can learn. Maybe there's something that I need to know, that I never had the courage to ask. Peeta, almost sensing my uneasiness, encourages Gale to keep going. That I will be alright. Then he assures me, that he's got me, that nothing can hurt me while he's right here. I nod, and Gale continues.
"I didn't know that it was going to hurt Prim," he chokes, "I never meant to hurt Prim. It was my job to protect her, as much as it was yours. We were in this together, and I lost sight of that." He clears his throat and pushes on, "I let my jealousy of Peeta and my hatred of the Capitol, tear us apart." He drops his left arm to his side and wipes away the tears with his right, before it too, falls to his side. "When we got Peeta from the Capitol, when they'd hijacked him, when he wanted to kill you, I was glad. I thought for a brief moment, that I might have a chance, if he never got better. But I was only fooling myself." He gestures to us, "this is how it was always going to work out. I think everyone else knew you loved him, long before you did."
I want to interject, I want to protest what he's saying. But I know he's right. If I had just allowed myself to have my own feelings, I would have known long long ago that I loved Peeta. That I simply could not live without him. He is my everything. I twist the ring around on my hand, the pearl Peeta gave me in the Quarter Quell, that made it through the terrors that followed and has been set into my engagement ring. This surprised no one. Not anyone who came back. Gale's right, this is how it was always going to work out. I just had to get out of my own head, and listen to my heart. I loved the uncomplicated idea of Gale, but I loved every good and imperfect thing that was and is Peeta.
Before I know what I'm doing, I place one arm up over Peeta's to indicate that we're moving, and he steps before I do. I outstretch my free hand to Gale, he grabs it tightly in both of his. We say no more words for several minutes. Peeta squeezes me a little harder as I'm confronted with more emotions than I anticipated today. Gale sighs and the tears begin to flow down his face.
"I'm so sorry about Prim," he barely whispers between tears.
"I know," I say.
"Have you seen anything besides the train station and here?" Peeta asks Gale, in an attempt to break the tension. Gale gives an imperceptible shake of his head.
My hand drops from Gale's and connects with my other on Peeta's arms still encircled around me. I'm not sure what to think or how to feel right now. I've known Gale long enough - despite the gap in time - to know that he's being genuine. Did it probably take him some time to come to this point, where he's sincere? Possibly. He wanted to defeat the Capitol more than anyone…except for maybe Coin, and let's be honest, I didn't give her the opportunity to try anything. Snow never lied to me, well, at least while we were talking. He was cold, and vindictive, but he was right. We were both played for fools. We spent so much time watching each other, that I almost missed the problem that was right under my nose. Coin. Coin was the problem.
Paylor has really brought the country back together again, and it's been wonderful to see. We all help each other out, no one is starving. It was something of an adjustment for the Capitolites, going away from the frilly, foreign way of living that was so normal to us in the Districts. All the statues have come down, and anything that had anything to do with the Hunger Games is all but forgotten. They made a remembrance, something like a museum, to honor all of the tributes who have died. It's a bit depressing, if you've ever been in the area. Peeta and I had considered at one point about going to check it out, that however was a quick here and gone thought. We haven't gone, my mother said it's a beautiful gift to the memories of the fallen tributes. They even made something for Finnick.
Finnick. I can hardly stand to think about him these days. Annie keeps in contact, she sends us pictures every year on little Finnick's birthday. She's blessed that he gets to live on in their son. She's asked a few times if Peeta and I are going to have any children, I always tell her, "It isn't off the table, but I'm not quite ready for that yet." She understands, she's so grateful though, to have some piece of Finnick to go on with. I miss him so much it kills me some days. Peeta would have died in the Quarter Quell without Finnick, and no one else believed that he could come back to me, as much as Finnick did. I shake my head and force myself back into the present. Wishing Finnick were here, won't change the fact that he isn't.
"Uh," Gale clears his throat. "No, I, uh." He takes a napkin from the counter and wipes away the tears and tries to pull himself together. "I came straight here. I wasn't even going to come, but I knew, I knew I needed to come. I hadn't even thought about going to look around." He tosses the napkin across the room into a trash bin.
"Gale," I say again, slowly. "Thank you." I'm still not sure if I can forgive him, I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to fully. But this is a start, so I'll see where it takes me, where it takes us. "Are you moving back here?" I'm secretly hoping he says no, it's like he's trying to step into my bubble with Peeta, a bubble I don't want anyone getting through, besides Haymitch, and I suppose Delly. She's been instrumental since she came back.
"I know Coin made sure that Prim was going to be there," Gale sighs, straightening his posture. "She saw that sending Peeta to kill you didn't work and she needed a new plan. It of course backfired, because you shot and killed her in front of everyone." He's not wrong, I think. "I was just so ready for the war to be over, I didn't think. I didn't know how calculating she was. What extent she would go to, to win."
"There's no shortage of loss of life," I say, "when all you want is power."
The weight of what I said sinks in, and I think about everything that happened to Peeta. How Snow kept him, used him against me, tortured him to keep me mute and unargumentative. As the years have gone by, I've wondered if the bombing of the hospital was also Coin. She obviously had the hovercrafts for the parachutes and she wanted everyone to think the Capitol and Snow were the worst possible things in our world…so what would have stopped her from killing other innocent people? She wasn't so much different from Snow…except that she was worse. She was wasteful.
Peeta's arms are still wrapped tightly around me. Holding me steady, which is good, because I'm not quite sure how I'm feeling at the moment. Am I relieved Gale's here? Do I feel better that he seems to finally show some remorse? I'm not sure. Can I really forgive him? Part of me thinks no. I hesitate, because I do think he's right, but I can't be bitter and hate Gale forever. Prim wouldn't want me to.
Just then the door opens behind us, I glance around Peeta and see Haymitch saunter in. He stops short seeing Gale. I'm not quite sure what he thinks of him. I've never really asked, but we never talk about Gale, so really, it hasn't even come up.
"What's he doing here?" Slurs Haymitch, pointing at Gale, but looking directly at me. Apparently, today is one of his drinking days. He doesn't have them all the time, he's gotten a better. Today, however, he's drunk. It must be the anniversary of something, those days seem to be much worse than others.
Peeta rubs my shoulders reassuringly, then slowly lets go, walks over behind the counter and pulls out a cupcake and hands it over towards Haymitch. Something we've grown accustomed to. Whenever he's drunk, he wants cupcakes. I don't understand the correlation, but we indulge him nonetheless. He probably tried the house first, and upon realizing that we were here, made his way over. He's used to seeing me here, I help during the day when I can. It's not always busy, but I do what I can to help, but I leave the baking and decorating up to Peeta.
"I came to apologize to Katniss," Gale says, staring at Haymitch.
"It took you five years," snaps Haymitch. "To feel bad about what you did?" Gale's head drops and he mumbles something under his breath. "Why are you really here?" I don't get why Haymitch is so distrustful, or why he seems to think Gale has some crazy ulterior motive-my thought is cut off by his response.
"I'm going to be the new Mayor here, but that's not why-"
Haymitch snaps his finger and lunges at Gale, Peeta just barely catches him.
"Haymitch," says Peeta, pulling him up off the floor, "I think you need to take a nap." Peeta turns to leave the Bakery, glances back at me apologetically, and pushes out the door with Haymitch over his shoulder screaming and yelling at him. "Come on, Haymitch," I hear him say, "Let's go get you to bed. Before you do or say something stupid." He hollers over his shoulder to me that he'll be back and I'm not allowed to decorate any of the remaining cupcakes. I laugh, I don't want to do that anyway.
"Katniss," Gale says, stopping my laughter. "I am sorry."
"I know," I say, realizing that this is the first time we have been alone since I didn't refute his claim in the Capitol about the parachutes, about always wondering if it was his bomb that killed my sister. He's right, I still wonder, but not as often, and not as angrily. There are casualties in war, to think I would make it out with all my people intact and no loss at all…was very wrong of me. Of course there would be losses, that's what happens in war, there's always losses. We won the war, but at the cost of so many lives. I miss my sister everyday, but I can understand Haymitch a little better now, so there's that.
Gale and I stand there in mute silence, neither knowing what to say, me wishing Peeta was back already, but I know it takes longer to get Haymitch to calm down and go to sleep, so I know he'll be a while. So I step back and lean on the case holding all of the desserts and dishes Peeta made this morning, or last. It's not the same, but it's support and I need it. I'll admit, part of me is angry. Then I'm stuck on a word Gale said to Haymitch, Mayor.