burnwithus | (gale) we are young and stupid and raised by wolves

(gale) we are young and stupid and raised by wolves

During her stint in 13, Katniss had become amazingly adept at finding little hiding places where nobody would come across her. The boiler room, a storage closet, an abandoned classroom. Oftentimes these were barely big enough for her to fit, but she didn't mind curling up in order to do so. It was in these places that she would purposefully disregard her schedule and spend her days sleeping and wandering, partially because of the concussion Johanna Mason gave her, but mostly because Peeta Mellark was gone. They had taken him to the Capitol, used him to break her and it had worked spectacularly. She was a useless Mockingjay with clipped wings without him, and everyone in the War Room had known it.

Peeta was gone now, too, but this time it was different. This time Katniss at least knew that he was safe and on his way to some form of happiness and normalcy, and as twisted and bruised as her heart is now she's not going to deny him that. It's almost strange not to have him around, and it's definitely something she had taken for granted in the past. That Peeta would be there, always. That his hands would always be steady and he would smile slightly when he saw her, and that...

Well, what was the point in thinking about it? She wasn't going to call him back if he had moved on, because that was selfish and she had already been selfish enough in not telling him about 12. If he didn't love her anymore, hated her, even, who was she to deny him the chance to love someone more functional than she? Maybe this Peeta, whole an unbroken as he was, deserved more than the burned-out husk of the Girl on Fire. This Peeta didn't need her.

Katniss is curled up in a hollow tree, head resting against the wood and breathing in the faint scent of mildew, though she hardly minds it. It's almost a comforting scent, natural although slightly sickly sweet. But this tree is hidden from view in most angles, and the quiet of the forest is just what she needs to calm the myriad of thoughts in her head.

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He's not actually looking for her. Sometimes she's there, sometimes, she's not. He sleeps on the couch with the door between them ajar. He's there when she needs him. He's moving through the trees with his bow hooked over his shoulder when he sees her. It's pure luck that he's found her; another angle and he wouldn't have.

"Katniss?"

Gale's something else that she doesn't quite want to think about. It's almost ridiculous, considering what she's been through, but these types of things still remain even after all of that destruction. It's hard to know if her mind's still here, sometimes, or if it's still back in the Capitol, frozen in that moment. Watching it in her mind's eye over and over again until it's painted to her eyelids.

But he's always known how to find her, no matter where she hid, because he knows her better than anyone else. Or he used to, because maybe he knew the old Katniss as opposed to this quiet, humorless new one.

Something to think about.

Today she tries to for a wave and a nod in greeting. "Hi, Gale."

Sometimes, being around her is like an echo; he catches a glimpse of what she used to be like, but it's a trick of the light. He's learning her all over again. He pauses, one hand against a tree and studies her for a moment, head tilted on one side. He's always been stiller in the woods. It's alwas felt like he was more under control.

"How's it going, Catnip?"

"Fine. I'm fine," is her automatic reaction, but Peeta had been right in the sense that Gale needed to know about the things in the future that affected him. While his family and most of the people from the Seam had been saved, unlike Peeta's, he still needed to know. Katniss had no doubt that the island would bring it up in some painful, inexcusable way if she didn't first.

She takes a deep breath and rallies whatever courage she has left, brows furrowing with the difficulty of it. When did this become her job, as the keeper of memories almost too painful to comprehend?

"But we have to talk."

"Okay."

Is it his fault that he freezes up when she asys things like that? It's not like she's given him much good news lately. He stands there, shoulders tense ands looks at her for a long moment.

"What'd I do?"

It's more like what I did, Katniss thinks before she can stop herself, and why should she? Despite everyone's words telling her otherwise, she knew that the firebombing of 12 was her fault. A direct reaction to her firing that one arrow. While events might have been leading up to it beforehand, it would be stupid not to include her own actions as being the cause. The problem was that nobody else understood.

It's her turn to scrutinize him, wondering if he's ready to hear the news that their only home was gone. Yet she had told him far worse in the past few days, which was both encouragement and something that made her second-guess her decision to have this talk now.

"It's about the future. But it wasn't your fault. Actually, you... you were the one who helped the most."

There's a log nearby and he sits down on it, bending to rest his bow in the grass as he watches her. Sometimes, it's torture being around her. Sometimes, it almost feels like they might be getting something back.

"Tell me."

"There was...something called the Quarter Quell. Every 25 years, they'd change the rules of the Games. This time, they Reaped tributes from existing Victors," it wouldn't take Gale very long to figure it out. District 12 had only one female Victor in its entire history. She closes her eyes for a moment, squeezes them shut and tries to make sense of all the images flashing through her head. Memories, really. Peeta had given her a locket - where was it now? She didn't know anymore. Had it gotten lost in the explosion, or...?

But it didn't matter. It was just a thing, and she'd left his pearl behind in her room at the Compound. Consciously left it, as if that would help her forget the Boy with the Bread.

It didn't help at all.

"They had force fields in the arena to keep us inside. I shot one and burst it and...they punished us. They punished District 12 for that." she has to pause, to look away from his face so she won't see the grief in his eyes because she's had more than her own fair share of it these days.

"They burned District 12 to the ground."

It was almost funny that she was the one telling him this, when the roles had been reversed back when it had actually happened. There's no end to the irony the island so graciously provides.

"What about my Mom and the kids?"

It's the first question out of his mouth, so close to the front of his mind that he doesn't even give thought to it. It's out and said and his eyes are fixed on her face.

Because he needs to know. He needs to know.

Of course it's the first question he asks. Katniss knows that it would have been the same for her if she'd been in the same position, and this time she's almost relieved to be telling him the truth. She's tired of being the bearer of bad news. "They got out. Most of the Seam got out because of you," including Prim and my mother, she mentally adds, although it's ridiculous for her to be keeping a tab of things she's grateful for just to get through each day.

It's taking him a long time to process this, his mind slow and sluggish with shock. He stares at her for a long moment and then, automatically, he reaches out and squeezes her shoulder.

"How?"

"Through the woods," she replies, somehow knowing what he's asking even without Gale having to elaborate. After years of having conversations with him, it's something she's picked up. Subtle patterns in the way he speaks, the way he moves. She knows him inside and out, and it made the end of the war that much more painful because of it. "By the lake. But the merchants...Peeta's- he..." it hurts to talk about Peeta, so she cuts herself off, hands rising to the sides of her face, pressing hard on temples as her eyes squeeze shut.

Of course, through the woods. It'd be the only way. He closes his eyes, trying not to imagine it and, blind, he reaches out for her, his hand finding the side of her face, his fingers overlapping hers.

"Have you told him?"

Katniss nods numbly, and for a strange moment the pressure of his hands over hers actually helps to calm her for a brief moment, because it feels like something Gale would do back in 13, before everything was ruined. Of course, Katniss has to remind herself once again that she's the one who has changed here, not him. "Not at first. And then the island showed him," she still remembers Halloween vividly, can still taste the ash in her mouth.

"We're not speaking anymore. He wants to have a normal life, and he should because he still can."

He feels his face change before he can stop it; he feels the way that his jaw tigthens and his eyes dip. His hand stays ontop of hers.

"Normal's overrated."

"No," she shakes her head, dislodging their hands. "No, it isn't. It's a better thing to wish for than this," and it's something you should want too, Katniss adds in her mind, although her tone makes it clear what she's trying to say. In Panem, the idea of a life like the ones people lead on the island was an impossible idea; here, it was reality. It was staring them all in the face, even if Katniss couldn't reach out and have it herself. Not after Prim. Not after the war. It would feel wrong if she were to be happy when her sister is no longer alive, even if it were possible. It would be so wrong. Someone should remember.

And if it has to be her so that Peeta can live normally, then so be it.

"You think what you want, Katniss," he says, and there's an undercurrent of, let's face it, you always do. He shakes his head, looking away from him, his hand coming to rest on his knee.

"But if he lets you tell him that, he's an idiot."

It's true; she's never needed anyone to tell her what to think. Even if her thoughts were always kept to herself while Gale's were shouted into the recesses of the forest, they were there and they were hers. The Capitol didn't own them and never will. "I just want him to be happy. I always wanted to keep him alive...and safe, but I knew I couldn't guarantee that he would be happy, but in Panem being alive was enough," even if it was selfish on her part, even if she needed him. "But this place can. Face it, it's the safest place any of us have been in," Katniss doesn't believe it for herself, she doesn't believe that safe exists anywhere. She says it solely for Gale's benefit, but he doesn't have to know that.

"Yeah, maybe."

He's promised that he won't talk about it, but that doesn't mean he doesn't think it; that if he's going to be happy here, if he's going to make a go of it, he wants her with him.

"I'm not going anywhere, Catnip."

Even if he doesn't say it, she knows what he's thinking and it's almost worse. It's bad enough that she's talking about Peeta to Gale, knowing what he feels, and Katniss resolves to move away from this particular topic of conversation. She sighs heavily, glancing back at him and then away, towards the wall of the tree that she leans against. "I can't force you to do anything," she admits heavily, even if she doesn't like it much.

"No," he says, pushing his hair back from his face, still watching her. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "WHy change the habit of a lifetime, right?"

"Because it's good for you?" once upon a time, she might have returned his smile, back when they used to laugh and joke together. But it's been a long time since Katniss has smiled, so much so that maybe her muscles don't remember how, or so she thinks. Not that it really matters. Things have been miserable at best with Peeta gone, but she's not going to sit around and wallow about it. Katniss' hands grip the bark of the tree she's sitting in, running it against her skin and feeling the roughness there. It's easier to breathe here, surrounded by greenery. Easier to live, even.

He's watching her, but she isn't looking at him.

It hits him: he can't do this. After what she's told him today, after what he's heard, he can't argue with her and he can't sit there while she tells him what he does or doesn't feel. He pushes to his feet.

"Whatever you think, Katniss," he says, voice rough as he turns. "I'm checking my snares. I'll see you later."

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(gale) we are young and stupid and raised by wolves

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