Chapter Text
2 years after the war (2 months after ‘so after’) -
It’s late afternoon, when the hovercraft lands in a clearing just outside Victor’s Village. He wishes he could have avoided flying one of these over his fire scarred home district.
Unfortunately the train tracks are still in the process of being repaired across much of the country.
Gale marches down the open ramp. His eyes roam over their forest. Would he find her out there? A flash of her crouched on their meeting rock, waiting for him to start their hunt, colors his vision.
He inhales a deep breath. The scent of pine swirls around him, no longer obscured by coal dust or ash. It’s probably too late in the day for her to still be in the woods.
Turning towards the village, he sees the blonde mop of hair running over the hill. His head jerks around wildly, like he’s scanning for every threat, until blue eyes lock with steel grey.
Peeta freezes. A beat. Two beats. He’s not sure how long they stare at each other. Haymitch stumbles up behind him and places a hand on the baker’s shoulder. It seems to be more out of the need to hold onto something while he catches his breath, than out of reassurance.
Rage catches in Gale’s throat at the sight of the useless drunk. His feet remember the reason he’s here and carry him up the hill.
“Abernathy! Where is Katniss? Mellark, I thought you were still under orders for treatment in the Capitol.” Gale barks.
Peeta’s mouth gapes opens twice, but no sound comes out.
“It’s nice to see you too, Hawthorne.” Haymitch slurs through his last name. “What a pleasant surprise, don’t all Victors just love surprises. And in one of those goddamn contraptions too.” He gestures to the hovercraft with the flask clutched in his hand.
Gale stops in front of them. Folding his arms over his uniform. He stands like the solider he is. Peeta’s hands repeatedly clench at his sides.
“Dr. Aurelius cleared me for release. I’m allowed to do the ordered treatments by phone, just like Katniss.” Peeta’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the silence.
Glancing at the slight tremor in Peeta’s arms, Gale releases a puff of air.
Haymitch steps between the two younger men. The liquor fumes burn into Gale’s nostrils, “Are you here on business or just catching up for old times sake?” He seems to have sobered up quite a bit in the span of a few minutes.
“I’m here because you failed to file the last two quarters of Mockingjay Reports.”
He sees Peeta’s confused expression over Haymitch’s shoulder.
“Sweetheart had a birthday. She’s an adult. Guess you didn’t get an invite to the party. But, means I’m not her guardian anymore.” He takes a sip from the flask.
Gale looks up at the sky, exasperated by the incompetence. “Her age doesn’t matter. You are currently registered as the representative of 12.” He bends down into Haymitch’s face. “And you only have one job. File the report every 3 months. When 12 gets a mayor, you are welcome to drink yourself into oblivion. Until then you have to report what she’s doing!”
Peeta’s eyes widen as he looks back and forth between them. Haymitch scratches under his chin, “Well, shit.”
“Yea, or maybe if either of you would answer a phone, I wouldn’t have needed to make this little trip!” Haymitch at least has the decency to look sheepish at that.
“So, Haymitch just needs to complete some paperwork?” Peeta asks.
Gale’s eyes narrow. “No, now I have to do my own report. Her safety is a priority to a lot of people, including me.” The truth is the few officials who were pressuring for the reports are more interested in her exile than her well being.
Peeta’s face turns hard. He spins around and stomps with uneven steps towards Victor’s Village. Gale and Haymitch follow a few paces behind.
Gale watches as Peeta climbs the steps to Katniss’ house, pulls open the door without knocking, then slams it shut behind him.
Haymitch grabs Gale’s arm before he can even climb the first step. “No, you need to give them some time.” Haymitch’s grip tightens.
Alone? “I saw his hands shaking. How sure are you that she’s safe in there with him?”
Haymitch laughs. “Well she’s survived this long.”
Gale jerks his arm away and faces the drunk. “When was he released?”
Haymitch shrugs, “He came home about 2 months after she did.”
Gale is fuming. “The guy, who repeatedly tried to kill her, moves in next door and you didn’t think to include that in any of the reports you did bother to file?”
“He’s allowed to live where he wants. They’re not called the Star crossed lovers reports.”
Haymitch is smirking at him as he raises his flask. Gale is about to smack it out of his hand when the door opens and closes behind him.
Peeta stands on the top step, his hand never leaving the door knob. “She has agreed to see you in the morning during breakfast, as long as Haymitch comes too.” Haymitch rolls his eyes but nods.
Gale sighs, “That will work.”
Peeta chews on his lip. “Umm, if you need a place to stay, you’re welcome to stay at my house.”
Gale quirks an eyebrow, maybe he has made some progress. It’s a self imposing politeness that was so characteristic of the old Peeta. “Thank you, that would be great.”
“Okay, yea just ...make yourself at home.” Peeta’s gaze turns cold as he looks at Haymitch. “We need to speak with you. Now.”
“I think we can deal with it at breakfa—-“
“Haymitch!” Even Gale recoils a bit at the harsh tone.
Haymitch takes a long slow swig of his drink. “Fine, let’s get this over with.” He slaps Gale on the back before he passes to follow Peeta into Katniss’ home.
Once again the door slams in Gale’s face.
His eyes stay unfocused on the white door until the muffled raised voices shake him out of his stupor.
She agreed to see him at least. And it only took a few minutes for her to do that. He was worried he’d have to force her to meet with him under threat of another hearing in the Capitol.
He wanders across the lawn to Peeta’s house. The door is unlocked. When he steps in his eyes have to adjust to the darkness.
If the invitation to stay here gave him some optimism about Peeta’s recovery, the state of the place does the opposite.
There is a thin layer of dust covering most surfaces. The kitchen seems to be mostly clean at least.
A few holes litter the walls of the living room, and a lamp is cracked with a tear in its shade.
He climbs the stairs to what he knows must be the guest bedroom from the layout of Katniss’ house. Except in hers it was Prim’s room.
Flopping down on the bed, he watches the dust dance in the sun’s setting rays leaking though the curtains.
He’s exhausted. Coming back here was mentally draining. But he’s been running himself ragged for the last 2 years. Throwing himself into the recovery projects, trying in someway to make amends for the war he was so eager to participate in.
There were ways he tried to make amends to her too. When he heard Plutarch was hoping for an anniversary interview, he was able to get it blocked from ever even being proposed to her.
He’d given her space. When he desperately wanted to write or call, he reminded himself of the way she looked at him the last time they spoke. Knowing he was now a source of pain.
The reports had eased his conscience. She was eating. She was going into the woods again. Only when they stopped coming did he give in to the urge to pick up the phone.
Now she was just, what was that stupid thing Peeta had said? Now she was just 25 yards away from him. Locked behind a slammed door.
He wakes to silence. The night’s black sky only beginning to lighten to a shade of blue. Peaking into the master bedroom, he finds it empty. Who knew baker’s hours could rival a hunter’s.
Slipping out the front door, he looks up at her open bedroom window. It’s dark. No movement except a soft fluttering of the sheer curtains.
If he were a lucky man, she would go hunting this morning. They would cross paths under the trees. He’d be able to have a moment alone with her. In their forest, at their spot. It would feel almost like before.
The odds never really were in his favor though.
In the woods, he can’t find a single snare line. He checks all his old spots. Tries tracking her faded steps. Not one snare. He wonders if she doesn’t like the idea of traps anymore. If it’s another thing he tainted and destroyed.
Haymitch is out on his porch when he comes back to the village.
He doesn’t say anything, makes some kind of half gesture to follow him. Then shuffles his way across the lawn and through the door.
Stepping across the threshold, Gale’s focus jumps from one detail to the next. Piecing together the not so subtle clues before him.
The second coat hanging on the hook, the extra pair of large shoes next to her boots. An unfinished game of chess on the coffee table. A painting hung in the hall. He can smell the paints, mixing with the scent of fresh bread.
This home with the exact same floor plan and furnishings, feels so different from the house he slept in last night.
The realization hits him and he wants to deny it. To go back to his ignorance. But when he walks into the kitchen, Peeta’s arm is wrapped too tight around her waist, his hand rubbing too low on her hip. She’s pressed into his side too close, her face pressed too easily into his neck.
They ease apart when Gale enters the kitchen, but it’s too late. Peeta came back to her, he had stayed away.
“Gale.” She says with a nod. Her face the neutral mask she always wore. His name doesn’t have the hate behind it anymore. But there’s no kindness there either. There’s nothing, because that’s what he is.
“I was told there would be food.” Hamitch flops down into a chair. Peeta scoops and slices whatever he’s finishing for the meal. Gale sits, Katniss doesn’t move from her place against the counter.
“We went ahead and filled out the info for the report.” Haymitch slides a stack of papers over to him. “If ya wanna know anything else, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
The reports are superficial anyway. They want to know where she goes. Two witnesses that she’s been seen where they say. A basic questionnaire about her mental state.
What he really wants to know won’t be found in these pages.
A plate is already in front of him by the time he’s finished flipping through the papers.
Peeta helps turn what could have been the most uncomfortable meal of his life into a halfway pleasant one.
He asks about his job in two, the recovery efforts in each of the districts, how 12 got chosen for the medical factory that was voted on last month.
He can almost ignore their clasped hands under the table.
Katniss stays mostly quiet until he spots Buttercup. She tells the story of how he made his way home all the way from 13. How he tolerates her now that she gives him a steady diet of all the bacon he could ever want.
When his plate is empty, they follow him to the door.
“Katniss....I’m really glad to see you’re doing okay. Both of you actually.” Looking between her and Peeta who’s arm has once again laced around her waist. And he means it, she’s doing better than he could have hoped for.
She looks at the floor, fidgeting her foot. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re doing ok too.” Its soft, but she sounds sincere. He swallows and he thinks he might be able to believe her.
They say their goodbyes and he boards the hovercraft. Hugging the paperwork his conscience should no longer require.