I. Sender: Gale Hawthorne

I wake up with a gasp. For a short moment I am disoriented - the bed, the room - everything seems unfamiliar. I think I was dreaming. It wasn't a nightmare, that I am sure of. No, the lingering effects of a dream are still there. I dreamt of home. My old home, in the Seam. From before...before everything really. The dream was vague and I realize I'm not in our small cramped bed together with Prim. I am, in fact, all alone in my huge house in the Victor's Village. It's been two years since the rebellion, since a new era began for Panem. I groan, when the fleeting images of Prim leave my consciousness. It felt so real.

I have a nagging suspicion why I dreamed of the Seam this night.

Today is the 14th of June, Saturday. A train will arrive from District 2. And Gale will be on it.

A few weeks ago a letter arrived in the letter box. Panem has a functioning postal system now. Gale wrote this letter and it arrived just one day later. Trains are still the main use of transportation in Panem, but the new postal ministry has received two or three hovercrafts from the government. They deliver food, materials and letters.

Letters arrive every week. From my mother, from Annie, Effie, Hazelle, yes even Johanna seems to prefer the written word over phone calls. Even fan mail from the odd dedicated Mockingjay fan sometimes finds its way to my small red letter box. To my own amazement I enjoyed getting all those letters. I became an avid writer of letters then, so they would never stop coming in.

I have a lot of free time. I still hunt, early in the mornings when the day has just arrived and everyone in District Twelve is asleep. When I return, around midday after having lunch in the woods, I usually sit at my desk, take out my fountain pen and put it to paper. Writing fills me with an unknown joy I didn't know I had left in me. I never was a natural talker, but when I write I can think about what I really want to say and the words flow freely. It felt good and even Dr. Aurelius said it seemed to work like therapy for me. I spent most of my free time from afternoon to evening writing letters. I started to collect stationary and I have a huge assortment now with every pattern and color imaginable.

My passion for letter writing didn't go unnoticed and Haymitch proved to be surprisingly thoughtful. He built me the beautiful red letter box for my birthday last year. There is even a small golden Mockingjay figurine adorned at the left side. Haymitch thought it gave the box a personal touch. It was the best present and I nearly started to cry when he gave it to me. It meant a lot. Swearing off the white liquor - it certainly had been the hardest thing for him. I can't see how he managed to do it and finally stopped drinking - but he did it. I feel proud of him. He told me he needed something to keep him occupied though and geese herding just wasn't demanding enough. He tried a lot of things and somehow ended up enjoying carpentry the most.

When I opened up the box at the end of May I didn't expect a letter from Gale. Naturally he had always been on the list of my pen pals. He still is my best friend. But he is also very busy. He works for the new government and in the two years after he moved to Two he only wrote four letters. They weren't very long either. He certainly isn't the letter writing type. I held onto his letters like a lifeline, reread them every other week. They are precious to me.

Sometimes Gale is on TV, when there are programs about politics. Half a year ago when the first official elections took place, he was on TV a lot back then. But I don't like to watch TV. Election period was an important time for Panem so I watched a bit, but I could barely stand ten minutes at a time. TV is hell for me still. I wanted to throw my set out, when I moved back in here, but then I need to be informed, so I couldn't do it.

While Gale doesn't write much, I write weekly. A wide range of topics are covered, but mostly I write about our woods. I always feel a surge of excitement, a small tingle in my stomach when I open my red letter box. I just love to get mail and I grin like a little girl opening a present, giddy with anticipation, every time a letter finds its way into my hands. When I read "Sender: Gale Hawthorne" my heart skipped a beat. It had been five months since his last letter - which was more of a card anyway. I was so happy that he wrote again! As usual his letter was short. Basically telling me he would visit Twelve. Arrive on the 14th of June. If it was possible, could he stay at my house for a while?

I was a bit annoyed, that he didn't offer more of an explanation on why he would want to visit now. How long he planned to stay, what was he planning to do here? Was it to be an official trip for the government? Or just a visit to dear old Catnip, whom he hadn't seen for two long years? He didn't say. Nonetheless I immediately answered that naturally, he was welcome to stay at my house.

The afternoon sun burns brightly, as I leave my house to walk to the train station. I'm wearing my favourite yellow sundress. Someone once told me I look beautiful in it. I speed up at the thought and quickly leave the Victor's Village behind. I take my usual route passing the other bakery and follow the smaller road instead of the main road which brings me south of the central square of District 12. The justice building was destroyed in the bombing and in its place a new station was built.

The residents of District 12 will vote for a new name for the District in a few weeks. Posters with propositions are glued to the buildings. Obviously most of our residents don't think Twelve is melodic enough. I was even asked to name it by our new Mayor, an elderly man called Garland. I refused, stating it would always be Twelve to me. I knew they were disappointed, but I didn't want to name it. Or be involved in any way in this community. I cannot really tell that to all these kind and well meaning people here, though. People still look up to me, like I'm some kind of leader. They think I am here because this is my home and I returned here because Twelve means something to me. Maybe once it did.

That doesn't change the fact that I was banished to Twelve. Here is the place where I was born and the place I'm going to die. It was made pretty clear to me by the new government that I am exiled. Forever. I thought I made my peace with this fact over a year ago. But I am often angry at Paylor and Plutarch and everyone involved in deciding that Twelve was going to be my home, my sanctuary, as well as my jail.

I can not leave here. I don't even know where else I would go. The only place I kind of considered, in these scenarios in which I am free to do as I please, would be District 4. But then, I don't think I could ever live with my mother again. Even though we're on better terms with each other now. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, I guess.

Startled I realize I am already at the station. I'm thirsty and buy a bottle of water at the small store that is next to the station building. Since the Hunger Games I've become famous. I know this. I should be used to the fact. But I hate it. Whenever I interact with people here in Twelve I feel like they are staring, whispering, talking about me. It feels like paranoia. But it isn't, because I don't imagine it happening, it happens. I ignore the curious look from the shop girl, and her cheery "Have a good day, Katniss!" almost makes me want to punch her. I don't know this girl, don't know her name and she talks to me as if she's my friend. It feels weird and uncomfortable. Everyone knows who I am, but they themselves can live an anonymous blissful life. I hate it. I want that life, too. Be a nobody or - at least - blend in.

I sigh as I slide down on one of the brand new white benches on the platform, waiting for the train to arrive. Which it won't for another two hours. I'm too early, but I just couldn't wait to get here. There are a thousand possibilities of what exactly will happen in two hours.

Why is Gale coming back here now? Does he still have feelings for me? My head says, no. He would've come here sooner, he would've written more often, he would've fought for me. Selfishly I hope he might still love me. I was hurt by what he said in Tigris' shop that fateful night. But that wasn't all. He left me here in Twelve without ever considering that I might have wanted him to be here with me. His fancy Capitol job was more important. Maybe he is coming back now to tell me he has moved on. Found another Catnip in District 2.

That doesn't seem to be that far fetched. Gale is older than me, he is good looking, he must long for female companionship. But why did he never offer any insights to his own feelings after the war? If he moved on, he should have told me.

I'm so nervous, I gulp the water down in one go. I'm not sure how I should react to any of these little scenarios. I'll know when I see him. Whatever he wants, it will work out. I've missed him so much, though. We can go hunting early in the morning, if he isn't too busy. Even if he only stays for a few days. I'm so happy that he is really coming. Maybe he will fill up the huge emptiness I am feeling inside.

I'm afraid I'm slowly starting to get seriously depressed again. I talked to Dr. Aurelius on the phone, even wrote him a long letter with my deepest feelings laid bare and open. His reply just said to keep on hunting, keep on writing - continue living. Useless advice. I'm clearly not on top of his priority list anymore. I feel so lonely, it's almost tearing me apart. I just don't see where my life is going. I'm getting older, but I feel like nothing is happening anymore. That I lived my life. That I served my purpose. That I will gradually rot here in Twelve.

A loud signal announces the incoming train. I slowly get up and force myself to smile.

Today is the 14th of June, Saturday. A train will arrive from District 2. And Gale will be on it.

When Gale pulls me into his arms everything falls into place. He looks the same, but different. His smile is wider and kinder. His laugh is infectious. I can't help but smile back when he smiles at me - and I don't have to force myself.

"Catnip," he whispers as he holds me tightly. "I've missed you." I'm almost crying as I realize that this is the first time in over a year that I have physical contact with another human being, not counting Haymitch and his awkward one armed hug on my birthday. I want to wrap myself around Gale and never let go. Suddenly I don't even care anymore that people are staring at me. Gale has only one backpack for luggage and we walk, arm in arm, back to my house. The sun is setting as we arrive at my door and pass the red letter box.

"Wait a minute," I say as I open the box with a small golden key. "Just checking for mail."

Gale chuckles. "You really love your letters, don't you? I feel bad for never writing."

"Doesn't matter," I answer as I scrunch up the lone pamphlet in my mailbox (Another reminder for the District Name Voting) and throw it into the trash can next to my door. I open the door and beam up at him "You're here, that's all that matters to me now." He smiles.

We get him settled in the guest room, which belonged to my mother once. The room doesn't deserve the name as it has never seen a guest before. Not even the former inhabitant has slept in the big fluffy bed again. I cleaned the room and washed the sheets with an expensive washing mixture from the Capitol. Put a vase with flowers on the nightstand. I knew Gale always liked these small violet ones, when we were in the woods. I made fresh rabbit stew for us and we eat in my kitchen and laugh and talk for hours. He yawns loudly after midnight is long gone.

"I'm sorry. Keeping you awake all night after such a long journey." I laugh. "I just don't have the opportunity to talk much. This is probably the most I have talked for months."

Gale raises his eyebrows. "Is that so?" He frowns. I see that he is weighing his words carefully as he continues on. "You have to know I have been really busy during the last two years. I was able to finally get some vacation. My mother was angry when she heard that I was going on a trip. She thought I would spend the time with her and my siblings. But she seemed happy when I told her where I was going."

I nod. Hazelle was always fond of me and I'm still in contact with her. In fact the main topic of our letters is sitting in my kitchen now looking really handsome. I blush faintly. Did I really think that just now?

"Believe it or not Catnip, you will be able to enjoy my company for two full weeks." Gale continues. "No work for me. We can hunt all day, go swimming or do nothing at all. I've never done nothing at all ever, so I'm curious how that will turn out." He grins.

I feel warmth spread through my whole body. Two weeks with Gale! This summer may turn out to be better than I thought. I'm so relieved. There seem to be no hard feelings between the two of us. Our talk was fun and interesting. Suddenly a feeling overwhelms me, a feeling I thought I lost somewhere in these two years. Like I belong. Safe. Like a part of me has returned. Could it really be? That it was Gale all along? He still has feelings for me? As we make our way up the stairs my thoughts are in turmoil and I feel hot waves running through me. We stop at his door.

"Well, Good night, Catnip," he says slowly. I linger. We are so close. When I'm not moving, he does. Kisses me. Slowly, sensual. I feel the waves turn into shocking arrows. I respond, I can't help it. I'm starving and Gale is like food. He won't let me starve. Never did before. I feel needy and press my body into his. The kiss feels wonderful. I want him. All of him. After what feels like an eternity, we break apart.

"Woah, Katniss," he sighs. "What was that? I think were moving a bit too fast here." I furiously shake my head. This is not a mistake. How can it be when I finally feel alive again? When every waking moment after the rebellion didn't really count as being alive? When I lived in some sort of trance for so long that I sometimes forgot to feed myself?

"No, Gale. This is right. Never did something feel so right to me. I want this. I want you. I want us." And with that I kiss him and press my body into his again. He responds eagerly and I feel his body reacting to mine. It feels amazing to be desired by him. I smile into the kiss when Gale stops once more.

"Listen, I don't want to stop." He groans. "But I also feel like we're moving to fast. I've only been here a few hours. We still have time. Let's wait and see if you still feel like this tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, ok? Please, let's just not rush into this. I want it to mean something."

Count on Gale for being the voice of reason. I nearly would've given in to my cravings without thinking it through. My hormones seem to be off kilter tonight. I agree and we decide to get up at dawn for a long hunting trip to the forest. I give him a short kiss on his cheek and hop into my room. When I close the door I barely make it to the bed and collapse. I feel tired and spent, which is a good feeling tonight. Vainly hoping I might get a good night's rest. I know, I will never spent another night in my life without the nightmares again. I just have learnt to deal with them on my own. My course of action after this evening seems as clear as the liquor Haymitch used to drink. As I slip into sleep my last thought is of Gale and that he might be the one to chase the nightmares away.

The following two weeks are pure bliss. We hunt, we talk, we swim in the lake. Sometimes Haymitch joins us in the evening for a card game. Him and Gale like each other and always find stuff to talk about, like craft or mutual acquaintances from the rebellion. The days fly by so fast I can't keep up. In fact I'm dreading to look at the calender. Only 14 days. Not nearly enough time to make up for two years. Time never moved so quickly in Twelve.

There is a lot of kissing between us, which I enjoy a lot. I'm ready to commit. Ready to take that next step and I can't wait. I know Gale is trying to buy some time. I can feel his eyes on me, so I know he wants this. The way he talks, the need is hidden in his every word. Every time my hands wander over his body, trying to get to that next level, he gently pushes them away.

I'm getting frustrated and a little scared as the day of his departure draws nearer. We have talked a lot, but there are certain topics he avoids and I'm thankful. I'm sure there is a reason why he won't go any further on a physical level. If I want any progress at all in our relationship, I'll probably have to tell him directly. Talk about everything, expose my feelings. I'm dreading this conversation. I don't want it. Two years and I've become some sort of expert in looking the other way. I had to.

When we trek to the lake one morning I have created a plan to finally get what is needed from Gale, without us having that dreaded talk.

It is humid, but we manage to have our usual swimming contest around the lake despite the heat. Gale always wins, but I'm getting better and better. I almost catch up with him when he crosses our imaginary finish line on the shore. Panting I follow him under the shadow of our favorite tree where Gale is handing me a bottle of water.

"Almost there, Gale. I swear, tomorrow I will win this thing," I challenge, still drawing small little breaths.

"You will never beat me," Gale arrogantly retorts when I decide it is now or never. I am clueless when it comes to seduction, but after our conversation during that first night, it is obvious that Gale is still in love with me. No matter how stupid this may look, he will react. I take off my swim suit. I'm feeling confident now. I was never afraid of this. The scars are obvious, but if someone doesn't care about them, it is Gale. His eyes grow big as he looks at me. He openly stares at my wet naked body, glistening in the sunlight. This is the right place, the right time.

"Katniss, what," Gale starts, but I quickly interrupt by embracing him. I look into his hazel eyes and give him a long kiss, which he returns tentatively. I push him against the tree trunk and give him another kiss. He wants to say something so I quickly interrupt him by talking.

"I'm still a virgin, Gale. I wanted my first time to be with you. I can't stand the thought of you leaving before we have taken that last step. I want us to have a real relationship. To be a couple. I've thought about it a lot and it just has to be you."

I formulated this little speech the morning after he came here, thinking hard about the best words, words that he would respond to in a positive manner. Maybe I really became that manipulative mutt someone once accused me of being. He won't be able to resist this. As much as I hate to admit it, the Hunger Games and everything that followed taught me a lot of things. Made me a lot more cunning. I've become a better liar, I learned to control my face, my voice, my body. Once one just had to have one look at me to know all my secrets. Now I'm the one who knows how to get what I want. And I am a virgin. There is no lie in that part. I couldn't care less about the status of my sexual experience, but I know some things about men by now. About hurt pride, egos and rivalry. This should be a real turn on, my saving myself for him.

Gale looks into my eyes, searches for something. "Are you really sure that you want to make love, Katniss? With me as your partner? I am serious about us, you know that," he pauses, then goes on, voice shaking "I love you so much. I never looked at another girl, after almost losing you."

I nod. I know, Gale has been with other girls from the Seam. Now it seems there was never a real relationship, just little affairs at the slag heap. That feels like ages ago. I'm secretly satisfied that he didn't fall in love with some girl in Two. No, he is pining for me still. And this is the way it should be, I tell myself. Someone who declares their everlasting devotion shouldn't turn their back on you - no matter the circumstances.

My voice is brimming with confidence, "I love you, Gale. Let's do this. I wanted this for such a long time." I'm surprised at how easily the words "I love you" leave my lips. It's easy to lie, because it is almost true. He is the person I care most about in this world. I'm not capable of that feeling called love anymore, so "caring" is the new "love" for me. But if I want Gale and me to be together, I know that saying "I care about you" won't convince him. I start grinding myself on his leg and he wastes no time in slipping out of his bathing shorts. We kiss and touch more and more, and I'm on a high, celebrating the fact that I made him give in. Gale is so turned on by now that serious talk is far from his mind.

Compared to all the pain I've experienced in the twenty years I've been alive, losing my virginity is a joke. It doesn't hurt one bit, when he pushes in. It just feels a little full down there for a while. Maybe it's not that uncomfortable because Gale is the gentle type. Or the small type. I wouldn't know, as I have no comparison. Despite doing this for the wrong reasons, I'm turned on. Watching him push in and out of me slowly, moaning my name. Showering my face with gentle kisses. Asking me if I'm hurting. Caring about me. The way his face looks, when he comes so soon, after what could have only been a minute of thrusting, is really a sight to behold. I don't come. I didn't expect to. Not the first time. But I enjoy it immensely. To be The One for another once more. That feeling I need to protect at all cost. I cannot disappoint Gale.

We lie in each others arms in the grass under the tree and I slowly caress his skin with soft feathery touches, when he suddenly looks at me with panic written all over his face. "Catnip, what about birth control? We didn't use any!"

I certainly took care of that particular problem a long time ago thanks to my mother. I don't want a child. I asked my mother for help when my cycle suddenly turned irregular. I didn't tell her that it only started after I had forgotten to eat frequently. She had the perfect solution for my bloody problem in form of a little pill. My mother has her own business now, an apothecary which is part of the biggest hospital Panem has ever seen. She can get me any pill I want and it turns out I want a lot of them. I'm pretty sure my mother is still feeling bad for neglecting me and Prim. And for just leaving me alone here in Twelve. In some twisted way, she is repaying me by not asking any questions and giving out pills for free. Some might be placebos because they don't always work. She won't give me fake medicine for contraception however, that much I am sure of.

I tell Gale he doesn't have to worry about it and climb on top of him, seeing that my touches have the intended effect and he is hard again. My own soreness is vague. I know that he will leave in less than two days. I don't know when we will see each other again, only that it might be months. I try to map out his body, remember every inch for later references. I'm determined to get as much pleasure as possible, already cursing the fact that I only took action now. 12 wasted days. I have to make every second count from now on, until the day after tomorrow.

Today is the 28th of June, Saturday. A train will depart from District 12. And Gale will be on it.

I smile bravely as long as Gale is still on the platform. We embrace one last time and he lifts his hand to my head to play with a lone strand of my hair that came loose from my braid, a gesture that is so connected with another time, another place, another... I act without a second thought, as I jerkily slap his hand away. Not this, not from Gale. His eyes narrow at my reaction. He knows what I'm thinking about and I see my carefully constructed no-serious-talk-plan go awry.

When I desperately throw myself at Gale and start to kiss him I'm not sure if it is to distract him from asking questions or kiss him goodbye. I feel that he can see right through me in this instant. The train driver is hooting already. He must leave now. Barely has time to say more than "Goodbye Catnip," in a sad, defeated voice and then he is gone. Away from me.

Tears are forming in my eyes as I force my arm to perform a waving motion. When the train cannot be seen anymore I break down crying in the middle of the platform. The passersby can watch a real spectacle here this afternoon. The proud Mockingjay collapses in public. What a sight that must be. I'm all alone again. I already feel the panic like bile rising in my throat. I am not free to follow him. I cannot board a train or fly with a hovercraft, the way my letters do. I want to be on that train with Gale and leave this wretched hole called Twelve.

I told Haymitch to stay away. I don't want him to see me in this state and I surely don't want him go around and talk about me. I know he does talk and with whom and it makes me crazy.

Blinded by tears, barely seeing where I'm going I walk on unsteady feet across the square towards the main road. Too late I realize that I took the short route to the Victor's Village. The panic is threatening to overwhelm me and I force myself to calm down. I'm a strong, grown up woman. I can walk this street and wherever I want in Twelve and no one can forbid it. It is late in the afternoon, which means he won't be out anyway. I keep my eyes on the ground, pass the bakery and break into a run. Sweating, I finally arrive in the Victor's Village. Against all better judgment my head turns to the left, to the house on the opposite side of mine. No sign of life. I breathe out. I didn't realize I was even holding my breath and turn towards my door.

And stop. Someone was at my letter box. And it wasn't the mail man. I'm not sure how I know this, but I do. I fumble for the golden key, feeling nervous. I open the box and yes, there is a letter inside. I take it out and see that there is no stamp or address. Only my name, Katniss Everdeen, is written on the beige envelope in green ink. The characters look a bit messy, as if the writer has forgotten how to write and had to learn anew. I know who has written it now and probably put it in my letter box just minutes ago. I turn around once more looking at his house, searching the windows with my eyes. Still nothing. I return my attention to the letter in my hand. Slowly I flip it over and my gut clenches unpleasantly.

The sender is Peeta Mellark.