Things I'd like to share with you

Chapter 1: Kisses

'All these kisses I need to share with you.'

I was up on the podium. My heart was racing. When Peeta Mellark's name was called, I had just enough time to think, not him, before Gale stepped forward and volunteered.

This probably makes me a terrible person, because Gale was staring at me fiercely and I should have been grateful, but all I could feel was rage. As he walked towards me and mounted the steps, my fury at his stupidity only increased.

We had an agreement. My name comes up: he takes care of my family. His name comes up: I take care of his family. Who would do that now? I saw the question reflected in my mother's worried expression.

It would have been one thing if both our names had gotten drawn. Bad luck. A cruel twist of fate. But that didn't happen. I had to volunteer. He didn't have to, but, idiotically, did anyway.

'What are you doing?' I hissed at him, when he was close enough to hear. Gale didn't respond. Now we were probably both dead and our families would starve. What the hell was Gale thinking?

I scanned the crowd. Prim was crying and my mother was unsuccessfully trying to comfort her. That was not something I wanted to see, so I quickly turned away. Hazelle looked simply stunned by this turn of events. You and me both, I bitterly thought. I knew that Rory and Vick and Posy must be experiencing the same confusion. Gale had effectively abandoned them. While Effie blathered on about how great it was to have two volunteers, I searched for something to look at that wouldn't make me cry. My eyes came to rest on Peeta.

He was arguing with his father. It was difficult to see what exactly was going on, but his father seemed to be holding him back. Then Peeta suddenly looked up and our gazes locked. His face mirrored my inner struggle. Relief or anger? He appeared to have a hard time deciding what to feel too. Yet, there was something else there in his eyes. An emotion I couldn't place.

(***)

Stop it, Katniss, I admonish myself. But I can't help it. Those days keep haunting me, because things could have been different.

(***)

After the ceremony, I instructed Prim and my mother on what to do. Prim tried very hard not to cry. After them, Madge came. She gave me a pin. I fingered it, while my mind kept going over food. Food that Prim and my mother and Gale's family would no longer have, because we would no longer be around to provide it. Why had Gale done it? What had possessed him?

Expecting no one else, I allowed myself to feel the fear that I had been ignoring. I was going to die. Gale was going to die. And it was completely unnecessary. My death, but Gale's even more so. The anger overtook my fear. That felt better.

The door opened and Peeta came into the room. There was a large bruise forming under his ear that looked painful. With a terse nod, we acknowledged each other.

'I'll take care of your family,' he blurted out. I frowned.

'Shouldn't you make this offer to Gale? He's the one who volunteered for you,' I pointed out. He shot me a strange look, before explaining that he'd already made the same promise to Gale. This was the second time that Peeta would be doing me a favour. I didn't think that I would ever get another chance, so I politely thanked him.

He lingered by the door and wished me luck before leaving. No matter how much I hated to admit it, I thought that his promise meant nothing. What could he do? He was just a baker's son and his mother certainly wouldn't allow him to give bread away for free. This train of thought sparked my fury at Gale again. I tried to envision myself in his position, but I couldn't imagine reacting similarly. If his name had been drawn, I wouldn't have volunteered to go with him.

(***)

Anger. It seems that whenever I think of Gale I become angry. Older memories, from years before the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games changed everything, are different. We could have had more memories, if he hadn't volunteered. Or rather, he could have had more memories, because without his help I don't think I would have survived the Games. That doesn't make me less angry, though. No, absurdly, it makes me even angrier.

(***)

I never misunderstood his intentions. Gale had entered the Games to keep me alive. The story Haymitch and Gale fabricated was that Peeta was his best friend and that was why he had volunteered. For some reason, Peeta played along in the interviews.

Thus, when Gale teamed up with the Careers, I wasn't surprised. It wasn't until it was just Gale and me that the surprise came. He wanted me to kill him. I don't know why I was so surprised. After all, there could be only one victor. Gale had done his best to narrow the field and now there were only the two of us left. One of us had to die.

Of course, I refused. That was when he told me what he had done.

'I knew you couldn't kill Rue, so I did. Don't look like that, Katniss. You're going to win.'

(***)

Every time I look at Prim, I see Rue.

When Gale said that he'd killed her, I didn't believe him. The footage doesn't make it any easier to believe. Seeing Gale take Rue's life and vanish before I arrive. Too late to save her. Too late to do anything but sing while she dies. I don't understand how he could have done it.

(***)

My refusal to believe the truth exasperated him. He sighed, before dipping his hand into his pack. My gaze followed the motion, until he distracted me by touching my cheek with his other hand. It was a strangely tender gesture. His voice dropped as he tried to explain his actions.

'This is what the Hunger Games do, Katniss. They make you kill children to survive. They make you think only of yourself. Well, I care about myself, but I care about you too. I've fought; I've killed so that you can live and I'll be damned if I let them force me into killing you. Fuck President Snow and the Capitol and the Games. I love you.'

That was when he consumed the berries. Night lock. He knocked them back, barely chewed on them. He must have known I would have stopped him if he had told me what he was planning.

Shocked, I kneeled by his side as he fell. It didn't take long. I held his hand throughout. The sound of the canon almost shattered me. My fingers released his and fumbled with my pin. I pinned it to his dirty clothes. Then I kissed him, maybe hoping that I would ingest some of the poisonous berries myself and die too. That was not an option, however.

(***)

Curling up and dying still seems preferable to living, but I can't do that. So I am angry. I hunt. I relive. Nearly every night brings me the Games. Rue's death. Gale's sacrifice. The only half-way decent dream associated with the Games is the one of my return to District 12.

(***)

As I embarked from the train, I immediately spotted Prim and my mother. They were looking good. Not as good as they could have looked, but good enough. I hugged Prim. She felt frail and thin. She hugged me back with surprising strength.

'You look... How?' I stammered. She smiled and indicated Peeta.

'I showed him where you keep your bow. He's much better than me, but not as good as you.'

He had kept his promise. Awkwardly, he waved at me. I remembered how I had thanked him, coldly, not believing that he could actually help. Now I owed him even more. I approached, tentatively.

'Thank you,' I mumbled, attempting to avoid his gaze. When I finally met his clear blue eyes, there was that something again. I couldn't quite explain it, except to say that it shouldn't have been there. As if I had done him a favour, instead of the other way around. It unnerved me, the way he looked at me.

I don't think he had heard me. Words weren't sufficient, anyway. Not knowing how else to thank him, I kissed him. It reminded me of kissing Gale, of Gale dying, of the slaughter of innocents. I pulled away.

(***)

That is a happy memory. I have so few of them left now, that I can't afford to be picky. My family and Gale's family are okay; that is good enough for me.

Sometimes I don't sleep, because no sleep means no dreams. I did sleep tonight, so I am covered in sweat. I should get up. I need to hunt. Wash off the nightmare, if there is time. It is hard, getting out of bed. You'd think I would be glad to get away from my bed, which has become a dreaded place, but often I have no desire to face the day.

In the morning, I wake up, only because I have to. For the people who depend on me.

'Did you dream about the Games?' Prim asks, startling me. Sometimes she sleeps with me, though it is not as it was before. Frequently, I scare her with my screams. I nod.

The Hunger Games make everyone involved a little less human, I think. It doesn't matter whether you participate or merely watch. Every kill is a blow to your humanity. As I contemplate this, I catch Prim staring at me.

'What?'

'You yelled his name again,' she whispers.

I stiffen and silence her with a harsh look. She flushes and leaves before I can apologise. I don't want to be reminded of the Games. Prim knows this. That's no excuse for my behaviour, but perhaps it is an explanation.

For the first time, I wonder which name I always call out in the dark: Gale or Peeta. The one I lost or the one I found.

(***)

Author's note: The title of the story and the (slightly modified) quotations at the beginning of every chapter come from a little booklet called 'Things I'd like to share with you' written and illustrated by Rachel Sender.