A/N: Wow, so this update feels a little all over the place but they were all insistent that this is how the story unfolds. I hope it's not the junk that I currently think it is, and that I'm just a little damaged from all the revelations… whoa, okay, stopping before I reveal my own spoilers.

Just one point of clarification because I think the timeline might get a little confusing, this chapter starts off sort of backtracking to the standoff between Gale and Katniss in the Victor's Village, and should really probably inserted after Johanna and Gale argue. I kind of envision this moment with Gale happening at the same time Katniss finds Peeta painting. So it's not really a flashback but since this came out after I had already posted Chapter 8, it may make the timeline seem somewhat non-linear.

But you smart readers probably could have figured that out for yourselves, and didn't need my rambling to help you (or thoroughly confuse you more)…

Ok ok, enough!

I pretty much am sustained on reviews… hint hint. ;)

Somehow, after the events of the morning, Gale finds himself back in front of his house and miraculously not seated in Sae's tavern. His head pounds like he could use a stiff drink, but one thought of the stuffy dark bar, Sae's all-knowing watchful stare, and a snarky comment about day-drinking, and Gale opts for some quiet fresh air.

The front porch swing groans and creaks when he sits but quickly falls silent again, leaving Gale alone with his thoughts. Eventually, he falls into a sort of trance. Nothing really coming or going into his mind, he just sits and exists and life is suddenly a lot simpler, more peaceful.

He isn't aware how long he sits, but when Posy appears next to him and starts to speak, he all but jumps out of his skin.

"Geez, Pose!"

"I'm sorry," Posy says, her eyes shining with mirth. "Mom wanted me to ask how long you were going to sit out here."

Gale blinks at her. "Ummm…"

"She wasn't sure if you wanted to eat with us or if you had other plans."

"No, I don't have any plans," Gale says. He hates the way it comes out defensive.

"Okay," Posy replies. "I think she thought you would want to eat with Johanna and Peeta and Katniss…"

Gale cuts her off suddenly.

"I don't think they want to eat with me."

Posy raises an eyebrow at him, disbelief etched all over her face.

"When you say 'they', you actually mean Katniss, don't you?"

Gale isn't sure what he's supposed to say to that, or that he wants to rehash his strained relationship and unresolved feelings again today. Unfortunately, Posy seems to think that's exactly what he needs to do.

"Whatever happened between you and Katniss anyway?" she asks.

Gale can tell by her tone, that it's a genuine question. She's not trying to pry. He tries to remember that the last time Posy had seen Katniss and him together, times were complicated enough that a five-year-old would not grasp the damage caused in that last farewell. To her, Gale and Katniss were, and then they simply… weren't. It stops the sharp retort he had been about to say in its tracks.

"That's between me and Katniss, Posy," Gale says not unkindly, but hoping his bigger brother authority cuts this conversation off before it can start. But Posy seems to have learned some newfound confidence in his absence. A memory involving cold crisp air and unfazed wild turkeys surfaces in Gale's mind.

"Rory and Vick say it's because you kissed her, and she didn't like it," Posy presses.

"Oh, she definitely liked it," Gale reacts, before he can remind himself he's talking to a twelve-year-old, his kid sister no less.

Posy's head whips towards him and her eyes go big. Gale has to check himself before he curses in front of her too. He makes a mental note to have a word with Rory and Vick about the things they discuss in front of her.

"But if a boy tries to kiss you, and you don't like it, you tell him, and then you come get me," Gale says, pointing at himself for emphasis, and hoping to deflect this awkward turn in conversation away from him and kissing and girls. Gale sends up a silent prayer that the age gap between him and Posy also protects her from learning from many others about his old tomcat ways. Though, he may have to add Sae to his mental note of future conversations.

"Ewwww, Gale. If a boy tried to kiss me, I would probably punch him," she giggles, her cheeks turning slightly pink. Gale won't argue with that. "But I already asked Katniss and she said that wasn't it."

"What? When did… How… What did she say?" Gale splutters.

"Don't worry Gale," Posy grins cheekily, "she said she liked your kisses."

Gale groans audibly. He can't believe his little sister and his oldest friend have had discussions about boys and relationship drama, let alone him and kissing.

If Posy senses his unease, she is gracious enough to let him deal with it on his own. She kicks her legs as if to start the porch chair swinging, but Gale's weight and longer legs prevent any movement. He relaxes a little, pushes off gently, and lets the chair slowly rock them back and forth, sneaking glances every so often at his little sister. The motion sends Posy's dark hair streaming behind her and its length shocks Gale. The last time he saw Posy she barely came up to his waist and her hair had just reached her shoulders. Now, her feet almost touch the ground hanging off the front porch chair, and if he squints he can see the past her the youthful contours of her face to the more refined features of the young lady she is growing into. He thinks that he's going to have to stick around and help Vick and Rory fend off any interested suitors soon. God, he snorts to himself, where did the time go?

Posy quirks her head and frowns sideways at him, her dove gray eyes wondering if he'll share his silent amusement with her.

"When did you get to be so old?" Gale asks.

"While you were away," Posy says matter of factly. Gale tries not feel wounded at her words, but they sting regardless of how innocently she meant them.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, Pose."

"I know," she says, sliding off the front porch swing. "Well I'm going to go help with dinner."

She smiles brightly at him as she passes, and though she means it to be reassuring, Gale is left to wonder just how much he really has missed in the past five years, and why – after the mortification from Posy's revelation dies down – he's left with something that feels a lot like pride.

Katniss stares at the painting again the following morning.

The swirls of yellow and green juxtaposed by the dark silhouettes is as mesmerizing in the early rays of the sun as it was in the soft luminescence of the moon. Maybe even more so. There's a strange contentment to the scene, a sense of peace…

No, not peace, she frowns. But she doesn't feel angry and that's something at least.

As her fingers graze the dried ridges of Peeta's brushstrokes, the paint feels simultaneously smooth and rough. She wonders briefly if Gale's cheek would feel the same way.

She startles at the wayward thought, then feels the indignant flare of familiar rage and grief flow in like scalding water to drown out the disastrous betrayal of her mind. She rises without warning, the sudden movement jarring the canvas on its easel. Her hands reach out to steady it, her fingers dragging, seemingly on their own accord, back to his painted face, as if drawn by any invisible magnetism.

Before they can alight, her mind snaps to and she recoils, scrubbing her hand viciously against the rough cotton of her pants to rid herself of the feel beneath her fingers.

No matter how hard she tries to purge it from her mind, Katniss carries the scorching memory with her for the rest of the day.

And yet, the next morning, she finds herself back in the front room, staring again into the yellows and greens, retracing the steps of this dangerous dance.

By the end of the week, Katniss is feeling weary from the hot and cold of her emotions. She lies to herself, blaming the roller coaster on not only the painting, but on the stress of dealing with another one of Peeta's attacks. Midweek, he'd faltered again, and though, she knows he's not himself during these moments, the recent one was too reminiscent of the first attack that had put her in the hospital. Instead of her neck, Peeta had clamped down her forearm this time. The bruises are still dark on her skin.

On Friday, she is so frustrated and exhausted that she grits her teeth, clenches her fist, and storms out the door without so much as a glance at the canvas.

She works with a fever pitch on whatever project needs an extra hand and it's not hard to find something to keep her moving. She sorts rubble with a vigor that frightens some of the younger crowd enough that they keep a healthy distance lest they find themselves in the path of one her throws. It's late in the afternoon, the summer sun has her head spinning as it beats down on her back, when she hears his voice.

"I thought I told you to wear a helmet, Katniss."

"You didn't say the magic word, Gale," she snips, straightening and wincing at the ache in her lower back. She turns to face him, only mildly startled to see Johanna with him.

Gale blinks, surprised that he doesn't catch the biting bitterness he has come to associate with her sharp remarks. He studies her closely, and while he doesn't exactly see warmth shining back in her eyes, he thinks he does see a hint of mirth. Did Katniss just make a joke?

Johanna snorts and rolls her eyes, but her smirk belies her supposed annoyance at their exchange.

"We were just on our way to get out of this wretched heat," she says. "You wouldn't want to join us for a drink, would you?" Johanna cocks her head and raises her eyebrows somewhat suggestively at the end of question, fixing Katniss with a pointed stare.

Something hot flares in Katniss' stomach, and she thinks it might be because Johanna is looking at her like she already knows the answer. Gale still watches her with that bewildered look that made her heart race. It's not often that she surprises him and she silently admits to herself that she forgot how much she enjoys unsettling him.

Katniss brushes her damp hair off her sweat-soaked forehead with the back of her wrist, studying her hands as if she's contemplating her answer. Johanna taps her booted toe somewhat impatiently, but what really solidifies her response is the devastating look of hope in Gale's eyes.

"Sure," she says nonchalantly, brushing her dirty hands on her pants. Her palms burn with the morning's memories. "Unless you'd rather I not?"

Though she directs her words to Johanna, she looks back up to gauge Gale's reaction. He shakes his head, his lips parting and then closing almost imperceptibly. Her heart smiles.

"I wouldn't have invited you then, would I?" Johanna retorts.

Katniss gapes a little as if she might disagree, looking to Gale who still hasn't found his voice, though his look suggests he might agree with Katniss, and an awkward silence falls over them.

"Whatever," Johanna says, turning to march away, mockingly affronted. When Katniss and Gale don't immediately follow, she calls over her shoulder. "Well come on you two!"

"Two of your darkest," Johanna says. "Katniss…?"

"The usual, Sae," Katniss says, taking a seat and sighing at the cooler interior of the tavern.

"You have a usual?" Gale asks.

"If you look any more surprised, Gale," Katniss says. "Your eyebrows are gonna fall off your face."

Johanna splutters on her beer. Coughing, she raises her glass to Katniss and tips the rim her way in appreciation.

"Careful, Catnip," Gale retorts. "Two wisecracks in one day? Pace yourself, you might get a cramp."

Katniss shrugs, taking a swig of her beer. Her lips twitch as she swallows before she smiles. A real genuine smile. For him. In a nanosecond, Gale is transported back to the Hob at a different counter with a different girl in a different time.

He drinks to distract himself before she can read into him. The beer slides thickly down his throat. Katniss turns away from him, engaging Johanna in some conversation he doesn't hear. His mind replays that smile of hers over and over again. His fingers slip against the chill of the glass, and he almost drops his drink, sloshing some of the dark liquid on the counter.

"Easy there!" Johanna laughs.

She probably makes some snide remark about his alcohol tolerance but Gale misses that too. Katniss has reached past him to snag a napkin from the holder on the counter in front of him, and in doing so, her sleeve slips back to reveal a dark pattern on her skin. Bruises, Gale thinks. Before he can stop himself, he snags her wrist and Katniss freezes.

He tugs her shirt up a little higher to reveal more black and blue spots, his grip tightening firmly but gently when she tries to pull away.

"Gale," she whispers, her voice soft, pleading.

"What happened?" he asks, his fingers brushing over her battered skin. He pauses, noticing as he does so how the fingers of his left hand seem to align perfectly with the bruising. When he looks up, his eyes are dark. "Who did this?"

Katniss squirms in his grasp, and Gale is thankful for the light patronage of the tavern so he doesn't miss her words to the din.

"He didn't mean to."

"Peeta?" Johanna asks. Her voice holds more sympathy than Gale's would have. "A hijacking attack?"

Katniss nods miserably, not looking at Gale. "This one was the worst he's had in a while."

When no one says anything, Katniss looks up to catch the pointed look Johanna gives to Gale. But Gale's cell rings, interrupting them.

"Hawthorne," he answers. He listens for a moment, then mouths "Paylor", and only relinquishes Katniss' wrist when he rises to step away from the counter. Katniss snatches her arm to her, pulling her sleeve back down as if covering the wounds with fabric will erase them from everyone's collective memory.

Johanna doesn't say anything at first. She sits swirling her half-drank beer in its glass, waiting for Katniss to break the silence, or maybe just not knowing what to say. Scowling, Katniss drains her beer, and tries not to think.

"It's not Peeta's fault," Johanna says, unknowingly echoing the mantra Katniss is repeating to herself, but before Katniss can take comfort in that solidarity, Johanna continues. "It's yours."

Katniss gapes, wondering how on earth she's responsible for Peeta's hijacks when Johanna explains.

"Well it's obviously that bastard Snow's fault," Johanna sneers, then more softly, "but you're his trigger." She pauses, considering. "And I suppose seeing Gale and I again just sort of amplifies that."

"You mean his attacks are getting worse because of you being here?" Katniss asks.

"Worse or more frequent."

Katniss frowns. If she thinks about it, Peeta has had two relapses in the past week when he hadn't had two in the same month for over a year. It's disturbing but hardly the trend Johanna is seemingly implying.

"Right after the war, they sent me to detox," Johanna said, her eyes staring hard at a knot in the polished wooden counter. "I think the turmoil of the Capitol bombing just sort sent me…" She purses her lips, searching for the words. "I just snapped."

Katniss doesn't move.

"I spent two, no, three," she nods, looking at Katniss. "Three months in detox. They tried everything. Reconditioning methods, and negative associations. None of it worked except banishment."

"Banishment?"

"The attacks only came on with known triggers. In my case, family… blood… roses…" Johanna explains. "But if I wasn't around those things, the attacks vanish. Banishing myself from my triggers was the only way to stop them from happening."

"So you haven't had an attack?"

"Not in four years."

Katniss frowns again, thinking.

"What about Gale?" she asks.

"What about him?" Johanna says.

"How can you be around him all the time?"

"Gale isn't one of my triggers." Johanna sets down her beer and fixes Katniss with her dark eyes. There's pity in them. She doesn't have to say what she's thinking out loud.

"You know he went through his own sort of detox after the war."

Katniss clenches her teeth, but can't help asking, "Gale?"

Johanna nods.

"He was a complete workaholic and damned adrenaline junkie," Johanna says, that faraway look in her eyes again. "Always was the first to sign up for one of Paylor's dangerous crusades like he had a death wish." She scoffs. "I think I started following him just to make sure he didn't succeed in that mission. It wasn't until we started dating that I saw how broken he really was."

Katniss shifts awkwardly at this admission.

"He never would take about you," Johanna continues, not noticing her discomfort, "but he said your name once while we were… well…"

Uncomfortable with the memory, Johanna uncharacteristically bites her lip, her voice trailing off. Katniss sees the shadow pass over her features, thinks she recognizes the pain there, and though she would rather not think about any intimate details between Johanna and Gale, she can see that Johanna had cared for him.

"I'm sorry."

But Katniss doesn't know if she's apologizing for her name being brought up back then, or to acknowledge the depth of Johanna's long ago feelings.

"Yeah," Johanna says, "that's what he said too." She's quiet for a time, picking absently as some dirt underneath her nails before she huffs at something funny that Katniss can't see, looking at Katniss with that unapologetic way of hers. "Neither one of you has anything to be sorry for. Except for maybe what you do to each other."

Finishing the last of her beer, she rises, tossing some coins onto the counter. "Keep it," she says to Sae, when the old woman comes to collect their tab, then, touching Katniss gently on the shoulder, "If he hasn't returned by now, it's probably something important."

~Fin