a/n: Haven't read these in a while so apologies if anything is incorrect. Feel free to let me know.
periphery
Claudius Templesmith opens the Games and Gale Hawthorne's arm bleeds ruby red blood that runs down his arm in rivulets, staining his pants with each drop. He doesn't bother to apply any pressure to it.
His forearm bears forty-two tick marks halfway through. Ten are dead and Katniss is alive but she is marked- by dirt, blood, guilt and the Capital's show.
Another tribute dies and his arm bears forty-three.
When they announce that two can come home, he celebrates. He gets drunk in the woods and throws the knife down the ravine. But it doesn't matter, the eighty-seven marks have begun to scar (he uses both arms now).
...
Katniss holds the berries to her lips and he's found a new knife.
A new knife.
A new slice.
A-
Posy comes flying into the room and he drops the knife on the counter. She jumps into his arms cheering and screaming and all but bouncing out of them again.
"She's coming home! She's coming home!"
He hugs little Posy and cries.
...
Everyone fusses over the victors, their injuries, their triumphs and everything in between. No one worries about the families, the friends, the people they nearly left behind. And only one notices (comments) on Gale.
Madge places a placating hand on his shoulder, looking up to him.
"She needs a friend, Gale. Not an admirer," she says in her soft-spoken voice. Her fingers wrap around the stripe-like scars on his right forearm.
"She needs someone to be strong."
He pulls away: "I am strong. I can handle pain."
Madge looks at the boy sadly, "Strength is inside. It doesn't matter how many blows you can take unless you have the guts to go back for more."
He stands silent for a minute, watching the screen where a tired but smiling face beams.
"This is only the beginning, isn't it?"
"Yes."
...
"What happened to you, Gale? This isn't hunting in the woods anymore!"
His laugh is harsh, ice rushing over her skin. "No, Catnip, you're right. It's a war."
"Don't say that!"
"It's true though, Katniss! Step out of your Mockingjay blinders and look around. This isn't a rebellion; it's more. And I'll do whatever it takes to win it, damnit!"
She gapes at him and he simply shrugs. "I had to step out of the shadows sometime. If being a soldier is what it takes, I'll do it."
His sleeves are pushed to his elbows as he fiddles with Beetee's device. When she sees the white marks, guilt floods over her.
But she says nothing.
...
He moves back to District 12, years later. Only, it has a new name and a new look but it doesn't really matter to him. There will always be District 12; there will always be the Seam.
He's sick of the glitz and glamour and all the fame. The time is gone and all that remains of the hope of the Mockingjay is the gold plated statue in the center of the Capitol. Immortalized and forever young, Katnisss stands.
And everyone cries how only the good die young and how the perhaps the berries that saved her life ended it, a dose of poison permeating her body and hiding for years even as she valiantly spat them out.
Gale didn't attend the funeral.
His sister doesn't blame him.
Instead he sneaks (well, he supposes now he's allowed to freely walk) into the woods where the animals used to flee. The place is patched in burned and regrowing all at once.
So he finds a sapling and lays down the bow, a single arrow permanently notched in it.
He walks back out, content to live on the peripherary of the world.
...
Years later only his sister is there when he falls. She buries him in the forest, where a bow hangs from a small tree.
The grave is unmarked, unnoticed-
all those who would've bothered are gone anyway.
fin.