A/N: I haven't updated this in over six months. I didn't want you guys to think I abandoned it. This is something that has been going through my head for months.

Disclaimer:The Hunger Games and all the characters in this fic are the property of Suzanne Collins.

Enjoy!

This was nowhere near as complicated as this bastard was making it.

He'd purposely chosen the simplest twitch up snare he knew, the very first one his Pa had taught him when he'd first taken him out to the woods when he was six. He could likely rig it with his eyes closed, relying on touch alone.

Therefore, unwarranted, the anger swirled and coiled in the pit of his stomach as he watched the blonde fumble his way through the pitifully elemental trap for a the third time in half an hour and he reminded himself he was doing this for her. She'd asked him to sacrifice their shared Sunday hunt time to this pointless endeavor. As if those weren't numbered as it was. She'd even specifically beseeched him to spend extra time with the baker's son when they'd both realized how hopelessly inept he was at this when he'd first arrived that morning and ran through the simplest snares he knew with the training trio.

Yes, he was furious. He was livid that Snow had chosen the most public, most brutal and, likely, slowest and most agonizing form of execution for her- the one girl he was certain he loved. But most of all, he was enraged at himself, at his helplessness, at the sheer frustration of having to watch her go into that oblivion with no one. No. Worse than no one. She was more than likely going in with this fumbling idiot who'd already managed to weigh her down and almost get her killed in one arena. Nothing he'd seen so far today made him especially optimistic of a better outcome this time around.

If only she wasn't so stubborn. If only she'd listened to reason and agreed to look out for just herself this time like he'd begged. If only he could change the reality that was so evident to everyone but her.

What he wouldn't give to change her mind. What he wouldn't sacrifice to change her heart.

SNAP! "Shit!"

Gale jerked out of his bile wallowing session at the sound of such a foreign and unbecoming expletive leaving the usually mild-mannered teenager upon his mistakenly tripping the fulcrum that sent the spiked twig reeling right into the center of his open palm, directly under his index finger. His eyes widened in further shock at both the quantity and variety of other huffed imprecations that swiftly followed that first, as Peeta wrung out his obviously stinging hand.

Before he could fully think better of it, the older boy flitted a brief look across the yard to make sure Haymitch and Katniss were otherwise occupied with their more elaborate trap at the maple there before turning a derisive smirk on the boy before him. "Imagine what the Capitol would think if they knew their new Golden Boy had a mouth like that, Mellark? I'm surprised you even know what half just came out of your mouth means."

Peeta stilled the movements of his hand abruptly, turning to lock eyes on him. Gale registered what he would almost swear was venom - if this were any other person glaring at him, anyway - roil like lightning through the azure of the younger boy's eyes before he schooled his entire expression to something unreadable. His voice was just as stolid. "You've obviously never had a five minute conversation with Rye when he's mad. He has a working theory that one can't really communicate anger without cursing every other word. Mom's been trying to…" one of his golden brows rose as he mock tried to find the right word, "break him of what she considers that nasty habit for years."

He let out a humorless scoff, looking down at his now steadily bleeding hand and searched briefly for something he could use to staunch the blood. Failing to find anything, he wiped it on the inside of his shirt and hoped he could change before Katniss noticed it. "I think the more she tries to break him of it, the more he does it just to piss her off. Either way, I've gotten a very extensive vocabulary lesson out of his extended verbal rebellion." He then looked down at the ruined, bloody trap and added, with disdain, "I'm not getting any better at this, am I?"

Maybe it was the fact that the younger teen had not taken his obvious bait just moments before, maybe it'd been the sincerity and detachment he'd achieved while relating another tragic wrinkle to what everyone in the district knew about his family, but no one spoke about. Either way, Gale could not find the fire within to rekindle the previous animosity he'd felt toward him. Instead, he found himself coming closer and stooping down to better examine the blonde's efforts.

"You didn't do half bad this time, you know. Your mechanics are sound. You just…" He wasn't sure how to word it exactly. Peeta had no instinct for trapping, whatsoever. It was uncanny, really. The trap design was sound. He just kept counterbalancing it in ridiculous ways. Of course, it was going to go off randomly. How could he not see that?

Scowling, he let out a short breath. "You're a decent scavenger. As long as you don't eat anything in there you don't recognize and don't see someone else eat and not die from first, you likely won't starve. Besides, Katniss has this stuff down and she can hunt if she gets her hands on bow. She can keep both of you fed well enough."

When Gale looked up from the useless snare, he found Peeta regarding him with unguarded amusement. He found himself uncomfortable immediately.

"You really don't think much of my going in there with her, do you, Gale?"

"I didn't…" the hunter instantly found himself on the defensive. "I taught you the stupid snare, didn't I? If I thought-"

"Do you really think I'm oblivious to the way you're sneering at me? To the way you've looked at me from the moment I stepped off that first train that brought us back after our Games?"

The older boy narrowed his silver eyes, challenge blazing in their depths. Then, he stated dispassionately, "It's not right that she's getting thrown back into that nightmare but if she has to go back, it should be with a person who can give her the best chance. Someone who-"

"Is willing to die so that she can live?"

Gale found his mouth snapping shut, unable to formulate a proper counter to what the younger teen had stipulated. But growing increasingly unsettled by the way the blonde's smile grew, yet seemed to become more pained.

Peeta shrugged a shoulder. "Katniss has a weak flank, Gale. She's undersized. Anyone with any kind of bulk has a noticeable advantage on her if they get the drop on her and she has to sleep. No one can go on indefinitely in the arena. I may not be able to hunt or fish or even tell a poisonous plant from something that heals, but I can and will watch her back in there. I'm willing to do anything to make sure she gets out. Because she has to get out. Too many people are counting on her for any other alternative to be acceptable."

A strangely confortable silence settled over both young men as both their eyes, as of some unspoken accord, found their way to the raven-haired girl across the yard. She was laughing at Haywitch, who was hanging by a single leg upside-down from the maple tree, red in the face and screaming obscenities interlaced with commands to be released from his compromised position. Peeta's voice broke Gale out of his trance on Katniss's lithe body as she continued chuckling.

"You need to make her forget."

He turned confused eyes on the baker's son, but the boy didn't turn to regard him as he continued. He just glared at the grass beneath him as he picked at some blades and elaborated, "She remembers things… in her dreams. She… they don't let her sleep at night. She's going to need you to help her forget so she can get a decent night's sleep."

Peeta then looked up to level a look so full of pained conviction at him, Gale had to fight the urge to cringe. "She's going to come back and you need to teach her to be happy again, Gale. She deserves to be happy. She needs to forget. You can do that, right. You can help her with that- after."

Gale found himself at a loss for words, fumbling in the intensity of the younger boy's stare, absorbed by the urgency of his request. "I-I will try, Peeta. There's nothing I want more than to see her happy."

He watched the blonde nod and swallow deeply, apparently satisfied with that response as he turned to look back at the other two occupants of the yard. Suddenly, he felt an unwelcome, unexplainable guilt at the notion that only moments before he'd been irate at this boy. It didn't take long for a thread of irritation to tinge it, however. Katniss still had feelings for this boy. He was justified in his anger toward him, wasn't he? Were it not for him, she would not be conflicted. They could have been together the moment she stepped off that train from her Games.

So, why did he feel like such a prick for wanting to hate him?

Things would be so much simpler if he could just hate Peeta Mellark.

A/N: I want to keep updating this but time is very limited. I hope to get another one out way sooner than six months, though.

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