Hi. I'm kinda alive and very, very sorry. Also casually updating a complete story because logic? What logic? Guess I got inspired by the new CF promo. Ugh, damned spot. Anyway…
Little Closer
(III.)
A lot can happen in a few weeks.
A few weeks ago, Gale had been waiting for me here, with a smile on his face and an arrow-pierced loaf in his hands. Both my pace and my heart lightened at the sight, and for once, I let my tight self-control do the same. I let my slow-burning curiosity flare up, and in a moment that turned out to be both the first and the last, I let myself believe that I'm mine to give, and he is mine to take, and vice versa.
Just because we wanted to.
It was all that mattered for a moment, only not to matter at all mere hours later.
I had to volunteer to go where Gale couldn't think of following, because that would break a deal much more important than all our desires. We said our goodbyes, and I locked him in a deep dark place in my heart and forbade myself from reaching it as I focused on what laid ahead. I forbade myself from reaching it there even as I opened my heart to another, and picked the only path to return I could tread without getting irrevocably lost.
I came back as half a victor, polished and changed and injured and burned and repaired, not entirely the one who'd left, but not yet someone that would not want to reclaim who I'd been. For all the future painted in blinding Capitol colors, there were pieces of my past I missed too much, one more sorely than any other.
Gale and I have hardly spoken since my return, save for some thunderous flashing of eyes from a safe distance, some fake familial affection when in company, and a few words exchanged surreptitiously in a dark doorway.
"I couldn't have done it any other way. You know that. Not really," I'd whispered frantically, my words beating against the mask Gale took to regarding me through whenever someone else was looking. Nowadays there almost always was. Any other option would have torn me apart more, and would have been closer to playing by the Capitol's rules. I knew… hoped Gale could see that… whatever he was thinking about it.
"I suppose not." He was avoiding my eyes and I could tell he was angry, but not so much with me as for me, angry at everything that had been done to me, that I'd been forced to do. "Where does it leave you now?"
"I-I don't even know. Still playing when they are looking."
Gale nodded grimly and held my wrist for a moment, the warmth of his strong hand burning through my sleeve. Finally, he looked right into my eyes, the soft, dark stare stirring long-bottled emotions. "I miss you, Katniss. I know it doesn't really matter anymore, but I do."
"I know," I muttered, tugging my wrist out of his grip and brushing my fingers against his. I had no time to start explaining how much I missed him too, how much it no longer mattered what we both want, and how dangerous everything was, not even if I could find the right words. So I just held his gaze and willed him to understand, hoping at least my eyes were unchanged enough.
Suddenly, a light flickered on in a neighboring house in the Victors' Village, and we both flinched.
Gale had almost smiled at me by then, but he just pressed his lips into a thin line, gave my hand a tiny squeeze and took off.
Leaning back against the cold hard door, I lightly bumped my head on the wood to clear it. Maybe it was better that way. I was here, living and breathing, which should have been enough for both of us, and bathed in blood money that should have been a welcome perk. And however much I needed more to let Gale know I'm truly back… that had to happen in our place, on our terms. Not in a district swarming with reporters still chasing a star-crossed-lover act. Not in a district where he had to spend most of his waking hours underground, partly to make the charade that saved me from being buried underground (or ardently wishing I were) more believable.
/
Even though I no longer had to sneak into the woods for sustenance, I needed to do so for sanity even more. A little, illicit escape from everything I was suddenly supposed to be would be a trophy by itself, and for that I needed Gale too.
/
Finally, I am waiting for him.
The rock is colder now and the blackberry bushes bare. My hands are empty and heart is too full and broken and leaking, all at once. A lot has happened. I have almost eaten a different kind of berry, and I haven't shot a boy who'd given me bread at a direr time, and that turned out to be my only saving grace. I've hunted and been hunted, humans and by humans, and the ghosts of how different it is are still lingering under my skin.
Hopefully, nothing else does.
I squeeze my forearm compulsively for a millionth time, but while the whole thing feels extra smooth and slightly artificial, I can't feel any extra bump under the surface that would indicate the presence of the arena tracker. That doesn't put me entirely at ease, though. As a victor, I should be over it and through it, but all I have is hollow guilt and strained heartstrings, and a certainty I'm in too deep, much more acute than I when I'd been just a girl from the Seam.
The mess has just started, and I hardly ever feel whole enough to face it.
Gale would understand a lot but wouldn't, couldn't understand everything, and it is actually good that way. He'd understood who I was before, and reclaiming him would be reclaiming a shard of who I'd been, a shard of home that existed only in us. I may need him less now but I want him more.
And he's not showing up.
I stare into the distance, into the freedom I can no longer think of reaching, and then at the ground. Dead leaves are swirling in the crisp wind, melting before my eyes into spirals of fake, rotting gold. The sun is still pale and low above the horizon. Gale's not very late yet, but I'm impatient. Tears sting my eyes, a mix of sadness and desperate anger at the possibility he might miss the first chance to meet me.
/
I sense him before I see him. Gale's presence in a place where I meet nobody else, and where I can still want us to belong together, simply fades into my consciousness.
He's standing a few feet away, grim and wary, just watching me. Too much of that lately, and it can't be enough, not when it can be helped. He doesn't step closer, but when I rise on shaky legs, he opens his arms at once. Leaving the choice to me. Again.
I don't hesitate.
Barely seeing him through salt-caked lashes, I fumble my way there and cling to him, dreading the moment when I'll have to let go again. Even as much as to look into his eyes. Neither of us says a word, Gale presses us so close we can hardly breathe, but our chests still heave almost in unison, a sob of relief from me, a breath of "Catnip?" from him. Whispered and uncertain, a bit like the first time I'd said my name to him.
"Yeah," I mutter into his chest. It's not an entirely true answer to all the questions loaded into the old nickname, it can't be anymore, but I want it to be, so much. "I'm back here."
"You're back," he confirms, lips skimming my hair, and lightly sways me in his arms. "Back to me too?"
Gently pushing against his chest, I loosen the embrace until we are almost at arm's length, but my fingers still curl in his shirt, drawn to his fast heartbeat. Before, he'd held my hand to his heart and told me I'm already there… and I couldn't have been reaped out … just like that. I couldn't stand the idea.
I also know Gale hadn't been torn out of mine, whatever the rest of the country might think. It's fuller than it used to be, but there's still room, more than I'd thought possible.
"Here, yes. If you still want me."
Gale grits his teeth audibly, but the touch of his fingers on my cheek is as light as butterfly wings. "I'm sorry if I've made you doubt it."
I let him tilt my chin up and shake my head. "Don't be. I am sorry too… for many things, and maybe I should be for many more. But let's forget it now." There's a lot to say but it's too complicated; and I've come here to escape it all. Not to think of the games and the arena, of the threats that came after, not even to think of Peeta. He'll have to understand I won't really be myself without Gale, just like Gale will have to accept there's something I share only with Peeta.
Right now, though, this is only between Gale and me, and I'd rather touch him than talk. Touch every inch of him, to reclaim my territory, to dig my nails into his skin as if I could find traces of my old self there.
My fingers curl tighter in his shirt and Gale reflexively steps closer, arms snaring my waist, lips brushing my forehead.
"So you still-"
"Shhh," I breathe and tilt my head up, covering his lips with mine. Gale takes over the kiss at once, one hand coming up to curl possessively around the back of my neck. I let him coax my mouth open; I don't even know if I still taste the same but he devours me anyway, wet kisses sliding over my lips, along my jaw, down my throat.
We disconnect only for seconds at a time, discarding clothes and gasping for breath.
My skin feels soft and new; Gale's touch doesn't - I can tell he still hardly believes he can feel me again, and grips me as if I were to vanish if left unattended for a mere second. I welcome his frantic, desperate passion, and instinctively return it. Gale's body is familiar, untouched by the Capitol but not entirely unaltered – his palms are rougher than ever with fresh pickaxe- calluses, and steely knots of sore muscle shift under my fingers as I roam his shoulders and back. He draws a sharp breath when I touch him too roughly, but I don't care all that much, and obviously neither does he.
Nothing would stop us now.
First time, I'd climbed him, buoyed by water and we stood, stubbornly, ephemerally connected, while the stream flowed around us, carrying all our essences away. Now I let him lay me down and nail me to the hard ground, press me into the drying grass and dying flowers. The scent of autumn earth, pungent with a slight hint of decay, is heavy in my head, and Gale's body is heavy on top of mine, but bursting with life.
I draw him in, my legs possessively winding around his waist, ankles crossing against the overcast sky glaring down on us. Every cloud looks a bit like the Capitol seal and I want to block them out, tugging Gale's face closer until our foreheads almost touch.
In his eyes, everything burns, and I hold onto the fire, the tingle of my nerves and the hum of my boiling blood drowning out everything else. We are balanced on the edge of release for what feels like an eternity, but still ends too soon. I writhe under him as Gale finishes us both with his uncannily deft hands, pearly fluids safely sinking from my spread thighs onto the earth.
That's where we belong and that's where we fall together, breathless and dirty and fleetingly content. Salvaged, but not saved, because we have turned from criminals to a crime, and won't ever have more than stolen moments.
/
"Next Sunday?"
"Yeah."
/
Later, we dress silently, and I rise to leave first, with sweet aches in my body and a bitter ache in my heart. A few petals of crushed daisies have stuck in my messy braid.
I can feel Gale's gaze still on me, slanting from under furrowed brows, but I don't look back.
Not until the next time.
Sometimes, even the best hunters have to return home empty-handed.
(But there's always plenty back in the woods.)