#gatniss

Chapter 1

The sound of tiny, shuffling feet trailed Gale down the corridor, to his hotel floor, and into the hotel room that was adjoined to his.

  "Chris, are you—? Ooh."

  The young boy was sprawled out on the couch, as opposed to one of the twin beds that the room came with. He was as still as death; the lone aspect that hinted toward his well-being was his loud snoring.

  Gale's assistant leaned over, presumably to lift Chris into her arms and place him in the bed. After all, she didn't particularly endorse children resting in what she believed were uncomfortable places. "Leave him," Gale whispered, peering over her shoulder.

  There was a tug on his hand, and he smiled down at the small, dark-skinned girl that had taken ahold of it. "We'll have to go without Chris, then," Gale surmised.

  As expected, the girl beamed brightly; she and her brother rarely ever got along, and when they did, she was quick to remark how slow or how hyper he was, depending on her mood. Moreover, she didn't spend one-on-one time with her father often, since his government job took him away from home for long periods of time. It'd gotten to the point where Gale's assistant had turned into a live-in nanny.

  He peered up at the other adult, watching her for a moment to gauge her reaction, to both his 'undermining of her authority' and his declaration about leaving Chris. This, of course, meant that she'd be forced to remain confined in the four walls of the lavish hotel room while Gale and his daughter reminisced and pranced around District 12, respectively. She didn't glare, like he'd expected. Instead, the woman moved over to him and bent down to peck the girl on the forehead.

  "Behave, yes?"

  The girl nodded, her ever-so-bright smile unwavering. Then, Gale's assistant turned to the man himself. Her countenance was still void of emotion. "Don't stay out too late. I'd prefer if you came back within the next couple of hours, actually. It's not fair to Chris that he doesn't get to explore with his father."

  Gale opened his mouth to protest, but the woman quirked her eyebrow and all counterarguments died on his lips. Chris honestly hadn't been interested in visiting District 12. He missed home, and he complained about leaving his friends in District 2 for the duration of the hovercraft ride. Gale was certain that Chris wasn't going to feel the least bit dejected when he found out about the outing. Still, it might have calmed him.

  With a shrug, Gale murmured, "We'll see. If you get a chance, call Paylor—talk some sense into her, will you?" He was at the door now, handing his daughter her coat. Then, the brown-haired man slipped on his own.

  "I'll try," Gale's assistant conceded, leaning against the doorframe

  "Thanks, Devon." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

District 12 was, suffice it to say, a new and improved land. Gale barely recognized anyone or anything, and he wasn’t entirely certain as to whether that was a good or bad thing. The fact that he didn’t possess a familiarity with the area anymore cut Gale’s tour for his daughter short. They’d gazed at the refurbished woods from a distance, visited the abandoned building that had once been a schoolhouse for young children, and gazed wistfully upon the spot that had once been his childhood residence, then rubble, and, now, a fancy supermarket. Gale didn’t feel as if he belonged. It wasn’t a feeling of superiority or anything, seeing as social mobility was now viable in each district; it was more so the sensation of being thrust into a foreign world that had once bore some attachment to him. Should District 12 be considered his first house, it was no longer his home, and he accepted that smugly.

  Gale and his daughter wound up touring the streets aimlessly, entering a few shops and, unbeknownst to them, taking well over the time that Devon had allotted them to be away. It wasn’t as if he actually listened to Devon, anyhow—she was his assistant. Nonetheless, women could be bossy and intimidating.

  When he finally caught wind of the gradually darkening sky outside, Gale winced at the thought of the tongue-lashing that he was going to get when they returned to the hotel. Devon had work to do, and Chris wasn’t the calmest kid on the block. Gale wouldn’t blame her if she hadn’t called Paylor for him, at this point.

  “C’mon, my love.” Gale took his daughter’s brown hand in his and led her out of the mundane toy store they’d found themselves in. “Let’s go and grab dinner.” Despite his lack of knowledge regarding their location—in conjunction with the fact that they’d only passed grocery stores and sweets stands thus far—Gale had an inkling that District 12 had eateries.

  No restaurant came into view for another mile or so. It was then that Gale recognized the name on a neon sign blinking above a sizeable building. It read ‘Greasy Sae’s’. The ghost of a smile painted Gale’s lips, and he entered the restaurant to find its namesake chatting with a couple at a nearby table. He waited patiently by the front counter, politely declining to order with the cashier. It felt like a century had passed when Sae finally made her way back to the front of the restaurant. Upon studying his face as she neared him, Sae paused in her tracks. Her eyes widened as if she had seen a ghost.

Gale’s daughter tightened her grip on his hand, and he pulled her slightly closer to calm her racing heart.

  Sae was the first to break the silence. “Why, if it isn’t my government boy!” She hobbled toward Gale and threw her arms around him. He returned the hug one-handedly, partially because he wasn’t keen on physical contact with anyone besides his children, and because his daughter was still clutching his other hand in a death grip.

  Gale was grinning when Sae pulled back. She scrutinized him for a brief moment and then, predictably, she began to fuss over him. “Your figure! You’ve got muscles, but there’s no meat on those bones, is there? I can hear them a-creakin’ right now.” Gale believed it was sheer luck that she caught his daughter’s eye at that moment, for she put a halt on her scolding to kneel down and face the girl; the latter’s gaze was encompassed by fright and wonderment. “Who might you be?” Sae queried, holding onto the girl’s shoulders. The girl stiffened and looked up at Gale, who nodded his approval.

  “I’m Rose,” the girl replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Gale gulped involuntarily. He felt Sae’s eyes on him, and once he mustered the courage to look at her, he found no accusation in them. In lieu, he detected understanding and discernment. He clearly hadn’t gotten over his actions during the war, and this was a manner in which he coped, besides drowning himself in work. Whenever Gale’s guilt enveloped him and threatened to steal the air from his lungs, he tiptoed into his daughter’s room and was relieved that there was a Rose who was still there to comfort him, to forgive him, to relinquish his pain temporarily.

  Sae introduced herself to Rose, and they had a brief discussion before Sae gifted her a chicken bone. Gale smirked inwardly, pondering what Devon would have to say about Rose’s new toy, seeing as the girl was enthralled by it already.

  Greasy Sae took the initiative of taking Gale’s order. She asked him to step aside with her, so that a cashier could continue tending to the customers. Rose busied herself with the chicken bone, and Sae found the perfect opportunity to begin hurling questions at Gale. “Why didn’t you tell anybody you were coming?” The woman presumed that, had someone caught wind of Gale’s impromptu visit, they would’ve told her. Gale had half a mind to lie and eradicate that belief; yet, he saw no reason. “I was sent here. Trust me, it wasn’t my choice.” Quickly, he added, “I mean, I missed it here, but I wasn’t planning on… I would’ve told you if this was planned.” Gale nearly wiped the sweat beads off his brow when Sae accepted that save.

  “Where are you staying?”

  “Paylor set me up in a suite at Mockingjay Inn.”

  Gale and Sae were so immersed in their conversation that neither of them picked up on the unmistakable voice of the person ordering at the counter. That is, until she stopped staring at him and made her presence known.

  “Gale? Is that you?”

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up abruptly. Gale froze on the spot. This must be a dream. But did he actually think that he could stay in District 12 without running into her at least once? Gale was taking up temporary residence at a hotel named after her, for Pete’s sake. This was inevitable. Still, he wished that it didn’t have to be.

  A surge of feelings overcame him as his suspicions were confirmed. It was Katniss Everdeen, or, better yet, his first love that had ended their relationship—both platonic and romantic—bitterly. Did he want a second chance? Did he want to patch things up? Did he want to apologize? No, no, he didn’t want to talk to her. Katniss hadn’t so much as sent him a letter in the past fifteen years, nor called him to say, “Fuck you”. All of a sudden, Gale desperately needed to get his food and leave. But he couldn’t bring himself to look ahead and ignore Katniss, especially since Sae excused herself to check on his food. That was likely a bullshit explanation for her absence. Gale simply didn’t have the will or the resources to prove it.

  “Hello, Katniss,” Gale murmured, his countenance void of emotion. He couldn’t help but study her. Katniss was visibly older, as he’d expected. What he hadn’t counted on was her growing more beautiful than she had been the last time he’d seen her, bruises and all. Gale was bothered the most by her state. She appeared to be happy, and though his life wasn’t something to be sad about, he couldn’t so much as put on a façade to declare that this was what he’d always wanted: a life in which he failed miserably at sustaining romantic relationships, he had two illegitimate children, and he was forced to obey the commands of President Paylor in the setting where he felt most comfortable.

  Gale’s grip on the countertop tightened. She was, from what he’d heard, married with children. Gale had gone sour for the day of her son’s birth, and numb for the day of her daughter’s. The fact that she hadn’t even bothered to have Peeta pick up the phone and call him pestered Gale beyond belief. Underlying this dejection was, evidently, the proven notion that Katniss didn’t need Gale.

  Gale needed Katniss.

  Katniss had retired her long braid and allowed her hair to pool around her shoulders; its length went well past the halfway mark on her back. She brushed a loose strand behind her ear and cleared her throat. “I didn’t know you were coming to 12. You could’ve told someone.”

  Was that entitlement he sensed? Gale had the urge to throw her marriage and the birth of her children in her face, in order to craft this idea that they were ex-friends that apparently kept important things from one another. Since he didn’t favor a fight and it was getting late, Gale ignored her tone and said, brusquely, “Well, I didn’t.”

  As if on cue, a waitress brought Gale’s food out. “Thank you,” he muttered, looping his arm through the bag. “Come on, sweetheart,” Gale told Rose, tugging on her free hand. The girl followed him to the door, where they paused once more at the sound of Katniss’s voice.

  “Come for dinner at mine tonight.” Katniss looked as if she regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.