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Rubble still remains, pockets of ash among the new buildings constructed. Not all of District 12 has been rebuilt and refurbished in the past year. Ground has been broken for a new pharmaceutical plant, fields plowed, business slowly coming back to life. It's not the same place it was a year ago when she had returned, broken and defeated. A shell of the girl she used to be. Nor is it the place she remembers growing up in. It's something different now. Something new that arose in the ashes.

And maybe it's much the same for her, too. Though she holds the pain of her sister's death close to her heart and the horrors of the Hunger Games visit her nightly in her dreams, she no longer lets them swallow her alive. Some days are better than others. Some nights, more capable of sleeping through. But since spring's arrival a couple of weeks ago, she's made certain to get out to the woods every morning. While Peeta bakes, she hunts. Their afternoons are sometimes spent together, sometimes spent alone as they do their own small parts to help with the District's rebuilding.

It's a routine. A fairly regular routine that's helped her get from day to day, week to week. Sometimes it's tedious. Sometimes she wants nothing more than the curl into a ball and die. Find that death she deserves, that should have claimed her instead of Prim. Other days, she's almost thankful to be still alive.

Today's oddly become one of the latter days. What started out as a disappointing hunt in drizzly April weather had since turned into a successful trip. She carries with her two ducks as she makes her way from the woods towards the Hawthorne residence. Even if it still hurts to think of him from time to time, she's made certain to help Mrs. Hawthorne out these past few months. Whenever she has a little extra meat from her hunt, or Peeta bakes more bread than he can sell, she makes certain to stop by.

But she never expects to see him. Because she always pictures him in District 2 with his fancy job, kissing another pair of lips. Forgetting her entirely. And maybe it's better that way. Maybe it's better for both of them to keep apart and heal alone.

It's not how she ever expected they'd end up.

Pushing stray thoughts aside, she knocks on the door before pushing it open. It's mid-afternoon and the children should be in school. But it's easier some days not to deal with their smiles and their questions. Like it is today.

"Mrs. Hawthorne?" She walks towards the kitchen, knowing the route by heart. "Are you home?"

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A number of thoughts run through her head in response to his words. If he's already made those arrangements, he can use them can't he? Go hunting with her or... No, no dinner with her and Peeta would be a bad idea. But Peeta would understand if she came over here for a night, wouldn't he? To have dinner with all the Hawthornes, the only family outside of Peeta and Haymitch that she has left in this District?

He'd understand by now, wouldn't he? That in the end, she loves Peeta. She needs him in her life, needs that reminder of the dandelion in the spring to tame her own fire. He has nothing to be jealous about now. Not when it comes to Gale.

She takes a breath and takes a step back so she can look at him again. It's ridiculous how shy she suddenly feels, and how fearful. Can she look at him without thinking about Prim? Without wondering if he knew about the parachute bombs in the Capitol? She wants to, but she knows it won't be easy. Not that anything in her life has ever been easy.

Quietly, "You should stay."

Gale isn't sure he's heard her correctly at first, that so quiet a request with those words could actually be uttered.

How many times had he imagined her saying something like that? Maybe not exactly those words, maybe not in this context, or in this way, but the feeling there ... the importance placed on him in her life ... it's been long enough now that the words mean a hell of a lot more than they ever used to.

It's with that tiniest flicker of hope he'd been denying himself that he nods.

'Okay,' he doesn't say.

Maybe he's afraid she'll change her mind and retreat into herself again if he allows himself to agree out loud. He knows Katniss; he might be one of two people who know her better than she knows herself sometimes (and he's vain enough to admit it).

But it's almost tragic how much doubt he has in what the two of them used to share ever since Prim died. Like he's walking along the thinnest line of wire over a cavernous pit and the faintest breath let out wrong could send him toppling to his end.

Still. This is something, the longest they've spent alone together in a room without resentment and anger and a burning need to see that other person off. He isn't going to waste this chance.

He doesn't say anything at first and Katniss wonders if she spoke too soon. Things aren't the best between them. They hadn't necessarily been before Prim's death and after... After, it had been horrible. Even now, she's not entirely sure she can continue to look at him without thinking of Prim. But she's trying. She's trying the best she possibly can.

And then she sees it. It's not a verbal affirmation but it's not an absently placed nod, either. Maybe it's him considering her request. That alone is still more than she expects or thinks that she deserves. She hasn't exactly been nice to him. Hate, it turns out, is so much easier to deal with than hurt.

She should say something but the hesitation to do so remains. If she says something aloud, if she breaks the silence in this room, will these moments turn into nothing but a facade that'll shatter along with the silence? Will they wind up at each other's throats with the same anger and unspoken accusations as before?

Already, she's retreating back inside her own head. She can't help it.

Say something. Say something.

"Dinner?"

So long as she remembers to let Peeta know she won't be home, she doesn't think he'll mind.

It's so simple a suggestion, consisting of one word, one activity that encompasses something that has always meant so much to them. Maybe not to Katniss and Gale in particular, but Gale has always had fond memories of family dinners, of arriving at the Everdeens with game, or vice versa. Gale's mother would often ask the Everdeens to join them for a meal, Gale's brothers and sister playing with Prim while he and Katniss sat side by side talking very little but sharing so much.

Dinner, food, conversation, company, a feeling of closeness to break bread with someone you cared about.

He doesn't miss the importance of her invitation, so he nods again.

"Dinner." And then, "Maybe we should get something special."

His mother would like that, he knows.

It's not all that different now. At least, not for Katniss. It took a few unsuccessful dinners, a few times where Katniss looked at Hazelle and Gale's siblings and could only think of Gale and then of Prim and practically bolted out of the house, leaving Peeta to make the excuses for her. But now, she can separate things a bit better. She and Peeta have regular dinners with the Hawthornes. Rich dinners involving freshly caught game and sweets from Peeta's bakery.

She feels a twinge of guilt when he suggests getting something special. Mostly because she knows that something special lately (especially in Rory's eyes) has been whenever Peeta brings over cake. Would Gale think that they're replacing him in his own family? It hadn't ever been her intention. Katniss had missed being a part of a family, her own dead or scattered. And she still leans on Peeta for support more often than not.

"I have the duck," she points out. It had been her whole reason for visiting the Hawthornes to begin with. "Normally," she starts and then hesitates. But she needs to be honest. She has to. Otherwise how will they ever mend this rift? If that's even possible. "Normally, Peeta will bring something from the bakery."

"The bakery," Gale repeats, voice quieting. It's still a hard thing to be reminded of, that District 12 has begun to heal again, and his family with it, maybe even moving on without him because of his own choices - but Gale and Katniss have had a fair amount of time now, months since the rebellion and the war, and for him to continue holding this grudge ...

He'd reminded himself time and again that he couldn't do that anymore. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. It was only going to slow the healing process between him and his best friend. He might not like Peeta Mellark, never had, but that isn't his fault. It's the residual burn of an old wound that he can't quite let go of, a boyish insecurity that became so wholly a part of him that it's hard to see where it began in the first place. Back when things were so simple.

He nods.

"All right." And then a breath. "Duck is good. It used to be Posy's favourite. Is it still?"

Katniss nods awkwardly even as she wonders if she overstepped. Should she not have mentioned Peeta after all? Should she have stayed quiet about the bakery and about Peeta. It's not as if he's trying to take Gale's place in any way. It's just that Peeta has become such an intrinsic part of her life that it had seemed natural to bring him with her after a while. She can't help that. She can't help the way she feels about Peeta.

"Yeah," she murmurs, playing with the end of her braid for a few seconds. She's a horrible person. Of that, she never had any doubt. This just seems to confirm it. Especially with the words that seem to slip out next. "It is. She's also become really fond of vanilla cupcakes."

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late as hell

pffft