katniss/gale, should've known you'd bring me heartache, almost lovers always do
(This turned into something wholly Gale-centric, as most of my stories often do. Also, I am so rusty at this. Spoilers through the end of the series, I guess, but nothing really specific.)
It takes Gale a long time to admit to himself that he doesn't miss her. Not the real her, anyway.
Oh he misses Katniss, all right, but in that hazy, far-off way that one misses a dream upon waking up. He misses the idea of her - he misses the life they would have had.
Sure, Gale talked about running away. He talked about slipping off into the woods and living off the land like a pair of storybook nomads. He ranted about tearing down the Capitol, but always in the abstract - a one man army against all those painted jackals.
But the truth is, Gale never really would have left. There were too many obligations, too many hungry mouths to feed. And there was his Catnip, so beautiful and resilient with her long dark braid running down the middle of her back. He would have worked up the nerve to kiss her during a hunt, and they would entwined their fingers together on the walk back into town and everyone would have smiled their secret smiles as they whispered, "Finally." They would have been married in the Seam's dingy, run-down chapel, and both of their mothers would have cried into lacy handkerchiefs they had carefully saved up their pennies for.
It would have been a hard life. Gale would have descended into the darkness of the mines, and Katniss would have scraped together extra money bartering in the Hob. After a few years, they would have had a tiny, shrieking little girl, and they both would have looked into her soft gray eyes and wondered if they'd done the right thing. They would have watched her grow and counted down the days until her twelfth birthday with silent, unspoken dread, and they would have gasped together as Madge Undersee's daughter's name was called, guilty in their overwhelming relief.
Because without a spark, the world would have never set itself on fire. It would have kept on quietly smoldering just as it had done for seventy-four long, dark years before Katniss Everdeen called out "I volunteer" and lit a powder keg of revolution without ever really meaning to.
And Gale would have merely simmered too, his hot rage cooled by the feel of Katniss' small had against his back and the sound of his daughter singing softly to herself in the kitchen. Eventually, he would have quietly left this world just steps away from where he was brought into it, a wholly unremarkable man whose blessings just barely outweighed his hardships. And that would have been enough for him.
So it takes Gale a long time to admit to himself that he doesn't miss Katniss - doesn't long for this version of her he that sees sometimes during his trips to District 12, her eyes still so unspeakably sad as she slips her fingers around Peeta's wrist.
It takes Gale even longer to admit he wouldn't change a thing, even if he could.
wow. this was truly amazing. i love how it is gale centric and just goes into his whole though processes of the future and missing what could never be now. lovely lovely lovely.
This is beautiful. The little glimpse of what his future could/would have been without the revolution was a heartbreaking but wonderful touch. Loved this.
(This turned into something wholly Gale-centric, as most of my stories often do. Also, I am so rusty at this. Spoilers through the end of the series, I guess, but nothing really specific.)
It takes Gale a long time to admit to himself that he doesn't miss her. Not the real her, anyway.
Oh he misses Katniss, all right, but in that hazy, far-off way that one misses a dream upon waking up. He misses the idea of her - he misses the life they would have had.
Sure, Gale talked about running away. He talked about slipping off into the woods and living off the land like a pair of storybook nomads. He ranted about tearing down the Capitol, but always in the abstract - a one man army against all those painted jackals.
But the truth is, Gale never really would have left. There were too many obligations, too many hungry mouths to feed. And there was his Catnip, so beautiful and resilient with her long dark braid running down the middle of her back. He would have worked up the nerve to kiss her during a hunt, and they would entwined their fingers together on the walk back into town and everyone would have smiled their secret smiles as they whispered, "Finally." They would have been married in the Seam's dingy, run-down chapel, and both of their mothers would have cried into lacy handkerchiefs they had carefully saved up their pennies for.
It would have been a hard life. Gale would have descended into the darkness of the mines, and Katniss would have scraped together extra money bartering in the Hob. After a few years, they would have had a tiny, shrieking little girl, and they both would have looked into her soft gray eyes and wondered if they'd done the right thing. They would have watched her grow and counted down the days until her twelfth birthday with silent, unspoken dread, and they would have gasped together as Madge Undersee's daughter's name was called, guilty in their overwhelming relief.
Because without a spark, the world would have never set itself on fire. It would have kept on quietly smoldering just as it had done for seventy-four long, dark years before Katniss Everdeen called out "I volunteer" and lit a powder keg of revolution without ever really meaning to.
And Gale would have merely simmered too, his hot rage cooled by the feel of Katniss' small had against his back and the sound of his daughter singing softly to herself in the kitchen. Eventually, he would have quietly left this world just steps away from where he was brought into it, a wholly unremarkable man whose blessings just barely outweighed his hardships. And that would have been enough for him.
So it takes Gale a long time to admit to himself that he doesn't miss Katniss - doesn't long for this version of her he that sees sometimes during his trips to District 12, her eyes still so unspeakably sad as she slips her fingers around Peeta's wrist.
It takes Gale even longer to admit he wouldn't change a thing, even if he could.
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i love how it is gale centric and just goes into his whole though processes of the future and missing what could never be now.
lovely lovely lovely.
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