Oustide the Seam

"Gale!"

I can hear her. Her screams are desperate, terrified. I know what she wants, but I can't bring myself to do it. Just as she couldn't kill me when I was taken by the Peacekeepers. I could never bring harm to her.

It's a drawback to being in love with her.

Katniss is moving too fast; far faster than I can. The crowd parts quickly to allow her carriers to slip through with ease. They are not so lenient with me. A few hands try to hold me back, but I press on. I shove a few bodies from my path, not bothering to pause and register who they belonged to.

This is my final let down for her. I have done it far too much as of late. She disapproved when I built traps with Beetee; when I suggested the avalanche around the Nut; when neither of us could configure if it was one of my bombs that killed her sister.

When I reach the door she has disappeared into, she is long gone. The guards bar my way, crossing their guns over the doorway.

"Please," I beg them. "I just need to talk to her."

They shake their heads, and I understand. There's nothing they can do. Their hands are tied. How can they possibly be lenient with the girl that just assassinated the president? It doesn't matter that it was justified. It doesn't matter that I agree with her. I can't reach her.

My knees hit the ground as I realize that I am helpless. I can do nothing for her. God only knows what they're doing to Katniss inside that place. And even if she survives, what then? There can be nothing good awaiting her. And I can't stop it.

I should have done it. I should have shot her as soon as I saw her lunge for her Nightlock pill. But Peeta had stopped her. And for a fraction of an instant, I couldn't register the fact that she might need me. Even though a part of him wanted her blood to splatter across the walls around them, she would listen to him. That was something that she'd never really done with me.

But even so, I should have done it.

Ghostly hands pull me to my feet. I can't even look to see who is trying to help me. I stumble off, knowing that I may never see Katniss Everdeen again. The girl with the berries, the girl who destroyed the force field, the girl who was on fire. But more than that. The girl who hunted with me, the girl I told my secrets to, the girl who I loved more than any other.

She was gone.

When Beetee first suggests going to District 2, I jump at the chance. I throw myself headfirst into my work. It helps me refrain from thinking about her. I'm rewarded for my work ethic, and soon I'm somewhere near the top of the ladder. I have money. I have a way to provide for my siblings and my mother. I should be happy.

So why aren't I?

The answer, of course, is clear. I try to shove it away, to pretend that my dreams don't still revolve around Katniss. But every night I awake, breathing heavily, after reliving the moment when she took Prim's place at the Reaping. Not that it did much good. Prim is dead, anyway. If Katniss had only run away with me that morning. We would have made it, I'm certain. There would have been no revolution, but nobody would have known the difference. Life would have gone on according to the status quo. But we didn't run away. Even when she presented the idea herself, we stayed put. We should have gone.

I receive a letter in the mail. I don't get many letters. Occasionally, Katniss's mother will send me a note to wish me well or to tell me about one of my tools that has helped her hospital staff. Maybe it even saves a life. But this letter, this one is different. It's from Annie. It contains a photograph of her newborn baby. The baby that Finnick didn't live to see.

Finnick. Now he was a good guy. It was such a shame that I was suspicious of him at first. He was certainly one of the nicest people that were harboured in 13. He had my back when we made it to the Capitol. But by the time I knew just how much I liked having him around, he was gone. I would have saved him if I could. Those mutts were vicious, relentless. He did all he could.

The birth of his child makes my whole body ache. What is going to happen to that baby? Now that Finnick is gone, is Annie sane? He held her together so well. How can she care for this little life? I wish there was some way that I could get her to leave 13. If she were to come here, my mother could help while I am at work. I make enough money to support them, too. It's not ideal, but it would make me feel better.

I'm just about to write back to Annie to suggest that very thing when I notice the envelope that the photograph arrived in. It was sent from District 4. I know then that Annie is safe. Maybe she is back with her family, or maybe with Finnick's. If any of them survived. I scribble out a note to wish her well and enclose enough money to keep her going for awhile. I wish I could do more for her, but right now money is all that I have.

Sadly, that is the most honest thing about me these days. I have money. What happened to me? What happened to the poor kid from the Seam, who hunted illegally to provide for his family? The one who would sacrificed and put his name into the reaping bowl so many times in exchange for the small, insignificant tessirae to feed his starving siblings?

I know the answer. The old Gale died the day that Katniss volunteered at the Reaping. And again the day I descended into the mines for my first day of work. And every single time I saw her kiss Peeta in the arena. I was long gone by the time she returned to me. Even though I tried to come back to life for her. I felt that I had truly achieved the feat when she asked me to run with her. But it was fleeting.

I was reborn as Soldier Hawthorne. But even that didn't last. Being busy helped me get by while Katniss recovered. And when the two of us began hunting again, things seemed to pick up. In fact, I felt as if Katniss and I might make it out okay right up until the moment that I was taken by the Peacekeepers. I was as good as dead. And she knew that as well as I did. I should have had a better goodbye with her. I never imagined that the day I gave her the arrow to kill Snow would be the last time that I saw her.

And now I have the money to support her. But she isn't with me. Instead, I know that she is with Peeta. Beetee has told me so. When Peeta was released from the hospital in the Capitol, he immediately requested to be taken to 12. Why hadn't I? There was nothing left there. The town was a pile of ash. It would have been stupid to go back.

No, I'm accomplishing much more here.

I gave up on building weapons. There's really no need for them now, anyways. The Capitol has fallen, and for the moment there is no future war in sight. After learning that one of my creations may have killed Prim, I knew that I would never use my knowledge to create another weapon. Instead, I try to invent new and helpful tools, mainly for health care. It seems only right. Prim would have been the one using them if she had survived the rebellion.

I trudge to work, passing the various shops that are now running as though they had never been touched by the war. It's simply amazing how quickly everyone got back on their feet. If it weren't for the odd mockingjay pin or banner, I would begin to wonder if I hadn't imagined the entire thing. But that would be impossible. My scars from the bullet wounds prove that it was real. And they are nothing compared to the internal wounds that torture me every day.

"Good morning, Gale," Beetee greets me with a smile. The two of us have remained good friends since we worked together underground in District 13.

"How are things, Beetee?"

"Couldn't be better, my boy. I'm getting a new assistant today. I haven't had a good one since you got promoted above me, you know."

I smile. Beetee is a good man. He's getting on in years, but it has done nothing to diminish his genius. Or his kindness. I count him as my only friend. Although, deep down, I still refer to Katniss as my best friend. I just don't admit it outwardly.

"I hope you get a good one," I tell him, heading to my workspace.

I'm only in there for a few minutes when Beetee knocks on the door. I open it, and two people come inside. I glance back and forth between Beetee and the young woman. Something about her bothers me. Her dark hair falls around her shoulders and frames her face. Her green eyes are warm, and there's a small smile on her lips. But there's something troubling there. I just can't put my finger on it.

She extends a hand to me. "My name is Fiera."

I shake her hand in as kind a manner as I can. "I'm-"

"I know who you are," she says, her smile widening. "Everyone knows you. You're Gale Hawthorne. You were a bargaining chip for Katniss Everdeen before she agreed to become the Mockingjay. Her right hand man. A weapons mastermind."

I feel a little put-off by the fact that she knows so much about me. But she's right; everyone already knows these things. "That sums it up, yes," I say briskly.

She notices something in my voice. Maybe the coldness I feel inside. Her eyes widen for a split second, and then she appears to wipe her expression clean.

"I just thought I would introduce the two of you," Beetee winks. "We might all be working in close quarters."

"Of course. I'm sure I'll be seeing you around, Fiera."

When she smiles then, it's wide. It exposes her teeth and cleans years from her weary eyes. I understand then. I know what it is that bothers me about this girl. She looks too familiar.

She reminds me of Katniss.

There's a fire burning in this girl. It's hidden underneath the formal, proper clothing, but it is there. She has suffered, but she hides it well. She has a smile that is so much like the one I saw all those years in the woods. Perhaps the most unsettling thing about her, though, is her eyes. I expect to see the grey Seam eyes, but instead they are green. Sea-foam green, like Finnick's. She is a combination of two people that I let down.

A shudder races up my spine as she leaves. This does not escape Beetee's attention.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I know that all kinds of girls want your attention. I just thought she was pretty. And far too young for someone like me."

"It's not that, Beetee," I tell him, dismissing his apology. "There is nothing wrong with her. It's just... well, you know."

He does know. Beetee knows better than anyone the way that I feel for Katniss. He remembers the times in 13 when the two of us would disappear for hours on end to hunt, or even just to sit above ground.

"You can always go visit, you know."

I shake my head. "No, that wouldn't really be fair to either of us. She has Peeta with her. And I have too much going on here. If I went, I'm just not sure I would be able to come back."

Beetee nods knowingly. "Then I guess you're facing an eternity of misery, kid."

He leaves, but something that he said catches my ear. I am a kid. I'm barely twenty years old. I have a lifetime spread out in front of me. Will I ever be able to get over Katniss?

It turns out that Beetee is right. The three of us start a new project together the following week. The idea is to create a new form of skin grafting. One that doesn't leave such drastic scars. Everyone knows why this particular cause jumps out at me, but people are kind enough not to verbalize it. Fiera, however, doesn't seem to know that part of my story. Either that, or she simply pretends to be clueless.

"How often do people require skin grafts?" She asks. "I've never encountered a scenario like that before."

I try to stop myself from flinching. Obviously, Katniss had multiple skin grafts after the explosion that mutilated her back. Actually, our backs matched pretty well. We were both covered in horrific scars. After my brutal whipping, I probably could have used a skin graft if we'd had the technology available to us at the time. If Katniss hadn't stepped in, scars would have been the least of my problems. She saved my life.

"Gale has seen a few cases," Beetee tells her. I know that he is trying to sidestep her question, avoiding any real answers.

Fiera gives me a sympathetic look. I can't quite decipher it. I still can't tell if she knows or not. On a whim, I turn my back on her and lift my shirt.

"It might have come in handy a few years ago," I explain. I can hear a tiny gasp escape her throat as she sees how damaged I am. I face her and see that her eyes are wide and a hand covers her mouth.

"Oh, Gale," she whispers. "I'm so sorry. I remember seeing that on a propo. I just... I didn't think it was real."

I grimace. "Believe me, I wouldn't let them fake something like that."

She nods and drops her eyes. I know that she feels guilty, maybe even ashamed. I adjust my shirt and see that Beetee is giving me a hard stare. He disapproves of my blunt behaviour. I should have been more delicate. I shouldn't have exposed her to that. She appears to be almost nauseated by the sight. Maybe she is. Maybe she lost someone in a similar manner.

"I'm sorry," I tell her. "That's hardly appropriate for the workplace."

She shakes her head and waves me off, but she doesn't speak. Beetee sighs.

"Fiera, can you go and get us some coffee please?"

She nods and disappears through the open door. She closes it on her way out, and Beetee and I are left alone. He faces me with a tired expression.

"She's seen a lot of death and destruction," he begins.

"Haven't we all?"

He ignores me. "Be gentle with her. She's just come here from District 4. She doesn't know anyone, and she's not yet used to the fact that the war is over. She keeps expecting someone to turn on her and kill her."

She came from 4. That explains her eyes, at least. I voice the comment to Beetee, and he gives me a sad smile.

"I thought the same thing," he admits.

I drop the subject, knowing that it is a painful one for the both of us. I begin to pour over sketches and blueprints, trying to figure out how this idea will work.

It takes us four months to come up with a successful prototype. I hope that it will help people, even though there may not be such a dire need for it as there was a year before. Katniss and I cannot be helped. Our scars are forever.

I sit at my table, flipping through a few papers and trying to decide what to tackle next. Going for too long without a project is very problematic for me. There is a soft knock at the door, and I tell the visitor to come in. I assume it will be Beetee, telling me that he is off for the day. But it's not.

Fiera stands awkwardly in the doorway, looking as though she can't put her thoughts into words. I gesture to an empty chair.

"You can sit. What brings you here?"

Despite my interest in what she has to say, my eyes stray back down to my papers. Maybe I should start on a series of snares. That's what I'm best at, after all. And a lot more people have turned to hunting now that the fences have been turned off. Actually, I feel like going off for a hunt myself.

"Gale," Fiera begins. I look up, remembering that she is still there. She hasn't spoken for at least five minutes. "I know that you only came to District 2 for a distraction. The success is just a bonus, isn't it?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I suppose. What makes you say that?"

"I know we haven't talked much since I came here. But I can't help noticing things about you. When you and Beetee are alone, you look a lot different than you do when I'm there. Beetee told me that you've had a lot of trauma. I'm really sorry that you've been put through so much."

I look back down at the table before me, trying to avoid her familiar eyes. "That's really nothing to be sorry about."

"I watched everyone I know die. One bomb took out my whole neighborhood. If I hadn't been out to try and find some bandages..." her voice trails off as her throat closes.

I look back at her, understanding breaking through my head. "And you couldn't stay there afterwards, of course," I say. "I know that pain all too well." I think of the way that I herded the people of the Seam like cattle, freeing them just in time to watch our homes burn. I can never return to District 12. All that remains of my former life are the ashes on the ground.

Fiera nods her head. "And you knew Finnick. That's why I came to you."

"You knew Finnick?" It was a stupid question. Everyone knew Finnick Odair. He was more famous than I was. Probably about even with Katniss.

"He went to school with my older sister," she tells me. "Until he went to the Games, of course. After that, he wasn't around much. Always being sent to the Capitol for one reason or another." She clears her throat loudly. We both know that Snow had used Finnick in despicable ways. He was given no choice in the matter.

"I wish I could have saved him." I mutter.

"I wish I could have saved a lot of people."

A silence falls between us. I killed so many more people that I'd saved. My bombs, my snares, they were used to murder. And I hadn't cared about that fact at all at the time. I myself had devised the plan that turned the Nut into just an ordinary mountain again. There were a lot of lives lost that night.

I know by the tiny sniffle I hear that Fiera is on the verge of tears. Unable to think of anything else to do, I get to my feet and cross over to her. I lean down and hold her close. She clings to me in turn. Never letting go, she stands so that the embrace is easier for both of us. I have no idea how long we stay that way, but I know that it feels nice. I haven't felt this comfortable with someone since the days of hunting with Katniss.

When I finally, regrettably, pull away, Fiera's tears have fully formed. When I look at her, I understand why Katniss only kissed me when I was in pain. I just want to erase that look from those sea-green eyes.

So I lean down. My lips meet hers briefly, but this is nothing like it was with Katniss. It's nothing like it was with any other girl. Fiera pulls me in and kisses me back. And it feels right. Maybe it's because we both just opened our deepest wounds.

I don't feel as though I'm being patronized. I don't feel as if the kiss was simply to quiet our emotions. I look at Fiera and know that this was real.

She leaves me to my work soon after, but I'm sad to see her go. I make a mental note to thank Beetee for bringing her around. I'm only sorry that I didn't get to know her sooner.

It might be too soon for me to think of something long term. I'm still nursing a broken heart. But so is Fiera. Maybe it will be easier for the two of us to take it on together.

All of a sudden, District 2 doesn't seem quite so terrible.