Fic - in the woods alone (Gale/Katniss) pg, 1/1
Title: in the woods alone
Summary: Some routines are harder to shake than others.
Rating: pg
Author's Notes: 300 words. Post-Series. All mistakes are mine. These characters, however, are not. Written for Winterfest Gift Giving over at leverageland.
For 2cbetter2
He calls her like clockwork every year. She knows it’s him before she picks up the phone - Gale can tell by the way all that greets him is silence, the sharp inhale her version of acknowledgement that would be unnoticeable to someone who didn't know her once upon a time.
In the beginning, in those years immediately following the war, there would be a small, quiet exchange of words. Now, as time has done little to bridge the distance between them, there is nothing but silence, the mixing and mingling of breaths echoing over the line.
Often, Gale closes his eyes and pictures her in the woods. Its how he likes to remember her the most - in the sun, with her hair pulled back into a braid, mouth turning and just on the edge of a smile. It's a nice moment, sitting in his house in Two, with the sounds of her breaths pressing into his skin, because for a short span of time its almost like they're back there, back in the woods of Twelve, just the two of them.
When his eyes finally slide open, the reality rears through him like a storm and they never say anything during these calls, not anymore, but his mouth always opens, always tries to get the words out. I miss her too, he wants to tell her, but he also knows it isn't fair. Gale knows Katniss needs to carry the burden of Prim's death on her own, her version of penance.
I miss you, Catnip he wants to say, but the dial tone clicks in his ear before he ever gets the chance.
Besides, Katniss doesn't make those sorts of allowances for him anymore.
(She never really did in the first place, but Gale doesn't like to remember that.)
Summary: Some routines are harder to shake than others.
Rating: pg
Author's Notes: 300 words. Post-Series. All mistakes are mine. These characters, however, are not. Written for Winterfest Gift Giving over at leverageland.
For 2cbetter2
He calls her like clockwork every year. She knows it’s him before she picks up the phone - Gale can tell by the way all that greets him is silence, the sharp inhale her version of acknowledgement that would be unnoticeable to someone who didn't know her once upon a time.
In the beginning, in those years immediately following the war, there would be a small, quiet exchange of words. Now, as time has done little to bridge the distance between them, there is nothing but silence, the mixing and mingling of breaths echoing over the line.
Often, Gale closes his eyes and pictures her in the woods. Its how he likes to remember her the most - in the sun, with her hair pulled back into a braid, mouth turning and just on the edge of a smile. It's a nice moment, sitting in his house in Two, with the sounds of her breaths pressing into his skin, because for a short span of time its almost like they're back there, back in the woods of Twelve, just the two of them.
When his eyes finally slide open, the reality rears through him like a storm and they never say anything during these calls, not anymore, but his mouth always opens, always tries to get the words out. I miss her too, he wants to tell her, but he also knows it isn't fair. Gale knows Katniss needs to carry the burden of Prim's death on her own, her version of penance.
I miss you, Catnip he wants to say, but the dial tone clicks in his ear before he ever gets the chance.
Besides, Katniss doesn't make those sorts of allowances for him anymore.
(She never really did in the first place, but Gale doesn't like to remember that.)