Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rory Hawthorne returns to District 12 five years after the war ends, and just a week past turning eighteen.

He’d hated living in Two. Posy and even Vick were still young enough when they got there to acclimate to the new district, but the town had always felt cold and unwelcoming to Rory. Too big. Too imposing. Strange customs and no fiddle music on Harvest Day and never any dancing. Mountains that seemed to bear down on him from every side. People he had nothing in common with. That choking, tight feeling that never went away.

He'd wanted to leave from the second he stepped foot there. 

Gale made them stay, just like he'd been the one to make them go in the first place, because it was Gale, and because for some reason he still thought, even now, that he got to be the one in control of everything just because he was the oldest. Rory suspected Ma would've rather gone home, herself, but in the end she'd taken Gale's side, like she always did. Said she wanted him and Vick and Posy to get their educations somewhere school still existed. That it would probably take years before Twelve’s was operational.

Maybe it was true about Twelve, but Rory never fit in at Two’s school...not even close. A lot of the boys his age were brainwashed enough to be disappointed that the Hunger Games were permanently over. The Capitol had rotted out their brains, in Rory's opinion, because half of them had been absolutely brimming at the prospect of entering the training academy for a chance to die in the arena as Careers, and they were furious that this sparkling opportunity had gotten snatched out right from under them by Katniss and her arrows.

That was another thing: Katniss. As soon as anyone found out Rory was from Twelve (which never took long; anyone could tell Rory wasn’t one of them, that he was different), the questions started flooding in. Did you know her? What was she like? Hawthorne, is that what you said your name was? Hey, isn’t that the name of her cousin? Yeah, the one they were always showing next to her when she was in Thirteen? It was exhausting.

Vick didn’t fare much better in the grade below him, but Posy, lucky enough to just be starting out, managed to make some friends. Everyone, everywhere, loved little Posy. As for Ma, well, she could plant her roots anywhere, or so she said. Laundry in Two worked the same as it did in Twelve. People needed their clothes spick and span in the new world as much as they did in the old.

Of course, in Two there were already plenty of other, more established women in the community who’d already made humble business out of doing their neighbors' washing. Ma was the outsider. For the first year or so, she hardly brought any money in. She was friendly though, and persistent, and she did good work. The ones who did come to her kept coming back. Word spread soon enough.

Those roots of hers must’ve taken firm hold after all, because eventually they yielded good blooms. The first time she had enough cash to spare on something extra, Ma bought fresh carrots and whipped them up a cake. “See?” She’d proudly announced the night she surprised them with it after supper. "It was all worth it, coming here. Keeping our family together. Look at us now!" Posy and Vick clapped enthusiastically at the sight of it. Vick kicked Rory under the table, hard, until he started clapping, too. But he didn’t think there was much worth celebrating.

Gale hadn’t been home that night, as far as Rory can remember. He was always working late trying to suck up to his Commander. But if he had been, he wouldn’t have bothered with kicking under the table. He’d have yelled at Rory outright for disrespecting Ma like that, and Rory would’ve yelled back, because that was how they were now. Then Gale would have kissed Ma’s cheek and told her she’d pulled off another wonder. He’d have eaten his slice of cake while glaring in Rory’s direction all the while, daring him to say one more word.

Gale and Ma operated on parallel roads headed in the same warped direction. They’d follow that path even if led straight off a cliff, in Rory's opinion. That's how hell bent they were on keeping the family together all this time, even if it made the whole lot of 'em miserable. Because that was another thing: the older Rory got, the more he couldn’t stand being around his brother. Gale, who was still acting like he was trying to be Rory's father instead of just being his sibling, which was all Rory wanted from him. Gale, with his oh-so-important military job he could only talk about in shrouded code, puffing out his chest self-importantly when he brought home another paycheck and presented it to Ma.

Well, Rory's eighteen now, and he's got no intention of joining the military. He's seen enough of war to last him a lifetime, thank you very much. Gale's insistence that it's not about war anymore, it's about maintaining the peace, only irritates him further. Word connotation, maybe. The last thing he wants is for his brother to be a fucking peacekeeper. No—the last thing he wants is to be a peacekeeper. He wants nothing to do with anything the military's got to offer, whatever words they're using for it these days. 

(Also, he knows Gale was partially responsible for what happened to Prim Everdeen. It's why Gale doesn't talk to Katniss anymore, won't even mention her name and gets furious if anyone else does. For all Rory's tried not to hold it against him, because he knows it's not entirely fair, he does blame him, maybe, just a little. The Everdeen girls were his family, too. Prim was his friend. Prim was Rory’s best friend, and he’ll never see her again.) 

So Rory leaves for Twelve first chance he gets. He pays the relocation fee and buys the train ticket on his birthday, being sure to use the money Gale tucked into his birthday card out of spite, alongside some other savings. He’s been planning this for a long time. Vick wants to follow him in a few years, he's already said. Rory thinks that, together, they stand a better chance of convincing Ma to move back eventually, too, once Posy's all grown. If not, he can always write to them, or even visit sometime. It's fine. He'd rather be home, his real home, over anywhere or anything else. Needs to be, or else he's going to explode from aching for it. They say on the television that Twelve's the medicine district now, and making medicine is something he figures he can learn to do well enough. He knows Prim would like it, which makes it good enough for him.

At the train station, Ma hugs him tight and presses extra jars of her preserves into his bag. She grips his chin and tilts his head so he's forced to look her in the eye. “I want you to be happy, son,” she tells him. Even when he says he will be, she waits one more stretched-out moment, looking at him, before finally letting him go. Vick repeats his promise to follow after his own birthday next year. Posy lets him scoop her up in his arms the way she hasn’t in years.

Rory waves to them all out the train window as they fade further and further away.

Gale had said a stiff goodbye that morning, before leaving for work. They didn’t have the shouting match Rory expected when he'd first announced he was returning home. His brother had just crossed his arms and stared at him with a concentrated frown. “If that’s what you need to do,” he’d said finally, stonily. Then he’d left the room, and Rory had hardly seen him since.  

On the journey home, he tries to prepare himself for everything being different. He remembers Twelve how it was, of course, but he also remembers, vividly, how it looked as it burned to the ground. Blazing fire, every tendril extending out like something alive, like a warm embrace waiting to welcome you in. Black coal black soot blackened bones left behind. All that smoke. He’s afraid the memories he’s spent so long chasing away might just catch up to him when he steps onto the platform, but instead there’s a strange and serene peace. To be back on his own soil, amongst his own people, feels like a glorious thing.

Everything is different. The houses here are all freshly built, spaced wide enough to build others in the hopes more folks will come. The shops—what there is of them, anyway—sit in all the wrong places. Instead of the Hob, now just a patch of ash, there's a market in town every Sunday with stalls for rent to anyone who’s got something worth selling. The entrance to the old mine is blocked off entirely. There's a big factory now where the people go to work. Rory feels like he can breathe again, even with the residual coal dust he chokes into his lungs with every gulp of the air. 

It’s in the market that he first spots Katniss. When he catches her eye, she drops the basket of vegetables she’s carrying in alarm and scampers quickly in the opposite direction, shaking her head and muttering like she’s just been spooked by a ghost. Like he’s the ghost.

Rory shouldn’t feel upset by it. It isn’t like they’ve talked, the two of them. Not in a long time. Rory’s Ma sometimes gets updates from Katniss’, but since Katniss’ Ma no longer lives here with her neither, he’s not sure the information is all that reliable.She’d been like his big sister once, Katniss. Now he supposes he doesn’t know her any more than she knows him. It stings, even though it shouldn’t. He’d known nothing was going to be the same, hadn’t he?

The next time he sees her, Peeta Mellark’s there beside her, tightly grasping her hand. Things must've worked out between them after all.

Prim had guessed that Katniss loved him, for real, right after their first Games ended. “I’ve met him and he’s really nice,” she'd whispered to Rory excitedly under her breath at school, shortly after Twelve’s new victors came home. “Katniss is acting funny. She won’t talk to him or go visit. I think she loves him back but she doesn’t want to say.”

At the time, Rory hadn’t much known how to feel. He’d never spoken to Peeta himself. It wasn’t like the Hawthornes had the spare money with which to frequent the bakery. Sometimes Gale traded with Peeta’s father, and the man paid well for Katniss’ squirrels. That was all Rory knew. He’d have taken Gale’s side in anything, though, back then. He’d worshiped his older brother the way only Posy does these days. So he hadn’t really believed Prim. Surely, no one would choose some baker’s boy from town over his big brother.

The Peeta in front of him now greets him brightly, like they’re old friends. He even waves him over. Him and Katniss are standing in front of a partially constructed building sandwiched in between the tailor and the butcher’s shops, just observing it. Peeta informs him it’s going to be the new bakery. His new bakery. He says this last part with enormous pride, so Rory tries to act suitably enthused, even though his eyes are locked mostly on Katniss. She’s staring, with intense focus, at a spot of mud on the toe of her boots. “Hi, Katniss,” he says.

She looks up. Her expression gradually softens. “Hi, Rory,” she says after the slight pause. Then, in a rush, “I’m sorry about the other day. Erm, for avoiding you. I was just surprised, I guess? I didn’t expect to see you here. Also,” she winces, eyes darting away again guiltily, “I may have, momentarily, thought you were someone else.”

“Gale?” Rory fills in for her. That gets him another wince, so he knows he’s right. It's a comparison he hates, but it’s not exactly an untrue one. They heard it all the time back in Two…those Hawthorne boys, they all look alike. Katniss at least has the decency to look guilty about it. Rory shrugs. “Don’t worry about it, I’d have run away from him, too. Guess I sort of did, in coming here.” He gestures vaguely around at Twelve. The corners of Katniss’ lips quirk up. She nods once, grateful. Rory nods back.  

Somehow, in the very short exchange of additional pleasantries that follow, Peeta manages to squeeze in an invitation for dinner the day after next. Rory can’t exactly say no. Even districts away from her, he can’t escape his mother’s voice in his ear telling him it would be rude to decline such a generous offer. So Rory agrees.

Two days later, he buttons up his best collared shirt, puts together a presentable enough bundle of wildflowers as a preemptive thank you, like Ma taught him, and goes.

No one new has moved into the former Victor’s Village. Former, because the sign at the entrance is modified now; part of it wrenched off so that it just read, The Village, with a big gap in the middle where Victor’s used to be. Rory's heard rumors some of the first wave of returnees stayed in the unoccupied residences in the initial stages of reconstruction, when the first new houses were still being erected in town. As soon as there was anywhere else to sleep, though, everyone fled. Some folks think it’s cursed out here. But the general consensus seems to be that it’s best to just let Katniss and the others be.  

It’s easy to pick out which house is hers because it’s the only one with the lights on. An entire flock (peck? army?) of geese practically chase him down on his way to her front door, but even in his haste to get away from the pesky creatures, Rory doesn’t miss the bright yellow primrose bushes. There’s a whole row of them down the side of her house, beckoning cheerfully.

Peeta answers the door and lets him in. Haymitch Abernathy is here, too, already sitting at the kitchen table. Rory knows the older man even less than he knows Peeta, but at this point the victors seem to come as a package deal, all or nothing. He waves hello at him and shuffles forward to hand Katniss the wildflowers.

She seems so different now, Rory thinks, with no small amazement. He's not sure what he was expecting, exactly. She's different not only from how she was in Thirteen, but also from how she was before all of it, when she was the skinny, headstrong girl traipsing around with Gale, spreading out game over the Hawthorne kitchen and talking softly to Ma at her wash bin. Katniss seems well. She’s put on a healthy amount of weight, now, yet everything about her seems somehow lighter. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders. She’s wearing a cotton sundress and a tentative smile.

“I like your primroses,” Rory says, for want of anything else to say. Katniss stills so instantly Rory wonders if it's the wrong thing. He’s always putting his foot in his mouth somehow without realizing it, Rory. It seems obvious only now that he should’ve considered that maybe Prim’s name goes as unspoken here as it does with his own family back in Two. Just by the way they’re all staring at him, it seems a more likely possibility than not. Behind Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch exchange a look.

Rory’s not quite sure whether he’s angry, or just sad. Prim deserves to be carried forward by more than just her namesake flower. He wants to feel free to remember her, the sweet girl who once insisted on bandaging his arm when he’d clumsily tripped on some rocks on the walk home from school. Who’d been so worried, even though there was hardly a spot of blood to be seen. He hates that she’s only silently remembered, apparently everywhere. He wants his memories of her to be loud.

Only then, quick as they’d tensed, Katniss’ shoulders relax, and her smile slowly returns. Haymitch and Peeta seem to exhale behind her. The moment is passed. “It was Peeta’s idea,” Katniss tells him. “I thought they might not make it past the first spring, they were such scraggly things. But somehow they’ve pulled through.”

“Well, primroses are strong,” he says stupidly. It just comes out. He can feel his face flushing.

For several beats, Katniss stares at him like he’s an alien creature. Like she’s really seeing him for the first time. Then, all of a sudden, she steps forward. Before he realizes what’s happening, he’s being enveloped by her arms. Her hold is strong. It reminds him a little of Gale’s, though he’d never say it. Rory hugs her back. “I’m glad you decided to come back, Rory,” she whispers sincerely before pulling away. Then, louder, “This place could use some Hawthorne grit.”

The dinner is not as awkward as Rory expected it to be. Peeta and Katniss, but mostly Peeta, do the cooking. Katniss seems to stay in the kitchen just to taste-test bites he holds out for her inspection and to bump into him repeatedly on purpose, eyes teasing. It’s only a little strange watching them. Before she was shipped off to the Capitol on the Slaughter Train, Rory assumed Katniss would end up with his brother. He’d thought it for a little while even when she got back, despite how obviously tense things were between them. They were still Gale and Katniss.

Now seeing her with Peeta, it’s abundantly clear she and Gale would’ve never worked out. Gale’s changed too, but his change has gone in the opposite direction. Whereas Katniss seems freer, Gale’s only gotten more closed in. Trapped behind iron walls so thick even his own family, even Rory, can’t reach him. Especially Rory.

When he next writes home, he already knows he won’t mention coming here. Katniss is another one of those forbidden topics. Katniss is the forbidden topic.

The victors are genuinely happy to have him over. Peeta cooks up a whole turkey, complete with potatoes and fresh asparagus and even homemade applesauce. He comments at least three separate times that they don’t get to host people often before piling seconds on Rory's plate. He's not about to argue. He happily eats his share. It’s really good, too. Not as good as what Ma can whip up with access to the right ingredients, but close. The turkey’s so fresh Katniss must’ve just shot it that morning.

Over the meal, he tells them about his new job at the medicine factory and the house he was assigned upon arrival. He shares it with two of his new coworkers from the factory line. They’re both lads in their early twenties. Emmett’s Seam through and through, and after talking for a while they’d discovered they’d grown up within houses of one another, though Rory doesn’t remember him from childhood. The rest of Emmett’s family died in the bombing, so he’s here alone.

Sam’s from Thirteen, and even five years later he still seems to forget sometimes that he’s living aboveground. The man gets absolutely giddy at the sight of totally mundane things like a ladybug on the windowsill or the hair ribbons the girl he’s been trying and failing to court for months now always ties at the ends of her braids. Rory misses his siblings, and Ma too of course, but he likes both of his bunkmates very much.

Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch all seem interested in the workings of the medicine factory. It’s not that exciting, really, but he tells them everything they want to know. The bosses—carried over from the ones who led the teams down the mines—are already talking about promoting him to an oversight role in a couple of months. Since he finished out school in Two, Rory’s one of the better educated folks here. And even though he’s young, the other folk seem to respect him. Guess he’s got Gale to thank for that. The name Hawthorne means something important here now, something that matters. No one’s forgotten who it was who led them to the safety of the meadow.

Peeta talks enthusiastically about his plans for the bakery, which are vast. Haymitch, believe or not, talks enthusiastically about, of all things, that blasted pack of geese outside. Apparently they’re his, and he’s been busy that week nursing a poor-off one back to life. He promises to send Rory home with some of their eggs.

Katniss seems the least settled amongst them. When Rory asks her what she does, she only shrugs and says “I hunt,” and not much else. Her eyes frost over a little into the middle distance at some point during the conversation, seeming to lead her somewhere far away. That's when Peeta’s hand finds hers at the edge of the table and gives it a squeeze. Katniss doesn’t react, but her fingers do close back over his, and her eyes lose that glassy look for a while.

He figures it must get lonely for the three of them. Under the new government, the victors all still entitled to their Hunger Games winnings, but Rory hadn’t much thought about how that’s got to set them apart from the rest of the District. They don’t have to work to get by, but they also live out here away from everyone, with not much else to do or show for it. Rory certainly doesn’t envy them. So when they send him home with a boatload of leftovers to share with Emmett and Sam, half a dozen fresh eggs, and an insistence that he stop over again sometime soon, he promises he’ll visit.

Time passes.

Rory works hard packaging up medicine bottles for shipment across Panem. He teases Sam about his girl, the one Sam’s finally convinced to go out on a date with him, and about his utter amazement at catching his first sight of a monarch butterfly. After a few months, Rory saves up enough extra from his wages to buy a battered camera he finds amongst some miscellaneous old wares for sale at the Sunday Market. Emmett tinkers with it until he gets it to work again, and after that Rory sends plenty of pictures of Twelve back to Posy in Two.

His baby sister doesn’t remember much about the district where she was born, but he wants her to love it. He wants her to think of it as her real home, even if deep down he knows she never will. Not like he does. Nothing can ever go back to the way it was just by wishing. Rory goes ahead and keeps sending her the photographs anyway.

He makes the short trek to the Village once a month to join the victors for supper. They’re always together, some variation of those three. Rory can’t decide if it’s out of habit or necessity. Katniss was alone that first day he saw her in the market, but every time she’s been back one of the men have been with her, like overbearing bodyguards. Peeta spends a lot of time in town setting up the bakery. Rory sees him there both before and after work, when he’s walking from home to the factory or back. Haymitch or Katniss and sometimes both of them are always there too, working alongside him.

In Two, everyone said Katniss went a bit crazy after her sister died. That’s why she killed Coin, and why she had to be banished to Twelve. Supposedly. No one here really believes it. The people are grateful to her, not frightened. But there are rumors about Peeta, too. Less here than in Two, and especially less than in Thirteen, but still…rumors all the same. Everyone knows the Capitol messed him up good, but nobody seems to have the details. In Two, the stories ranged from him being a complete ranging maniac to a lifeless, empty shell.

Rory doesn't know much, himself. Prim was very hush hush about Peeta’s treatment when he was first brought to District 13. She told him she couldn’t speak about her patients, voice very serious for a 13-year-old. Rory could tell it was bad, though, by how sad she’d been and how angry Katniss and Gale were all the time.

He hasn’t seen any sign of Peeta being dangerous since he got here. The man’s friendly, and kind. Funny, too. Rory likes him a lot. Katniss also seems far from crazy. There was only once, before one of their scheduled dinners, that Rory got turned away at the door. He’d been thrown off immediately because it was Haymitch who'd answered, which never happens. The man took one weary look at him before telling him he was gonna have to reschedule. Even though the door was barely cracked, Rory could swear he heard Katniss crying, and on the walk back, he noticed the lights were on, for once, in Peeta’s separate house.         

The next time he saw them, he hadn't mentioned it.

Whatever those three have is something Rory can’t ever understand, let alone be apart of. He doesn’t try to. He thinks it’s nice of Katniss to keep inviting him over at all, given the history. Once, they were like family. Katniss was going to marry Gale, probably, and then it would be for real, official. Prim’s hands were soft against his skin that day she’d bandaged Rory’s arm. Her eyes were puffy but brave the day Rory handed her his handkerchief as the gong sounded out the start of the 74^th Hunger Games. She was alive, and warm, and still so brave the day she sat beside him in the District 13 canteen and whispered they wanted her to train to be a real doctor, not just an assistant medic.

Once, there were still many possible versions of the future.

Now, his family is scattered and Prim is dead. Everything is wrong and there’s no way to fix it. If Ma’s roots can be replanted anywhere, Rory thinks his might be too dug in to survive even one uprooting, let alone many. He’s not sure how many times he can grow up, or grow back.

The first time he talks to Katniss alone, it’s months and months since he first arrived in Twelve, and he’s in the woods. He finds her in the clearing that overlooks a small valley. Her and Gale’s spot. He remembers that from the propo she and Gale filmed in Twelve after the bombing. Gale’s certainly never told him about it directly. Gale never tells him anything.

He tries to be loud as he approaches, making sure to crunch every leaf and stumble unnecessarily over a few of the brambles, so that there’s no way she doesn’t hear him. Katniss looks up. She doesn’t seem startled, exactly, but her forehead scrunches the sight of him. He narrows his eyes, a prickle of annoyance he can’t tap down forces up the words from his throat on a groan: “Don’t tell me you confused me for Gale again.”

“That was a one-time, momentary lapse,” Katniss assures him. A smirk crests her features. “Speaking of Gale, didn’t he teach you you’ve got to move quietly out here? You’re as bad as Peeta. It’ll scare off our bounty.”

“Bounty? It doesn’t look like you’re working very hard to catch much of anything,” Rory observes dryly, taking in the sight of her empty hunting sack and her bow abandoned a few paces away. He quirks an eyebrow, hoping it’s enough to convey he’s only joking. Katniss rolls her eyes and pats the tree stump next to her. It’s an invitation, and Rory takes it.

“I already catch more than three people can eat,” she explains as he sits. “So sometimes I just come out here to sit. It’s easier to think when I’m away from everything.”

“I’ll bet.” Rory paws at a mosquito bite on his ankle, down to do some thinking of his own. There are patches of mushrooms at the base of his trunk, the non-poisonous sort, that he makes a mental note to collect before he goes. They’ll be a good addition to the stew he’s been dreaming up for dinner that evening.

“I was wondering when I’d run into you out here,” Katniss continues.

Rory looks up. That surprises him. He’s only been out here a few times since his return. Partially because he hasn’t had the time. Mostly because it’s out here that he really starts missing his family something terrible. It’s not so bad in town. The house he grew up in is gone, along with the rest of the Seam and the Hob. There aren't many reminders. But he sees them immediately in the woods, the way they’d been those few long days before Thirteen found and saved them. He sees Ma stick a chickweed flower into Posy’s ponytail to get her to smile. He sees Vick and Gale washing off soot in the lake. The hard set of Gale’s eyes.

He didn’t think Katniss even knew he hunts now. It’s not like he had many chances to get out to the woods in the time before the firebombing, either. Those were the long months Gale was consumed by the mines and Katniss in training for the Quell. Rory had snuck out a few times, sure, but mostly Ma put her foot down and stopped him from going in unsupervised. It’s in the time since, in some other woods, that he’s learned the thing proper.

“Gale’s traps gave you away,” Katniss tells him bluntly, clearly amused at what must be the startled look on his face. “They only just started popping up all over in the past few weeks. Not too many people come out here, anyway, but I can still spot his handiwork when I see it. Did you do a lot of hunting in Two?”

Oh. Right. The traps. He feels foolish, blanking out momentarily on the fact that he’d come out here today largely to check on them. His cheeks are definitely hot. Probably he’s bright red by now, judging by Katniss’ grin. “Some,” he tells her, staring embarrassedly at a cluster of rocks where dandelions are poking out between the cracks. “Gale’s job keeps him busy. But hunting’s just about the only time we weren’t at each other throats.”

She gestures over to her old wood bow, propped up against the trunk of a large oak tree behind her. “He teach you to shoot, too, or only the traps?”

“Both. But I’m not as good at either as both of you are at your least skilled of the two.” That’s not him being humble, it’s just the flat out truth. Rory can manage Gale’s simpler traps just fine, but it’s nothing compared to the intricate things arranged by his brother’s deft fingers. As for the bow? Well, he’s certainly no girl on fire.

Katniss nods. For a while, they go back to doing their separate thinking.

Then…“Why are you so angry with him?” It’s Katniss who’s flushing now, and looking away, out over the valley at the rolling hills.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he sighs, sitting a little straighter. He doesn’t want to talk about this.

“I know why I’m angry with him.” She frowns, “Or, why I was angry for a long time, anyway. I’m not so much anything with him anymore. I hadn’t even thought about him in a long time, matter of fact, until you came along.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.”

He tries to not say anything for a bit again, in vain hope of not having to answer her question at all, that she’ll give it up in favor of some other, easier topic. But Katniss has never been one to mind a bout of silence. She waits. Finally he says, “I’m angry for all the same reasons you are, of the ones I know about, anyway. Plus a few of my own.”

“You were close to my sister,” Katniss says. Her voice is quiet, sad. She says it like a statement, but it feels more like a question.

Rory shrugs. “We got a lot closer after you volunteered. We watched most of your Games together. By the time we got to Thirteen…she was my best friend already, I guess, but that’s what made me realize it. Not a lot of kids made it out of Twelve. We had to stick together. I even went through a bit of the medic training with her, just to have something to do.” Suddenly, he wants to cry. Ma says time makes everything easier, but sometimes Rory feels like he only lost her yesterday. Sometimes he thinks time make it worse, because there's more that she's missing. “She mattered so much to me,” he chokes out. He’s scratched so hard at his ankle now there’s a thin trail of dried red blood.

“I’m sorry, Rory.” Katniss’ forehead scrunches again, and Rory’s chest twists up guiltily. He’d never wanted her to have to comfort him. She’d loved Prim more than anyone. He shakes his head a little frantically, ready to apologize for even bringing it up, but then she says, “I didn’t even know that.” She wipes at her own eyes. Rory sits frozen. “I didn’t know you two were like that. I missed so much about her that last year, so much of her growing up.”

“Well, you kind of had a lot of other stuff going on,” Rory offers weakly. Katniss gives a watery chuckle, so he barrels on, wanting to stop her crying because if she starts, they’ll be no stopping him from following. “She talked about you all the time, you know. No one was prouder.”

Katniss nods, wiping her eyes again. Her voice is steady as she says, “Coin killed her. Coin sent her to the Capitol expressly to die. You know that right? That’s why I killed Coin. One of the reasons.”

“I know,” Rory concedes. “And I know he regrets it, but Gale still came up with that sick trap. Prim wasn’t the only one who died. She was one of hundreds.” Katniss nods. He knows she agrees without having to hear her say it, and it makes him feel a little vindicated. He’s never been able to say that to anyone, except for the one afternoon he finally screamed it at Gale himself. Posy ran from the room in tears. Even Vick thought he’d gone too far, and gave him the silent treatment for a week because of it. He hadn’t said it again, until now.

Rory shakes his head. He can’t talk about that day anymore, so he talks about something else. “It’s not just that that’s between me and Gale, anyway. It’s everything. He’s why we all had to live in Two. Then he spent the whole time I was there acting like he was Pa, you know? Ma keeps saying he’s the spitting image of him, in and out. Only Gale’s not Pa. He’s not.” Once he starts, it all comes vomiting out of him. All the things he’s been holding against Gale for years, fairly or not. He hasn’t even told Vick half of it, but it feels easy telling Katniss. If anyone outside of their family understands what Gale’s like, it's her.

“It was one thing when I was younger, when things were so bad. I know he took care of us. Helped save us. But he never lets up, even now that we can all take care of ourselves! And we barely even saw him after he dragged us all out there, so what was even the point?. He’s obsessed with that stupid job of his. It’s so fucking self-righteous it makes me want to scream. He’s impossible to live with, and Posy’s obsessed with everything he does but she doesn’t even remember Twelve’s our real home, and…” Rory hesitates, biting his lip to shut himself up. Because the next thing that’s about to spill out of him is the thing, isn’t it? The thing he hasn’t wanted to admit, even to himself, even though it’s the thing that makes him maddest of all.

Katniss does the thing where she keeps quiet and waits for him to spit it out again. Rory swallows down the whirling feeling in his throat and grips his bent knees, hunching in over himself. “And he’s never going to come back here,” he says softly, ashamed. It feels pathetic to admit, childish, especially to someone like Katniss who didn’t have a choice: that as much as he can’t live in Two, Rory also doesn’t want to be alone. That he’s mad at Gale for being unable to follow, that it means most of the others won’t follow, too. That he has to choose between the people and place he loves. “I know it’s unfair of me,” Rory says before Katniss can argue with him, even though he’s not sure she would, anyway. It’s not like she wants Gale to come back. She seems quite happy without him.

He picks up a broken stick and jabs it into the dirt, drawing circles on the forest floor without aim. “It was really bad for him, having to lead everyone away from the bombs. He can’t come back. I know that. But I wish he would.”

They sit there in silence for a while after. Katniss doesn’t ask any more questions. They just let each other think. Then Katniss nudges his leg. When he looks up, she’s holding out a roll smeared with a bit of goat cheese and garnish, eyes raised as if to ask, “Hungry?”

He is. A whole afternoon has passed them by and he still hasn’t done what he came into the woods to do. Holding out a little longer for this doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, though. He accepts it gratefully, and lets out a low whistle when he takes a bite. “Shit, this is what you get to eat as often as you’d like? Now I see why you picked Peeta,” he prattles on, mouth still full. His eyes go wide as saucers soon as he realizes what he’s said. Damn it, Rory. There you go putting your foot in things again. “Uhm…sorry. Forget I said that. That was a stupid thing to say.”

Katniss, thankfully, lets it mostly roll off. “I picked Peeta for a lot of reasons,” she tells him, firm and sure, eyes blazing but kind. Rory’s stiffened shoulders deflate. “We want to have a toasting,” she confesses after—softer, like passing along a secret. It’s said casually enough, but Rory can see her watching him out the corner of her eye, as if to gauge whether he’s gonna run back to report this development to Gale.

No, he realizes. That’s not it. Katniss doesn’t give a hoot what Gale thinks. Nor should she. It’s just that she’s sharing something very dear to her. Something so sacred that maybe it feels dangerous to disclose. She wants to make sure he’s going to protect it, knowledge that encompassing, that important. Rory swallows. Of course he will. “Congratulations,” he manages. He means it sincerely.

“We’ve already got the houses, so we’re waiting for the bakery to be built. Peeta says it’s our new start.”  

A new start, Rory thinks. That sounds good to him. “I’m happy for you, Katniss, really. And…I’m looking forward to the bakery, if it means I can buy more of these buns."

Katniss beams at him, like he’s paid her a compliment just by complimenting her boyfriend’s bread. It’s so sappy and ridiculous Rory would normally laugh at her, but whatever. Katniss deserves her personal baker boy. He takes another bite and lets the cheese sit for a moment on his tongue, savoring the taste. If those two can find happiness after everything they’ve gone through, he thinks that maybe he can, too.

“You don’t have to wait for the bakery, you know,” says Katniss. “It’s like my hunting, Peeta bakes way more than we can eat. Next time you come over I’ll have him send you home with a dozen for you and your friends.” She pops the last bit of her own roll into mouth and rolls her pack onto her back, making to stand. “Come on then, I want to see how good of a shot you really are before we have to head back.”

Rory stands and lets her lead the way.

Hunting with Katniss is nice. It feels like things used to be with her a long time ago, but also not. Like something better because of them being older and being here and surviving. She has him do most of the shooting, but is quick to offer up tips. She even lets him use one of her dad's nice bows, instead of the shoddy one he brought from Two. After adjusting the position of his left hand an inch down the bow, he manages to collect a squirrel and three rabbits with cleaner shots than usual, though he’s still got a lot of work to do before he can land one right in the eye.

On their walk back to the fence, with the afternoon sun fading into the softened glow of early evening, Rory remembers his idea from earlier, when she was talking about how she catches too much to eat. “You know,” he broaches carefully, trudging a pace or so behind her, “You should start selling your extra game again, like you used to in the Hob. People in town would buy it. My buddy Emmett was practically begging me to bring back a squirrel when he learned I can hunt. The new food imports and the grocery are nice, but everyone’s still looking for a real taste of home.”

Katniss, not unexpectedly, shakes her head. “No. I don’t want money, I’ve already got too much of it. And people don’t want my handouts. Believe me, I’ve tried. I finally got Sae to agree to take some off my hands as repayment for checking in on us, but I think she only said yes to feed her granddaughter, and even so she keeps trying to slip me coin” Her irritation at people wanting to pay her for what her work’s worth is so Katniss it makes him grin.

“Sell in the markets on Sunday,” he insists, gaining steam instead of losing it. “Take trades instead of regular payment, if you’d prefer it. Or donate whatever money you bring in to the rebuilding efforts or the orphanage. Isn’t that what Peeta plans to do once the bakery opens?” Peeta had told him about that plan just last week at dinner, and Rory’s grateful for it now. It’s the perfect solution. There’s no way for Katniss to argue such a good point.

Still, she purses her lip, considering. “I don’t want to draw attention to myself,” she mutters finally. “It’s bad enough that they’ve got to harbor me here like a criminal. I’m the crazy woman who killed the President, remember?”

Rory’s so focused at rolling his eyes at her that he nearly walks into a tree. “Yeah, but you’re not actually crazy. Katniss, the whole district loves you, you’ve got to know that.” Of course she doesn’t, it’s Katniss. “They’d love to see more of you.”

She doesn’t say anything, which he takes as a good sign. This could be a great plan. It could be good for both of them. “Look, what if we did it together? Today was good. It’s better being out here with someone else. I can’t go hunting all the time, obviously, since I’m working, but I could join you some evenings. And we could sell at the stall on Sundays together.”

Katniss turns back to look at him. He can’t read her expression, except that it’s accessing. She searches him up and down, biting her lip. “I don’t know," she says finally, eyebrows raised as she stares at his feet, "I’m not sure I want someone for a hunting partner who’s got such a heavy tread." 

Rory chokes out a laugh. “Come on, you have to know I was just trying not to startle you!” he proclaims, pouncing forward a few paces to close the gap between them. It’s enough so that he can elbow her playfully in the ribs. Their heavy game bags nudge against one another’s sides as they move. “I redeemed myself after! I was dead quiet when we were shooting.”

“You were passable,” Katniss concedes. “But there’s room for improvement. I’ll teach you next time.”

Rory grins. That means he’s won her over. “Next time?”

“Next time,” Katniss repeats. “Thursday? After you clock out. We’ll meet at the same clearing. I’ll give the market exactly one try, but if it goes poorly we’re pretending it never happened, and you can’t keep pestering me. Deal?” She stops then, turns towards him, and offers out her hand.

Rory shakes her on it. It feels like that fresh start he’s been looking for. “Deal.”