Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.
This story is technically a sequel to my other story Faded Lines. However, it can also stand alone. Faded Lines will be referenced, but all things needed to know should be explained.
He loves her.
He loves the way her golden hair glows in the sunlight. He loves the light dusting of her freckles across her nose. He loves the way she nibbles on her bottom lip when she's frustrated, the way her fingers tug on the tips of her hair. He loves the little wrinkle between her eyebrows. He loves the blue he sees in her eyes, a mix of an aquamarine ocean and a starry night. He loves the pink of her cheeks whenever he kisses her. He loves the feeling of her skin against his on a cold morning. He loves her wit and her smile and her laugh.
Most importantly, he loves the ring on her finger that marks her as his until death do them part.
But he hates her cooking.
Other than the fact that she can't make a dinner to save her life, being married to Madge is all that he hoped it would be. Gale loves her more now than he did all those weeks ago when they made it official. Every day he discovers something else about her that he hadn't known before. Every day he watches her grow into a more determined, more enticing version of herself.
Sometimes he'll come home to their tiny shack to find her humming a melody to herself as she sweeps the coal dust from the spot where he leaves his boots, and if not there then doing some other chore to clean it up a bit. She works hard and Gale loves her for it.
But her cooking.
Today is like every other. He comes home seventeen minutes past six and kicks his shoes off next to the mat inside. Gale hangs his tattered leather jacket on the hook by the door and his cracked helmet right next to it. Madge's quiet lovely voice is radiating from the bathroom, singing some song he hasn't heard before, and the smell of pine cleaner is overwhelming. As quietly as he can, Gale creeps over the floorboards that he knows creak to get a better view.
She's in a shirt a bit too big for her, one of his old ones that she usually wears to bed. Her hair is messily tied into a bun in one of her old ribbons, one that was once pink but even after such a short time in the Seam has already faded and grayed. Madge is on her tiptoes and in front of the mirror on the wall. She's trying her damned hardest to get a thin layer of coal from the face of the mirror, but it just isn't working.
"Might need my pick axe to get that off," he says quietly. Madge leaps at the sound of his voice, sliding on her socks and stumbling to stand up properly. Gale grins at how disheveled she is and takes a step toward her. "That mirror is never going to see the light of day again, Madge."
"It will if I make it," she returns. She crosses the rest of the floor to him and stands on her tiptoes again, pressing a quick kiss to his bottom lip and wiping a bit of dust from his left eyebrow. "How was work?"
"The same as it always is." Repetitive. Exhausting. Bothersome. Gale tilts his head toward the kitchen and sniffs once. "Started on dinner yet?"
Madge pulls away from him with ease and lifts her shoulders slightly. "No," she responds. The blonde makes her way back to the mirror and dips her rag into the bucket again. "You can cook tonight." Gale cocks an eyebrow and leans into the doorframe, watching his wife methodically scrape at the reflective glass.
"Can I?" he asks. Gale knows that he's baiting her.
"You're much better at it than me," she hums. Madge acts as though she's speaking casually. "The faces you make whenever you take a bite of my food are proof of that."
Gale expects to feel like he's been punched in the gut, but at this point he's gotten more used to Madge's biting remarks. It was meant to sting him, instead he just feels guilty. "That obvious?"
"That obvious," she nods. Madge sighs loudly and slumps onto the sink under the mirror. "You knew when you married me that I wasn't-that I'm not…" she sighs again. Gale takes a step toward her and slides his hands onto her hips, dragging her backwards against his body. "I was waiting for you to say something and you never did," Madge mutters.
"I was hoping you'd get better," Gale retorts. Madge grumbles a bit as he drops his chin down to her shoulder. In the mirror their reflection is foggy. Clean enough that they can see themselves but not yet picture perfect. "I was going to say something," he insists. Not today, of course, but maybe tomorrow. "We knew there'd be things to work on."
"I know."
"So we can work on it." Madge wrinkles her nose as he kisses the side of her face. "I'll cook tonight and you can watch. Take notes or whatever it is you do." Before she can slip from his arms he tightens his grip only slightly. "Madge," Gale whispers. "You're doing great. Okay? You don't have be perfect at everything."
Living in the Seam has been tough for her, Gale knows that. She was born and raised into District 12 royalty as the mayor's daughter, had to give up her entire life to marry Gale. She even gave up her family, considering that her father disowned her at the news of her engagement, but she's taking it overly well. She smiles and cleans and goes to her teaching job in town and cooks (to the best of her ability) and impresses him day after day.
"I'm not trying to be," she whispers back. "I just…I just don't want you to think that I'm useless."
"I know you're not useless," Gale murmurs. He kisses her neck. "You know you're not useless, too." Madge tilts her head sideways a bit and exposes her collarbone to Gale. His lips eagerly slide across her skin and she sighs, the noise causing Gale to smile. "Some things just take a little getting used to." She nods solemnly before placing the dirty rag back into the bucket. They start off to the kitchen together.
Madge rolls her shoulders forward and sighs as they crack. She rests her elbows on the edge of her desk and drops her head into her hands, taking in a long deep breath.
Her students are gone for lunch and she knows she should eat as well, she's just so tired. She wants to nap so badly, and yet she knows if she doesn't eat the food she's packed for her own meal then it will go to waste. Wasted food is not something she can afford now. In fact, she can barely afford fresh food.
She and Gale's combined paycheck allows them to live a bit more luxuriously than some others in the Seam, just not that luxuriously. It is the Seam after all, and they have to spend most of their money renovating their home.
She sighs again and massages her temples. The springs on their mattress make her back hurt and their woolen blankets are starting to give her a rash on the back of her thighs, but that's not something she's going to mention. Gale feels awful enough that she's living in the Seam, she doesn't want to make it worse. Madge can power through the little things, she's going to have to get used to everything eventually.
"Miss Undersee," a voice suddenly calls out. Madge sits up so quickly that her back cracks in places she didn't know could actually crack. "Oh," the man in her door pauses. "My apologizes. Mrs. Hawthorne."
Madge readjusts herself in her seat and plasters her typical smile on her face. "Mr. Wentworth," she says. The overseer of education. The man who reports back to the Capitol. "May I help you with something?"
He eyes her once before taking a step into the room. She sits up even straighter. "Just came to see how you were doing." He's a man she doesn't like. Not a peacekeeper and yet still a man with power, too much power. He decides what is taught in school. He decides if she's teaching it to the best of her ability. He's the man who decides if she should keep her job or if they should hire another. "With your marriage and move and whatnot, that is."
"Wonderfully," she smiles brightly. "It's very kind of you to ask." And also very terrifying. What's her personal life to him?
"Splendid," he smiles back. It doesn't have a friendly air to it. Forced and mechanical. "I just wanted to remind you to start preparing the children for the Victory Tour." Wentworth takes another step into the room. "This year we really want to drive into their tiny heads about the different types of muttations we have in our arenas."
"Of course," she nods. Madge keeps her eyes trained on the mousy man in front of her. His caramel colored hair is slicked back, his square glasses are thick. She swallows back all of her terror and smiles again. "We can start after lunch, if you wish."
"Excellent!" Mr. Wentworth takes a step backwards and tips his head. "Mrs. Hawthorne, you are truly one of our better teachers in this institution." His proximity unnerves her. "You're so dedicated to educating these miscreants who couldn't care less about what you're saying." She swallows every bitter remark she wants to spew out and keeps her smile tight. "And the fact that your would-have-been brother-in-law was a tribute in these past Games and you still teach with such a fervor!" He smacks his hand down on a desk and causes her to jump. "Incredible."
Madge lets out a shaky breath. "Thank you, sir. I aim to please."
"I'll check in with you again later, Mrs. Hawthorne," he tells her. "You're doing a wonderful job."
And with that, he's gone. Madge isn't very tired anymore.
As Gale cooks dinner he explains to his wife certain aspects of the meal. The fire can't be too high for this sort of stew or it will burn what sinks to the bottom. Too little salt is always better than too much salt, you can always add more later. Remember to stir the entirety of the pot, not just the surface.
"Madge," he grumbles. The blonde looks up at him from where she was staring. Her eyes were not on him, he doubts she was listening at all. "I thought you wanted to learn how to cook."
"I do," she insists. "I was listening!" Gale lifts his eyebrows at her and she sighs, dropping her gaze from him again. "I'm distracted, that's all." He crosses their tiny kitchen to her and takes the seat next to her, reaching out and enveloping her hand with his. "It smells great," she says encouragingly. He can see that her eyes aren't as bright as they normally are, but then again they really haven't been since the marriage. "I'm sure it tastes even—"
"Madge," Gale murmurs. She sighs again and turns her hand so their fingers lace. He runs his thumb over the soft padding of her inside palm. This is a place where the coal has yet to find her, her skin is still creamy white and smooth. "What's wrong? You know it'll just take some lessons and you'll be a master chef."
"It's not the cooking," she says, rolling her eyes. Without any hesitation she tells him, "Mr. Wentworth visited me at school the other day and I can't stop thinking about it."
"Wentworth?" Gale repeats. He gives her hand a supportive squeeze before going back to the pot. "Your overseer?" Madge nods, her golden curls shaking along with her. "What the hell did he want?"
Madge lifts her shoulders and exhales deeply, lifting her hands to rub at her temples. "Changed the curriculum a bit. I've been teaching about muttations and it's scaring the kids half to death." She shakes her head, clearly having suffered the effects of her lesson as well. "He even mentioned Vick to me," she adds softly. Gale tenses at his brother's name.
"What for?" he barks.
"To throw me off, probably."
Vick. Dammit, Gale misses Vick every single day. His baby brother unrightfully reaped at the age of 18 just this past year to be thrown into the Hunger Games. Almost made it out, too. He had charm and smarts, was very capable of making his way out of the arena. Made allies that became friends. Katniss tells Gale it was best Vick didn't come home, but Gale doubts that every day. He'd give anything to see his brother just one more time.
"I shouldn't have mentioned it," Madge murmurs. Gale's brought back to the present at his wife's voice. His eyes focus on the dusty rafters and uneven floorboards as he reminds himself to breathe. The loss of Vick wasn't even three months ago. It's still an open wound on Gale's heart. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Gale says. He returns to stirring the stew. Vick's presence is still very strong throughout the District. He's not entirely gone. Gale changes the subject back to Madge. "Why'd Wentworth change the curriculum?"
"I don't know," she answers. Madge chews on her bottom lip and stares at the flames under the pot. "He also mentioned the Victory Tour." The Victory Tour? That's not for at least another month or two. "I just have this weird feeling that something's wrong."
"Nothing's wrong," he tells her. Except maybe the fact that he's cooking dinner at 9 o'clock on a Friday and he has to work tomorrow. At this rate they won't be in bed until 11. "Probably just wants to make sure everything is in line. You know?"
"I guess." Madge wrinkles her nose and looks back at her husband. "So what were you saying about the salt?"
Gale wraps his arms tightly around his wife, sighing into her neck as the sky lightens with the approaching dawn. She wiggles a bit, her back resting against his chest, before letting out a quiet yawn. "Are you awake?" Gale whispers. Madge groans in response and squeezes her eyes shut, trying to fall back asleep. Today is Sunday. She can sleep in. He can't, though. "I'm going to go out," he tells her. "Be back sometime this afternoon. Alright?"
"Kay," she says with another yawn. Despite having said he can go, Madge curls further into him and clings to his shirt. Gale chuckles as she rolls to face him, burying her face into his chest. "Later."
"I have to go now, Madge."
"Later," she repeats tiredly. "Can't you just skip one Sunday? Stay in bed with me?" Her voice is so pleading it tugs on his heart. "Please?"
She doesn't understand how badly he wants to skip a Sunday in the woods. He wants to stay with her all morning, curled up under the sheets with nothing but her to worry about. He wants to drink in her scent and run his hands through her hair and kiss every inch of her skin.
They just can't afford it.
If he doesn't use the cover of the dawn to sneak over the fence then he'll never get into the woods, and they need the game that his snares have caught. They need it so he can make trades in the Hob and so they have more food to put on the table and so he can feed her like she used to be fed. So they can make money and so they can rise above the poverty of the Seam.
"Not today," he murmurs. Madge sighs and squeezes her eyes shut, falling away from him in defeat. "Madge," he exhales tiredly and reaches for her hip. "You know I want to. Right?" She nods once, but her face is still filled with disappointment. "I love you," he tells her.
"I love you too," she returns softly. Madge peeks up at him through her golden eyelashes and tries her hardest to smile. Knowing that his words won't help the situation, Gale bends down and kisses her quickly. "Come home early?"
Gale kisses her nose before nodding. "I'll try my best."
He slips out of bed without another word and watches as she curls into the spot where he once laid, absorbing his warmth. Her face is contorted disappointment and exhaustion, and again he feels guilty for having to go. Gale hasn't had a morning with Madge since right after their wedding and he hates it.
Quickly he dresses in his hunting gear, refusing to let his gaze fall back to the blonde he's leaving home. He once thought that being married to Madge would mean more time together, but it almost feels like less. They talk about their day over dinner and cuddle on the couch before bed, but it all feels very mechanical. It's not like it was before when he would sneak to her house in the middle of the night for a few kisses. That sense of secrecy is gone.
With a final glance over his shoulder at Madge, Gale slips into the morning.
He can't stop thinking. Gale goes in the woods to clear his mind, but today he just can't stop thinking. He thinks about Madge and how he should be trying harder to be a better husband. He thinks about Vick and how it isn't fair that his baby brother was stolen from this world. He thinks about his mother and Posy who now live on their own and how they're getting through the days. He thinks about the Victory Tour that will be rolling into District 12 soon, how he'll have to sit on a stage and watch the girl that killed his brother make a speech.
His hands slip on the snares and he loses the knot. He stumbles as he makes his way through the trees. He breaks one of his arrows.
Gale is entirely too distracted today.
Deciding that he needs to take a breather, Gale makes his way over to the river he once took Madge to. He drops his hunting bag on the ground and follows soon after. If it wasn't getting so damn cold out he might dip his feet in the water, but today that's not an option.
It was in this very spot she admitted her feelings for him, in this very spot that they kissed for the first time. How long ago was it that things were so natural? That they could talk freely about things that weren't cooking or work? Gale drops his head into his hands and tugs at his hair.
He loves her, he does, but it's different now and he hates it.
No, no, that's not true. He doesn't hate it. This is just a different type of love. It's not as fiery, not as passionate. It's a muted version of what they once had. Is that what being married does to people? It can't be. There's got to be something left of how it was. Not that the way he loves her now is awful, it's just not the same. He's conflicted and confused as to what he wants.
As Gale thinks and thinks and thinks about how he can revive the passion he and Madge once shared he stares at the stream and watches it flow.
He's so distracted that he doesn't even notice the wild dog approach him from behind.
A/N: Well, here we are! The long awaited sequel to Faded Lines is finally here. All reviews and criticism are appreciated. My goal is to update this fic at least once a week, but I'm currently transitioning into college (what?!) and don't know if that will ring true or not. A big thank you to everyone who's stuck with me thus far, you're the reason I write! I hope you're just as excited for this story as I am.