AN: This is my first Gadge fic. It's not groundbreakingly original, but I'm experimenting some with the style of the story telling. Basically, I'm writing this for my own enjoyment, but hey, if it makes you happy too that's great :)

"I lost my first thought in the morning. I lost my prayer in the night."

Robert Uy

"Our female tribute from District Twelve is…" Effie Trinket struggled to unfold the slip of paper with her long, pointed finger nails. If the Reaping Ceremony didn't end soon, Madge feared she'd begin sweating through her dress.

"Primrose Everdeen!" announced Effie joyfully. As the name sank into the crowd, Madge forgot the sun. She whipped her head round to Katniss, standing beside her. Their eyes locked and Madge saw the future taking shape in the shadows of the unknown. She wound her fingers through Katniss'. Their sweaty palms stuck together. She felt Katniss' racing pulse against her wrist, beating staccato to her own heart's rapid flutter. No, she thought, her mouth forming the word without sound, please no.

Katniss broke eye contact. Their hands came apart with a squelch.

"I volunteer as tribute!" cried Katniss, trampling over Madge's toes to reach the end of their row. Madge didn't feel a thing. She grasped at the empty air.

"Take care of them, Gale," pleaded Katniss, as the Peacekeepers hauled him from the room. "Whatever you do, don't let them starve!

"I pro-" The door shut between them. Just like that, Katniss was gone. "Get off me," he snapped, shaking his arm free of the Peacekeeper's iron grip. There were two of them standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the door. Gale took a step forward, intent on fighting his way through them. He needed more time. He needed a lifetime to tell Katniss everything he wanted to.

But then he felt a light touch on his arm. "Can I see her now?" asked Madge Undersee. She didn't spare a glance for Gale. It was like she didn't even realize she was touching him. His gut reaction was to jerk away, but he was frozen in shock. His head spinning. This was all happening so fast. This was all so surreal, especially Madge Undersee's fingers pressing against his skin.

"Be quick about it," said one of the Peacekeepers. Madge didn't recognize either of them. They were from the Capitol. She was frightened of them, of their faces so much harder than the Peacekeepers of Twelve, and their eyes with mercy, but to see Katniss, she had to walk through them.

It wasn't until she took a tentative step forward that she became aware of whose arm she was clinging to. Still, she didn't want to let go. Her knees trembled under her pink, paisley dress.

"Go on, girl," said one of the Peacekeepers. "We've got a train to catch."

Madge bristled at being called girl. She was the mayor's daughter, not just some girl. She clutched her aunt's mockingjay pin. The gold-edged wings cut into her palm. As soon as she let go of Gale Hawthorne, her knees threatened to buckle. She ducked her blonde head and hurried past the Peacekeepers. The door closed behind her with a solemn, heavy click.

From the edge of the platform, Gale watched the tail end of the train whip around the bend and disappear. Only this morning, he and Katniss were eating strawberries together in the woods, and now she was gone. Too late he realized what he should have done. He should've volunteered for Peeta Mellark, to keep Katniss safe, to ensure she came home. The Reaping had been a whirlwind and his focus had been on restraining Prim. He hadn't even heard Peeta's name called until it was too late.

Gale kicked a pebble over the platform's edge and watched it soar over the tracks. His body screamed to leap down and run after the train, to put a stop to this nightmare before it solidified into reality, but he was held back by his promise to Katniss. Take care of them, Gale. Whatever you do, don't let them starve. Someone had to take care of Prim. If he'd volunteered, if he chased after the train now, she would starve.

But who will take care of you? he thought at Katniss, knowing what her response would be. I can take care of myself.

He heard footsteps approaching from behind, but didn't turn to look.

"She's coming back, you know," said Madge Undersee.

Gale didn't speak. He kept staring at the end of the railroad tracks. When he finally turned to the mayor's daughter, he saw that her cheeks were streaked with tears and his heart hardened. He would not let the Peacekeepers see him cry for Katniss.

He left the mayor's daughter to stand alone on the platform.

Madge was selfish. She knew that about herself. It was a character flaw born of being an only child. She was a thief, too.

"I can't find it," her mother raged as she clawed the sheets off the bed, searching for something lost.

"Find what, Mama?" asked Madge, not daring to go any closer. Her mother often lashed out during fits like this. It was best to wait for them to blow over.

"Maysilee's pin," said Mrs. Undersee. She turned her wild eyes to her daughter.

"It'll turn up," said Madge, her lies smooth as silk. She'd been telling lies since she learned to talk. Everything is alright, Mama. Nothing was alright. Yes, it's me, Maysilee. I'm here. Aunt Maysilee was dead. Madge had never met her. "I bet if you get some rest, you'll remember where it is when you wake up," she said now, remaking the bed her mother had just destroyed. The mockingjay wouldn't be there when she woke up, but her mother would forget about it for a while.

She coaxed her mother into bed and tucked the covers tightly around her narrow shoulders. Madge rarely touched her mother, afraid of shattering her, but she couldn't resist the sudden urge to press a soft kiss to her paper thin brow, as if in atonement for the mockingjay pin she'd stolen to give to Katniss. The kiss left her longing for so much more. She wanted to burrow under the covers and tangle herself in her mother, cry herself to sleep, be held, be loved, be noticed.

"You're right, May," her mother said dreamily. "I just need to sleep on it."

Madge drew back, stung by the name of her long-dead aunt. I'm not Maysilee, she wanted to scream, I'm Margaret, your daughter. Instead she said only, "Ring if you need me," as she flicked the silver bell on the bedside table. Her mother was already fast asleep.

Gale wasn't surprised to find his mother waiting at the kitchen table when he slunk home in the dead of night. He stopped in the doorway, pinched with guilt for having made her worry. He'd lost track of time in the woods. Or rather, time had lost track of him.

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Hazelle. Gale clamped his lips together. His throat was raw from screaming at the wind. There were no words to describe how he felt. Katniss was gone.

In three strides, his mother crossed the room and folded him up into her arms. Gale sunk into her, the full weight of today crashing over him. Katniss was gone, just like that. The Capitol had stolen her and he hadn't done a damn thing to stop them.

"Oh, my baby," said Hazelle, "She'll come home. She's strong." Her tears fell hot against the back of Gale's neck. He hid his face in her shirt, but he hadn't cried since the day his father died, and he couldn't remember how to do it now, so he clung to his mother as the world crumbled around him.

It was well past midnight by the time Madge was able to steal away to her room. She'd given her mother enough morphling to keep her under through the night. Her father was out late. Come dawn, he'd stumble home, reeking of liquor. Mayor Undersee rarely drank. He was a good father, a good man, but Reaping Day was too much for him. Every year, he was forced to stand on the stage with a smile, waiting to find out if his only daughter would be chosen as tribute. Every year when it wasn't her name drawn, he felt relief, followed immediately by guilt as he shook the hand of whichever unlucky girl would die in his daughter's place.

Most of the time, Madge was grateful for the good life her parents provided. She never had to worry about starvation or freezing to death. She had hot, running water, maids to care for her every need, a library full of worlds to escape to, and feather pillows aplenty. But on Reaping Day, the Capitol's reminder to them all that their lives were not their own, Madge wanted to burn every bit of it to the ground. Let the flames be a message to President Snow- You do not own me.

Most of the time, she wasn't brave enough to even think about such rebellion. She would never be brave enough to act. Not even on Reaping Day.

Madge shimmied out of her Reaping dress, letting it puddle around her ankles. She glared at it, remembering what Gale Hawthorne had said just that morning. Pretty dress. It was pretty. Offensively so. She picked it up with two fingers, holding it away from her body like it was drenched in poison, and moved to the fireplace. Her stomach clenched with fear as she held the dress over the flames, letting the hem catch fire. She held on a second longer, before letting go.

She watched the dress burn, overcome by a sense of giddy release, until there was nothing left but ash and a dozen charred buttons.