AN: Okay, so you know how my profile says that I only signed up for to publish one Lemon? Well, I lied. Ever since I read and fell in love with The Hunger Games Series, I felt the need to write about it. My main character in this one? Madge Undersee. I like writing from the POV characters that we don't really know a lot about. Gives you more liberty with their personalities. I also think that she has another side to her besides the sweet, innocent farce that she puts on now. People always ask what my theories on the Gale/Madge pairing (Gadge or Male, as I call it. Lol) and the role of the Undersees are. Instead of typing out long drawn out message board posts like I usually do, I put my theories in story form :D This takes place while Katniss and Peeta are in the Quell Match, leaving Madge and Gale behind to cope, and deals heavily with the relationship of the Undersees with each other, others and their roles in the rebellion. I'll warn you now, this is a drama. Through and through. It will have quite a bit of humor, but it's pretty dramatic overall. Lol (I just LOL'ed over drama). I'd say Drama/Coping/Adventure/Romance would say it right.
You can read and review or just read, and hopefully enjoy. As I always say, I welcome lurkers! Do let me know how I'm doing if you feel compelled to. It always helps.
I OWN NOTHING!! Not a thing. You see this thing? I don't own it. lol. This is just my ideas based off of Suzanne Collins' brainchild. ALL due credit is paid! I PROMISE!
SIDE NOTE: I effing hate the title, and I suck at making titles myself. So, if anyone can help me out with that, I'm all open for suggestions!
"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we have Peeta Mellark, who has volunteered to take Haymitch Abernathy's place in the arena. That is very brave of you, Mr. Mellark," Effie Trinket announces. She manages to keep a cheerful demeanor, but you can see the bits of sorrow in her eyes. Maybe she's become more attached to Katniss and Peeta than I thought she had.
As Peeta walks across the stage, his slight limp much less prominent than usual, I look over to Katniss. Even though she knew just as much as the rest of us that Peeta would volunteer, she still looks physically ill as he approaches Effie. She knows that only one of them is coming back alive. My heart breaks for her. I'm sure she'll try and keep a strong face when she talks us all in her visiting hour before she leaves. She'll definitely remain solemn and unreadable when she speaks with her family and me. Well, I'm not sure how proud she can stay when it's Gale's turn to say goodbye. I can't imagine that she won't shed tears when she parts ways with him… possibly for the last time. The last time. I choke up at the thought of that.
A gust of wind blows, and I wipe away a lock of my golden hair that has fallen in my face. By the time I've cleared my view, I look up to see Katniss and Peeta herded off of the stage by Peacekeepers. They push a shocked Effie as well as Haymitch off, too. I can hear Effie complaining in confusion. Even my father furrows his brows as they take them. The tributes were usually taken away, but not this fast, and they were never handled as roughly as Katniss and Peeta are now. It looks like they're taking them to the gallows instead of the Justice Building. Just then, a large Peacekeeper steps up to the microphone. I don't recognize him at all. He has dark brown hair and very pale skin, and his eyes are as dark as coal. He must be one of the many new Peacekeepers that came in this morning. However, he takes the microphone stand very authoritatively. I skim the crowd looking at the bewilderment on everyone's faces. My own face must reflect the same.
"The tributes will be immediately transported to the Capitol. There will be no visitation," he says coldly before walking away from the podium.
Many collective gasps and cries come from the audience. My father stands up, and I can see him arguing fiercely with the man, but the man does not seem fazed by him. The Peacekeepers line up at the base of the stage with their guns drawn, ready for any kind of resistance. Many people move away at the sight of this. Back to their homes. Back to their lives of compliance. I'm too stunned to move, though. I don't know what I'm expecting to happen. I don't think I'm ready to believe it yet. Katniss, Peeta. Are they really gone? Just like that. I'll never see one of them again. Or worse, either of them. My eyes well up with tears. Katniss is my only friend, and I couldn't even hug her one more time. Have one quick conversation about nothing, just to keep our visit as normal as we can. She was gone, just that fast.
Suddenly, I remember everyone else. I look over a few yards away to see a paralyzed Mrs. Everdeen clutching her heart as if it has burst. She keeps her eyes frozen to the emptying stage and her mouth hanging open. Prim, so frail and distraught, yells out as the people pass her.
"What? No, you can't do that! We have to see her! That's the rule!"
She fights to run up to the Peacekeepers, but a tall man holds her back, while who I'm guessing is his wife tries to pull Mrs. Everdeen away. Seeing Prim fight, tiny arms flailing, with the same fire that Katniss always has is almost too much for me. I have to force myself to look away, but the sight I catch is no better. Standing with his fists clinched, Gale's eyes are full of daggers all pointed at the Peacekeepers. He ignores any and everyone around him. He could snap at any moment and charge the line of them. What good is that going to do, Gale? I think. If he tries anything, being an army of only himself, he will be killed instantly without a second thought. That won't help Katniss. That won't bring her back.
And, what am I supposed to do? Do I go up to stop him? I stare at him, anticipating his next move. He takes a step forward. People in the crowd push by him, but he keeps heading towards the front. My eyes widen, hoping that he doesn't plan on attacking, but there's no doubt of his insane intentions. I move up, too, tripping over people's feet and my own.
"Gale," I yell out to him, but the commotion is too loud for anyone to hear, "Gale! Wait! Stop!"
He either doesn't hear me or is ignoring my calls. I continue on yelling at the top of my lungs anyway.
"Stop it!"
He walks ahead but happens to glance back in my direction. His face is angry and frightening, but the second he sees me he stops. I shake my head as if to tell him what he already knows. Don't do this. Katniss would never want you to. After a few moments of glaring at me in silence, he drops his fierce expression and clinches his jaw. He looks at the people around him as if he was coming back to reality, not noticing that they were there. Reluctantly, he turns around and heads out of the square with his eyes on the ground, not acknowledging me. I watch him, his head hanging low, as he makes his way alone back to the Seam. I let out a deep sigh, partly of relief and partly out of sorrow.
Back at my house, I sit in my dining room turning my spoon through honey and ginger root tea. The grandness and size of the mahogany table only enhances the feeling of loneliness I have sitting by myself. I try not to think too hard about the events of the day. I came straight home after the ceremony. My father hadn't gotten back yet, and I wasn't in the mood for much talking anyway. There weren't any sounds in the house other than my own rustling. I updated my mother on the events of the day before administering the morphling to her and leaving her to sleep. For once, I envied her headaches. She was so debilitated in pain that she often thought of little else besides it. I wish my mind were that occupied with other feelings. Maybe I wouldn't focus so much on the pain in my heart over my lost friend. I performed frivolous tasks around the house for hours until I realized that it was nearly ten o'clock at night. I still wasn't hungry so I settled for a cup of tea, instead.
The front door opens, and my father walks in looking withered. He rubs his forehead as if he's trying to rub away a migraine. He usually does this when something is truly wrong; something he is having a hard time fixing. He walks past the dining room door and almost doesn't notice me. Then he walks back in the doorway and gives me a puzzled look.
"You're still awake," he says, sounding tired himself, "You really should go to bed, Madge."
"I can't. It's too quiet," I reply. He knows that I don't mean too quiet to sleep. Too quiet drown out my wandering thoughts. He sits down quietly in the chair beside me.
"I'm so sorry about today."
"Why didn't they let them have visitors? Sure, maybe not their friends, but what about their families? The Everdeens? The Mellarks? They're not coming back, and those… monsters denied them the chance to see their families for the last time," I shout. The anger was built in me. Surely, I don't mean that it is certain that they will both die, but I can't count out the real possibility that they could.
"They said it was a new policy. You'd think that they'd at least tell the mayor of a District about these new… policies."
"This isn't fair, dad. They're not even following their own rules anymore. Why do they keep on attacking Katniss like this?"
"Because she beat them at their own game with those berries last year. She found a loop hole, and showed them to be the fools that they are," he says forcefully. He catches himself before he becomes too heated.
His anger is no surprise to me. Though he may not have always been around when Katniss was, he'd always held her in the highest regard. I can tell that he admires her strength and perseverance, as do I. Despite his status, his hatred for the Capitol is always boiling over in the walls of our own home. It's the only time that he can even mention it. He used to speak of how things were in District 12 when he was my age. He told me of the brutalities, the whippings, and the executions that occurred almost daily. It's a far cry from the environment that I grew up in, but recently, it seems to be reverting back to its old ways. Seeing these things as a youth is what sparked his disgust towards the dictatorship of Panem. He thought that he could somehow change it by becoming mayor, but he quickly realized that his grasp of power only went so far and never far enough. Now, under the rule of the new Head Peacekeeper, Romulus Thread, he has nothing but a title.
My mother is the same way. Her family, the Donners, have always had a disdain for Panem politics, as well. Her grandfather, who manufactured metals, iron, and jewelry, created a pin out of gold. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary for him. He always created broaches for my great-grandmother or anyone else that wanted one. But, this one wasn't his usual flower, ribbon or monogram. It was a bird. A Mockingjay. A hybrid of a Capitol mutt and a wild bird, and a living embodiment of the Capitol's failed attempt at manipulating nature. He never made it as a gift to anyone. It was more of a sign of his beliefs; beliefs that were passed down through generations using this pin. It was passed down to his son, my grandfather, who passed it to my mother's twin sister, Maysilee. Maysilee, who died as a tribute in the 50th Quell Match, gave it to my mother at the reaping, who passed it down to me. And, I gave it to Katniss, partially due to my own decision and also by the demand of my father. We both insisted that she wear the pin in the arena the entire time.
Katniss deserved the pin. It belonged to many strong people in my family. While, I didn't see myself as being as strong, I couldn't think of many people in my life with greater will than Katniss. She needed to have that pin. Even when she offered to return it, I wouldn't take it back. It was meant to be a symbol of hope, but it was also meant to be a sign; a signal of sorts. A way to let others across Panem know that it was time. Had she known that such a small token would have such a great significance, would she have accepted the gift from me? If my father had known that I knew just what this significance was, I'm sure he wouldn't have entrusted me with the delivery, as not to endanger myself.
He doesn't know that I hear it; late at night, when he's in his study or speaking with my mother in private. I hear their planning and their plotting. When they bring their outwardly innocent friends over, they would all have conversations that would sometimes require a code to understand. Many times, they would speak away from my presence or ask me to do a meaningless task to get me out of the house. It's clear that they don't want me involved, but I know. Simply speaking of rebellions is enough to get you arrested or tortured. However, inciting one would carry a punishment nothing short of death. This is what my parents intend on doing. This is what they've always wanted to do. Peacekeepers would come to him with reports of suspected conspirators, and he would do little to punish them and would find round-a-bout ways to prove their innocence or ignorance of what they were talking about. For years, no one thought twice about his actions. But, in recent times, most of the information of conspiracies, uprisings and problems in other districts has been withheld from him. It upsets him, I could always tell. And, I can tell by the way he looks tonight.
"I wish everything was different," I say as I prop my chin over my folded hands on the table. He ran his hand over my hair.
"I know. Times are hard, love. It'll get better, though. I promise," he says smiling, "So what are you going to do tomorrow?"
"I'll probably stay around here. I can clean and help mom out some."
"No, I think you should get out and have a little fun. You'll only make yourself sadder sitting here and thinking about it."
"What should I even do?"
"Go out with your friends." I look at him with an exasperated glare. Friends? Do you mean Katniss? I think. He understands his mistake. "Oh, I'm sorry. Well, still try to get out."
"Okay, I will."
"Good," he pats my shoulders, "Go to bed now, Madge. It's been too long of a day."
I do agree with that. I feel sleep weighing heavily on me. With a smile and a "Goodnight", I exit the room and my dad alone to think. Once I get upstairs and have time to lie in my bed and contemplate everything. This is what I didn't want to do, allow my mind to wander. I curl on my side under the covers and wonder the Katniss is doing, and Peeta. Are they all right? What if they were taken away under the assumption of going to the Games, but they're really being tortured or worse? Was it all a set up? And, what about Prim? She was so mortified and upset at the reaping that I can't imagine that she is able to sleep right now. Same with Mrs. Everdeen.
And, then there's Gale. He was ready to get himself killed today. Or, maybe he was wanting to get himself killed. I don't know. Either way it was reckless of him to try. He must be in awful shape now. Unlike me and Prim and Mrs. Everdeen, he can't stay in and clear his mind tomorrow or the next day, even if he wants to. He has to go to the mines in a few hours. To work a painful, strenuous, and in many ways demoralizing job. I hurt for him, hoping that he will cope well through this. What am I thinking? I don't even know if I can deal with this again. There's no way he will. Today might have been his last straw. I think back to the look on his face when he turned around. Anger, sadness, loss, and loneliness all in one expression. Well, I have an idea. It probably won't work, and I shouldn't even entertain it, but maybe I'll try it. That face. It's my motivation. It's the last thing I think about before I drift off to sleep.