I was always intrigued by the relationship Gale and Madge could have had in the books, even though there were only about two tiny hints: you know, if you look sideways and squint really hard. But still, I always thought Gale needed someone because he didn't get Katniss, and I thought Madge would be the perfect fit. I was depressed by the way things ended for both of them.
But on with the story!
I don't own the Hunger Games or any of the characters: all rights go to the amazing Suzanne Collins.
Thirteen-year-old Madge Undersee has never had that many friends.
There is a reason she sits alone—that is, until one day, Katniss Everdeen parks herself opposite her with the flash of a smile, saying nothing.
Madge stares. No one has ever sat with her before.
They do not say one word to each other in the entire hour.
The next day, the same thing happens. This time, Madge speaks up. "I'm Madge Undersee. The mayor's daughter."
Katniss looks up from her mound of slush, that flickering smile appearing again. "I know. I'm Katniss Everdeen."
"Nice to meet you."
"Likewise."
And just like that, they're friends.
The first time Madge meets Gale Hawthorne, she develops a massive crush.
Fourteen-year-old Madge is starting to notice boys, finally. Katniss scoffs, but Madge doesn't care. The mayor's daughter hears other girls gossiping about boyfriends, and first kisses, and wonders what that's like—she's never even held hands with a boy.
But then hears them talking about Gale Hawthorne—the sixteen-year-old, dark-haired, grey-eyed boy who is Katniss's best friend. And this time, Madge is the one who scoffs. What exactly is so great about Gale Hawthorne?
She opens her door to him one Saturday morning, and immediately changes her mind.
His eyes, the colour of steel, aren't as hostile as usual. "Strawberries?"
Madge is aware she's staring, and she's aware she looks like an idiot, but she still doesn't register his words. "What?"
Gale's heavy eyebrows draw together in a frown. "Do you…want any strawberries? Your dad usually buys some from me, I thought—"
"Oh!" Madge blurts, mentally smacking herself. "Of…Of course. Just a second."
She leaves him standing there, still frowning in confusion, and runs to find her father. She tells him about the boy with the berries—as she deems him that day—and asks if he wants the strawberries.
The mayor nods, and hands her the money, before turning back to his work. Slightly wounded at his lack of attention to anything but his work and her mother, Madge returns to Gale, and they trade the cash for the berries.
"I…I like these strawberries a lot," Madge says shyly, trying to make conversation.
Gale nods almost uninterestedly, and turns away. Under his breath, she hears him mutter something. All she hears is the word "snob".
She knows it's stupid, but she cries into her pillow later that night.
Madge moons after Gale for a year, before she finally comes to her senses and realizes nothing is ever going to happen. But her heart tells her different, and she never even considers another boy. She finally realizes that every time she does, she compares them with him—and they never measure up, no matter how much she'd like them to.
She can't even tell Katniss how she feels, because she knows the dark-haired girl won't like it. She'll feel betrayed—especially because Madge has kept it a secret for so long, and the fact that the feelings are for her best friend. Even more so because Katniss has told her about the boy with the bread—something no one else knows.
But then one Saturday when they both come selling strawberries, Madge sees why Gale has never looked at another girl as long as she's known him.
He's in love with Katniss.
Madge's heart shatters right there as she sees the longing and deep affection in Gale's eyes as he glances at Katniss. And then the barely-concealed hostility and disgust in them as he looks at her—the perfect mayor's daughter.
But she doesn't say anything. She smiles—a smile more forced than usual—and pays for the strawberries. She still buys them, even though her father no longer eats them. She is the only one who does.
Not because she particularly likes them. But because she wants to see the boy with the berries when she buys them.
Her world collapses.
Katniss. Katniss, her only true friend is going into the Hunger Games.
She can't bear to watch the countdown. She's sitting in her house, playing her piano, eyes closed as she tries to lose herself in her melodies rather than images of her friend covered in blood.
There's a knock on the door.
Confused, Madge gets up and opens it, and finds Gale Hawthorne standing on her doorstep, as though it's the most normal thing in the world.
"Strawberries," he says, but in a tone that makes Madge realize that he's not normal. Nothing will ever be normal for either of them again.
"You didn't have to bring them today," she tells him softly. She only wants to comfort him.
"Just because bad things happen, life has to go on for some of us, Undersee," he spits suddenly with a fury that stuns her. "I still have a family to look after while you sit around here playing your precious piano and eating these strawberries." He shakes the bag for emphasis.
Madge is silent for several more seconds, still shocked. And then her eyes narrow. "Don't act like you're the only one who's lost something, Gale Hawthorne," she tells him sharply; hair glitters like gold and her eyes shine like stars. "Because you're not."
Gale stares at her, just as surprised by her suddenly less-than-kind tone. And he eyes her hair, taking in the golden colour—the gold of the mockingjay pin his Catnip now wears.
"Did you give her the pin on purpose?" he asks, heavy eyebrows drawn in a calculating frown.
Madge stares at him, and feels her heartbeat escalate: he can't possibly have figured it all out, can he?
But she keeps her expression blank and her voice cool. Her eyes don't even waver as she replies. "Don't be ridiculous."
And she shuts the door in his face.
Gale-blood-whipping-Katniss-Peeta-blood-Gale-blood…
The words are a jumbled mess in Madge's mind as she watches Katniss and Gale by the whipping post. The cobblestones surrounding them are spattered with Gale's blood, the colour of the strawberries he brings her.
She doesn't realize it then, but she is never able to face eating another strawberry for the rest of her life.
She runs home, fighting her own tears. She sobs alone in her room for nearly a half hour before she realizes she's being terribly selfish. What does she have to cry for? Is she the one covered in blood and dancing with death?
Morphling.
The answer comes to Madge in a flash, and she sneaks into her mother's room. Sure enough, her mother is half-asleep, her face lined with creases that make her look so much older than she realizes is.
Madge sometimes isn't sure if she should feel sorry for her mother or resent her.
"Mother," she whispers. "You know Gale Hawthorne, don't you?"
Her mother raises a limp hand to her forehead. "Yes." Her voice is dreamy.
"Well, I need some of your morphling. For him. Can I take it?" Madge asks. She's perfectly aware that her mother has no idea what she's saying, but she's going to do the right thing and ask anyway.
"Of course, of course," Mrs. Undersee says with a drifting smile. "Anything you need, Maysilee. Anything for you."
Madge, heart in her throat, takes one cardboard box, running out of the room and down the stairs. She doesn't stop to grab a coat and dives out into the snow. She knows that Gale will be at the Everdeen home, so that is where she'll go.
She tries not to dwell on the fact that her mother has just called her by her dead aunt's name.
She knocks on the door and waits impatiently. It swings open, and she's meeting Katniss's grey eyes, ones that are almost exactly like Gale's.
"Use these for your friend," she tells the girl on fire, and shoves the box into her hands. "They're my mother's. She said I could take them. Use them. Please."
Katniss opens her mouth to reply, but Madge is already gone, her hair flashing like gold through the white of the snowstorm. She can feel the icy cold freezing the tears on her cheeks, but even now she can't be bothered to wipe them away
There's a knock at the door one day, weeks later, and Madge wonders who it could possibly be: no one ever visits the Undersees.
She opens the door, and is startled the stormy gaze of Gale Hawthorne.
"Gale," she gasps. "What are you…? But you're not…"
"Hi," he says, and holds up the familiar bag. "Strawberries."
Madge flinches, feeling sick, the very thought bringing back the memories of blood splattering cobblestones and a whip coming down. She presses her hands over her face, trying to breathe normally before replying. "You really didn't—"
"Can I come in?" he interrupts.
Madge drops her hands and gapes at him. "You… What?"
Gale grins a little at her incredulous expression, and says once more, "Can I come in? I…I need to talk to you."
"Oh…" Madge recollects herself and steps aside to let him in. "Okay."
He walks in and she shuts the door, fighting the urge to laugh: he looks so awkward standing there, dwarfing the size of almost everything in her house. The Undersees have always been short.
"I'll just get the money for the strawberries," Madge says then—despite the fact that she wants nothing to do with them—and turns to go, but he reaches out, his large hand fastening around her wrist.
"Wait," he insists. "I didn't come here for the money. They're…a thank you."
"For what?" Madge asks, wide-eyed. In all her sixteen years, she doesn't think she's ever heard Gale Hawthorne say thank you to anyone, let alone her, Madge Undersee, townie and the mayor's daughter at that.
"You…You brought me the morphling," he whispers. This is the only time she's ever seen him so apologetic—because he never is.
She bobs her head, suddenly feeling shy. So someone—Katniss or his mother, Hazelle, she assumes—has told him. "Yes."
She's not expecting a "thank you" or even a grateful nod, but he surprises her again: his arms are suddenly around her, strong and real. She's suddenly finding it hard to breathe yet again.
"Thank you," he says, his voice husky in her ear.
And when Madge finally wraps her arms around him, she knows everything will be okay.
But it isn't.
The town is burning. People are screaming. There is chaos everywhere.
But the only thing Madge can think of is to help. She doesn't care about her sooty clothes, or the burns on her arms and legs. She cares about the crying children, the elderly people who can't find their glasses in time and don't know where to go.
She's filled with a strange sense of knowledge—she knows she's going to die. But somehow, she doesn't care.
Madge Undersee is the mayor's daughter, and it's practically her duty to help out her district—or what could have been her district anyway.
Gale finds her standing outside her house a half hour later, a little boy holding one hand and an elderly woman by his side.
"Madge," he says softly. "There's nothing you can do. They're gone." The house is in flames.
She doesn't say anything, and then looks at him. "We could have been in love."
And the words that slip from his lips surprise himself: "I know."
"If this had been a different time, a different place, without the Games and Peeta and Katniss."
Gale nods, but says nothing, his smile bittersweet.
"It was my father's idea, the rebellion, you know," Madge tells him dreamily as the house keeps burning. "So promise me you'll keep Katniss safe." She glances at him, eyes fierce with determination. "She's our Mockingjay. You don't understand now, but you will soon. She's the only one who can save Panem."
Gale's gaze is surprisingly steady. "Madge—"
She cuts him off with a kiss that blurs his mind in a way that Katniss's didn't. He grabs her hand and tugs her a little closer, but she's already pulling away.
"Promise me," she breathes, her eyes very blue. "Don't forget me."
He doesn't know it then, but those words will haunt him forever.
"What?" he asks, confused, and then the realisation hits him like the bombs that have been falling. "Madge, no—"
"I'm sorry," she tells him, blinking hard. And then she rips her hand from his, turning back towards the burning house, the crumbling walls—towards her family.
But away from her boy with the strawberries.
She never does tell him whether giving Katniss the pin was on purpose or not.
Gale wants to run after her, but he suddenly remembers that he's got a quivering three-year-old and a hysterical ninety-two-year-old to look after, and it tears his heart in two when he has to leave his golden girl behind.
And it's almost like Haymitch and Maysilee—because Gale is sure Haymitch could have loved Maysilee the way he could have loved Madge.
Madge watches him turn for the forest from the window, her father on one side of her mother, she on the other. The fire is licking at the foot of the bed now, but strangely enough, neither one of parents seems scared.
And as she waits for death to come, her face buried in her hands, she cries for all the things that could have been.
Years later in District Two, when Gale can bear it, he sometimes thinks about the past. He thinks about the 74th Hunger Games, the beginning of the end. He thinks about his Catnip and the boy with the bread. He thinks about the life he could have had, the life that was so cruelly ripped from his grasp.
But he never once does he stop thinking about the girl with the golden hair and blue-blue eyes. That bittersweet smile and the skin like snow.
"Promise me: don't forget me."
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I Like Writing Romance 3