author's note: this is a belated birthday present to alex (loki laufeysons), so happy birthday, darling! despite the fact that my hunger games muse is absolutely dead, haha. this is also for the monthly oneshot challenge at Caesar's Palace, with the prompt 'this is war' by 30 seconds to mars.

disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns The Hunger Games, This is War belongs to 30 Seconds To Mars, and the title is from Florence + The Machine's What the Water Gave Me.

. . .

where the water was (that's what the water gave me)
Gale/Madge

. . .

— it's the moment of truth and the moment to lie —

She stares at the clock, watching it tick monotonously across its circular face. She taps her pencil against her desk, not even pretending to pay attention to this class, Capitol History, any more. Every few seconds, or so, she glances back up at the clock, hoping that, miraculously, the remaining half hour of school has passed. Of course, there is no such luck.

To be honest, the torture would not be so bad if she had someone to talk to — but Katniss wasn't here, not anymore, and that was partly the reason for her anxiety. Today was the Opening Ceremonies; the first time she'd see Katniss and Peeta since the Reaping. She idly wonders if they'll look any different.

Just seemingly noticing the fact that everyone is staring at her, Madge tears her eyes away from the clock and unwillingly looks at the teacher.

"Nice of you to join us, Miss Undersee," Mr. Tate says, his words clipped and direct. "Now — will you answer my question?" Is there any choice?

"Yes, Mr. Tate," she says, giving him a sweet smile that would make anyone smile back — well, anyone with a heart, that is. "Which question was it again?" Mr. Tate sends her another glare as the class sniggers, Madge turns a deep red. If Katniss was here, she wouldn't be daydreaming — but then again, if Katniss were here, Prim wouldn't be. And, really, then neither would Katniss. Madge had seen what the Hunger Games had done to families — what it had done to her mother and her own family.

"Seventeen." Mr. Tate's voice is clipped, harsh. "Maybe next time, instead of staring at the clock, you should be paying attention." More laughter from the class. "Anyway, the question was — "

The bell rings, effectively ending this amaranthine school day and the embarrassment that had befallen her. Madge leaves quickly, eye contact with Mr. Tate, and the jostling by fellow students in the hallways.

Ironically, now that this school day was finally over, she does not want to go home and face the facts: the Hunger Games are coming soon and Katniss and Peeta are going to be a part of it. Seemingly unconsciously, her feet carry her, not to the main door, where she usually exits, but towards the junior wing, where the younger students of the school normally studied — where Prim Everdeen was.

She knows Prim Everdeen quite well — as well as anyone knew the naturally guarded Everdeens — and she knew that she must have been taking the Reaping quite hard. Not only was her sister a Tribute, but — it was supposed to be her. Prim would probably be wracked with inconsolable guilt, should anything happen to the elder Everdeen sister. Shuddering at the very thought, Madge paused outside a classroom when she saw a head of golden-blonde curls, bright blue eyes, and a yellow dress, walk by.

Even without taking a closer look, Madge knows immediately that it's Prim - her posture, usually so, well, prim, is sagging, like she has other things to worry about. Her face is as pale as alabaster, and her eyes don't have their usual sparkle to them. It breaks Madge's heart. "Hello, Prim," Madge smiles at the younger girl as she leaves the classroom, dragging her feet. "How are you and your mother?"

She frowns at Madge. "We're fine." Madge scoffs — that is possibly the biggest lie she's ever been told, well, that and that being Reaped into the Hunger Games is an honour. Prim smiles a little, nothing like her usual one, but a smile nonetheless. "Okay — we're not fine."

"Of course you aren't," Madge says with a sigh, running a hand through perfectly groomed, straight blonde hair. "I'm not fine, either. Katniss was kind of my best friend." Prim nods, looking at Madge with a strange expression.

"I know," she says. Madge frowns; Prim's voice is too old, too weary, to belong to someone who isn't even a teenager yet.

"What about Gale?" Madge wonders after a moment. Her cheeks flush because she's remembering the stolen glances and thoughts of Gale that had often plagued her — and she thought she was over him, but she wasn't. She wasn't. It was one of those things that Madge had just hoped would fade with age, after all, he didn't even like her, there was no way they could ever really be together: anyone with eyes saw that he was moony over Katniss — well, except for Katniss herself.

"He's . . ." Prim pauses, evidently thinking of the proper way to word it, ". . . not doing well, as expected. Hazelle says that he hasn't been sleeping, or eating much." Madge frowns.

"Where is he right now?" she asks in a rush, "I mean, I haven't seen him at school today." She doesn't, know why she's asking — worry, perhaps — but to be honest, Madge seeking him out would probably cause more anger. After all, her father was a mayor, and as tenuous a connection as that was to the Capitol, she knew that Gale wouldn't forgive her for it.

"I don't know," Prim frowns, "He dropped Rory off this morning. Usually when he's upset, he goes for a walk, though." And with a quick thanks, Madge dashes past Prim and back through the main door.

— the moment to live and the moment to die —

She doesn't know why exactly she's doing, going to look for Gale Hawthorne, but she just runs. He probably won't pay any attention to her, not that she'd be surprised, and yet she still keeps going because despite the fact that Gale despises, or maybe even hates her, she doesn't hate him. She couldn't hate him.

She finds him sitting down in the middle of the square, staring at everything and seeing nothing. He looks different now, smaller. Maybe it's because of the bags under his eyes, like he hasn't slept — which he probably hasn't. Or maybe, and this is the more likely version, it's the look on his eyes — like he just lost his best friend, his other half. And with an unpleasant jolt, she realizes that it must be true, because it's the same look she has in her eyes, but his is intensified by a thousand times.

She coughs slightly, warning him of her presence, although he's probably already noticed her — her does, after all, have the senses of a hunter — but he doesn't turn around, just stays sitting there. For a few moments, she says nothing, and then she touches him lightly on the shoulder, pale fingers ghosting the rough fabric of his shirt. He flinches, as if an electric shock has passed through him, and turns around to look at her, fire in his eyes.

"What do you want, Undersee?" he snaps, his voice a low growl. Madge takes a step back, surprised at his hostility.

"I — I just — " now that she's been asked the actual question of what she was doing seeking out Gale Hawthorne, she's stumped as to how to answer. Really, she doesn't have a reason to seek out Gale. They aren't even friends — to him, she's just the Mayor's daughter who they sell strawberries to. " — uh — I just wanted to see if you were okay, I guess."

He glares at her. "Yes, I'm fine. Peachy, really."

She should have been expecting that he would not just leap up and hug her, telling her all of his worries about the Games. If he was anything like Katniss, and he was, he'd be guarded. After all, even Katniss was guarded to Madge, and they were each other's closest companions. "Look, Gale — "

"Don't call me Gale!" he snaps and suddenly, he loses it, "Don't you dare call me Gale! You have no right to call me Gale! It's your fault — your fault that she's gone — " And, with as much suddenness as his tirade had started, it is over. She sits back down, his posture sagging.

Madge doesn't say anything, merely watching him with bright eyes.

"Don't expect an apology," Gale mutters, looking up after a few moments.

Madge sighs, "I wasn't."

Gale cracks something that's close to the smile, the corners of his lips curving up by millimetres. It must be the first time she's seen him smile, besides when she's observing him, and she's caught slightly off guard, but it's gone as soon as it comes. "You're the closest thing to the Capitol here."

"I know," she sighs. "But I miss her too."

Gale snorts, as if disbelieving of the fact that Madge actually cares about Katniss, but looking closer at Madge, he seems to notice that she, also, is pale an anxious. "I just hate this — all of it." His voice is barely above a whisper, as they're in the middle of the square and the Capitol's guards and cameras are everywhere, watching everything.

"Katniss is strong, she can win," Madge says — this is the mantra she's been repeating since the Reaping. Katniss has to win, not just for her, but from Gale, for Prim.

"She can win," Gale repeats, as it's his only lifeline. "She can win." Madge smiles at him, and for once, he smiles back at her.

"My aunt, she was a Tribute, too," Madge finds herself saying and Gale looks up at her, shocked. "Maysilee Donner. She was a Tribute the same year that Haymitch was, you know. Friends with Katniss' mother." Gale stays silent; probably surprised that Madge actually has been affected by the Hunger Games. Madge takes a deep breath. "She — she made it to the final five, killed by Capitol matts."

"I — I — " Gale finally manages.

"No one is safe," Madge plows on. "No one is invincible."

Gale looks back up at Madge, his eyes more haunted than she's ever seen before. He has the sudden urge to grab her hand, but he doesn't because no matter how human she may seem at the moment, he will still always be a Seam hunter and she is the mayor's daughter and they couldn't work.

"This is war," he whispers. "And everyone is affected."

She doesn't respond.

"I — I have to go, Madge." And with that, he gets up. Madge is too stunned to realize that he's called her by her first name for the first — and possibly last — time of her life.

And then he walks away from her, thoughts of planning rebellions and wars and martyrs filling his mind because he wasn't the only one affected by the Hunger Games.

There were others.

— the moment to fight, the moment to fight —

As he walks away from her, she watches him, and he turns back, giving her a genuine smile that sends her insides fluttering. She smiles back at him, and maybe it's the start of something new.

It's not.

Of course, after that, she watches him more often than before — and once in a while, she even catches his hazel eyes glancing at her, before quickly snapping back into their proper place.

She watches his heart break over the newly dubbed star-crossed lovers, and watch Katniss and Peeta fall in love — and no matter how much of a brave front she puts up, she knows he's hurting.

They're almost friends now, and he gives her an almost smile every time he passes her in the hallway, and to most people — maybe even to him — it's not much, but to her, it's something.

(Until Katniss comes back, of course, and he forgets. But she doesn't —

— and he doesn't, either.)

/

the end.

author's note ii: please don't favourite or alert without leaving a review, thank you.