Day One: Christmas Tree AND Hanukkah

Christmas would be Gale's favorite time of year even without the presents– hell, the presents were about the last things he was concerned with (at least when it came to himself– now, when it came to shopping for his siblings or his parents, well, that's when it became more than a little concerning.) He loved everything about it– Christmas fell during the time of year when winter was still new and bright, crisp and fresh, as opposed to the dreary grey and mush of later months. He thrived in this weather; he felt heavy and oppressed in the muggy summers, but under heavy coats and thick boots he came alive. Nature wasn't dead, but quiet, peaceful, and Gale loved walking around the woods near his house in the powdered snow. He could think clearly out there.

And then the holiday itself– his Ma's best food, digging out all of the old family recipes that, he loved helping her with (out of all of her children, he was the only one with the talent, temperament, and inclination to enjoy cooking and learning the treasured recipes); decorating the house so it smelled like spices and pine, with the wreaths his dad and Vick would painstakingly carve and craft and the potpourri and dried flowers that Posy collected throughout the year. Gale, Rory, and their dad would go and get the tree and then, as a family, they would spend all day decorating. His family drove him nuts the majority of the time, but around Christmas the squabbles and fights from earlier in the year faded and softened with time. They all loved the holiday like he did.

There's one memory, really, a detail within a memory, that always stuck within Gale's mind– they got the tree from the Everdeen's Christmas Tree farm, which they always set up in the town square, and Gale and his dad (and Rory, when he was old enough) would each take an end of the tree and walk through town to get it home. Beyond being good exercise, it was a tradition, and since the tree they got was never so big or unwieldy, it wasn't a hardship.

Their walk included going by the Mayor's house, and every year, it seemed, since he was a little boy, he remembered seeing Madge Undersee's face in the window as she lit a candle on her menorah. Depending on the year, it could have been the first candle or the last, and he loved it when it was closer to the end, because more candles were lit and bathed her face in a warm glow, highlighting the sweet smile and wave she always gave him when she saw him. With his hands full, he could only give her a nod and a smile, but he always did, even when they were shy kids; when they were awkward, greasy teenagers, wary of the other gender; and now, as (mostly) mature college kids.

They weren't friends, really– they had overlapping friend groups, with many of their friends either dating (Thom and Delly; Bristel and Rye Mellark) or wanting to date (Katniss and Peeta), so they frequently hung out in the same group, more often than not spending the most time with each other out of default, and at first Gale was annoyed, but once he got to know Madge he saw, that under the designer clothes and shy, quiet demeanor, she was kind and insightful and sometimes (his favorite times) so damn snarky, with the driest, deadpan humor said with such a straight face that he couldn't help but crack up, to the bewilderment of their friends.

It wasn't until the summer before college, when they all hung out together as much as possible before their imminent separations, that Gale began to realize that maybe he too, was falling into the Want to Date category of their friend groups, and he really wanted to date her. But he never said anything– how could he? She never made any indication that she thought anything more than casual friendship for him, and their colleges were two hours apart.

And there were pretty girls at college, great girls, smart and nice and funny, but he still couldn't get Madge out of his mind, so he came back home for Christmas and he wondered if he would get to see her for more than just a wave as he walked by. He would feel out the situation– flirt (he was good at that, thank goodness,) and maybe, if she didn't seem repulsed, he would ask her out. Take a chance. He had a shitty truck and a good heart and they could give it a shot. He was willing to try if she was.

He and his dad and Rory walked down to the town square. It was crisp outside, frost and a light snow, perhaps an inch, crunching below their feet, frozen rather than soft. Rory was asking him about living in the city when Gale looked up, realized that they were at the Mayor's house–

and the menorah in the window was already lit, shining proudly in the window. Madge wasn't there.

It was such a stupid thing, but Gale felt his heart sink. He didn't know why, but it felt like a sign, not to mention that meant that he wouldn't see her on the way back; their little wordless, never spoken of tradition would be broken.

He didn't want to call it pouting, but he was subdued as they went to town, and if his dad or Rory noticed it, they kindly didn't say anything. Maybe the tradition Gale thought was just between he and Madge was more obvious after all.

There weren't that many people at the Everdeen's Christmas Tree area when they get there– it's late in the afternoon and will be dark soon. The got off to a late start today. Gale spotted Branson Everdeen easily chatting with a customer, Primrose running around tagging trees, and her mother Alys manning the pay booth. Katniss was– talking to a blond boy, broad with blond curls, whose shoulders were hunched bashfully. Peeta Mellark. And at his side, blonde waves spilling out of a knit cap and down her thick coat, was Madge Undersee.

Gale couldn't almost believe his luck, but he startled at his father's hand clapping down on his shoulder. "Rory and I will go start looking," he said, "if you want to say hi to your friends." He winked, and walked off with Rory, who was already searching for Prim.

Katniss spotted him first. "Gale," she said, lips curving into a small, glad smile. She and Madge went to the same school, and he hadn't seen her since Thanksgiving.

"Hey, Catnip," he nodded, his own grin wide. And then, to the other two, "Peeta. Madge. It's good to see you both."

"You, too," Peeta said cheerfully. He and Gale were at the same college, too, and had shared a math class that semester. "How'd the rest of your finals turn out?"

"I did well, I think," Gale stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "A couple of them were just papers, so I finished up early. Got to come home a few days earlier."

"That's nice," Madge sighed, and Gale turned to her, trying not to seem too eager. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, but her eyes were brightened by the white snow around her. "I had a take home that I just finished last night."

"Bummer," he agreed. Then, casually, "How are you, Madge?"

Madge beamed at him, and he felt taller than the Everdeen's biggest tree. "Great! It's so nice to be home, and, um," her eyes darted away for a moment before coming back to his, "there are so many holiday traditions that I love."

"I know what you mean," Gale said, trying to be brave without being too obvious, "and… my favorite one is the day I get the tree."

Madge looked at him shyly through her lashes. "Mine, too," she said, her voice so quiet it was nearly a whisper. "Every year I'm always afraid… that somehow I'll miss it."

Gale felt as though the world narrowed down, magnified, and he and Madge were the only ones left in it. It's like he's in the middle of the forest; everything was quiet. He knew, in the back of his mind, that somewhere his father was talking to Branson; that Rory was chasing Prim around the trees; that Peeta was flirting with Katniss; but none of that mattered now.

"Yeah?" He asked, hope buoying him up. "I thought… I thought I had missed today."

Madge bit her lip, looking distressed, unable to play coy. "I know," she said miserably, "I'm sorry. Peeta wanted to come here and talk to Katniss but he didn't want to come alone, just in case it didn't go well… and my mom wanted me to light the menorah before I left because I won't get home til after dark and you usually come around so much earlier in the day…"

"It worked out better this way," Gale said soothingly, unable to believe how smoothly the conversation was going. It was a goddamn Christmas/Hanukkah miracle. "We actually talked this time."

Madge brightened. "That's true," she said. "Just think, all these years and…" she flushed. "I never thought that what we did… that you thought of it just as much as I did."

Gale swallowed, but kept his eyes pinned to hers. "Maybe I didn't realize it until recently," he said, "but I can tell you I've been looking forward to this for… for several months now, at least. If not longer."

Her smile is soft and reminds him of the gentle candlelight of the candles on her menorah. "Yeah?" She asked, hopeful.

"Yeah," he said. And then, because he couldn't help it, because they didn't need to wait, not anymore, not for one more second, he asked, "Are you doing anything after this? Do you… maybe want to go get coffee or cocoa or something?"

Madge's smile grew into a wide grin. "I would love that," she said emphatically.

The next year, they started a new tradition: Gale came over and helped her light the menorah, and then together, hand in hand, they walk to get a tree.