Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine.

Independence Day (Holiday)

Madge didn't really remember ever celebrating anything back in Twelve. There was no church, the government had abolished those organizations long before she was born and with them all their holy days. They didn't have government vacations either, unless you counted mandatory viewing days which she felt were the opposite of what a vacation was supposed to be. Days off from work for leisure? What do you need that for?

Even if they had holidays or vacations, what would there have been to celebrate?

Now, though, three years out from the overthrow of the government, there seemed to be plenty to celebrate. Things are calmer, the infighting between the Districts is at an all time low, the government is stable and, for the most part, trustworthy. It's looking up. For the first time in a long time, there's promise in the air.

Madge stands outside the stadium, studying the twisted metal archway that forms the words 'District 10 Stockyards', before heading in. It's a filthy place, she can still smell the cattle and dust even after what she's certain was a thorough cleaning earlier in the day. She mills in with the rest of the crowd to find a seat.

It's chilly, unseasonably so for this part of the country, and she pulls her hat lower on her head.

Katy-Jo Lewes tosses a scarf over her shoulders. "Told you to dress warmer, ninny."

Her bright golden eyes twinkle at Madge, letting her know she's only teasing. Madge wraps the scarf around her neck and up to her chin.

"So this is the infamous Stockyard?" Madge finally manages to ask through chattering teeth.

"Yep," Katy-Jo Lewes tosses her multitude of dark braids over her shoulder. "Where hope came to die."

It's enormous on the inside, and Madge can picture the thousands of children of District 10, ages twelve to eighteen, trapped like livestock down on the floor and awaiting their slaughter.

"Welcome!"

The newest Mayor of District 10, an ebony skinned woman with a brilliant smile and a commanding voice greeted them as they took their seats on the hard metallic bleachers.

"Welcome to the first Independence Day Celebration of the New Republic of Panem!"

There was uproar in the crowd. Yelling and whooping and hollering. Madge found herself infected with the excitement and began jumping up and down with the group. The ancient metal underfoot creaked forebodingly.

"Let's not do that," Katy-Jo Lewes muttered as she grabbed Madge and pulled her back to her seat.

"District Ten, we have sacrificed so much. Our happiness, our freedom, our children! We have sacrificed far too much for far too long! Tonight we celebrate those things and those people we have lost along the way! Tonight and into eternity we will remember those precious children fed to an uncaring regime! We will remember them and honor them…always." She pauses, to great effect. The crowd is on its toes awaiting her next breath. Her smile lights the entire stage she stands on. "We celebrate the future! We celebrate the possibilities!"

"It's so cheesy, I might make a casserole, honest to god." Katy-Jo Lewes is laughing brightly at the display.

There are fireworks going off. Huge puffs of light and noise. They rocket into the air and explode into a thousand points of light. It shouldn't frighten Madge, really it shouldn't. But it does.

With every burst of light, every bang of the drums from the band, every screech and boom she recoils further. It's nothing like the last night in District Twelve, that's what she keeps telling herself.

These people are happy. They aren't running in terror. These aren't bombs. These are fireworks. No one is going to die. It's a celebration. It's a celebration. It's a celebration.

Finally, she can't take it anymore and darts away; down the stairs and to the exit, Katy-Jo Lewes calling after her.

She comes to a stop just outside the tall walls, the wailing of the crowd and the horrible banging of the fireworks and the band are muffled. Doubling over, she tries to catch her breath, but begins sobbing instead.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she hisses at herself.

"Miss?" Someone, a man with a low rumbling voice, says. She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand on her back.

With a yelp she teeters away, her too big woolen hat slipping further down her face.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he tells her. He's lowered his hands in a gesture she takes to mean he's backing away now, don't freak out.

"No," she shakes her head because her voice is muffled by the scarf. "I just-was having a bit of a meltdown."

"Did-did the fireworks scare you?" he asks with a frown. A very familiar frown…

It makes her sound like a child. Pathetic. Being afraid of fireworks. She shakes her head.

"No, no, no…no, it's the band, they were just…so horrible."

This was clearly not on the list of things he was expecting her to say, because he lets out a boom of laughter.

Madge freezes. She knows that laugh. She squints up, trying to keep her own face down, and as if by some sick cosmic joke, she gets a good look at him. Gale Hawthorne. In the flesh and decked out in full military regalia.

He's more careworn looking, though the past few years have no doubt added to his already hard life. He's still handsome though. Damn that. She'd forgotten that there were to be military bigshots at the ceremony.

"Okay then," he finishes laughing. He smiles dazzlingly down at her. "It's okay to be afraid, you know. Of the fireworks…or a terrible band."

Madge nods.

"I'm from Twelve, originally, and, uh, my sister still gets nightmares sometimes. About the bombings." He rubs the back of his neck. "She and my family were at the ceremony in Two and it sent her into fits. So…I understand…if they do."

Poor little Posy. Madge feels a pang in her heart thinking about the little girl having the same anxiety she was experiencing.

"I'm sorry, about that." And she is. Truly and deeply.

Her hat and scarf are suddenly too warm, suffocating, and she knows she needs to get away. Madge turns quickly. "I have to get back. My friend will be worried. I kind of tore off on her."

She's only a few steps off when he calls to her, "Hey, wait."

She pulls her coat closer to her body and snuggles her face lower in her scarf, waiting for him to speak again.

"Do I know you?"

Madge bites her lip. She's been so lonely since coming to Ten. Even with her friends, their shared history was only a fraction of her life, the most traumatic fraction, but a fraction nonetheless.

Glancing up, she saw a brilliant silver willow flare then dissolve.

Madge Undersee is dead. She died in the firebombings that killed her parents and gave Posy Hawthorne nightmares. Letting her ghost talk to someone she used to know won't resurrect her.

She glances over her shoulder, just barely catching his grey eyes.

"No," she answers simply. "You don't."