Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.

She watches the way he flirts with girls, his eyes empty but his face bright. Madge can't understand how he can keep himself calm as his best friend nearly dies of dehydration, nearly blows herself up. Gale continues, back and forth, new girl new day. Her eyes follow him at lunch, the way his arm loops around another girl from the Seam, sometimes a girl from town. None of them seem to care that they'll be yesterday's news the next day. It just infuriates her. It shouldn't, but it does.

Gale isn't being himself, that's for sure. Sure, he was always with girls, but not like this. He didn't just go through them day after day, it wasn't like him. Not that she exactly knew him, but Madge can tell he's upset. It's his eyes, God she can read him like a book through those things. The way they gaze across the cafeteria, watching the screens but not really seeing anything. She chews on the inside of her cheek and watches Katniss crawling across the ground, Katniss climbing trees. But Gale doesn't. Gale doesn't watch and she can't figure out why. She doesn't understand how he can be oblivious to everything that's happening, how he can just laugh through the day despite his best friend fighting for her life.

Her blue eyes trace his figure, the way he slouches over other girls and whispers things in their ears that make their cheeks turn pink. He never once looks her way. And why should he? She's just the mayor's daughter. Nothing more than a girl who buys what he sells. They don't talk outside of trades; don't communicate in any way shape or form when he's not on her doorstep. That doesn't stop her from being curious, however. She's always deemed them as a sort of friend. Maybe not, but that's how Madge likes to view it. Distant friends.

Finally one afternoon, Madge figures it out. The way Gale is coping with everything. She isn't oblivious; she hears the rumors that spread around the school, but it takes her a bit of time to piece everything together.

Took me to the slag heap last night, they said. Best kisser in District 12, she heard. It's how he copes. He takes them out for the night.

Madge can understand it, she supposes. Getting lost in someone so he doesn't have to worry about reality, it just isn't healthy. It's a certain type of addiction, one that makes her ache for some unbeknownst reason. It becomes a sort of habit of hers, watching him and trying to figure out who his next victim will be. They're all so willing; of course they are. Falling into the trap of Gale Hawthorne, who wouldn't be? His warm olive skin, his smoky gray eyes, Gale Hawthorne was by far the most handsome person she has ever laid eyes on. Not that Madge was planning to admit it anytime soon.

But something hit her hard when she saw him sitting next to the only other girl from town that bore a striking resemblance to her. The way her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, the certain sparkle to her sea blue eyes. It angered her; it made her clench her fists until they turned white.

So she followed him. Madge followed Gale on his daily walk to the meadow. She was friends with Katniss and Katniss did the same thing. Gale and Katniss would go to the woods before school to set traps and then right after school they'd go and collect their findings. Katniss spoke of it often, it gave the two something to talk about. Madge tries to keep her footsteps light and quiet but she's dealing with a hunter. The second he reaches the meadow he turns to her.

"I knew it was you before I even turned around," he says coolly, crossing his arms over his chest. Madge mimics his stance and closes the distance between them. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" the last word comes out cold, sarcastic. Of course it would.

"I know what you're doing," she says back. "The way you take girls to the slag heap every night." Girls that look like her, no less. "I don't think Katniss would appreciate it very much." Madge was never sure if Katniss and Gale were together considering the two girls never talked about boys. However, with this random outburst of sexual tension, Madge is leaning towards no. They're not together. But that doesn't mean Katniss didn't care about Gale, Madge was almost a hundred percent sure she'd be repulsed at his behavior as of late.

"You don't know what you're talking about Undersee," he jeers, dropping his arms and starting back toward the fence. She's quick, though. Her dress trails behind her but her footsteps march on. "What I do in my life is my business. Not yours."

"It's not healthy, Gale."

"Healthy?" he snorts. "It's plenty healthy." Madge feels her face flush as she drops her arms, balling her hands into fists at her sides. He turns back to her, a smirk slipping onto his face.

"I know it's your way of dealing with things, but…"

"Listen, Undersee," he frowns. She's obviously wasting his daylight, obviously putting a damper on what he would have deemed a good night. "I said it once and I'll say it again. What I do in my life is my business. Not yours. Why do you care, anyway?" She chews on her lip. Madge knows she shouldn't care, shouldn't think twice about what he does in his life, but she does. "Exactly."

"She's my friend too," Madge adds before he turns away. "Katniss." He locks eyes with her the same time he locks his jaw. "I'm just saying you don't have to go making out with girls every night to feel better. She'll come home." Gale shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at the mayor's daughter. What did she know about coping? What did she know about anything? Before she could say anything else he dipped under the fence, jogging up the hill the rest of the way into the woods. He knew she wouldn't follow.

The next day at school Madge hears whispers but they aren't the ones she usually hears. Never showed up, they say. Left her at the slag heap. For some reason it makes her heart sing, maybe Gale wasn't as hopeless as she had thought. Her eyes scan the cafeteria for him but she finds no one, only an empty seat where he usually sits. Not that it should matter to her, not that it matters, she thinks. But it does, oh it does. It means that her words got to him somehow. Pressed through his thick skull and into his conscious.

That afternoon after school is out he shows up at her doorstep with a basket of berries. "If you want them," he says. "They're on the house." Madge rolls her eyes before forcing silver coins into his hand, receiving a smile in return. She takes this as an apology for his words yesterday, whether or not that's what it is. But that's exactly what it is. Gale knew what he had been doing was wrong but no one had taken the time to say so. Finally, Madge had, shaking him from his stupor. He appreciated it.

They stare at each other for a moment, the action of trading so strange in the middle of the school week. "You could come in," she motions toward her house, "if you'd like." She watches as he considers the option, but eventually dismisses it. He walks home, the silver coins jingling in his pocket with a smile on his lips.

During school her eyes find his, he's no longer flirting with the other girls. His friends will occasionally pull him into conversation, Thom or Bristel chiding him about something will cause him to laugh, but Gale's mostly tuned out. Madge busies herself by watching the Games although that doesn't help. Her eyes always find his again. She doesn't mind that he stares; in fact she likes the attention. No one looks at her like she's pretty and if she tries hard enough she can pretend that's how Gale looks at her. She looks away once she feels her cheeks turn pink, it causes him to grin.

The next time Gale shows up at her doorstep he doesn't have any berries. Madge doesn't question what brought him here, she doesn't mind the company. She invites him inside and this time he doesn't hesitate, his hands jam into his back pockets as he strolls into the house. No matter how many times he's seen the mansion he's never been inside. "It's bigger than I thought," he mutters under his breath as she pours him a glass of lemonade. He grudgingly takes the drink, sipping at the sour liquid.

"The sugar must be at the bottom," she says, fighting back a laugh at the face that he makes. She isn't good at making lemonade. He doesn't mind. Gale forces the tangy treat down and glances around the room studying picture frames, statues that rest of shelves. His eyes eventually land on the piano and he strolls over, his hand tracing the smooth wood that it's made out of.

He asks, "Do you play?" But he already knows the answer. Sometimes he'd wait outside the door and crane his neck to hear her music. He was always scared he'd get caught, but at the same time never wanted to interrupt her.

"Yes," she nods, setting her glass down on a cup holder before taking to the bench. "This is how I cope." He smirks at her choice of words but says nothing, crossing his arms and waiting for her to play something. She closes her eyes, letting her fingers dance across the keys. Gale watches carefully, the way she chews her lip as she reads the notes in her head instead of the notes on the paper in front of her. The way she blows her hair out of her face as she taps away a tune despite having her eyes closed. Eventually he can't hear the music being played; he's lost in the curve of her nose, the pink of her lips. Finally the song comes to an end and her fingers pause, Madge's eyes flitter open.

"That was nice," Gale says quietly. He understands what she means about having other ways to cope. "Do you play a lot?"

"My mother has headaches a lot of the time," she frowns. "So not as often as I'd like." He nods and she leans over to grab her glass, keeping her seat on the bench. "Have you ever played?" Gale snorts before he can stop himself, jerking his head into a no. "Would you like to?"

Curiosity gets the best of him and Gale takes a seat next to her, his fingers hovering over the keys. "What if I break it?"

Madge laughs, "You won't break it." He hesitantly presses a key, eliciting a noise from the piano. "See? Proper working condition." Gale laughs too, the note high and bright still echoing through the room. He'd much rather listen to her play. Gale excuses himself before the sun sinks too low in the sky, thanking her for the lemonade and the afternoon.

"See you tomorrow," he says before she closes the door. It causes her heart to leap even though she isn't sure if he means it. He does, though, and the next day they walk to the primary school together, picking up Vick and Rory and walking them home.

"I didn't know you had brothers," Madge admits as the two younger siblings walk in front of them. They fuss over something and keep running ahead; Madge can't wipe the smile off of her face.

"A sister, too," he tells her. They notice the stares that follow them as they trail into the Seam. Neither say anything. Neither care. "Her name's Posy."

"That's a pretty name." Gale bites his tongue before tell her that her name is pretty too. They watch a bit of the Games at Gale's house, Posy curling up to Madge and tugging on her hair. "I've always wanted a sister," Madge sighs, letting the little girl braid and spin her hair to her tiny heart's desire.

"Me too," Posy says back. Everyone laughs. On the screen Katniss nurses Peeta to a state of health as the rain pours down on their small cave. Madge wonders if it makes Gale uncomfortable, Gale wonders why it doesn't upset him.

"I'll walk you home," he tells her, "before it gets too dark." Hazelle Hawthorne raises an eyebrow at her son but says nothing, letting him lead the blonde home. They walk mostly in silence, his footstep silent next to her tiny scraping feet. "You were right, you know," he finally says. "About what I was doing." Madge smirks and he nudges her with his elbow, causing her to laugh. "I was just annoyed that it came from you."

"What's wrong with me?" she asks defensively, but Gale just lifts his shoulders into a shrug.

"Nothing. Not now, anyway." Gale leads her down a path and says it's a shortcut. She doesn't care if it is or not. "Before, though, you were the mayor's daughter."

"I'm still the mayor's daughter," she says back.

"But you're more than that," he doesn't know how to make her understand. "Before it was just trades, now it's…" he can't think of the word. Gale's not willing to admit that it's friendship, mostly because it isn't. A few shared laughs, some glances in school. That's not friendship. "It's different," he finally says. "Just different." The two slow their pace, letting the sky above them slip into something darker than day. Stars eventually come out and Madge sighs. "What?" he asks.

"You can't see them from my house," she tells him. "The stars." She cranes her neck to watch the lights that fill the sky. Gale decides not to mention how the people in town get a power grid that lasts through the night. "They're beautiful." Gale nods in agreement but his eyes don't reach the sky. They gaze at the girl in front of him, the blonde with an opinion too big to keep to herself. The girl that knows she's bad at making lemonade and still does so. The girl who gets lost in her music.

"Yeah," he says, "beautiful." Madge turns and catches him staring, her cheeks run pink. Gale tries to retract his stare but he can't, his eyes follow the motion as she licks her lips. Before he can stop himself he's closing the distance between them, one hand reaching out to cup her cheek.

"Gale," her voice is soft; her blue eyes spark with curiosity. Madge has never had a kiss before; Gale wants nothing more than to be her first. It's slow at first, the lean he does to meet her lips. He doesn't want to rush her, doesn't want to make her feel uncomfortable. It's teasingly slow, the way her lips move against his. She's learning his form, he's learning her taste. Sugar, cocoa, his hand trails down her side and rests against her hip, pulling Madge in closer.

Gale shivers as she lets out a slight moan, the muffled sound igniting his senses and causing his stomach to twist. Who would have thought that the mayor's daughter would get his heart racing like this? They stumble backwards lost in the moment; a giggle from Madge receives a chuckle from Gale. His arms wrap around her as they lean backwards, against what? He doesn't care, neither does she. Madge can't figure out what to do with her hands, pulling them across his chest, knotting in his hair. Her breath on his neck makes Gale shudder.

Beginner, there's no way Madge Undersee hasn't kissed anyone before. She's a natural, running her tongue across his lips, keeping his body pressed up against hers. All she wants is more. Why does it feel so right? In the midst of all the tragedy occurring, the fact that two of her friends are in the Games this year, it feels so good to be free like this. Gale's forehead rests against hers and their noses bump. His hands slip around her waist, behind her neck and up through her hair. He can't get enough.

"Madge," he breathes, the first time he's said her real name. His lips go off course, skirting across her neck and suckling across her collarbone. Madge allows herself a moment to breath, her eyes flickering open so she can remember the moment correctly, so she can make sure this is really happening. The second she does so, however, her heart drops. Gale feels her tense and pulls away quickly. "What's wrong?" She can't find words, her eyes scan the area around them. Gale's fingers trail up her cheek giving her goosebumps she can't force away, but she's no longer thinking properly. "Madge," he whispers into her ear, begging to get her back to where she was. Her cheeks are still flushed, her breath still ragged.

"Where are we?" her voice comes out hoarse. Gale turns around, facing the open area around them. His heart drops, too. He hadn't realized this is where they ended up. "Gale, where are we?" her voice is more of a demand than a question. He can't say it though, he won't. "This isn't…" he pulls his hands through his hair once, forcing a nod. The slag heap. Of all places they could have ended up it was the slag heap.

"I swear I didn't mean…"

"Sure," she pushes him away and crosses her arms. "Of course you didn't mean for us to be here." Anger swells up inside of her. "What even is this?" she gestures to the way her shirt wrinkles off to the side, how her hair stands on end. Angrily she pulls her clothes straight, brushing off any dirt that it acquired.

"Madge, I swear…" he shakes his head. How could this have happened?

"Save it, Hawthorne," her eyes turn cold as she starts to march away. The use of his last name causes him to pause in step; she had always called him Gale. Even when she was angry. "I thought… I thought you were different. I thought you were past this!"

"I am," he nearly bites at her. How can he get her to understand that it was all a mistake? It must have happened subconsciously, there's no way he'd ever take the mayor's daughter to the slag heap. She was above this, above the dirt and scum that rolled around in these pits.

"What was I?" a dry laugh escapes her as she pulls her fingers through her hair. "Some sort of bet?"

"No," he stresses. She had never felt more beautiful in her life, more carefree and genuinely happy and he had just been using her! Her heart knotted and dropped into her stomach, tears pricked at her eyes that she wouldn't let fall.

"I should've known," she shakes her head. "God, I should've known." Who would care about her? She's just the mayor's daughter. She's not the girl on fire, she's not anyone special.

"It's not like that," Gale tries again, his voice edging on desperation. "I swear I didn't know we were here. I wasn't trying anything, I just…" Just wanted to kiss her. That's all he wanted. To lose himself in the blonde in front of him, the girl that actually made him feel something other than numb. "You're different, you don't… Madge," she wasn't sticking around to hear the rest of his apology. She'd end up falling for it, of course she would. Who wouldn't?

The days drag on and it would appear the two have switched places, Gale now watches angrily whenever another boy talks with Madge. He tries talking to her a few times but she's gone before he gets the chance. His eyes trace the curves of her body, the tip of her nose. He waits for the day when he can get her alone again. But she doesn't look for Gale, not anymore. And why should she? He's just a boy from the Seam.

He tries to convince himself that he doesn't care, that it was all a fluke, but there's some sort of void in his life now and he's the one that created it. His grey eyes trace her figure, the way she slumps over a textbook in the cafeteria and busies herself with school. Madge's not herself, and it's all his fault.