Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and places belong to Suzanne Collins.
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Colours
i. Purple – innocence
The first time Gale Hawthorne lays eyes on Madge Undersee, he is ten years old and still innocent to the harsh realities of the world. When he sees eight-year-old Madge with her long golden hair plaited into a perfect braid tied with a purple ribbon that matches her perfectly pristine purple dress, the only thing he can think is 'pretty'.
He is sitting outside the bakery while his father tries to get a deal from the Mellarks' when she approaches him, her blue eyes shining with curiosity.
"Hello," she says, smiling widely, showing off the gap where she lost her front teeth.
"Mother told me not to talk to strangers," he mutters, all the while, cheeks turning red at the fact that this pretty girl is talking to him.
"I'm Madge," she says, smile widening even more as she sticks her hand out to him. "Now I'm not a stranger!"
He scowls at her and traces patterns in the dirt with the tips of his battered shoes as she stands, waiting expectantly with her hand outstretched.
"Well?" she whines, waving her hand in front of his face.
"What?"
"My arm is tired," she complains. "And I can't be talking to a stranger either. What's your name?"
His frown deepens; nobody's ever tried to befriend him before ('You have scary eyebrows,' Thom, a friend of his, had said to him once), so he's not at all comfortable with the idea of this little girl coming up to him and wanting to be his friend. "Gale," he mutters, pushing her hand away from her face. "Gale Hawthorne."
"See? Now we're friends!" she claps her tiny hands together enthusiastically, and then pulls a bag of cookies out of her dress pocket. "Wanna one?" She opens the bag and holds it out to him.
Gale is practically drooling at just the sight of the cookies – they were handed out once at school when the Mayor visited, and Gale's pretty sure it's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. But he stops himself before he can reach for one because 'never, ever take other people's food unless you have something to return the favour,' his mother always tells him.
"No," he says, eyeing the bag longingly. Then, much to his embarrassment, his stomach grumbles.
Madge giggles as she hands him a cookie before stuffing one into her own mouth. "You're hungry; here you go," she says around a mouthful of cookie.
He stares at it, unsure of whether or not he should really be taking other people's food – especially from a strange little girl he's never met before. But before he can contemplate it further, his arm is being pushed upwards, and the cookie is being shoved unwillingly into his mouth.
He swallows the cookie and gapes at her as she cautiously watches him, her nose scrunched up like she's expecting him to hit her.
She backs away a little. "Sorry," she mumbles. "Please don't hurt me."
He reaches out, but pulls away when she flinches. "I won't hurt you," he says, confused as to why she would think he would stoop so low as to hit a little girl. But before he can ask, the bell on top of the bakery tinkles and the Mayor steps out, holding a loaf of bread in his hands.
"Come along, Madge," her father says in a cold, detached voice as he roughly grabs her hand and pulls her along. He sends a glare in Gale's direction and says, "You don't want to be hanging around with his type."
Despite her father's warning, she flashes him a toothy smile and waves her free hand excitedly. "Buh-bye, Gale."
He waves half-heartedly back at her. He doesn't talk to her again for another eight years.
ii. Red – anger
He is fourteen now – still just a child, really, but mentally, so much older; his father died in a mining accident a year ago, and with his mother taking care of a newborn child, Gale has to do everything he can to put food on the table. The weight – the pressure of becoming the breadwinner of the family at the ripe age of fourteen has aged him beyond his years.
To him, blonde hair and pale skin are no longer just different in the physical sense anymore – no, to him, blonde hair and pale skin are the mark of Townies – rich, and privileged, and clean. The burden of becoming a man overnight has opened his eyes to the starvation and hunger in the Seam. His family has never been very well off, but his father had always managed to put food on the table and to keep a roof over their head. He's never known the harsh reality that is District 12. Not until now. Only now does he realize that not a single rich and privileged person has ever raised a finger to help.
And now, standing in the Mellark's bakery as Katniss negotiates a trade with Mr. Mellark, he can't help but glare at Madge Undersee, where she stands in a corner, her red dress clean of coal dust and a cupcake in her soft, uncalloused hands, laughing with Peeta Mellark, and he can feel the familiar red tendrils of anger curling in the pit of his stomach. Anger at the fact that they can afford to squander their money on useless things like cupcakes when he and Katniss are struggling to just put together a substantial meal; anger at the fact that they can laugh so freely when more than half the district is dying from starvation.
She looks up from her conversation with Peeta and glances over at them. She seems to shrink a little under Gale's intense glare as she takes a step back, and he knows she's seen him glowering at her. 'Good,' he thinks, trying to convey his anger, 'Let her know that I hate her. I hate her and everything she stand for. I hate that she has food and a family. I hate how perfect her life is.'
Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Peeta glance up to see what Madge is so distraught over; when he sees Gale glaring at her, he opens his mouth to say something ('Like he actually thinks he can hurt me,' Gale thinks derisively), but Katniss beats him to it.
"Let's go, Gale," she says, her tone harsh, as it always is when he starts ranting about Madge fucking Undersee. She tugs his arm and pretty much drags him out of the bakery.
The red never fades from his vision.
iii. White – blank slate
He is eighteen now; his best friend is entering the Hunger Games, and there is nothing he can do about it. He goes to the Justice Building to visit her, with the intent of letting her know exactly how he feels about her – that he loves her, as more than just his best friend and hunting partner, that he would wait forever for her, if he had to – but he is stopped short by the familiar hot anger when he sees the golden pin nestled on Katniss's dress.
Still, he ends up staying with her a little too long and has to be dragged out by a pair of peacekeepers, and brought out to his siblings. Once he sends his mother and siblings on their way home, he stalks up to her and shoves her against the wall of the Justice Building, his forearm against her throat.
"What the hell is Katniss doing with your pin?" he snarls angrily. "Did you think she needed your pity? Is that why you gave it to her – to flaunt it in her face? To show her what your daddy's money can buy for you, when she can barely afford to feed her family? Just because she can't afford a token of her own, it doesn't mean that she wants your fucking charity!" He is yelling now, and passerbys are starting to glance over furtively, trying to figure out what all the commotion is about.
He knows having his arm against the mayor's daughter's throat will get him into some serious trouble, but at the moment, he can't seem to find it in himself to care; all he wants is to make somebody pay – pay for taking his best friend, for the hunger that constantly plagues the Seam, for the unfairness that has always been a part of District 12 – and really, what better person to blame than the mayor's perfect daughter? After all, she has had it easy for her entire life – she's never faced the threat of starvation, she's never had to get her hands dirty, she's never had to actually earn anything; she's had everything handed to her on a silver platter all her life.
She shoves his arm off her, an angry scowl on her face. "What the hell, Hawthorne?" she snaps, rubbing at the red that has started appearing on her neck where his arm had held her captive against the wall only a moment before. "Katniss is my friend too, okay? My only friend. And I was only trying to help."
"By giving her a useless gold pin?" he sneers at her. "Fat lot of good that'll do for her in a fight to the death. Not everything can be solved by money, Undersee, but I guess you wouldn't know that, considering daddy's money has always solved all your problems."
She shakes her head at him. "It's not just a gold pin," she snarls angrily. "You don't – it's – you know what, never mind," she says, "it's none of your god damned business anyways."
"Katniss is my best friend, so yea, I think this is actually my business."
"Not really, no," she huffs, attempting to push past him so that she can get home.
He slams his hand against the wall, preventing her from walking away. "No, you tell me now, or don't even think about going home."
"I didn't know I had an obligation to explain anything to you," she says coldly. She taps her foot against the sand, kicking up dust that clings to the hem of her dress. She glances over his shoulder at the setting sun and sighs angrily, like she's in a hurry to get home. "Alright, just – it's a mockingjay," she says like that explains everything.
"That's your explanation? That it's a stupid songbird that the Capitol created? That's why you gave her the stupid pin?" He throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. "You're going to have to do better than that."
She glares up at him and groans in frustration. "Look, Hawthorne, I really don't give a fuck whether or not you believe my explanation; I'm in a hurry right now and I would really appreciate it if you would just let me go." The angry tint in her voice tells him that she's finally reached her breaking point – after all, she can only maintain the façade of the perfect mayor's daughter for so long.
"You wouldn't be stuck here if you just explained what this is all about. No normal person goes around handing out free pins like that. Only, of course, you probably have tons more at home, knowing how much money you have to spend," he sneers at her.
He watches in surprise as her blue eyes ice over and an angry scowl settles over her face – a scowl that could give him a run for his money. "Don't be an asshole," she snarls, "That pin belonged to my Aunt Maysilee."
Gale raises an eyebrow – this was news to him; he never even knew that the mayor's wife had a sister. "Your aunt, huh? Another rich, spoiled merchant's daughter?"
"Yea," she says, her voice steely despite the fact that she looks like she might burst into tears at any given moment. She lifts her chin a little in defiance, "She was. She was a spoiled merchant's daughter, and she died in the Quarter Quell, so before you go off about how she probably had a good life living in Town, she didn't. She didn't even live past the age of sixteen. The pin is all I have left of her."
"If it's so special to you, why the hell are you giving it to Katniss? Are you trying to bring about her death or something? That thing is basically tainted with death." His tone is harsh, and he knows that his outburst is uncalled for (after all, she just told him about the death of her aunt in a "game" that he always taunted her about), but there's just something about her that makes his blood boil, something that makes him want to see just how far he can push her before she explodes.
He watches, half amused and half horrified that he let those words slip out of his mouth, as her face turns red.
In a fit of anger, she lashes out at him, smacking him hard in the chest with the palm of her hand as she starts ranting, in a voice that he deems louder than is strictly necessary; after all, they're still standing outside the Justice Building, and he doesn't doubt that there are Peacekeepers lurking around every corner.
"I dare you to say that to me again, Hawthorne. You act all high and mighty, but you're just a fucking coward; all you've got to your name is the fact that you're from the Seam and that it's difficult for you to find food. But newsflash, Hawthorne, everybody in the Seam is having trouble finding food. You have it better than most; you have food on the table and a lovely family to share it with; there are people who have no food, or have no family. You can preach to me all you want about how we bloody merchants haven't done a single thing to help out, but the last time I checked, you haven't done a single thing either. And in the grand scheme of things, at least I can say that I tried, that I did everything I could, to put an end to this –" she gestures wildly with her right arm – at what, he isn't sure – before continuing, "this – everything." She stops abruptly, abject horror taking residence on her face, replacing her anger. She claps her hands harshly across her mouth, as if she's said something she shouldn't have.
He narrows his eyes at her, running her words through his mind, analyzing them, trying to figure out what she'd said wrong. She's mad at him for all the reasons that he had been angry at her for – for not doing anything to help the starving people of the Seam, for enjoying what little food he had. But who was she to talk? She had everything: a doting father, plenty of food, a house with a living room that was probably the size of the entire shack that he lived in; she hadn't done – suddenly her words flash through his mind. "Put an end to what, Undersee?" he asks, his sudden calm demeanour hiding the turmoil inside his head.
She gives him a cowed look before quickly correcting her expression to one of schooled nonchalance. "Nothing. It's not important. I have to go."
This time, when she pushes his arm away from her, he is too lost in thought to stop her.
-x-
He sees her again during the first mandatory viewing of the Games. She stands by herself under the shade of a tree, biting her nails as she shifts nervously from one foot to the next while waiting for the bloodshed and terror to start. She's wearing the same white dress that she wore the day of the Reaping, and it brings back all the unanswered questions that she left him with that day – questions that he's dying to ask her.
He ends up spending the next hour watching her reactions to the Games – the way she clutches the hem of her dress when a person dies (you would think, after all these years of watching the Games, that she would be used to death by now), the way she wobbles and nearly faints when the knife that the District 2 girl throws almost hits Katniss, the way that her shoulders visibly relax when Katniss is still alive at the end of the viewing – instead of actually watching the Games itself.
When the viewing is over, he pushes his way through the crowd to reach her, with every intent of forcing the answers to his questions out of her. But when he sees the tears accumulated at the corner of her eyes, and the red markings on her face, made from clawing at her face during particularly intense parts of the Games, he just can't bring himself to ask.
Instead, the words, "Do you want to come watch the Games with my family?" end up falling from his mouth before he has a chance to stop them.
He's not sure, exactly, why he offers, but he thinks maybe it has something to do with the way she's chewing her nails, or the way she's nervously tugging her golden locks out of her perfect ponytail, or the way her blue eyes are sparkling with fear at the prospect of losing her only friends. Mostly, though, he thinks it has to do with the fact that she's watching the Games alone; the mandatory viewing and the horror that comes along with it are unavoidable, and he knows that. But he also knows that having his family there with him is more than enough to relieve some of that terror; he can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to have to sit through the bloodshed and carnage by himself. And yet, there stands Madge Undersee, watching the Games by herself. Maybe he just can't stand the idea of anybody having to watch the Games by themselves. Even the Mayor's daughter.
Whatever his reasons may be, he supposes it doesn't matter anyways, because he can't take back what's already been said, and the question hangs, unanswered, between them.
She stares at him, seemingly just as surprised by the question as he is. "Um. I – that's –," She stumbles over her words, nothing at all like the cool, composed mayor's daughter that she usually is. She takes a deep breath and tries again. "I … I think I would like that," she says with a shaky smile. "Thank you for offering."
He's taken aback by how easily she accepts his offer, but quickly masks it with a look of indifference. "Come over tomorrow then." He scribbles some instructions on a scrap piece of paper and roughly shoves it into her hands, smearing them with coal dust. She doesn't seem to mind though, as she tucks the dirty piece of paper into the pocket of her dress.
"Thanks." She smiles again, this time slightly less shaky. "I'll see you tomorrow."
iv. Grey – blurred lines
And that's how Madge Undersee ends up in the doorway of their home in the Seam, wearing the same white dress, now smeared grey and black with coal dust. She bears a large basket of food. "To thank you for your hospitality," she says stiffly as she hands the basket to his mother.
His mother is delighted to have her over, taking it as a sign that Gale has finally decided to let his hatred for the mayor's daughter go (in reality, though, Gale is still wondering what on earth he was thinking, inviting the prissy mayor's daughter to the Seam); Vick and Rory spend the entire time ogling Madge with her beautiful blond hair and pretty blue eyes (according to them anyways; Gale just rolls his eyes and walks away from the whole conversation); Posy is just glad that there's another female in the house that isn't her mother.
"Have a seat, Madge, dear," his mother points her knife at their dingy couch before returning to the bread that she'd been slicing.
She thanks his mother before tucking her dress neatly under her legs and taking a seat. She doesn't seem to notice that the couch is smearing her dress with more coal dust. She gives him an awkward smile and shifts uncomfortably when he takes a seat on the couch next to her. Vick and Rory push and shove at each other, arguing over who should get to sit next to her, and Posy, much to his surprise, simply clambers onto Madge's lap.
His mother distributes the bread and takes a seat on Gale's other side just as the program is starting. The five of them watch the Games in complete and utter silence, nobody daring to make a sound as they watch their friend fight for her life. His hands clench as they grip the seat of the couch and he is acutely aware of Madge's presence next to him; he can feel the slight tremble in her small frame when her breath hitches every time something happens to Katniss or Peeta.
And Peeta – Gale only has to vaguely mention at Peeta's betrayal before Madge is swearing up and down that he must be planning something, because Peeta is so sweet and kind and he would never do something like join the Careers without a good reason. Gale, of course, think it's all bullshit; he wouldn't put it past the son of a merchant to stoop so low as to join the most hated alliance in District 12. Of course, he doesn't mention any of this to her; seeing her watery eyes and grief-stricken face as she watches him taint his hands with blood and death stops him from even bringing it up.
When the viewing is over, Gale slowly unclenches his hand and watches through the corner of his eyes as Madge quickly wipes the tears away with the back of her hand. And by habit, he almost makes a snide comment about how a merchant's son couldn't possibly survive without help (after all, the only victor their district has ever had was from the Seam), but, for the first time ever, he bites his tongue and says nothing.
His mother stands from her spot on the couch to start preparing their dinner. "Would you like to stay over for dinner, dear?" she asks.
"No, thank you," Madge responds, smiling politely at her. "My father is expecting me back home for dinner tonight." She, too, stands, and places Posy gently on her feet.
"Tomorrow, then," his mother says as she starts to heat up a pot of water.
Madge shifts uncomfortably and says, "Maybe. My father is pretty strict about how late I get home. He usually expects me back before the sun goes down." Judging by her tone of voice, Gale can safely assume that she probably won't be staying for dinner tomorrow either, no matter what she tells his mother. "But thank you for having me. It was … nice to have somebody to watch the Games with." A slight smile forms on her lips as she turns to leave their little shack. "I really should be going now. Thank you, again."
"Gale, why don't you walk her home?" his mother doesn't look up from the pot of water as she says this.
"I –" he starts.
"It's alright, Mrs. Hawthorne," Madge says at the same time. "I can find my own way back home."
"The Seam can be a dangerous place for a Merchant girl, Madge."
He watches as Madge shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other at the mention of her social status. "I'm not – there's nothing to worry about, Mrs. Hawthorne. It's just a five –"
"Nonsense," his mother interrupts her as she gives him a meaningful look; he knows what she is trying to tell him: it doesn't matter what she says or does, he is going to walk her home if he knows what's good for him. Not that he really needs convincing; the Seam really isn't the safest place for a Merchant girl like Madge – especially because she's the Mayor's daughter. And he might hate her (although he thinks he might hate her a little less than he did yesterday), but he isn't so cruel as to let her wander through the Seam by herself in the dark, where anybody could come and hurt her, or worse.
"Don't bother," he says, grasping her elbow and leading her towards the door. He lets go quickly, though, when he feels her tense up under his touch, but doesn't allow her to run off into the night. "You can't win an argument against her; trust me, I've tried – and failed – many times."
She doesn't argue further, allowing him to lead her through the winding passages of the Seam. They walk towards her house in silence, and he watches as she enters her house, disappearing into the shadows before she has a chance to turn around and say goodbye.
-x-
Her visits start to become something of a routine for them – on the days when there are mandatory viewings (and even if there isn't; after all, they both want to know that Katniss is somehow surviving against all odds), she shows up with a basket of food. She takes her seat on the couch next to Gale while his mother slices the bread she brings. His mother will distribute the bread (Madge politely declines, saying that she ate before she came, but Gale knows that she just doesn't want to take food away from his family, even though she's the one who bought it. It makes him angry at times, but he never says anything about it) and they watch the games together in a tense silence.
They start off sitting next to each other, awkwardly avoiding any contact at all costs, but that changes the day they unexpectedly announce the change in the rules. He tenses up when Katniss screams Peeta's name, knowing that, with the rule change, Katniss will do anything – risk anything, even her own life – to make sure that they both make it back home at the end of the Games. And he hates it – hates that Katniss is willing to give her life up for a boy that she's barely known for a couple days, because she wouldn't just be giving up her own life; she would be giving up her mother's life, her sister's life, and to an extent, even the lives of him and his family. Especially his life, because he's pretty sure that, at that moment, he doesn't want to continue living if she dies in those Games.
And when she kisses him, he nearly rips out a chunk of the couch cushion that he has clenched in his hand, until he feels a hand hesitantly touch his in a gentle stroking motion, as if trying to soothe him. She jerks away almost instantaneously when she notices that his murderous look has faded, but he grasps her fingers in a vice-like grip, trying to draw comfort from the one person he never thought he would willingly touch.
She says nothing, simply letting him squeeze the life out of her tiny hand, as he watches the girl he had hoped to one day run away with in the arms of another guy.
And just like that, the dynamic of their relationship gradually starts to change, going from touching each other as little as possible to gentle, comforting touches whenever Peeta and Katniss kiss, to clutching each other's hands in a death grip whenever something particularly disturbing happens; she even buries his face in his chest when Katniss is nearly killed by the District 2 girl, and he only hesitates for a second before he wraps an arm around her in some form of security.
-x-
"You love her, don't you?" she asks one day on their walk back to the mayor's house. Her are words slow and measured, like she's unsure of how well he'll take her question.
He jolts at the suddenness of her question and narrows his eyes at her. "What gave you that idea? And how the hell is that any of your business anyways?"
He picks up his pace and she has to jog to keep up with him. "Jesus Christ, Gale, it was just a question. And slow down, would you, Mr. Long Legs? I can't exactly walk as fast as you." She grips his shirt sleeve in an attempt to slow him down, but only ends up falling forward when he keeps walking, dragging her with him. "Shi –"
"Woah, there." His hands automatically reach out and he catches her by wrapping his arms around her waist in an attempt to keep her upright. "Be a little more careful, would you? We wouldn't want to get dirt all over that pretty dress of yours, now would we?" He's teasing, of course, in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere after the particular grueling viewing of the Games.
She huffs in response as she steadies herself. "It was just a question; no need to get all defensive over it. I'm pretty sure everybody in District 12 thinks you guys are together."
"Well, we're not," he says shortly, releasing his hold on her waist. "Why the hell are you bringing it up now?"
She pauses, thinking over her next words. "It's just – you had this shattered look on your face when you saw her shoot that District 1 boy, like a part of you had died," she says quietly. "I think you saw a part of her die, and a part of you died along with her. Maybe it's not that kind of love, but I think you must love her a lot, if the magnitude of your reaction is any indication."
"I thought I lost her," he says in a hollow voice. "I was so scared that she wouldn't come back when I saw the bloodthirsty look in her eyes; the way they darkened when she killed him. She could make it back, but it would still feel like I lost the Katniss that I know – she wouldn't be Katniss anymore, she would just be a stranger in my best friend's body."
"If it helps, she never killed without a reason."
"Revenge isn't a good enough reason to kill somebody," he growls. He continues walking, an angry scowl on his face.
"No, it's not," she agrees in a distant voice. "But self defense is, isn't it? It's kill or be killed, Gale. That's what the Games are. Either she comes back dead, in a coffin, or she comes back because she killed somebody." She reaches out and touches his hand gently. "Gale –"
He turns abruptly and stares at her, trying to hold back the unshed tears that are threatening to spill over. "You just don't get it, do you?" he hisses angrily. "She wanted to kill him. Did you see the way her eyes went cold? She looked like she completely lost herself, and she killed him because she wanted to.
"I know I told her that she could make it back – that it's not different from hunting – but I didn't think it would be so horrifying to see her take another human being's life. He's around my age, did you know that? What if he had a family back home? A lover? People he needed to support?" He's bordering on hysterical, not even censoring what is coming out of his mouth anymore; he can't even tell that he's crying until he feels Madge gently wiping his tears away.
"Gale – Gale. Stop. Okay? Please, stop. You should know better than anybody that she would never, ever take another person's life if she had the choice. She's your best friend, Gale." She pauses in her rant to pull him off the sidewalk to allow a walking couple past; he's in too much of a daze to notice. "You have to believe that she's going to come back to you; if you won't believe in her, who will? You're as important to her as she is to you. She needs you to believe in her.
"She's doing everything that she can to survive – to come back to you, to her mom and sister, to your family. And that means she has to defend herself in one way or another, and when it comes down to it, she will have to kill somebody. But she'll still be Katniss; she'll still be your best friend and hunting partner. She's still going to be the girl that you grew up with, the one you know and love – maybe a little broken inside, but who wouldn't be, after going through that horror? And that's why she needs you to believe in her – somebody is going to have to put her back together when she comes back, and she's going to need her best friend there with her if she's going to get through it."
She pulls him into a hug, causing him to stiffen for a brief moment before relaxing. "It's going to be okay, you know. It'll be okay," she whispers.
He's not sure if she's trying to convince him or herself, but hearing it come out of somebody else's mouth makes him feel like there's still a chance that everything will be okay. "I don't think I can watch her kill again," he whispers, voice hoarse, as he buries his face into the crook of her neck.
"I – I can't promise you that she won't kill again," she says quietly. "But I'm here if you need somebody to talk to, you know that, right? I may not be able to make it all better, but it might make you feel better if you have somebody to talk to."
"I know," he says, "I know. Just – let me stay like this for a little bit."
"Okay." She tightens her arms around him tighten as she continues to murmur reassurances into his ear, and even though she doesn't seem to believe any of things she's saying herself, having her arms around him makes him feel safer than he has in a really long while (but he'll never, ever admit that to anybody, especially not her).
She never brings the topic up with him again.
-x-
The day Katniss almost dies by the hands of the District 2 girl, she says in a muted voice, "I was going to volunteer for Prim, you know. Katniss was too fast."
His first thought is 'Of course Katniss was too fast. She would do anything – give anything – to protect her little duck, even die.'
Instead of voicing his thoughts, though, he gives her an incredulous look and says, "I can't see you killing anybody with those hands. You wouldn't have lasted a day."
She gives him a watery smile, tears leaking down her cheeks. "I know," she whispers. "I know."
He's startled by her response but tries his best not to let it show; he looks down at her questioningly. "Then – why –"
"Because," she interrupts, trying to keep her voice steady. "Because. Nobody will care enough to miss me when I die. Because people would have preferred me dead over her. Because it would have been better if I was dead instead of her." She says this with such intense certainty that he thinks that no matter how hard he tries to convince her otherwise, she will never be swayed from that opinion.
"You don't –" 'mean that,' he wants to say, but he stops because he of all people knows how hateful people can be towards others where money is involved; after all, hadn't that exact thought – 'it should've been Madge, not Prim' – flashed bitterly through his mind mere seconds before Katniss bolted towards the stage to take her sister's place? Even now, when he knows what she's really like, pieces of his old self still surface sometimes, and he has to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying something he'll regret.
"I don't what, Gale? I don't mean it? It's not true?" she lets out a shallow, breathy laugh. "It is. You know it's true, I know it's true. What's the point in pretending like it's not? Everything would have been so much better if I had volunteered in place of Katniss."
"Don't say –"
"Why not, Gale?! It's true! Who needs me around anyway?! Katniss – Katniss – she was so, so important, and I'm just – I'm just so useless." She angrily brushes the tears away from her eyes and looks away.
"Madge –"
"How do you think Prim and Mrs. Everdeen are going to survive without her? And all those people you two trade with? Where do you think they're going to get food now?"
"Madge –" he tries again.
"You were right, you know. I've always known you were right. What I've tried to do to help is nothing compared to how much Katniss has done to help."
"Madge, stop," he finally yells, grabbing her by the shoulders and stopping her in her tracks. "Stop, okay? Just stop." He takes a deep breath to try and calm himself down. "Do you even know what you're trying to say? You're telling me that you wish you were dead. Because that's what you would have been if you volunteered for Prim. Dead. Katniss at least has a chance of coming back; she knows how to hunt and fend for herself, okay? She can do this. She's almost back – she's going to come back. Look me in the eyes right now and tell me that you would have made it as far as Katniss did if you had volunteered in her place."
She looks away in shame. "I know, okay. I know I wouldn't have made it. You don't have to remind me that I'm weak and useless."
"That's not what I'm trying to say," he says in a fierce whisper. "You don't know all the things that Katniss learned from being in the woods every day for four years. Volunteering would have been a suicide mission for you. You might as well have handed yourself over to the Capitol on a silver platter.
You have a full life ahead of you, Madge. You have almost no chance of getting reaped. In the Seam, we live each and every day to its fullest, because we know that there is a huge chance that we won't live to see ourselves grow another year older. Hell, some people worry about not living to see another sunset. You have so much going for you, and you're telling me that you would throw it all away? People in the Seam would die for the security that you have, so don't you dare tell me you would waste it."
"Did you expect me to stand there and let the Capitol take an innocent little girl like Prim away?! She's twelve, for god's sake. How would I live with myself, knowing I stood there and did nothing while they took her away to die?"
"You knew Katniss would volunteer, Madge. You knew. Even before she volunteered, you knew she would do it. Because I know you know her well enough to know that she would do just about anything to protect Prim, even if it meant sacrificing herself."
"That's just it, Gale. I couldn't let Katniss die – she's too important to too many people. Do you know how many people would suffer if she died? Hundreds – think of all the starving people in the Seam, and even people from Town, who rely on Katniss to bring fresh food to them, think of her family, think of your family. Think of yourself, Gale. Think about how many people would be torn up about her death." She looks at him, desperation simmering beneath her tears. "Do you know how many people would have suffered if I died?"
He opens his mouth to give her a response – 'a lot' – because he's certain that a girl as pretty as her must have tons of friends and suitors.
She doesn't give him a chance to say it as she continues, "None. Nobody would have cared if I died, Gale."
He's stunned into a momentary silence at her declaration, but his features quickly take on his usual scowl as the anger – now so unfamiliar when it comes to Madge – settles in his stomach for the first time in what seems like forever. How could she possibly say that nobody would care when she had a wonderful, loving family waiting for her to go home for dinner every day? "Don't you dare say that, Madge," he growls angrily. "You have a mother and a father, you have tons of friends who care for you. That's a hell of a whole lot more than a lot of people can say they have."
She turns away from him and touches her hand to her neck, rubbing it gently. "I – my mom, she's not sane; I don't think she even knows who I am anymore. She's probably too far gone to even notice if I went missing. I think she hallucinates sometimes. She calls me 'Maysilee' a lot."
"Maysilee?" he echoes. The name sounds vaguely familiar to him – maybe the name of one of the many female tributes that District 12 had.
"My, um, my aunt. She's the one who, you know, didn't come b-back." She stumbles over the last word, her voice cracking as more tears fill her eyes.
He doesn't have to ask where her aunt went: nobody is allowed to leave the district unless they'd been reaped for the Games. He instantly feels bad for his rant – he's seen firsthand how much a despondent mother can affect her child. After all, how many times had he listened to Katniss complain about how her mother was never there anymore?
She doesn't give him a chance to say anything before she continues, "Sometimes my mother forgets that she's actually gone, and I never could bring myself to tell her otherwise. I-it's like she doesn't know she has a daughter, so it wouldn't be so bad if I just disappeared one day."
"And … you're father?" he hesitates before asking, afraid that he'll uncover another one of Madge Undersee's secrets, that he'll find out that he's been misjudging her his whole life, that maybe her life isn't as perfect as he once thought. And maybe he feels just slightly guilty about everything he's ever said to her –
He can pinpoint the exact moment that she shuts herself off from him – the way her shoulders hunch forward, the way she wraps her arms around herself as if shielding herself from the world, the way her eyes turn to ice and become distant and cold – and he nearly flinches at the desolate look on her face.
"That topic is off limits," she says curtly. "The point is, it wouldn't have made a difference to anybody if I'd volunteered and died in the Games. My mom isn't sane enough to notice, and Katniss and Peeta were my only friends. Peeta has plenty of other friends, and Katniss would've been fine as long as she has you and Prim. They both would have moved on eventually."
"It would have mattered to me."
She gives a hollow laugh. "No, it wouldn't have."
He doesn't contradict her, because he knows she's right. Maybe he would have respected her more for sacrificing herself for Prim, but she would have still been the spoiled Mayor's daughter to him – his opinion on her wouldn't have changed because he never would have gotten to know her the way he did. If she had been reaped now, then he could have honestly said that it would have mattered to him, but at the time, she was just another rich girl who had everything handed to her on a silver platter. Maybe he'd even think that she deserved to suffer.
"We're here. I have to go," she says, interrupting his thoughts. She doesn't give him a chance to say goodbye before she runs up the steps to her porch and closes the door behind her.
As he turns to leave, he's pretty sure he hears muffled yelling coming from the Mayor's house. He shoves his hands into his pockets and stares into the setting sun, wondering what other secrets Madge Undersee has been hiding under that cool and collected demeanour of hers.
-x-
His changing opinion of Madge Undersee meets its turning point when, one day as the Games are nearing its end, Gale notices the blue-black-purple marks marring her otherwise milky white skin – marks that look disturbingly like somebody had recently wrapped their fingers around her neck and tried to squeeze the life out of her.
"Madge…" he starts, staring intently at the markings.
Madge looks up at the sound of her name and catches his intense stare. She flushes bright pink before tugging her scarf tight against her neck, completely obscuring the marks.
"W-what?" she asks, averting her gaze from his hard stare. "What are you looking at?"
"Madge," he says, grinding his teeth together. "Are those bruises?!" The word tastes bitter on his tongue, like some part of him refuses to believe that somebody would want to hurt an innocent girl like Madge ('although', he thinks, 'I probably wouldn't have hesitated either, a couple weeks ago.').
"I don't know what you're talking about," she mutters, her voice unsteady.
"I thought it was weird that you were wearing a scarf today of all days. Especially in this humid weather. Where did that bruise come from, Undersee?"
"It's nothing. Just leave it alone, Gale. My scarf got caught on the doorknob on my way of the house this morning, that's all. When I closed the door, the scarf tightened. Nothing a little time can't fix." She gives him a hard look that makes it clear that that is the only explanation he will be getting and that the conversation is over.
He gives her a skeptical look that shows that he doesn't believe her; but he doesn't say anything more, unwilling to push for more than she is willing to reveal, hoping that it's just a one-time thing.
But they don't go away – they keep appearing, over and over again, on her arms, her legs, her shoulders – black and blue and purple marring her skin. He never says anything about it, simply waiting for her to bring it up. But he finally snaps when she shows up one day with a bruised and swollen cheek.
"Madge, I'm fucking serious." He towers over her as his mother applies a damp cloth to the wound. "What the hell is going on?"
"It's nothing," she says, her eyes fixed on a spot above his right shoulder.
"Oh, be careful, dear," his mother says when Madge reaches up to touch the bruise.
He glares at her, "Talk. You're not leaving today until you do."
"I – I," she looks at him in defeat; he's more stubborn than she is anyways. "I had a fight with my father," she mutters as she dips her head so he can't see her face.
"What?" he asks in a dangerously low voice.
"What?" his mother echoes.
"Nothing, it's nothing," she says quickly, prodding at her cheek again while his mother swats her fingers away.
"That's not nothing," he practically screams. "Your father tried to strangle you."
She pauses briefly, as if contemplating what – and how much – information she can trust him with. "It was a fight," she says with a note of finality. "It's not like it's the first time something like this has happened."
"Is that why you have bruises all the time? Because your father hits you?"
"It's not his fault," she mutters. "He's just – he's under a lot of stress, and he doesn't appreciate my adding onto that." She gives him a pleading look, as if asking him to end the conversation. "Please, can we just drop it?"
"No, we cannot just drop it. Your father tried to strangle you, Madge," he reiterates. "Your father. And like hell it's not his fault! It doesn't matter what you did, Madge! He has no right to hit you like that; it's never okay for anybody to hit you like that, so don't you dare blame yourself; it is not your fault your father's an asshole."
His mother places a placating hand on his shoulder, as if physically restraining him from doing anything rash, like running out of the house, hunting the mayor down, and punching him in the face – because if he's honest with himself, he thinks he would like to do exactly that. Because the only thing that he ever associated with his father – the only thing that anybody should ever associate with their father – is happiness and warmth, never pain and fear.
"I can handle it," she says warily. Her tone of voice makes it very clear that the conversation is over and that he's trespassed into territory in which he has no right to be. "I've been doing it for as long as I can remember anyways."
And Gale is brought back to the first time he met Madge Undersee, brought back to that frightened expression on her face when he reached out to touch her, and her words echo through his mind: 'Please don't hurt me.' Everything seems to fall into place and he suddenly understands what she meant then, why she would have been so afraid of being hurt, and it angers him even more – the fact that her father was willing to hit her, even when she was just a little girl.
He's trembling, trying to reign in his rage before he really does do something he knows he will regret (well, he supposes he won't necessarily regret the actual act, but he would possibly regret the consequences of his actions). "Madge, I swear to God –"
"Don't, Gale." Her voice is thick, like she wants to cry, but refuses to. "You can't do anything, okay? I'd rather you not get involved in any of this. My father's an influential man, and if he wants you dead, you're going to end up finding yourself in a ditch outside the district. And believe me, he won't have to look far to find a reason to kill you off – remember, you're hunting illegally; it'll only take a few words to the right people for you to get yourself apprehended."
He grits his teeth and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down. She's right – he can't do anything without pissing the mayor off and risking his own life and, in turn, the lives of his family – but that doesn't keep him from wanting to slap some sense into the mayor.
He sighs and settles for giving her hand a reassuring squeeze instead. "You come directly here the next time he does something like this, okay? If it gets too bad, you leave immediately and come here."
She laughs bitterly. "I don't think you know what you're signing yourself up for, but sure."
He gets the impression that her father is beating her a lot more than she's letting on, and that it's a lot worse than she's letting on, and for once in his life, he feels helpless; there is literally nothing he can do to make the situation better for her – not without risking the lives of his family.
"Gale, stop."
"Stop what? I haven't done anything."
"Stop giving me that pitying look. Stop looking at me like you think that it's your fault or that you should be able to do something about it. It's not your fault and there's nothing you can do. If there was anything that could be done, trust me, I would have done it a long time ago."
"But –"
"No. Stop thinking about it, okay? Just leave it be."
He scowls at her, irritated and frustrated. He knows he has no choice, but that doesn't mean he has to be happy about it. So he does the only thing he can think of: he reaches over and pulls her into a tight hug.
"Gale?" she says, her voice muffled against his chest.
"Nothing. You just looked like you could use the comfort." His voice is gruff as he gently rubs soothing circles on her back.
She relaxes, sagging tiredly against him. "Thank you."
"It'll be okay," he murmurs, repeating the very same phrase she'd uttered to him not that long ago. "It'll be okay."
The bruises never stop appearing, and Gale never stops comforting, because really, what else can he do?
-x-
And at the end of it all, by the end of the Games, it finally sinks in that Madge isn't the spoiled merchant girl that he thought her to be – she took all his expectations and, whether she meant to or not, threw them right back at him. The picture of the pretty, snobbish blond that he painted in his mind is smudged and smeared beyond recognition – painted over with layers and layers of Madge, with every new thing he's learned about her, and really, he can't help thinking that the new picture is much, much prettier than the old.
v. Green – envy
It's been weeks since Katniss (and Peeta too, but really, he doesn't want to think about what Katniss might or might feel for dough boy) has returned from the Hunger Games, and their relationship has been rocky. Added onto that is the fact that he has started working in the mines, and he absolutely loathes being underground. So it doesn't come as a surprise to him that he is constantly in a foul mood these days –
'Today is worse,' he thinks the minute he walks into the Mellark bakery, game bag in hand, to see Peeta swiping frosting off Madge's nose and sucking it off his thumb while she laughs. He's brought back to a different time, with a different cupcake in Madge's hands, a time where he had his hunting partner at his side, and anger fills his stomach once again. Only this time, it has less to do with the fact that it's Madge, and more to do with the fact that it's Madge and Peeta. Together.
Although he refuses to accept these unsettling feelings that make his stomach twist, there is always something in the back of his mind – the green-eyed monster – that he refuses to acknowledge. Because to acknowledge it would mean acknowledging that he might have more-than-platonic feelings for the girl that he hated just a few short weeks ago, and he's not quite sure that he's ready for the big jump from enemies to more-than-just-friends. Heck, he isn't even sure he's ready to make the jump from enemies to friends. So he pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind, and does his best to pretend that they don't exist.
He thinks maybe that's why he kisses Katniss in the field the following Sunday – to prove to himself that it's Katniss that he loves, his Catnip, his hunting partner, the girl who helped him and his family survive against all odds, to prove that it will always be Katniss and only Katniss, that his brief interlude of jealousy should never have happened.
But when he finally, finally plucks up the courage to act on the desire he's kept pent up inside for four long years and kisses Katniss, he is severely disappointed that the kiss turns out to be nothing special; he's kissed his fair share of girls, but none of those kisses have ever felt right, not the way he was expecting his kiss with Katniss to feel. And even then, the kiss doesn't live up to his expectations, and he starts to think maybe he romanticized his relationship a little too much, or maybe, he admits after many days of denial, he doesn't think of her that way anymore because another girl has somehow managed to worm her way into his hardened heart.
-x-
"You know he's in a relationship, right?" he demands when he catches her standing outside the Mellark bakery, waiting for Peeta to finish his shift. It's the second time this week now, and he's starting to think they're becoming attached at the hip.
She looks up, startled by his sudden presence. They haven't talked much since the Games ended and Katniss walked back into his life, so he supposes she has every right to think that it's weird that he's talking to her.
"What?" she asks, giving him a look that questions his sanity.
"Peeta. He's in a relationship." He stresses the phrase; after all, everybody in District 12 knows that there isn't really anything going on between the two of them.
"Oh, I know," she says nonchalantly.
"Then why are you cozying up to him like you want to bring him to the Slag Heap?" his question comes out harsher than he expected, and she flinches slightly.
"Okay, first of all, that's disgusting, and secondly, I'm not 'cozying up to him'; he's my friend, and he's kind of bent out of shape because –" she stops abruptly as a Peacekeeper walks by. "Well, you know how Katniss is! He's not handling it well, and if he needs somebody to talk to… well, like I said, I'm his friend. And since when does it matter to you how I handle my relationship with Peeta anyway?"
He feels his face heat up and he hopes that his complexion is enough to hide the blush; while he's grudgingly admitted to himself that Madge may mean more to him than just a friend, he's not quite willing to admit it to her. Or anybody else, for that matter; saying it out loud will only make the fact seem more real.
"Besides, you're one to talk." She forges forward before he has a chance to respond, taking the first opportunity she gets to turn the conversation away from her. "A relationship goes both ways, in case you've forgotten. Katniss has as much of an obligation to Peeta as Peeta does to her. So what are you doing, cozying up to Katniss like that? She's in a relationship too, you know."
"Believe me, I know," he says, his face darkening. It doesn't matter that he might not see Katniss that way anymore; she'll always have a special place in his heart and he doesn't like the idea of dough boy trespassing into their relationship.
"Because that explains why you kissed her in woods the other day."
He openly gapes at her, surprise washing over his face. "How the hell did you know about that?"
She shrugs. "Word gets around."
"'Word gets around'? You're joking, right? Katniss would never mention anything like that. To anybody."
"She told Prim."
"And Prim told you?" he kicks a stone that's lying near his left foot and glowers at nothing in particular. Since when had Madge and Prim been close enough to share secrets like that?
"Mmm," she hums, smiling teasingly at him. "I'm tutoring her in school. Prim's not like Katniss, you know. She actually likes to talk to people. And by that, I mean she can't keep a secret to save her life. It just spilled out one day. Took me by surprise, that's for sure. Is it official yet?" Her expression is still teasing, but her eyes are guarded, as if she's scared that he'll hurt her.
He grunts in response. "It's Katniss – what do you think?"
"I think Katniss likes you just fine, but won't be with you because she would feel like she's betraying Peeta. And she's not wrong to feel that way, you know. Just…it's not really fair to you. Or to Peeta." She pauses. "Did she give you a definitive no?"
"No," he grumbles. "She just upped and walked away. Anyways, it's not like I expected anything from it – it's Katniss; she has the emotional range of a teaspoon."
"She'll come around." She brushes a stray strand of blond hair out of her face, and the light that reflects off a silver bracelet on her wrist hits his eyes.
He frowns; he's been to the jeweller's a couple times for trades, and he's pretty sure he's never seen anything that nice before. He gestures towards her wrist. "Did Peeta get that for you?" And even as he asks, he already knows the answer, and he can feel the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head.
"Oh – oh, yea." She flushes bright pink, and he can't tell if it's because she's pleased that Peeta got her a gift (he has to suppress the urge to go and pummel the guy for leading Madge on – because he's pretty sure that's what he's doing, seeing how much he's in love with Katniss), or just plain embarrassed for having something so expensive and fancy (and he can't even find it in himself to blame her for that, not after all his snarky comments about her money).
"It was a birthday gift," she says. "He's sweet like that, you know – even though he's going through hell with his nightmares and with that whole Katniss thing, he somehow still remembers my birthday."
'Fucking Peeta,' he thinks angrily to himself. 'First Katniss, and now Madge. Does this guy have to be friends with every girl I'm interested in?' His fingers curl into an angry fist and his eye twitches in annoyance.
"I'm – oh, I'm sorry," she mutters suddenly, shoving her arm behind her back. Her face is now an even darker shade of scarlet as she stammers through an apology. "I – I wasn't thinking and –"
He looks up in surprise. "No – I – no, I'm not mad," he mutters, thinking that she must have misinterpreted the direction of his anger. "Not about that at least." He mutters the last part to himself.
"Then … what are you mad about?" she looks at him uncertainly. "Did I do something…?"
"No! No – just – you didn't do anything. Just –" he runs a hand anxiously through his hair in annoyance; he is most definitely not a man of words. "Peeta," he says, by way of explanation.
"Er…you're mad at … Peeta?" She sounds even more confused now as she looks at him curiously. "I don't – it's not really his fault."
He's just about ready to smack himself at this point. "Do. You. Like. Peeta," he bites out between gritted teeth.
"Um…" she stares at him like he's lost his mind (and honestly, he's starting to wonder the same thing; what on earth was he thinking, asking the mayor's daughter if she likes Peeta fucking Mellark? It's one thing to be jealous, and a whole other to ask about it). "Like I said, he's my friend," she says, uncertainty lacing her words.
Their disastrous conversation is interrupted by the tinkling of the bell above the bakery door as Peeta opens it. "Madge! Why didn't you come inside? I have your favourite cupcake flavour in stock today. Oh…" he trails off when he notices Gale standing next to Madge. "Gale," he says, nodding at him.
"Gale?" Madge touches his shoulder gently when he doesn't respond. "Gale, I'm –,"
"Fuck it all," he mutters under his breath as he reaches out to place his hands on the back of her neck. He pulls her forward.
"Gale? What're you –" her question is left unfinished as he covers her lips with his own. The kiss is nothing like the kisses he's shared with all those other girls, nor is it like the kiss he shared with Katniss, and while it's not quite what he was expecting it to be, it's nice – he thinks he could get used to kissing Madge Undersee.
Even so, he's not sure why he kisses her, especially after all the mental exhaustion he put himself through to convince himself that he isn't in love with Madge Undersee and, when that didn't work, that he would never, ever let her know that he has feelings for her; but he thinks it might have something to do with the fact that Peeta is standing right there, and he just wants to do something that will give him a reason to back off.
When he breaks away from her, she can only stare at him with shock written on her face. "Gale, what …"
"Sorry, I have to go," he mutters as he turns tail and walks away briskly, unable to face her after kissing her so abruptly.
"I told you he likes you." He can hear Peeta's laughter, clear as day, as he walks away.
vi. Pink – love
He spends the next two weeks avoiding all possible contact with Madge, which actually isn't very hard, considering he spends most of his days down in the mines, and when he's not in the mines, he's out in the meadow, hunting. He tries to convince himself that he's not bringing strawberries to the mayor's house is because he doesn't have time to go out of his way to pick strawberries, and not because he doesn't want a confrontation from Madge, but it's difficult, because selling strawberries to the Mayor's daughter always got him more money than selling rabbits to other merchants, and picking strawberries is certainly a lot easier than hunting animals.
But he's hoping that if he gives her enough time, she'll eventually forget about the kiss and things can go back to the way they were before he went and made things complicated.
His plan of avoiding Madge goes relatively well. Until the day he nearly runs an arrow through her heart during one of his Sunday morning hunts, that is; he just released an arrow aimed at a deer when she literally appears out of nowhere, ducking just in time as he lets out a strangled scream that sounds vaguely like Madge.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Madge. What the hell do you think you're doing out here?" he snarls as he storms up to her, bow still in hand. "You're going to get yourself killed!"
She crosses her arms, blue eyes simmering with anger that betrays the calmness of the words that leave her mouth. "I'm wondering why you suddenly stopped bringing me strawberries."
He blinks. This was not the confrontation that he was expecting. "Of all the – Madge, you almost died and that's what you're worried about?" He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales loudly. "Who the hell brought you out here anyways?"
"I brought myself," she huffs. "And you still haven't answered my question."
"For the love of – Madge, they're strawberries; they do not warrant you coming all the way out in the meadow to ask me why I haven't been bringing them, okay? The forest is dangerous. You're gonna get yourself killed. You almost did!"
"It's kind of hard when you turn and practically run off every time I come within a fifty foot radius of you! And I miss y – the strawberries. I miss the strawberries" She flushes as she stumbles over her words.
"Look," he says, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her around to face the fence that surrounds District 12. "I'm going to bring you home now, and we can discuss this later, okay? Preferably not in the middle of the forest, because you're going to get yourself killed." He knows he's probably being annoyingly repetitive, but she's stubborn, so he figures repeating it a few more times won't hurt. He starts pushing her towards the district, but she digs her heels into the ground, making the task harder than it should be.
"I know. You've said that already. Five times. And I'm telling you, I can take care of myself." She tries to turn back around, but his grip is too strong as he continues to push her. "I just want an answer! I want answers," she corrects herself. "I think you at least owe me an explanation."
He stops abruptly and she nearly falls. "Look – can we pretend it never happened?" He keeps his hands on her shoulders, effectively keeping her from turning around. "I am sorry about what happened. I didn't mean – I mean, I never planned on doing something like that. It sort of just happened. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable – I understand if you don't want to be near me. But I – I've missed being able to talk to you," he admits reluctantly, embarrassment colouring his tone; much like Katniss, he isn't usually one for showing emotions.
She goes quiet for a moment and then she says, "I've missed talking to you too. I've missed you."
His heart is pounding in his chest, because this is not something he expected to hear from the mayor's daughter; never in a million years, would he have expected her, the Mayor's daughter, one of the most important people in the district, to miss him, a worthless boy from the Seam that's essentially been taught that he is nothing to the Merchants. But then again, Madge always did have a penchant for defying all his expectations.
Finally, he loosens his grip on her shoulders, letting her turn around to face him. "I still don't think it's a good idea for you to be out here," he mutters under his breath.
"I don't think it's a good idea for you to be out here, either," she shoots back, her voice filled with tension.
He grunts in response. "It's not like I have a choice. You, on the other hand, do. Which means I am bringing you home once I reset all my traps. So just sit tight, okay?"
"You still owe me an explanation, remember?" she folds her arms across her chest and glares up at him, standing on her tiptoes in a futile attempt to appear taller and more intimidating.
"You get an explanation," he concedes. "Once I figure out where I should start." He unwraps a trap from around a rabbit's foot and puts the rabbit in his bag before setting the trap back up.
"How about you start by explaining why you basically ceased to exist for months after Katniss and Peeta came home from the Games, and then kissed me out of nowhere?" she snarls. Her anger is making a full recovery and he's not sure he's ready to face her wrath.
"I – I know I haven't exactly been fair to you," he mumbles, embarrassed; in hindsight, he realizes that the way he treated Madge was rude and that no matter what he says to her now, he knows that he can't blame her if she never wants to talk to him again. "It's been…difficult. With Katniss coming back; it doesn't help that Peeta –"
"Just because you're frustrated with the whole Katniss and Peeta situation, doesn't mean you should take it out on me."
"I know. That's not why – just – I'm sorry! I was dealing with more than just Katniss being with Peeta! It didn't even have anything to do with Katniss. It was because of you," he blurts out before he can censor what he's saying.
She gapes at him like he's offended her in some way, which, he supposes, he has. "M-me?"
"Yes – you. You know what, I'm not sure I want to discuss this." He runs a hand agitatedly through his hair before massaging his temple to try and thwart the headache that he knows is coming.
"You promised me an explanation!" she growls. "And that was the lamest excuse for an explanation I have ever heard."
"I'm not good at stuff like this, Madge! I know I give Katniss shit for being emotionless, but, hell, I'm not much better, okay? I thought it was pretty obvious when I kissed you!"
"I've heard all those rumours about you at school, you know," she says quietly, her anger disappearing. She stares down at her feet. "It's not like you have the cleanest record when it comes to kissing girls, so I didn't think it was a huge deal that you kissed me. I just took it as one of those passing phases – maybe you just needed a girl to kiss or something. But let me tell you something – I am not one of those girls you can just take to the Slag Heap and then dump like a hot potato. So if you think, for one second, that –"
"You're not," he cuts her off, his tone sharp. "You're not one of those girls," he clarifies when the angry look on her face doesn't go away. "You're…"
He mentally curses himself for not having the right words to tell her how he feels about her without scaring her off. "…special," he finishes lamely. "Look, Madge, you're my friend – one of my best friends; we've shared some of our darkest secrets with each other. That wasn't something I wanted to ruin by telling you how I feel, so I tried to pretend my feelings didn't exist. Seeing you being so close to Peeta didn't help things. That might have had something to do with me kissing you that day," he mutters the last part to himself, but he's pretty sure she caught it.
"You thought I liked Peeta!" She yelps, staring at him in mortification.
"It sure seemed like it," he grumbles. He stares intently at the ground, refusing to look up at her. "The two of you were practically attached at the hip."
"I already told you, he needed a friend. Oh my god, Gale, you should have just told me."
He scoffs. "And ruin our friendship? The one that took us forever to build up? Because it took the two of us watching children murder each other to break down the barriers between us, and I'll be damned if I destroy that –" he stops abruptly, because he's certain that he did a pretty good job at destroying their friendship by ignoring her for months and then kissing her.
She lets out a short laugh and the look of shame that washes across his face. "I think you did a pretty good job doing the one thing you were trying to avoid doing."
"I was hoping things would eventually go back to normal if I gave it some time," he mumbles.
"You really should have just told me." She puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "What's the worst that could have happened?"
"You would tell me you don't feel the same way?"
She rolls her eyes. "You're brave enough to come out here and hunt illegally, but you're scared to go up to a girl and ask her out?"
He gives no response, so she continues talking. "Do know why I even buy strawberries?"
He gives her a strange look because where the hell is she going with this? "Uh…no?"
"I don't even like strawberries that much," she admits, which makes him stare at her like she's insane, because she's been buying them for the past two years, and they're not exactly cheap. "At first, it was because Katniss offered them to me – it's not like I'm completely stupid; I know how hard it is to find food." Her face turns slightly red at her admission, but she forges ahead. "So I bought the strawberries. I got smacked around a little by my father for wasting money on something so unnecessary," she confesses, rubbing her right arm (it doesn't take a genius to figure out that she's probably remembering that particular beating). "But it turned out that my mother really liked them, so my father let it go, and I continued to buy them from the two of you.
"I don't know what happened, but she suddenly stopped eating them a year ago. And as you know, I never really stopped buying the strawberries," she mumbles. "It became so much a part of my daily routine – opening the front door to see you and Katniss on my porch with a basket of strawberries, that is – that I continued to buy them."
"But your father –"
"My father thinks I stopped buying them," she interrupts, her face flushing. "I didn't buy the strawberries for the strawberries, Gale. I bought them because of you and Katniss – Katniss, because she's my best friend, and you, because you intrigued me; still do, to be honest. Everybody I talk to always has an air of fear about them, like they're scared that if they piss me off, I would go running to my father. As if that's ever going to happen." She laughs hollowly. "And then there was you – you, with your sharp tongue and snarky remarks. Your insults always stung, but at least you were honest with me. I appreciated that; it was always refreshing to have somebody say those things to my face, instead of showing me a mask of fake politeness and then whispering to their friends once I was out of earshot."
"I'd take them all back now if I could," he mumbles, embarrassment colouring his voice. "I was out of line with some of my comments."
"No, you were right – you always were. I'm not saying it didn't hurt, because it did, but it's still better than pretending to be friendly. My point is, I kept buying the strawberries for the two of you, and then when Katniss left for the Games, I bought them because of you. Getting to know you has definitely been an adventure – I don't know what I was expecting you to be like, but I think I like it."
"Getting to know me was an adventure? Getting to know you was an adventure. You're...different than I imagined. But that's a good thing!" he hastily adds. "It's definitely a good thing. I think I like the real you better than the you I had in my mind before I got to know you."
"That's good to know, because I don't think you liked me very much to begin with." She gives him a half-smile, one that makes him want to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless. Then he wonders if she'll slap him if he tries to kiss her again.
"So, you'll go out with me?" He gives her a lopsided smile that is uncharacteristic of his usual stoic demeanour.
She laughs. "Yes, I'll go out with you. See? Was that so hard? All you had to do – mmf."
He cuts her off by leaning in and slanting his lips over hers, something he hasn't really stopped thinking about doing since the time outside the bakery. Only this time, it's so much better, because she kisses back, her mouth moving in tandem with his. And it's like months and months of deafening silence and tension just melt away, because this feels right, like this is where he belongs, with one hand on her cheek, the other entangled in her hair, and his lips melded against hers.
He runs his fingers through her hair, and expertly undoes her braid. She makes an attempt to protest when wisps of blond hair start to fall in her face, but she stops abruptly when he gently nips at her bottom lip and gently brushes the stray strands away. His other hand comes to rest on her hip, and he pulls her a little closer.
She pulls away. "I – uh – that was," she stutters breathlessly, her cheeks flushed and hair messy.
"Did I leave you speechless?" he teases, a smile tugging at his lips, although he notices that his voice sounds just as breathy as hers.
Her cheeks darken even more and she gently shoves him before she tries to readjust her dress, smoothing out the wrinkles in the process. He watches, amused, as her nimble fingers comb through her now messy hair as she tries to put it back into its original braid.
"Here, let me," he says, reaching for her hair; it's not that he doesn't think she can do her own hair – of course she can; he's seen her do and undo her braids over and over again when she's nervous – but he likes the feeling of having his fingers in her hair.
"You can braid?" she sounds mildly surprised as she turns around so he can braid her hair for her.
"Somebody has to braid Posy's hair in the morning."
She giggles. "You're such a sweet older brother. Honestly, I don't understand why everybody at school is so scared of you – you're just a big softie underneath all the mean words."
He rolls his eyes, even though she can't see him. He snaps the elastic band onto the end of the braid and turns her around. He hesitates for a second before slipping his hand in hers. "Come on, let's get you home."
He watches in amazement as she agilely wriggles under the fence, wondering exactly how many times she's been out in these woods – these woods that used to be his and Katniss's safe haven, something that only the two of them shared, like some secret that nobody knew about, and that was what made it so special to the them. He wonders what Katniss was thinking when she brought Madge with her, if she felt like she was betraying him. Although, he supposes he can't be mad at her for it, because here he is, holding Madge's hand and kissing her, and he hasn't said a single word to Katniss about it. And besides, he wants to spend more time with Madge in the forest, away from the prying eyes of the people of the District.
They walk back to the Mayor's house in a comfortable silence, so different from the awkward silences that used to plague their walks when they first started watching the Games together. He grabs her arm as she turns to enter the house, and pulls her in for one last heated kiss.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he whispers, his breath fanning over her lips. "Night, Madge."
She pecks on the cheek, her face slightly red and her lips a little bruised, and whispers, "good night," before turning and hurrying up the stairs to her front door.
-x-
They get three blissful months together before their peace is shattered by the whipping. He doesn't remember much of it, to be honest, aside from the excruciating pain, and, for oddly enough, being kissed, although he chalks it up to his pain-induced delirious state, because he's certain that Madge wasn't there to see his whipping. He also remembers the pain fading away before he fell unconscious.
Mrs. Everdeen later explains that "the crazy mayor's daughter" ran through the blizzard to bring him morphling, which was why the pain went away so quickly.
He never gets a chance to ask her about it, because when he sees her again, after he's almost completely healed (physically at least; he's pretty sure that it will haunt him for the rest of his life), before he can utter a single word, she's sobbing into the front of his shirt, demanding to know why he's out of bed when he should be resting. And then she's desperately kissing him like he's going to disappear and she's never going to see him again, and the morphling is suddenly the last thing on his mind.
They're so subtle that he doesn't notice at first, but ever since the whipping, there's been small changes in the way Madge acts around him – the way she panics when his hand slips out of hers, or the way she seems to unconsciously step in front of him when they pass a peacekeeper, or the way she gently traces the bumps and ridges of the scars on his back, the ones that will never really go away, or the way she never lets them walk past the whipping posts, even if it means they have to take the long way back from the Seam to her house and she's always ten minute late getting home ("I want to stop by the sweet shop," or "I want to spend a little more time with you," are her most common excuses).
Gale thinks it's sweet of her to do this for him, but he starts to worry that she's making her father angry; he never sees any new bruises though, so either she's hiding them really well, or the mayor finally has his temper under control. He's hoping – praying – that it's the latter, that Madge isn't suffering at the hands of her own father anymore, but he knows that people don't just change overnight like that. But she refuses to hear anything of it when he tries to bring up the topic.
"What my father will do to me is nothing compared to what happened to you," she says in a fierce whisper when he finally manages to get her to talk. She tightens her grip on his hand. "I don't want you to have to see that place every time you walk me home; I don't want you to have to relive that nightmare. You haven't been there since then, and I want to keep it that way." She swallows audibly. "It's – it's horrifying." And then she's sobbing into his chest and he's staring at the top of her head in bewilderment as he pats her comfortingly on the back.
"There was blood everywhere. Your blood. Gale, I was so scared I was going to lose you! Don't do something like that again." Her voice is shaky as she tries to calm down her erratic sobs. She takes a deep breath in. "I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I know it was worse for you – I can't even begin to imagine how much pain you were in. It's – there was just so much blood and I could see your – your flesh," she stumbles over her words, fresh tears welling up in your eyes, "I'm sorry," she says again. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there to comfort you. I'm sorry that all I could do was bring you the morphling. I should have been there; I should have come – I should have stayed with you. I'm so sorry."
"Hey, it's not your fault. Your morphling helped me through the worst of my pain, so don't you think for a second that you didn't help."
"I should have been there for you. I should have – would have – if my father hadn't –" she abruptly stops talking, her face taking on a greenish hue. "Never mind," she whispers weakly.
"What did your father do, Madge?" his voice is low, dangerous, as he stares at her with eyes that are shimmering with anger.
She sighs in defeat. "He was just angry about me bringing you the medicine," she mumbles, "maybe he was a little rougher than he usually is. It's not a big deal, Gale. Just forget about it."
He gives her a stern look and she ducks her head. "He pushed me down the stairs and I broke my arm." Her words are quiet and rushed. "That's why I wasn't around; I wasn't to move my arm too much or the bone might not set properly. I know – I know it's a terrible reason to not be there, but…" she trails off, biting her bottom lip. "I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing," he commands. His vision is being clouded by that red, red anger again – anger at the mayor for the way he hurts Madge, at her for blaming herself for something she couldn't control, and at himself for not being able to do anything to help. "Stop saying you're sorry for everything that isn't your fault. I've had my fair share of broken bones, so I know what it's like. I wouldn't have wanted you to come anyways – you didn't need to see me like that."
He pulls her tight against his chest and buries his face in her hair. "What matters is that you're here now. What matters is that you care about me enough to do everything you can to make sure I never have to think about what happened again, even though I wish you wouldn't. It is not your fault," he repeats. "Okay?"
She sniffles and nods. "How is it that you're always the one comforting me, even when you're the one who needs the comforting?" She puts her hand on his cheek, her touch feather light as she smooths out the angry lines that crease his face and then kisses him. When she pulls away, the words "I love you" slip seamlessly from her mouth, taking him completely by surprise.
He reaches out and cups her cheeks with his hands – he's never noticed how small and delicate her face looks until that exact moment – and presses his lips to hers again for a short kiss; he doesn't say it back, because he doesn't think words can describe the magnitude of his feelings for her, but he can tell by the smile on her face that she knows how much he loves her.
-x-
Gale has just barely finished healing when they make the announcement about the Quarter Quell, and he's starting to wonder if he'll ever be given the time for his mental scars to heal, or if he's going to die one day from mental exhaustion – it's just been one thing after another, and he's not sure how much more of it he can take.
None of them handles the news very well, except maybe Peeta (who Gale is starting to think is a fucking saint for putting up with all this without a single complaint) – Katniss gets drunk and then attempts to get him to run away with her, Gale spends hours in the forest, blowing off steam, and Madge – Madge cries, because what else can she do? She has no other way of releasing her anger without angering her father. So she cries and he comforts her as best as he can.
And then, after the initial breakdowns, every spare moment they have is spent trying to train Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch up to scratch for the Games.
-x-
"It's not fair," she whispers, her voice breaking on the last syllable. She lays down on the grass next to him and curls into his side.
He wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer. "It's never fair."
"I know. It's – I miss them. I just wish…"
"You wish what, Madge?" He asks when she doesn't finish her thought.
"Nothing," she sighs wistfully. "Wishing is useless in this place."
He looks at her in surprise; this is the first time Madge has ever made a mention at how she feels about the district; usually it's him who does the ranting.
"Gale…this place, the Games, everything is just... It's…" she struggles with her words. "It's…I can't even find a word bad enough to describe it," she mutters angrily under her breath.
"Madge," he says, giving her a warning look. He recognizes the fury simmering beneath the surface – how can he not? It's something he's felt his whole life; fury, at the injustice of the district, fury at the Capitol and the power they have over everybody, the way they can just snatch up two children every year and toss them into an arena for their entertainment – and he knows what it's like to keep everything bottled up, but he also knows that it's never safe to say these things out loud.
"I know, I know. I don't know what to do," she says, her voice breaking. "I've tried so – I've…" she sits up and buries her face in her knees and lets out a mangled sob.
"Hey, it's not your fault." His voice is fierce as he too sits up and wraps an arm around her in an attempt to comfort her. "Things have never been fair. But there's hope. There's…" he hesitates, not sure if the information Katniss gave him about District 13 is privy to anybody's ears other than his own, but he figures Madge could do with a little good news after everything that's happened. "District 13 still exists," he blurts out before he can stop himself.
She mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like I know, before she realizes what she just said and she stiffens.
He looks at her hunched form in astonishment. "What do you mean you know?"
She lifts her face from her knees and looks over at him, her eyes still red from her short breakdown. "I – I mean, I heard from Katniss. Th-that there's a possibility. Not that I, um, believe her or anything, 'cause that's ludicrous, right? 13 was destroyed ages ago and there's no way it could have survived an attack from the Capitol." She's blabbing, her voice high and reedy, and he knows she's lying.
"Madge, you're a terrible liar," he finally says, cutting her speech short.
She tries for a sweet, innocent smile, but her face falls almost immediately and she bursts into a new round of tears.
His chest tightens at the sight of Madge crying again (he wonders how many more times he'll have to see her cry before the ache in his chest will go away). He sighs and pulls her into a hug. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me. I can wait until you're ready to tell me whatever is going on."
"Haymitch is going to get them out of the arena," she says, her voice muffled by his shirt.
It takes him a long minute to process what she just told him. "Haymitch is doing what?"
If she notices his surprised tone, she doesn't say anything about it, and continues to plough through with her speech in a hushed whisper so quiet that he has to lean in to be able to make out her words. "Getting Peeta and Katniss out of the arena. And Finnick and Johanna too, if he can manage to."
"But…what? How?"
"Gale…there's some things that maybe I've been keeping from you. Some very important things that you probably would have wanted to know," she admits, pulling her face out of his chest to look up at him.
He looks at her expectantly.
She pulls him down, and – why the hell does she want a kiss right now? – leans in to whisper in his ear. "Look, you can't go telling anybody what I'm about to tell you, okay?" she murmurs, her breath tickling the shell of his ear.
He shivers and it takes everything he has not to interrupt whatever she's about to say and just pull her in for a kiss. He nods.
"Well…you know that pin I gave Katniss? The mockingjay?"
"The one I gave you shit about?"
She laughs. "Yes, that one. The one I got from my aunt."
"Yes, I remember the pin. What about it?"
"It's…I wasn't lying when I said it was just some gold pin," she admits in a barely audible voice. "It's a symbol of something that's been going on for years now – decades even, maybe. A mockingjay is something that shouldn't even exist, something that shows that the Capitol doesn't always have control. It's more than just a songbird, Gale; it's a symbol of hope – hope that we won't always be bound by the ties of the Capitol. Its very existence proves that. When I gave that pin to Katniss…well, I was hoping that people would recognize it and sponsor her; I – I didn't expect things to get so out of hand so quickly."
He freezes, a shiver of anticipation running through him – he thinks he has a pretty good idea where she's going with this. "Madge, you're not telling me what I think you're about to tell me, are you?" he asks, barely hiding his excitement. This is what he's been hoping for – wishing for – ever since he was old enough to think for himself.
She tightens her hold on his hand. "Yea. They've been planning this for a really long time; they were just waiting for the right time. I don't think they were expecting it to be so soon, but Katniss – I know she didn't intend to, but she started a spark that put everything into motion, much earlier than anybody anticipated. It's starting, Gale. The one thing that generations upon generations of people were waiting for."
"How do you know all of this?" he asks, staring at her in astonishment.
"Have you ever wondered why my father is always so mad at me?"
"Of course I wondered," he growls irately. Madge never did say anything more on the subject, refusing to answer his questions whenever he brought it up, but that never did stop him from wondering. Or from wanting to punch the mayor whenever they crossed paths; it took all of his willpower and his mother's incessant nagging to keep him from doing it.
"It has a lot to do with this," she confesses. "It's not that he doesn't want the rebellion, but at the same time, it's not as important to him as it is to other people. And I guess I can see why – he's always had the security, you know. Financial security, security that almost guarantees safety from the Games, and I guess to him, that's all that really matters – that I was relatively safe from the Games. Because you're right – I'm not likely to ever end up in the Capitol, not as a tribute, at least. And that's all he really cared about, that I was as safe as possible."
He wants to interrupt her, to tell her that he would take it all back if he could, because he knows better than anybody now that the number of entries that a person has is absolutely fucking irrelevant, because he has 42 entries, and not once was his name drawn, while Prim had only one. But she continues forward, oblivious to his wandering thoughts.
"So, finding out that I was stealing newspapers from his office, that I was using his television to find things out about the other districts, that I was helping with the rebellion – well, that didn't go over very well with him. Because it's dangerous – so dangerous. If the wrong person got wind of what I was doing, it would be all over for me. I'm not sure what would have happened, but I don't doubt that it would involve torture." She shudders and he squeezes her hand in reassurance.
"He used to slap me a lot when I was younger – it was his form of discipline, I guess. But I never got more than a slap, and I kind of just dealt with it, thinking that maybe it was like that for everybody else as well, because Peeta told me his mother slapped him all the time. But first time he caught me sneaking newspapers out of the house, the slaps started turning into punches, and it just got worse and worse."
"Nothing will ever warrant his hitting you, but your father isn't wrong to be angry with you," Gale says sternly. "What you're doing is dangerous, Madge. Extremely dangerous. Even the Mayor wouldn't be able to do anything for you if the Capitol found out."
She rolls her eyes. "I don't need you to baby me, Gale. I knew what I was getting myself into when I accepted Haymitch's offer. I couldn't just sit by and do nothing! It was a chance to overthrow this stupid system and stop the Capitol's oppression – you would have gone for it too, if you'd been given the chance."
"Of course I would have. This is huge, Madge. Why didn't you tell me sooner? I could have helped – isn't there anything at all I could do to help?"
"Gale, stop," she pleads. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want to get you involved. Like you said, it's not safe, and the less you know…well, the better off you would be if the Capitol were to discover my involvement."
"I can't just sit here and do nothing, Madge! People are out there fighting this rebe –"
She slaps a hand over his mouth, effectively cutting off his shouting. "You have to be quiet," she hisses in his ear. "You can never be too safe when it comes to this." Once she's sure that he won't continue shouting, she removes her hand from his mouth. But she doesn't give him a chance to get a word in before continuing. "Look," she says tiredly. "Can we discuss this tomorrow? I don't want to argue with you right now and we'll have plenty of time to talk later, okay?"
He agrees, albeit reluctantly, but the shock of all the discoveries doesn't subside and the same thoughts continue racing endlessly through his mind. Madge Undersee – quiet, calm Madge Undersee – is taking part in a rebellion. Of all his expectations that she never met, this one certainly makes the top of the list.
"You – you're incredible," he whispers, staring at her in awe as all the information starts really sinking in.
She laughs and leans in to plant a chaste kiss on his lips before settling back into his arms. "No," she disagrees, "I'm doing what anybody would do in this situation. It's the right thing to do, Gale."
"I know. But how many other people who have your security would risk losing all of that?"
"Peeta would," she says quietly.
She stiffens and he can feel her thoughts straying down that dark pathway again, and in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, he says, "Yea, well, Peeta's a saint, so he doesn't really count."
It works, because she lets out a bubbly laugh and wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. She buries her face into his side. "I just want to stay here forever."
He places a kiss on the top of her head. "Okay."
She laughs again. "Okay? You're going to stay here forever with me?"
"Well maybe not forever, but we can stay here a little longer. After all, we have to get home eventually, or my mother is going to have my head on a platter for keeping you out all night."
They sit in a comfortable silence for a long moment before she breaks it. "We'll be okay, right, Gale? Everything's going to be fine, right?" she whispers.
"Everything will be fine, Madge," he murmurs, trying to sound certain and reassuring. He runs a hand soothingly through her hair and kisses her forehead. "Everything will be fine."
vii. Orange – fire
Everything is not fine. That very night, the district goes up in flames.
The explosions and fire are not unexpected, at least not to Gale, not when he knows how depraved the Capitol can be, and the extents to which they will go to ensure that their corrupt government will stay intact, but in no way does that mean that he's prepared for such a situation. It takes longer than it should for him to come to his senses, to make sense of his sister's sobs and to figure out why the stench of burning wood is so strong at this time of night, and even longer still to round up the rest of his family, and guide them into the woods. And then, much to his dismay, he realizes what little time he has left to go back for Madge.
So as soon as he makes sure that his family is safe and as far away from the fire as he can leave them, he turns back and starts running towards Town. He hears his siblings calling after him – Posy's tear-filled sobs almost make him stop, but he can't; he refuses to lose her, not like this. His mother says nothing as she grabs his arm, pulling him in for a quick, strong-armed hug.
"Be careful, Gale," she says, finally releasing him.
He smiles gratefully at her, because she knows – she knows that, as far as he's concerned, Madge is pretty much already a part of the family; hell, his mother probably even considers her part of the family. And while nothing will ever be more important than his mother and his siblings, Madge Undersee comes pretty damn close. So he runs, runs as fast as his legs can carry him, towards the largest house in the Town.
The fire roars all around him, licking at the once-clean houses of the Town, and relentlessly destroying everything in its path. He desperately tries to ignore the screams that fill the air as people all around him scramble to get as far away as possible from the destruction, as people lose their possessions and loved ones, as the fire threatens to take everything that he has come to love about their district.
And he has to press the palm of his hands against his ears to block out the heart-wrenching screams of people losing their families. He forces himself to think of Madge – beautiful, quiet Madge, with her bright blue eyes and curly blonde hair, Madge, who is still in the fire somewhere, waiting for somebody to come and save her – just to remind himself that he came back for one reason, and one reason only. He needs to save her, and he can't let anything distract him from doing it.
Her house is already ablaze by the time he reaches it, and his stomach sinks as he realizes that it would be damn near impossible to get into the house. But he clenches his fist and takes a step towards it anyways, determined to do his damned best to find her. He's about to take another step when a flaming branch falls in front of him, nearly crushing him. He jumps back in surprise and bites out a curse.
"Gale!"
He looks up at the sound of the familiar voice calling his name. "Madge!"
She's standing in her doorway, her mother's arm draped around her shoulder as she tries to help her out of the house, her nightgown torn and covered in ash, and tears tracking down her face. He doesn't think he's ever been so glad to see anybody in his life.
"Madge!" He screams as he desperately tries to get closer to the house. "Madge!"
"Don't come closer!" she screams to him. "Don't! It's too dangerous. Just – stay where you are, okay?" She turns to her mother and murmurs something quietly to her, trying to coax her into leaving the house, but her mother continues to shake her head and shiver.
"Madge, come on! The house is going to collapse," he calls to her, panic starting to settle. He swears he can practically see the fire growing in size with every passing second that Madge remains on her doorstep.
"Go – get out of here, Gale! I'm not leaving my mother here! Just get back to your family first; I promise I'll be right behind you," she yells anxiously, tears streaming down her face. She yanks on her mother's arm again, but she refuses to budge.
He takes a step towards the house, but is immediately thrown backwards as the house explodes, and the only thing he can make sense of through the pounding in his head and the ringing in his ears is the short sound of Madge's scream before it is completely cut off.
It takes him a long moment for him to pull himself together, and another long moment before he finally realizes what's happened and what the explosion means. "MADGE!" he screams, pulling himself off the ground. He rushes unsteadily towards the burning house, but even as he desperately tries to push his way through the ruins that the fire left behind, he knows – in the back of his mind, he knows – that it's too late. Even so, it doesn't stop him from trying.
"Madge!" he calls out in a strangled voice into the empty air, sinking to his knees in defeat when reality finally starts to sink in – she's gone. She's gone and no amount of screaming or struggling will change that fact. "MADGE!"
-x-
He eventually makes it back to the woods, to the rest of his family, his tears blurring his vision, her screams ringing in his ears, and the bright orange of the flames that took her, forever emblazoned in his mind.
They don't get tomorrow, because Madge is taken in a blaze of red and orange and yellow.
His answer is one. He has to watch Madge Undersee cry only once more during their time together. But the ache in his chest never goes away. The last thing he ever said to her was a lie; nothing will ever be fine again. He wishes he'd told her how much he loves her.
.
x
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E.N.D.
A/N: I recently watched Big Hero 6, and I've just about had it with all my favourite characters dying in explosions.
Anyways, this fic was only supposed to only be five colours long; I don't know how the heck it ended up being this long. It's been such a long time since I last posted anything (there's a reason why I don't ever intend on writing a multi-chapter story; all my readers would probably be super annoyed with me).
Hope you guys enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Constructive criticism is always welcome! :)