Paranoia
Drabble #1 (Gale/Madge)
A/N: Welcome to the Mini Stories! It means so much that you click on it! I do have to mention that not all the stories will be Gadge, but will always contain Gale (Team Gale!)! So you can pick and choose what you want. I am accepting recommendations and reviews are always welcome (be as critical or kind as you like).
P.S. I called them all Drabbles in the word document I have them all in, but most are one shots.
Based off of Joseph Finder's Paranoia. Excellent read, I do recommend.
Gale's hands were sweating. He was so nervous and he had every right to be. He was sneaking around Undersee Enterprise. He was fucking the CEO of the company – Madge Undersee. He may or may not be coming too attached to the CEO for his liking. This job a cover job, she was the heart of everything Undersee Enterprise had to offer. But god he did like their private moments. But mostly importantly, if he didn't get what Reynolds wanted his head was on the chopping block, not Madge's overly sized, white covered bed.
It was 10 pm and the windows around his cubicle have already automatically tinted like every night. His eyes hurt from staring at the white light burning from his screen. A long list of all Undersee Enterprise's employees was pulled up and YouTube on another tab. His heart was hammering in his chest and he could feel his chest painfully tighten every time some other workaholic walked lazily passed his cube. He could swear they walked by slowly to see what he was doing. They knew, they knew what he was doing and that just made him more sick to his stomach.
He pressed his lips together painfully and copied and pasted the list into a word document and saved it to his flash drive. He coughed once, he seemed to have picked up the cold from the guy in the next cubicle over. The guy that was always sweaty and always in Gale's cube. It freaked him out, he couldn't do any snooping when that guy never left him alone. Gale just waits for the FBI to show up one day out of the blue and arrest him for his fraud. They haven't come yet, but Gale still waits for it. His paranoia levels are through the roof.
And Madge Undersee didn't help. He loved to be around her, loved it. Like more than life, loved it. But he waited, like he did in his cube every day, for her to whisper sexily in his ear: "Gotcha." But that never came either.
His phone lit up, illuminating his small space even more. He hunkered down in his chair more like the little bit more light was going to put up a flare that screamed Intruder! Intruder! Intruder!
Madge Undersee:
Get off your computer and come visit me, workaholic.
He smiled at her text for a moment before his stomach dropped off the cliff that the building sat on, the powerful ocean roaring and crashing passing below. Did she know? Could she possibly know what I was looking at? His sweaty hands were even slicker. He closed his eyes and held in a deep breath.
Gale Hawthorne:
I'd love too, but I have a big project to present to the CEO tomorrow. It has to be perfect, wouldn't want to disappoint her.
He imagined that cute little smile with the cute little dimples form on her face. If he knew one thing, he knew when she was smiling. It was like a 6th sense to him and he loved the rush of it.
Madge Undersee:
I'm sure she'll love it. Even if she doesn't, she won't be able to get passed that face and butt of yours. ;)
She was flirting. So was he. It was what they did. Somehow, flirting about work was too much to handle that he almost logged off and raced to his car. That big white and glass house on edge of a different cliff with woods surrounding it was the only destination he wanted to find. But he couldn't. Reynolds was getting antsy and that prison bunk was too scary to think about it. That prison bunk was already stepping on his heels.
He swallowed thickly. Sometimes he hated his iPhone – more like her iPhone. She knew he read her text that he stupidly opened. Now he had to say something, anything to get her off his back. It's like she was breathing down his neck without actually being here and that frightened him more than the prison bunk. It scared him more because she was the only real factor between him and that prison bunk. A shiver ran up his spine.
Gale Hawthorne:
How 'bout I finish this up as quick as possible, grab a bite to eat, and then head out to your place?
Madge Undersee:
How 'bout we go to your place tonight?
He bit his lip. They definitely could not go to his place. For one, it was dump, for two, Reynolds could get in too easily, and for three, there was stuff she just couldn't see like the documents he shouldn't have. But mostly it was because he didn't want her to see where he lived. It was small and dirty. It was in a bad part of town where the water smelled like rotten eggs (sometimes he wondered if he should be drinking it), and that was saying it worked at all. Some days, most days, it didn't and he had to hurry over to Thom's apartment for a quick shower. It was always the days he woke up late.
But to say in the least, he was embarrassed of his place. It wasn't grand or worth multimillions like hers, she would probably be disgusted of it. She would fire him on the spot that second she set foot in the moldy, smelly place that smell of death and rodents.
He didn't open the text message; he left it to sit on his lock screen. He went back to searching up directories and project plans. The one thing he needed wasn't anywhere, though, and it infuriating him to no end. Where was Project Alamo!? That was his ticket out of all the spying and sneaking. Maybe he could even keep his job at Undersee Enterprise, and maybe just maybe he could finally let himself have the girl.
The screen lit up with the unread message again. It was like it was demanding him to answer, eyeing him down through the camera. His fingers froze over the keyboard…could Madge see through the camera...was she watching him? He felt a bead of sweat run from under his armpit to the waistband of his dress pants. He swallowed thickly again. His chest felt compressed, like an elephant was leaning on it. Another deep breath, he told himself. Another deep breath that didn't work to calm his nerves. I put a piece of tape over the camera.
Madge Undersee:
I'll make you food. Steak? Lobster? McDonalds plain double cheeseburgers?
The girl was nothing if not persistent. She had a private chief because she couldn't cook to save her life. That he knew for sure, too. The first time she ever made him food was the time she attempted to make mac and cheese, and she forgot the milk and butter. He remember, fondly if he might add, politely yelling: "Whoa, whoa, whoa, what about milk and butter?" she had smiled sheepishly at him, her face a bright, rosy pink and said: "You need milk and butter?" he had laughed at her and nudged her aside as he took control of finishing it. Her noodles were over cooked but he didn't say a word. She had attempted and that meant the world to him. Everything, actually.
This time he answers back.
Gale Hawthorne:
Mmm, sounds tempting, but I still have a lot to do. Go ahead and eat without me if you haven't. I'll just swing by some place and grab something on my way.
More like, let me swing by Reynolds place to drop off the flash drive, than rush to your place and hope I don't die of hunger. Reynolds was really getting on his nerves. But every time Gale thinks he might just say fuck it, I'm done, that damn prison bunk comes back in his mind and he's scared shitless. That prison bunk would scare any man.
Madge Undersee:
Okay.
It was a bad thing when Madge Undersee answered with one word texts. It either meant she was mad or she was up too no good. He clenched his jaw and wished for the improbable: that it was neither.
He continued his search on Project Alamo and kept coming up short. Every time he thought he was close to finding something, he was 10 steps behind and the computer beeped at him. He jumped every time that mechanical beep sounded through its speakers.
The elevator dings to his right. He quickly opened the PowerPoint and Word document for the presentation tomorrow just in case someone important was making their rounds. Turns out it was someone important. Someone too important…
Hands covered his eyes and a paper bag hit his nose. McDonalds…Madge.
"Guess who?"
He smiled falsely because he was about to crap his pants. She's here. What if she looks at the tabs he has opened? His heart hammered in his chest.
"I really hope this isn't the cleaning lady, Patty. And I hope that food is for me."
She giggled sweetly in his ear. She kissed the shell of his ear, "Would Patty do this?" she asked before kissing the nape of his neck. Heat rushed up his neck and his jack hammering heart just went into overdrive. He was gonna die, and he knew it, too. "Or this?" she licked the spot she just kissed and blow softly on it. It drove him up a wall, something he'd like to do to her. "Or this?" she shifted and kissed his lips, he could smell the expensive perfume she wore – sweet and sugary like her.
"Maybe, I don't know her very well." She mussed up his hair in wild waves – he really needed a haircut, it was starting to look like Niagara Falls.
She pushed his chair back and sat on the corner of his knee. She lean forward and leaned over the McDonalds bag. She pulled out two double cheeseburgers, two French fries, and two apple pies. She handed him one of each item before digging into hers. She settled with her back against his desk which helped slow his heartbeat. Her short frame settled comfortably against his knees, her feet dangling in the air because his chair was up so high. She was only 5'4 but she could eat a lot. And she wasn't one of those I can only eat salad once a week with no dressing and cube of cheese a day for the rest. She ate, and when he says that he means it. She eats some of the most unhealthy foods known to man but she works her ass off to keep her muscular frame. Tiny, but a fighter. Definitely not a Princess like he tends to call her.
"Is that good, Princess?" her noses wrinkles up at the nickname. He adores that look. She nods because she has a mouthful.
"You?" she says around her hand because of the cheesy burger in her mouth. He smiles and nods.
She twists around and looks at his screen. Her hand moves towards the mouse. Thinking fast, he grabs her wrist and twists it around to kiss the inside of it. She blushes.
"You can wait." He says huskily.
She rolls her eyes, "I'm the boss, if I want to check up on my workers I will." She turns back around and looks through the PowerPoint. Was she telling him something? Was she warning him to stop snooping? He choked on his French fries. Without looking away from the screen, her hand hits his back to help clear up to blockage.
She clicks the Word document and he could swear he was going to have a heart attack right then and there. She turned around and pecked his lips, "Breathe, it's good. The project, I mean." She trailed her hand down the side of his face, an unread emotion in her eyes. "No need to kill yourself."
Was that a secret message?
She smiled, "I don't think you need to work on it anymore. Go home." She winks. He knew all too well where home was…
"How 'bout I meet you there. I have to make a quick pit spot."
She groans, hands on his shoulders as she leans back, "Where?"
Thinking fast, "My apartment." He knew he said the wrong thing when her eyes lit up at his answer. Damn, that was a mistake. Of course she would get excited for that, she wanted to go there.
"We can go together; I'll take you to work tomorrow."
Shit.
"No, I really need to go by myself."
She looked at him with question, "Why?" she draws out slowly.
His heart stopped. He doesn't know what to say. The only way he can think about how to get out of this situation is to let her take him to his apartment and make her wait in the car. Yeah, that might work. He could just leave the flash drive and hope Reynolds picked it up. But then she would see where he lives...
No way, no way, no way to get out of this.
He must have taken too long to answer because she started to fold her arms across her chest; her mad face was making an appearance. All he could think about is that if he let her take him there than there's really no reason to leave.
He couldn't breathe. He decided to fake his way out of this.
He acted as if he was startled as if he had phased out. He smiled like she was the most beautiful thing in the world, and maybe she was.
"What?" he asks quietly, he kept the smile on his face. "Why are you mad, love?" the word strikes something in him…he was too attached.
"Why can't I go with you? What are you hiding?"
"Nothing." But it came out breathy.
"Gale." She grabbed his face to force him to make eye contact.
"It's just, it's really shitty and well I…I don't…it's embarrassing!" when in doubt tell the truth.
"I don't care, Gale. You could live on the street in a box. Don't be embarrassed. Please." She begged.
Guess he was going with Plan A. God, he gave in too easily to her. That needed to be fixed.
When she saw his house, he knew she was embarrassed for him. There were rats running in and out of the holes in the buildings, the place smelled of death, drugs, and sex; the corner was lined up with prostitutes with their bright red lip stick and barely there outfits.
Madge wondered if Gale indulged in prostitutes. She wondered if they were even prostitutes with him and it was just total consent once they reached his apartment. She felt underdressed in her pencil skirt and white button down blouse with a black strip down the center to hide the buttons and her black pumps, freshly shined. And don't forget the black and white Camaro parked behind her.
"Stay in the car, and lock the doors." Gale said, nudging Madge towards the driver's side door.
She did as she was told. Gale didn't know if she just decided to obey him for once or was actually scared. He stayed by the passenger side door until he heard the locks slide into place. He tried the handles to make sure. It was locked.
He raced into the apartment building, running up the stairs in threes. He didn't bother with the elevators because they hardly worked and he didn't have time to wait. Once he reached the fifth floor he shouldered his way passed the stairwell door. The sickly colored green door slapped shut behind him – there were no locks. His paced picked up with each steps until his feet stopped in front of his own sickly green door. He fished the silver key from his pocket, the only other keys on the ring was his P.O. box, car key, and storage unit key.
He opened the door and walked to the fold out table off to the side, near the kitchen that he got for $5 at a garage sale. He set the black flash drive on the table and debated leaving a note for Reynolds. The pad of sticky notes eyed him down as he mental went through the process of decision making. He decided to go with it just to make sure Reynolds knew this was the flash drive he needed, not the ones from high school and college shoved in the drawer of his desk in the far left corner of the apartment.
He decided to pack a bag of clothes to bring to Madge's. He grabbed his duffle from the corner of the bedroom as he passed it. He grabbed out a pair of black boxers, the best pair he had. He deliberates whether or not to change into them from the ratty red ones he has on now. You know, for working in a fancy, high class business…you'd think he'd buy himself nice underwear. He decides against it because he was already wasting too much time. He shoved the black in the bag and slammed the drawer shut. He went to the next drawer – shirts – where he froze in place once he opened it.
Lying inside was a matte black handgun with a pack of ammunition beside it. His blood ran cold if not completely stopped pumping towards his veins. His hand was posed over it, inches away that he could swear that cold air was radiating off of it. The gun almost blended in with the black tank tops and black V-necks. He slips his hand to the very bottom shirt – a black V-neck – and very cautiously jiggled it free. Next he went to the pants drawer for some athletic shorts and there laid a notecard from his kitchen table next to the sticky notes. The note read: Have fun.
He didn't know if that was meant as call to action to kill Madge, himself, or both. Or did Reynolds know that he and Madge were fucking? Of course he could spin some tale of why he's fucking Madge, like to get information slow but steadily. But Reynolds was too smart for that. He'd see right through that in a heartbeat.
Once again, Gale didn't touch the note but took the bottom pair of shorts. He shoved them quickly into his bag and rushed out the door.
His mind was whirling with thoughts so loud it was like screamo music. He could hardly think pass the gun in his bedroom. It was illegal to have a gun where he lived because they were surrounded my mental ill children's neighborhood.
The pores in his armpits are like waterfall now. He can feel sweat drip down, nice and slowly, to his waist. He felt disgusting. His shirt stuck to his back and heart pumped too hard, too fast. His chest felt way too tight and his stomach queasy. He didn't know how much more of this spy stuff he could handle. It was taking a kicker out of him. He just wanted this over and done with, but that didn't look like it was going to be soon.
He leaned his hand against his wall and his head against his hand. He tried deep breathing again and got the same results – suffocation and anxiety. He didn't know how long he was standing there until arms wrapped around his chest. He knew it was her. No skin was that unmarred and silky soft around here. He hasn't seen an arm without scars living here. And even if it wasn't her skin that gave her away, it would be the thousands of dollars diamond bracelets she has on each wrist.
"It's okay; you're going to be okay." He wanted to believe but he couldn't. Everyone said that because they don't know how to deal with emotional people, and maybe they just don't want too. It makes a lot of people uncomfortable. But, dammit, he wanted comfort, real comfort. He wanted Madge to be the one to comfort him. He was tired of always having to be strong because, in reality, he was scared shitless. That damn prison bunk was flashing before his eyes, it was palpable and he felt like he was actually there – rotting away in his cell being someone's prison bitch. He didn't want to be someone's prison bitch, he thinks weakly.
"You're going to be just fine, Gale." She whispers. But he wasn't. He was headed straight for Federal Prison with probably no parole. He could already feel the straps of suicide watch across his chest and hips and thighs. The world seemed to be strangling him.
Madge ran her hands up his chest, down his shoulders, until she reached his sides. She glided her hands slowly down them and lingered at his waist, squeezing it slightly. She moved her hands again. This time to his hips.
He lifted his head off his hand, but he kept his hand against the wall for support. Anxiety and panic surged through his body in overproduction. He felt like his own body was betraying him, like it was trying to overdose itself.
"Breathe." She commanded him as she leans down to grab his duffle bag that had slipped off his shoulder sometime during his panic attack. He closed his eyes and commanded himself to breathe. She offered her hand when his eyes snapped back open. His hand slips easily into hers like it was meant to be there forever.
She watches him closely as he makes the slow trek down the stairs. He doesn't look at her, only his feet to save himself the embarrassment. As they walked through the front entrance, she squeezed his hand lightly and reassuringly.
She opened the passenger side door for him. Her hands were mere inches away from his body at all times just in case he needed her. She was worried about him. Something was up and she wanted to know what. He seemed ill. She wanted to offer to walk him to bed earlier on the stairs but she figured he wouldn't appreciate that because he already seemed iffy on her being at his apartment. But mostly importantly…if he was sick, she wanted him in her bed where she knows he'll get a good night's sleep, and she can be there for him when needed.
Madge has tried so hard to make this just a fling, but seeing him like this, all disoriented, she realizes that maybe he means more than just a nice fuck and a good employee. She keeps her hand on his thigh the whole ride to her place. She wasn't sure if she was fooling or herself or what, but he felt colder than normal. Usually he felt extremely warm, like the blankets in the morning on a cold day.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she whispered, her eyes glued to the road. She hardly ever let her eyes wander from the road. Not after her mother's car accident that left her bed ridden.
He grunts, "Just stressed out, I guess." He answers plainly.
"I already told you the boss will love your presentation." She tries to joke and flirt at the same time. She hopes she can cheer him up.
"It's not that." All the cheering up she was trying to do seemed to die off pretty quickly. She frowned at the red light as she rolled to a stop. He sounded tired and his leg muscle clenched under her hand.
"Then what is it?" she questions quietly.
"Nothing."
She bit her lip. She hated when people didn't talk to her. She was a big believer in talking helped and practiced it as much as she could with the people she loved and trusts. She couldn't stand when people didn't share that view because she always felt that they felt that no one cared or could understand. Madge wanted to understand Gale's problems. She wanted to be able to help fix them.
A thought struck her. What if she can't fix it? What if she was the problem?
The light turns green before she could look over at him. They drove for some time in silence as they whine down the curving road towards her home cliff. The dark, ominous woods loaming behind her house grow bigger as the Camaro swirls gracefully around each curve and bend until she pulled it perfectly straight into the garage.
She grabs his bag before he could, a playfully smile turning up her red lips. He smirks, a mischievous look playing in his eyes like stars in the sky. He jumps out of the car and she takes off running towards the garage door that leads into the house. He was quick on her tail. She throws the bag on the couch before scrambling over it, hoping his follows her lead.
He does. He always does.
They race up the stairs to her main master bedroom. He pulled her into a behind hug and unzipped the white lacy dress with the black zipper down the front. It slowly reveals her toned stomach and cream colored set of bra and panties. She lifted her foot up level to his hip. His hands guide themselves down her leg to the red soled Louboutin shoe that graced her aching feet. She becomes several inches shorter as she lift the other leg up level to the middle of his thigh. Doing the same to her other leg, he slips the shoe off. Instant relief settles in her feet.
It doesn't take them long to get develop their natural rhythm again. Before long, Gale sits comfortably in his ratty, red boxers, her fingers tracing the waistband repeatedly. His one arm is thrown behind his head and the other is wrapped around her shoulder. His thumb swayed back and forth against her skin in hypnotizing swirls. She snuggles closer into him because she knows he loves to keep her as close as possible. Her hair is spread out across his chest in vibrant, yellow waves like the sun threw up confetti and streamers. The moon gave her natural hair highlights and made her hair have a cool silver color.
Whatever was bothering him earlier didn't seem to be bothering him now. It made her feel lighter to know he was alright now.
She looks up at him, he looked down at her. She smiled sweetly before snapping the waistband of his boxers against his flat stomach.
"What?" he mumbles adorably.
"I like these boxers."
He laughed and said, "I like them too."
"I can tell, they show the use." She giggles as they fall into a peaceful silence again.
The next time she looks at him is because his thumb halted on her shoulder. She looks up she finds a beautiful man. His eyes are closed and his face is stress-less. He looked so young, maybe around fifteen. His mouth is faintly opened, the blackness of his mouth the only thing you can see. For the first time, she notices that his eyelashes brush his cheekbones. Her breath catches in her throat. She smiles brightly before drifting off herself.
…
The blaring sound of Ryan Seacrest's voice wakes Gale with a start. He's alone in the overly white bed. The spot next to him still has some warmth lingering to the covers. Last night slowly peeks through the holes of his groggy mental state. The shower and the source of Ryan Seacrest's voice shuts off abruptly and soon a towel wrapped Madge steps through bathroom doorway.
She walks over and caresses his face before planting a kiss to his lips. "Good morning." Her minty fresh breath rolls over his skin.
He groans and throws an arm over his eyes. He could definitely get use to this.
"Here…" She says before his duffle bag hits his groin. He leans forward a little. This time, when he groans, it's not one of pleasure. It's one of pain.
He slips out from under the warm covers and walks sleepily towards the bathroom. He slides into the shower for a quick rinse down and a quick shampoo. By the time he's out in five minutes his body and hair smells like fresh, ripe strawberries and the dust of last night is fully gone. He leans back to crack his back before putting on his clean clothes.
She drives him to work (she obviously had to since they left his car in the parking garage). They drove behind the employee parking garage to the back end. She drives her car up the steep ramp to her own private sector that will lead directly to her office through an enclosed ramp. A valet takes her car and drives it up to the top level as she walks to the door. At the door, a doorman opens it and offers to take her coat and get her coffee or tea. She asks for an iced caramel mocha from the break room. They ignore Gale like he don't exist but they allow him clearance to the ramp. She unlocks the office door and allows him in before her. She dead bolts the door shut behind her and unlocks her other office door so her employees can get in and out.
She looks at him and winks, "I guess you better get with your team and pound out last minutes changes before your big presentation."
He nods and takes it as his que to leave.
Gale meets with his team to go over their presentation. When the clock reached 8:45 in the morning the group packed up their materials and head towards Undersee's office.
She smiles politely at the nervous presenters. She listens intently to the project's update. None of them beg her to save their project because they know she doesn't want to hear it. Gale offers a different direction. She shoots back relocation within the company. No one says a word, silence follows her statement. No one wants to be relocated. Gale can't be relocated or Federal Prison is his new home. She laughs and gives them the go ahead to change directions. Madge winks at Gale as he leaves.
Gale forgot all about his "real job." He was so focused on all things Madge and Undersee Enterprise.
Since the rest of the group is doing all the calling and ordering, Gale has the day off. He decides to do more snooping.
He's heavily snooping on Project Alamo when his phone rings. It's the CFO, Martin Vanguard. He demands Gale to show up in his office immediately, he didn't sound happy. Gale's heart is racing a marathon. He has to have been caught snooping all day. Suicide watch restraints tighten their hold on him.
He decides to take the stairs to push back his release into prison for a few more minutes. He thinks about his life and all the good times flash like a slideshow in his memories. He lingers on his siblings and mother. He tries to remember the last time he saw them and what they were wearing. What they looked like.
He swallowed hard as Martin Vanguard's assistant lets him into the big man's office. The paneling was a cherry wood and everything was slick wood with a great view of the dropping cliff. The ocean's rushing currents seems to hold his awaiting death in his grip. He half wonders if Martin will just throw him off the ledge and kill him right here right now, or if he will let Gale take his chances in prison.
When Gale turns the corner of his office he comes face to face with Reynolds and Martin Vanguard. His heart stops death in his chest. His heavy feet carry him to the couch. He sits on the edge just in case he might have a chance to make a run for it.
But when Madge Undersee, herself, comes into the office and sits next to Martin he knows he's toast. Their eyes lock and stay locked for a long time. They only break their gaze when Reynolds laughs darkly.
"Found a bedmate while you were here, Hawthorne?"
Gale doesn't say anything which is the wrong thing to do, but he can't form the words to say no. Her face breaks a little but she says: "I don't think I found myself a bedmate, but that's just me. Maybe it's different for him." Her voice is ice cold. Gale could only shake his head no, it was different for him. He found the One. And here he is, screwing everything up like always.
She pressed her lips together to hold off a smile, but her eyes glistens with happiness. Too bad this was all going to go down to the slammer. He was going to the slammer. They would all get away with everything because they have money and he didn't. He was in a shithole and there's only one thing to do in a shithole…be shitless. He was terrified shitless. He was done for.
His stomach was coils into a hot ball that seems to burn his insides alive. His face felt hot and cold at the same time, as does his body.
He was going to be someone's prison bitch.
It was the end for him.
A prison bitch, what a way to go…
"Why were you extensively looking up Project Alamo?" Martin Vanguard questions, his voice made out of steel. Gale didn't know if it was just because he was pissed or if it was part of his personality.
Gale pointed to Reynolds. If he was getting thrown under the bus than so was Reynolds. He wouldn't be in this mess if Reynolds hadn't made him. But deep down, Gale knew he got himself here with fraud.
Life with no parole…
Prison bitch…
Restraints…
Life…
Life…
Life…
He was 26 years old and would never see the light of day again. He was fucked. So fucked.
"You know what this means, Mr. Hawthorne, don't you?" the steel voice penetrated him like a baseball bat to the face.
He nods.
"Say it." He hissed.
"Jail time." Gale manages to choke out before Martin could pounce on him. Madge rested her hand on Martin's shoulders so he would calm down.
Martin and Reynolds and even Madge let out a chuckle, "Jail time, boy are you stupid? Federal Prison is where you'll be going. I sure hope you didn't like the view so much; it will be such a bummer since you won't ever get to see it again." He sneers at Gale.
Gale tried to swallow but couldn't even manage that. The spit got stuck in his throat and he sits uncomfortably trying to get it down.
"Gale." Madge's voice is like a soft whisper against Martin's. "We won't send you to prison if you tell me one thing."
"We will?" Martin is surprised.
It doesn't make Gale feel any better. Even if Madge doesn't send him to prison, Reynolds will.
"What?" Gale can at least try to get out of life in prison. He'd rather take 80 years than life any day.
She leans forward, taking his limp hand in her strong grip. "What's 2 + 2?"
"Huh?" he's completely thrown off guard.
"2 + 2, it's a simple, basic math question." She smiles softly.
"4?"
"No, it's 5." She laughs before leaning farther towards him. She kisses him deeply, but he can't even enjoy it because he's end has not been finalized.
"You're so cute, you know that?" she kisses his jaw quickly, her hands tangled in his messy locks. Gale stares at her blankly.
"You know, you shouldn't have done what you did at Reynolds. You really shouldn't of, but that brought me to you. We found out about you, not Reynolds. We devised a plan to make you my spy so I could meet you. I remember seeing you at the Costal Concert. You were something I couldn't pass up. You just made it easy. Gale…I don't mean to scare you away, but you're it. You're mine."
"But…b-buut…but…" he lets out a breath, "Reynolds!" he blanches.
"Is my brother." She smiles sweetly. Gale's head whips around and stares at the man he's loathed since he started at Undersee Enterprise. He nods and kissed his sister's check.
Gale makes an inhumane sound. He couldn't process this.
"The gun?"
"Something to scary you." Reynolds smirks like the devil himself.
"But I should be going to prison! I committed fraud!" he blanches.
"We can make arrangements, if you like." Gale's shakes his head no so forcefully Madge is afraid it's gonna going flying off his shoulders.
She kisses him again before moving to sit beside him. She wraps her hands around his freezing ones.
"I still don't like that you're fucking our sister, but if she wants a scumbag like you, well I guess I have to let her choose. She'll see soon enough." Reynolds says.
"Our?"
They nod towards Martin.
"But Vanguard isn't the same and neither is Reynolds."
"We all have different fathers." Madge whispers again his jaw. "Now come on, I have some important information to talk to you about in my office."
Both her brothers groan in dismay. Everyone knew no talking was going to be happening.
Madge dragged Gale off to her office couch.
A/N: Feedback and Suggestions are always favorable! I am taking suggestions! Just comment and favorite and follow! Thanks!
Once again, not all mini stories will be gadge, but will always contain Gale in some sort of way for the most part!