Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
Chapter 2
AN: Once again, many thanks to Fortunefaded2012 and Nursekelly0429 for putting up with my nonsense.
AN 2: To clear up any confusion, this story is basically an 'alternate ending' to 'Down the Rabbit Hole' and 'In the Looking Glass'. It's a 'what if' one or two things had gone down differently and Madge had made it out of Twelve with her mother instead of ending up in Ten, and Birdy didn't die. I just didn't want to rewrite the last two chapters of 'In the Looking Glass'. I hope that makes sense. Sorry.
#######
Neither Madge nor her mother get much sleep that night, for more than one reason.
Madge's nights in the forest had been filled with nightmares of her father, of fire and bombs, but sleep isn't even a possibility in their new home.
Their roommate's children, a pair of girls who have apparently never had a bedtime or used their 'indoor voices' in their short lives, keep them up with noisy games. Very noisy games, which involve throwing a hard rubber ball against the wall and screeching at the top of their lungs until the very early morning.
"I can't live like this," Madge's mother tells her weakly, covering her ears with her hands and fighting back tears. "Can't she make them stop?"
Whether because she couldn't-the girls had apparently carried on like this their whole lives-or because she simply no longer heard the hell her little darlings were raising, their mother did nothing and seemed wholly unaware of their antics when Madge asked her about it in the morning.
"You must be dreaming," their mother had told Madge. "How could they be up now if they'd been up all night?"
Madge isn't sure where the pair get all their energy, but it certainly doesn't come from resting.
Glad to be free, even if only for a few hours, as the little script on her arm tells her she will be, Madge gets up at an unpleasantly early hour and gathers up her mother before heading to breakfast.
Her mother rubs at the tattoo, tries to blot it off as they walk to the cafeteria, frowning deeply when it refuses to vanish.
"I don't like this," she tells Madge. "It makes me look dirty, and I'm not."
Looping her arm through her mother's, Madge tries to comfort her. "It's okay, mom. Everyone has one. They won't think anything of it."
She looks unconvinced, but increases her pace anyway.
When they get to the cafeteria, at what Madge feels is an unholy hour, they find it completely empty save a few unhappy looking workers.
"Excuse me," Madge asks a man in a grease stained apron. "What time is breakfast served?"
"Same time everyday and not yet," he tells her sharply before lumbering away, grumbling to himself.
Still confused, Madge looks around, trying not to inhale the unpleasant smells coming from the kitchen. Something horrible finally begins to dawn on her.
"Oh."
Looking down at her arm, Madge frowns, sighs, then turns to her mother. "Stay here."
Dashing off and leaving her wary looking mother standing in the middle of the cafeteria, Madge quickly finds a tall, thin woman with all her dull brown hair trapped up under her hairnet.
"Ma'am?" She gets the woman's attention and holds out her arm. "I think maybe we're supposed to help in the kitchen."
The woman, her name badge reads 'Constance', nearly has to double over to see Madge's arm, squinting at it for a minute before sighing. "That you are."
She lifts her arm, which isn't much more than bone with loose flesh draped over it, and points her bony finger toward a lonely looking doorway across the room. "Go talk to Josephette. She'll straighten you out."
With a nod of thanks Madge runs back to her mother and gives her the news.
"So come on," she takes her mother by the hand. "Might as well get this over with."
Josephette, a tiny, ancient woman made of wrinkles and an overly large pair of glasses, nods and smiles toothlessly as Madge explains to her what's happened.
"I have no cooking experience. At all." And she's certain that getting too close to whatever they're attempting to smother in gravy in the kitchen will only kill any desire she has to learn.
Josephette, the manager of the kitchen, gives her a sympathetic smile. "I wish I could tell you to head back home, missy, but rules is rules you know." She stands, every bone in her fragile body cracking as she does. "You two must be a special case. No one else has been assigned jobs yet, you know?"
Madge grits her teeth. No, she didn't know that.
This is retaliation. The people that had wanted to take Madge and her mother to holding are getting back at them for escaping that fate by making them serve the starving masses. It's meant to be a slap in the face, and that more than anything annoys Madge. Her grandfather had been a cook of sorts. Just because Madge has no cooking skills doesn't mean the work done by those in the kitchen is degrading, just not something Madge has any ability to do.
She silently fumes on their behalf.
Giving Madge a small smile, Josephette jerks her thumb toward the kitchens and the nauseating smell.
Seeing no way out despite being certain she'll end up poisoning half the District, Madge trails after, towing her mother along as she does.
"They sent me a dossier on you two," Josephette finally says. "The Mayor's wife and daughter, huh?"
Knowing that this is an attempt at humiliating them, Madge raises her chin. She won't let them crush her.
"Don't get all defensive, missy. I'm not going to put you down for that," Josephette chuckles. "You used to work in the family candy shop, Mrs. Undersee?"
Madge's mother smiles brightly. "Oh yes! My father owned it. We sold it after he died."
Josephette gives them another gummy smile and leads them to a back room. It's small, gray, like everything else, and filled with metal bowls and utensils. It smells like cleaning solution.
"It's been years since we had any candy," Josephette tells them. "If you remember how."
Looking over at her mother, beaming as though her birthday has come early, Madge knows she most certainly remembers how.
#######
For nearly a week, from sun up to sun down-if there had been a sun to measure time by-Madge works in the kitchen with her mother, making every candy she can remember how to.
It isn't bad work, and at times she finds herself enjoying it. At the very least it keeps her mind active, lets it wander to things she knows she shouldn't think too hard on less often.
What had been intended as a comical punishment, forcing the two formerly most powerful women in the District into kitchen work, hadn't exactly panned out. In fact, it had helped Madge in her efforts to avoid the Hawthornes, extract herself from their lives and give them back to the person they rightfully belonged to. Katniss.
Besides, while it wasn't Madge's ideal way to spend her days, her mother glowed and hummed, clearly enjoying every moment of her time making candies for the citizens of District Thirteen, even if none of them knew who was making the treats for them.
It would've been perfect if not for Vick and Rory's persistence in finding them.
He and Rory had apparently gone to the cramped little apartment Madge and her mother were being forced to share with the woman and her children and poked and prodded until they were told where the pair had been assigned. After they figured out the kitchen schedule they showed up every day without fail, sometimes when Madge suspects they ought to be in class.
"You made these?" Vick asks, popping a piece of glass candy into his mouth and cracking it between his teeth.
"They don't let us have much when we're in line," Rory grumbles as he picks at some divinity, eating it in pieces while he watches Madge's mother make more.
"When do you get off?" Vick asks between stolen candies. "We can walk you home."
Madge shakes her head. He already knows the answer. "Not until after the dishes are done."
She gives him a small smile when he huffs in annoyance.
"We can come back for you," Vick offers, widening his eyes in an effort to win Madge over.
She shakes her head and he scowls.
"Come on, Madge," Rory pleads between bites of fudge. "You don't really want to go back to the devil's spawn do you?"
Madge shoots him a look. She'd told both he and Vick about the noisy girls and their useless mother on the first day they'd come to see her, about the sleepless nights and the pounding on the walls. They'd both offered up their own beds as an alternative.
"Me and Rory can sleep on the floor and you and your mom can sleep on the beds," Vick had eagerly told her.
"Vick," Madge had given him a small smile. "You know they won't let us do that. Families as big as yours get their own apartment and no add-ons, remember?"
"Well if you want to share a bed with Gale we can swing it that the two of you are shacking up until you get married or something," Rory offers, wagging his eyebrows.
"No," Madge answered flatly back, fighting down the fluttering in her stomach at the thought of sharing any space with their big brother.
With a roll of her eyes, Madge glares at Rory. "I may not want to go back to our room, but I'm tired and dirty when I get off and I don't want to do anything."
It sounds like a weak excuse to her ears, pathetic even, but she doesn't have any other ammo.
"Come on, Madge. Posy misses you," Vick whines.
Madge doubts Posy even remembers who she is.
"Gale misses you," Rory adds with another obnoxious wag of his eyebrows, earning him a lump of fudge between the eyes. "Hey!"
"If you don't want Gale around…" Vick starts, chewing his lip.
Madge almost snaps that she wants Gale around more than anything, but manages to hold it in and focuses on breaking apart the strawberry flavored glass candy her mother had passed off to her.
Exasperated by their persistence, Madge takes off her little plastic gloves and presses her fingers to her eyes. "That isn't it-"
"So you do miss Gale," Rory cocks an eyebrow.
"That-no-well-"
"Do you miss parts of Gale?"
"Rory!" Madge's eyes fly open to find Rory grinning wickedly at her.
"What?" He asks as innocently as he can manage, which isn't very. "He won't even be there for ages. He's never home."
That doesn't make Madge feel any better. Gale not being there means he's somewhere else, more specifically most likely with someone else and that makes her stomach churn with jealousy.
He's with Katniss. Even if neither of the boys say as much. Gale is with Katniss, and Madge can imagine any number of things they might be doing. None of it settles her stomach.
"You should go with the boys," Madge's mother finally comes out of her candy making trance and says. "I'll go back to the apartment and hide in the bathroom."
"Mother, no." Madge presses her fingers to her temples. She isn't going to have a semi-pleasant evening while her mother hides in the bathroom from the evil brats inhabiting their apartment.
"You're invited too, Mrs. Undersee!" Vick tells her, his voice cracking slightly. His cheeks darken and he coughs. "I mean, we want you to come too."
Despite heavy misgivings, Madge and her mother go with the boys, down the twisting dark halls, in the silent elevators, to their family's apartment.
It's as gray as everything else, but clean, neat and tidy. Madge expected nothing less.
"Madge! Matilda!" Mrs. Hawthorne beams at them and pulls them into a hug. "I'm so glad you finally came."
Posy, it seems, does remember them, throwing herself at Madge's stomach and into a vice like hug when she spots her.
"I thought we'd lost you!" She squeals.
Gale is nowhere to be seen.
"We're going to play a game tonight," Vick quickly tells them, pulling Madge from Posy's grip. "Do you know go fish?"
#######
After what feels like several thousand rounds of go fish, then playing a memory game, then a guessing game, and finally fifty-two card pick up, the evening slowly catches up to the children.
Posy gets cranky, throwing herself on the cards and refusing to participate in the pick up before her mother gathers her up and takes her to bed, telling Madge and her mother a quick good night.
"I'm just not young enough to stay up so late," she tells Madge through a yawn.
Vick nods off, despite telling them he's 'only resting his eyes' several times before finally drifting into sleep.
Rory, however, shows no sign of fading.
"Alright, now that the babies are off in slumber land," Rory pops his fingers, "we can play some real cards."
Madge snorts at that while her mother sleeps quietly on her shoulder.
"You know poker?" He asks.
Nodding, Madge takes the deck from him and starts cutting it. Her father and Mr. Abernathy have -had a weekly game for years. They'd taught Madge everything they knew.
The memory stings, she doesn't want to think about the past, so she bats it away and focuses on the cards. "What are we playing for?"
"Clothes?"
Groaning, Madge shakes her head. "No, Rory, we aren't playing poker then."
"Why not?"
She shoots him a look. "You know why."
"You aren't any fun." Rolling his eyes, he takes the cards back. "Fine. Truth or dare."
He's up to something, he always is, but she doesn't know what, so she takes the bait.
"Fine, yourself." She bites her lip. "Truth."
"Damn." He glances over his shoulder, to where his mother had vanished with Posy minutes before. "Alright, tell me, Miss Undersee, is it my charming personality or my budding manhood that draws you to me?"
Madge snorts so hard she nearly wakes her mother. "Budding manhood? Rory, who do you hang out with to come up with this stuff?"
He shrugs, scratches at his nose. "Just answer the question."
Trying not to laugh louder, Madge grins. "Well, while your 'budding manhood' is impressive, I think, you definitely have the most interesting personality of any guy I've ever met."
Rory smiles. "Thank you."
She hadn't necessarily meant it as a compliment, but however he takes it is fine with her.
"My turn." Madge presses her hands together in thought. "Okay, Young Master Hawthorne, who do you have a crush on?"
"Aside from you?" He tugs his mouth over in contemplation. "Chastity Shumard. She has really big-"
Madge holds up her hand. "Do you not think of anything else?"
"Rarely."
For a second Madge stares at him, wondering how someone so completely and hopelessly open, friendly and funny and obnoxiously charming as Rory could possibly share genes with Gale. He and Vick are the antithesis of their brother. Where it took a disaster for him to even see Madge as a human being, his brothers had never uttered so much as a disparaging word in her presence.
It is a conundrum, and not one she's likely to decipher anytime soon.
"Alright," Rory crosses his arms, his face uncharacteristically serious. "Do you like Gale or not?"
It takes a minute for his words to register with her, roll around in her mind and create a response.
"What?" Is as articulate as her mind can make her mouth.
"Do you like my idiot brother?" Rory frowns deeply. "It isn't a deep question. Either yes or no."
Madge closes her eyes. He might not think it's a complicated question, but really, it is.
Gale is with Katniss, even if not in any official capacity. That's how it's always been and that's how it'll continue to be. There's no place for Madge in the equation or in his heart, no matter how she may feel about him.
"It doesn't matter," she finally says, giving him a small look through her bangs. "What I feel doesn't matter."
"Says who?" He looks offended on her behalf.
Sighing, Madge rubs her eyes, she's tired and she won't get enough sleep as it is, adding Rory's probing question to her mind will only make the few short hours the sisters aren't awake annoying her restless.
"No one has to say it, Rory." Some people just matter less, she thinks, and she's one that matters less. Definitely less than Katniss.
He opens his mouth, starts to give his rebuttal, but the door to the apartment open and in steps Gale.
His color is better, despite there being no woods for him to disappear in to. The doctors have apparently fixed his arm, the sling is gone and he seems to be moving it without difficulty.
The gray of his outfit seems to make his eyes glow unnaturally, brilliant and bright, stormy as ever, and Madge feels her mouth go dry at the sight. It takes effort to keep her jaw from dropping open.
His eyebrows knit together as he takes in the scene, one of his brothers sprawled out and the other holding a deck of cards in front of the former mayor's daughter and wife, both covered from head to toe in white powder. It's a baffling vision.
"Hi," he finally says, his voice rumbling through the still air of the apartment.
As if his voice drew her from her trance, Madge suddenly feels the air grow heavy. She needs to leave.
"We were just leaving," she says, pulling her mother up without bothering to wake her first.
"Are we going back?" Her mother asks, yawning. "I was enjoying the quiet…"
Gale frowns as Madge brushes past him, muttering a soft goodbye to Rory as she heads for the door, ignoring his protest.
"Are we in a hurry?" Her mother asks as Madge lets the door slide closed behind them and tugs her down the hall, toward the elevators and freedom.
"Yes," she mumbles, rushing down the hall.
It's late and the hallways are empty, the only noises are Madge and her mother's footsteps echoing emptily against the dark floors and the hum of electricity through the little sconces on the walls providing the dull shine of light.
When they get to the elevator Madge frantically smashes the button down, wanting nothing more than to get as much distance between herself and the Hawthornes as she can. It was a mistake coming to their game night and she'd known it. Never again.
After what feels to be an eternity, the doors to the elevator slide open, revealing the small dimly lit compartment, gray as always.
Her mother in tow, Madge gets on and presses her back to the metal wall and her hands to her face, fighting off a sob of relief.
She shouldn't have come. The Hawthornes' apartment is off-limits and she knows that. Seeing Gale is off-limits. It only constricts her heart and makes breathing uncomfortable. Her infatuation is going to be the end of her and she can't accept that.
A cool hand comes to rest on her shoulder, startling her into dropping her hands.
Hazy blue eyes and pale lips smile sadly at her. "My sweet girl."
Unable to keep it in anymore, a small sob breaks from Madge's chest and out her mouth as she crumbles down against the wall of the elevator as it descends deeper into District Thirteen.
"I'm being ridiculous," she blubbers, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand as her mother wraps her arm around her and whispers soft and comforting things into her hair.
Maybe it's the lack of sleep or the long hours or Rory's questions or her weakness in general, but she can't stop crying. She's torturing herself. She'd been doing so well and in a moment of weakness she'd gone to a place she'd known Gale would be unavoidable. This was a hell of her own making and now she'd be up most of the night crying over something completely within her control.
"The heart is always ridiculous, love," her mother whispers, pressing a kiss into Madge's hair.
Looking up, though her powdered sugar coated hair and teary eyelashes, Madge sees her mother give her the smallest smile. She understands, somehow.
Nodding, Madge tucks her chin to her chest and lets her mother hold her for the rest of the ride
#######
They slowly make their way back to the apartment, through the dim halls of the lowest level and the musky smell of garbage. Madge suspects they were given an apartment closest to the garbage processing center.
There's a sliver of light peeking out from under the door to their apartment, cutting harshly into the dark of the hall. Madge almost groans, despite the lateness, or perhaps because of it, the girls are still up.
Despite all past nights, she'd hoped fruitlessly that they'd have finally decided to stop being nocturnal.
Exchanging a somber look with her mother, Madge fishes the keycard to the apartment out of her pocket and swipes it, causing the door to swish open noisily.
It's silent.
Confused and a little worried, Madge holds her mother back and peeks in.
The two little girls are sitting on the floor, slumped over onto one another, barely able to keep their eyes open. Their mother is sitting, stiff and terrified in one of the two lumpy chairs the living room contained.
In the other, looking a bit yellow and quite annoyed, is Mr. Abernathy.
"Where've you two been?"
Madge is too stunned by his appearance to answer. Her mother, on the other hand, leans in past the edge of the door, eyes wide. "Haymitch?"
Every ounce of irritation seems to melt from his face at his name. His mouth twitches up into a smile, making every wrinkle on his face crinkle severely.
Her mother pushes Madge in, but before they can even close the door, Mr. Abernathy has strode across the room, large gray bag in hand and started pushing them back out.
"Mr. Abernathy," Madge yelps as he takes her by the upper arm and ushers her back into the hall. "What are you doing?"
He glares back over his shoulder at the roommate and her still children before hitting the keypad, making the door fly shut.
"Getting you two out of here," he tells her gruffly, throwing the bag over his shoulder.
Madge's mother, her eyes glowing in the light of the small security light by their door, frowns. "But we live here."
Mr. Abernathy shifts the bag on his shoulder and watches Madge's mother as she continues to stare at the door, expecting it to open and suck her back in.
He reaches out, gently takes her hand and pulls her gaze from the door. "Not anymore, 'Tilda."
A little frustrated noise makes its way out Madge's throat.
"Why not?" Why is he suddenly coming to their rescue? They've been there for weeks. Where has he been?
For a second he just stares at her, considering his answer, then he sighs.
"Haven't been much in the way of helping anyone the past couple of weeks," he finally admits, a small defeated smile finding its way onto his lips.
It takes a moment of staring, taking in his sallow color and bloodshot eyes, the slight tremor in his hand as he holds onto the strap of the bag, for his words to resonate with her. He's been ill. There's no alcohol in Thirteen, she'd heard some men grumbling about it in the kitchens. Mr. Abernathy's been going through an unpleasant withdrawal.
He hadn't even been able to take care of himself most likely, let alone come and help Madge and her mother out of their livable situation.
It makes Madge's heart ache and the long days seem paltry.
A minute, or maybe two, passes, and Madge finds her hand reaching out for his. He's here now and that's really all that matters.
She gives him a grateful smile. "Where's our new home?"
It's probably a trick of the light, almost definitely is, but Madge would swear she sees tears in his eyes as he takes her hand in his. The tremor almost vanishes as he holds onto her.
#######
Mr. Abernathy's apartment is smaller than the Hawthornes', but larger than the one they'd shared with the woman and her children.
There's one bedroom with a double bed covered in a drab quilt with a pair of flat pillows. A single bathroom, small kitchenette, and a living room large enough for a battered looking couch.
"You girls take the bed," he tells them. "I'll take the couch."
It feels wrong, this is his apartment after all, but there's not another solution.
Madge's mother falls instantly asleep, she's never had trouble with that, excepting the past couple of weeks with the devil's spawn.
It's less easy for Madge.
She tosses and turns for several hours, her mind filled with visions of her father and fire, or Gale and Katniss and all the possibilities her life could've held.
Finally, as morning approaches, she gets up to raid the tiny fridge in Mr. Abernathy's apartment. He shouldn't have it so she suspects he may have stolen it from somewhere, but she doesn't care. He might have some milk.
Quietly, she pads out the bedroom door and through the small stretch of living room to the kitchen. Without so much as a squeak, she opens the fridge, only to find it empty.
"Haven't had much reason for stocking it."
Madge nearly jumps out of her skin at the sound of his voice.
He smirks at her startled expression as he leans on the short bar separating the kitchen and living area. "Didn't mean to startle you, sweetheart."
"I'll bet," she mutters, shutting the door and glaring at him for a second longer before giving it up. He knows she isn't mad.
A little crease forms between his eyes and he studies her for a moment before he gestures for her to follow him.
They cross the room, a short distance, to the couch. Mr. Abernathy drops down with a groan, onto the sagging couch, and pats the small cushion beside him. "Have a seat kiddo."
Annoyed at his calling her a kid, she's the same age as Katniss and everyone seems to regard her as an adult, Madge crosses her arms and sits stiffly at the edge of the cushion. She turns slightly and gives him a sharp look. "What?"
He pokes her in the side. "What's with the attitude, Pearl?"
Trying not to giggle, it tickles when he does that, Madge lets herself slouch down beside him, cutting her eyes over and sighing. "I'm not a kid."
A little frown forms on his face. He reaches out and brushes a wayward strand of hair from her shoulder and sighs. "Being a kid isn't the worst thing you know?"
Madge sighs. She knows it isn't, but with everything that's happened, she feels less like a child than she ever has.
For a long moment Mr. Abernathy watches her, seems to be thinking of something, picking at his nails and chewing the inside of his cheek before he finally decides to voice whatever it is he's been contemplating.
"Why were you crying earlier?"
Madge cuts him a look. How did he know she'd been crying? "I wasn't."
He narrows his eyes. "You were."
"I wasn't."
"Was."
"Was no-oh, never mind," Madge starts to push herself up. "I need to try and get some sleep. I have work in the morning."
He pulls her back onto the couch by the back of her nightgown. "Sit yourself down. You don't have kitchen duty in the morning."
Madge crosses her arms and tilts her head. "What do you mean I don't have kitchen duty?"
A little grin forms on Mr. Abernathy's lips. "'Cause you'll be working with me."
She narrows her eyes in suspicion. There's a catch. He can't have convinced those in charge to let them change rooms and jobs all in one go.
"If I answer your question, right?"
He shakes his head. "No catch, Pearl. This is free and clear. Although I would like it if you told me who made you cry."
Covering her eyes, Madge shakes her head. "No one made me cry. I made me cry."
"Because of someone," he says again.
"Because of me."
He doesn't look convinced, just huffs and wraps his arm around her and pulls her to his side. "Whatever it is, or whoever it is, isn't worth crying over, understand?"
Letting her head come to a rest on his shoulder, Madge inhales the scent of soap and detergent on him, closes her eyes and pretends she's home and he's waiting with her on the back porch for her father to come home.
There's no creaking of the porch swing, no crickets chirping, no smell of grass and earth and warmth in the air, though, only cold air and steel and the slow clicking of the clock on the wall, and that kills the illusion.
When she opens her eyes she isn't greeted by a warm summer night, but the eternally gray walls of Mr. Abernathy's apartment.
Her father is gone and he isn't coming back. He's lost to whatever awaits them after this life. Gale and his family are gone. They belong with Katniss, in her world. A world full of strong people, not girls who cry in an elevator over seeing a boy they have no chance with. A world Madge doesn't belong to in the slightest.
She sighs. "Understood."