Mandatory transmission was about to begin.
Thousands of people kept their eyes trained on the giant screens behind the justice building waiting for the Capitol presenters to announce the tributes' final training scores.
"...the male tribute, Cato Richards, has an overall score of… eight!" a heavily made-up woman with a lime green wig announced.
"No surprise there!" her male counterpart exclaimed, "That boy is like a 6-foot wall!"
On the screen, the woman chuckled showing off her blindingly white teeth.
Gale groaned. The show was just getting started, but he was already fed up. Career tributes getting high scores was nothing new. He was only interested in Katniss's results.
Just ten more districts to go, he thought.
Next to him, Prim whispered, "Hey, Madge! Wanna watch the transmission with us?"
Gale froze, he hadn't realized the mayor's daughter was standing so close to them.
For the hundredth time in the last few days, his traitorous memory betrayed him, and he saw her, in his mind's eye, wearing that green slip and swaying to the beat of the music under her fingers.
"Hi, Prim," Madge whispered back. "Sure, thanks."
There was a bit of a shuffle. Prim moved to make space for Madge and ended up stepping on Gale's toe.
"Sorry." Prim winced.
"It's ok," he assured her, trying his best to ignore Prim's guest.
Unfortunately, Madge had other ideas. After whispering a greeting to Mrs. Everdeen, she turned to face him. "Hi, Gale."
A lump settled in Gale's throat blocking his airways. He gave a little cough as he tried to clear it, but it was no use, it wouldn't budge.
Unnerved, he turned to face Madge. He immediately regretted it.
She was looking straight at him; cornflower eyes trained intently on his face as she, no doubt, analyzed his odd behavior.
Mustering as much courage as he could, he mumbled, "Hey."
Madge smirked. Seemingly satisfied, she turned her attention back to the screen where the presenters were getting ready to announce District 4's results.
"… and now, the final training score for 12-year old Rue Perkins, from District 11, is… a seven!" the woman in the green wig announced.
Around the town square, the crowd began to murmur. A seven was an incredibly high score for such a small girl. No one understood what she'd done to deserve it, but everyone had a theory they couldn't wait to share.
Everyone except Gale, who was too busy trying to ignore the sweet scent of fresh lilac blooms floating in the air.
Annoyed with himself, Gale shook his head. He didn't understand this new fascination he'd developed for the mayor's daughter, or how he'd instinctively recognized her perfume, but he refused to go down without a fight. One way or another, he would figure it out.
"And now, on to our last district," the male presenter announced, "Peeta Mellark, the male tribute from District 12, has a final training score of… eight!"
The crowd exploded in a round of enthusiastic applause.
Gale's eyes popped open. Eight was a surprisingly high score for someone from Twelve.
The dark voice inside his head piped in, Well, what did you expect? He's a merchant's son.
His surprise was quickly replaced by a flash of hot anger that immediately warmed up his veins. Instinctively, he turned to glare at Madge.
She must have been expecting his attack, because she stood her ground, countering his fire with an icy stare. Without a word, she turned her attention back to the screens.
Gale scowled but mimicked Madge's motions. The segment he'd been waiting for was about to begin.
"… from District 12, has a final training score of…eleven!" the Capitol woman screeched.
Eleven!
Astounded, Gale looked around the square. Everyone was jumping and screaming, gleefully celebrating Katniss's score.
He turned towards Prim and Mrs Everdeen. They were hugging and laughing, bouncing slightly as happy tears streamed down their cheeks.
Next to them, Madge laughed; her rosy cheeks glowing with joy.
When she looked up at him, his heart stuttered. He had never seen such a beautiful display of happiness before.
On the screen, the presenters rambled on. "Well, these are very unusual results for District 12," the woman said, "and to talk about them, we've brought our favorite Hunger Games specialist into the studio." Giggling obsequiously, she added, "Claudius Templesmith, it's a pleasure to have you with us."
Templesmith's booming voice filled the square. "Well, thank you, Varna," he said with a nod in the presenter's direction. "Yes, these results are completely unprecedented. District 12 has never had such high scores. Actually, the last time their tributes did so well on the training round was during the second Quarter Quell."
In the studio, the woman gasped. "Oh well, that's very interesting!"
Claudius chuckled, evidently pleased with himself. "It is indeed. I've taken the liberty of bringing a short clip from the Quell. Maybe we can play it? Remind our audiences of what District 12 is capable of?"
"Well, yes of course! I'm sure it'll be fascinating!" Varna enthused.
A moment later, the image on the screen was replaced by some grainy archive pictures accompanied by Templesmith's modulated narration.
The crowd fell silent once more as they watched the images of Haymitch Abernathy, their only living victor, flashing on the screen.
Intrigued, Gale followed the narrative closely. He didn't know much about Abernathy, just that he was a drunk, but he was curious about the man who had become Katniss's mentor and who would be responsible for helping her while she was in the arena.
"But Haymitch Abernathy wasn't alone," Claudius explained, "one of his district partners, the very resourceful Mayselee Donner, was there too."
On the screen, the image of Haymitch's face was replaced by a new face Gale had never seen.
A number on the screen indicated the girl was 16. She had cornflower blue eyes and golden hair that fell in waves all the way down to her elbows. The smile on her lips was small but looked authentic.
Gale frowned. A merchant, he thought, zooming in on the image as he tried to uncover the girl's secrets.
Suddenly, recognition sunk in, punching the air out of his lungs and making him gasp for breath.
The shape of her eyes, the delicate line of her straight nose, the soft curve of her lips. He'd seen that face before!
Astounded, he turned towards Madge.
Her eyes were fixed on the screen. Her hands, balled into tight fists by her side, were already turning white.
The joy from a few minutes before was gone. In its place, all he found was sorrow and pain.
Gale watched mesmerized as the girl standing in front of him fought with every piece of her being, determined not to break down.
A rush of warmth and sympathy flooded him as a new-found respect for the merchant girl flickered to life.
Without a word, Mrs Everdeen reached for Madge's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Turning to Katniss's mom, Madge nodded. Her eyes gleamed reflecting the light of the setting sun. "I'm gonna go check on my mom," she mumbled.
"Let me know if you need anything," Mrs Everdeen offered.
"I will. Thanks," looking back at Prim, Madge added, "see you later, Prim," and then, almost as an afterthought, "Gale."
Unable to wipe the frown from his face, Gale gave a curt nod. Once Madge was out of earshot, he leaned closer to Mrs Everdeen and asked, "So, that was Madge's..."
Keeping her eyes on the screen, Mrs Everdeen offered, "Aunt. She was Mrs Undersee's twin."
Gale nodded, allowing the information to sink in. "Did you know them? Back when–,"
"I did." A sad smile crossed her lips. "Mayselee was one of my closest friends. I still remember when her parents gave her that mockingjay pin."
Despite the summer heat, a cold shiver ran along Gale's back. "The one Katniss is wearing?" he blurted out.
"That's the one," Mrs Everdeen confirmed.
XXXXX
Gale rested his back against the trunk of the mayor's apple tree and sighed.
A full moon watched as he struggled to piece together the events of the night.
He still couldn't believe Katniss had gotten a final score of eleven. A big part of him was proud of her for managing such an impressive feat, but there was another part –the darker, stronger part- that was terrified of what a score like that meant.
Everybody knew that tributes with high scores were valued by sponsors, but they also became targets -especially when they didn't belong to any groups or didn't have any allies. Having a sponsor was a good thing, but what good was a small weapon or a bit of food when you had the whole career pack chasing after you?
Exhausted, he ran his fingers through his hair. No matter how much he thought things through, he just didn't have enough information. He had no control over what happened in the Capitol or the arena.
He looked up. His eyes searched the façade of the mayor's house until they landed on a window on the second floor. He smiled. He had seen Katniss look up there enough times to know that it belonged to Madge's room.
Madge.
Somehow, the prissy mayor's daughter had gotten under his skin.
He had spent the last few days in a daze; continually fantasizing about her, unable to control his mind from conjuring up the image of her by the piano.
In his mind, he didn't settle with watching from afar but followed his instinct to reach out and touch her, breathe her, taste her.
Gale shook his head, chuckling to himself at the absurdity of it all. All those fantasies had more to do with his hormones –and with the summer heat– than with the girl who starred in them.
But tonight was different, though. Tonight, he was worried.
Madge had done a great job of putting on a brave face, but the quarter quell footage had devastated her. It was only natural, she had never expected to find her aunt's face looking back at her from beyond the grave.
Her parting words on their last encounter rang in his ears, making him feel petty and small.
He had attacked her for giving away a chunk of metal when, in reality, what she'd given Katniss was a piece of her history, a part of her heart.
A new idea formed in his mind and, before he could lose his nerve, he got up.
Quietly, he walked around the orchard, using the moonlight to guide him until he found what he was looking for.
A triumphant smile settled on his lips as he reached down to grab the perfect rock; a flat round pebble which was lying on the grass.
With newfound determination, Gale walked back to Madge's home. Stopping right under her window, he closed his fist around the rock.
Gale took a deep, soothing breath. Then, he lifted his arm, aimed, and released the pebble, sending it flying all the way to the second floor.
The small rock hit its mark. With a soft thud, it banged against Madge's window and fell back to the ground.
Gale collected the pebble from where it had landed and repeated the whole process.
He was about to throw the rock a third time when the window slid open, revealing an intrigued, if somewhat disheveled Madge.
As soon as her eyes landed on Gale, she scowled.
The reaction made him smile.
Keeping his eyes trained on hers, he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the small notepad and pencil stub he carried to keep track of his transactions at the Hob.
Madge followed his motions. Once she saw the pad and pencil, she nodded.
In his most legible script, Gale scribbled a short note and ripped the paper from the pad.
After pocketing the pad and pencil, he wrapped the note over his pebble, took aim, and threw it in Madge's direction.
Madge moved away from the window, choosing to let the rock land on her bedroom floor instead of trying to intercept it mid-flight.
Smart girl, Gale though.
Madge appeared by the open window once more, but she didn't look out. Her blue eyes narrowed in concentration as she inspected the note she held on her open palm.
A knot settled in Gale's throat as he watched and waited for her answer; following the rise and fall of Madge's shoulders as she filled her lungs with the muggy summer air.
He was about to give up when he noticed the wistful smile dancing on Madge's lips.
She finally looked up and stared straight at him. Her eyes, bright under the pale moonlight, spoke of secrets, longing, and fear. They also spoke of hope.
Slowly, Madge nodded.
Somewhere, deep inside Gale's chest, a dream blossomed.
XXXXX
The sun was about to come out when Gale reached the back of Madge's house the next day.
On silent hunter's feet, he climbed the few steps which lead to the back porch. He was about to rap on the windowsill, using Katniss's distinctive knock, when the door swung open, and Madge came rushing out.
Startled, Gale stepped back.
"Morning," Madge whispered, smiling sheepishly at him.
Still trying to recover from the surprise, Gale clenched his jaw and nodded. Forcing himself to be a bit more civil, he asked, "Ready?"
Madge nodded back.
"Alright," gesturing towards the woods, he said, "let's go."
Madge took the lead and Gale trailed a few steps behind. They walked in silence, keeping to the back alleys and empty streets of the sleepy merchant quarter as they headed for the fence.
Once they reached the entry point to the woods, Madge stopped.
"Follow me," Gale instructed, pulling the broken sheet of barbed wire out of the way and crawling through the opening.
Madge followed.
Gale repositioned the fence to hide the broken link. Pointing his finger to the forest, he indicated, "This way."
He had only taken a couple of steps when he stopped short and turned around. "Try to step where I step," he said, "you'll be quieter that way."
Once more, Madge nodded.
For the next few minutes, they walked in silence, sticking to the well-worn paths.
Except for a few crushed leaves here and there, Madge did a good job following in his footsteps. If he hadn't been obsessively keeping track of her breathing rate, he might have forgotten that she was walking just a few steps behind.
After a short trek, they reached the small clearing and the flat ledge of rock where he usually met up with Katniss.
With a deep sigh, he lifted his hunting bag from his shoulders and flopped down on the rock. Turning back, he gestured for Madge to do the same.
Madge stood still for a moment, filling her lungs with the smell of fresh pine needles and damp earth, before accepting his invitation.
Quietly, she sat by his side, smiling in amazed reverence as she took in her surroundings.
She turned to face him, blue eyes bright as the summer sky. "Thank you," she whispered, "I've always wondered about this place," she confessed.
Her words ignited something warm and soft inside his chest, he felt it running along his veins, soothing his worries away.
"You're welcome," he replied.
Madge turned towards the treetops, her smile widened. "She's going to be alright, you know?"
"Katniss?"
"Yeah," Madge said, sounding very sure of her words. "She's resourceful, she'll find a way."
Gale nodded allowing Madge's optimism to spread through his soul for a moment.
Katniss wasn't a career, but she was a survivor. Madge was right, she had a better chance of making it back home than anyone else he knew.
He turned to look at her more fully, this strange creature who had captured his imagination over the past few days.
Most people he knew were afraid of the woods. He didn't blame them; the Capitol propaganda ran deep. But Madge wasn't scared, she wasn't even worried. Instead, she seemed completely at ease sitting next to him, a virtual stranger, while they explored this forbidden world.
She's a lot braver than I thought.
The words escaped his lips before he could stop them, "I'm sorry about your aunt."
Next to him, Madge sighed. "Thanks," she whispered keeping her eyes trained on the sky.
XXXXX
AN. One more chapter to go!
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The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.