He is outside of his home, smoke from the grill in his eyes, and the smell of charcoal in the air. Thea sits on one of the chairs he has out on the backyard, with an opened bottle of whiskey in hand. This is a common occurrence between the two friends, spending the weekend catching up with one another and spending what they would consider quality time. Due to how often they see each other, there often aren't any new stories to tell, and when there are none, they would drink their whiskeys in silence or joke around about their futures.

But this time, he has something to tell her. He just doesn't know where to start. Although with the two of them, it doesn't matter. Thea's always been good at picking him apart, and knowing when something's on his mind. This is a skill she's evolved when they met during the rebellion.

"So, tell me, hotshot, what is it that's got you all worked up this week?" She asks before taking a swig of the whiskey. She doesn't take her eyes off of him for a second, and he can feel her stare boring into his skin, creating a hole in his bones.

She isn't wrong – she never is. Ever since he saw Madge, he's been distracted, to no fault of Madge's. He tries to focus on his job and his campaign, but he can't get his mind off the blonde who's writing reports about him and his competition, and that he can't help but search the by lines of every article he comes across for a chance that it might've been written by her. Some things, he supposes, can't be left in the past. Especially if there was never truly an end to them.

He lets out a sigh, and lets a moment of silence fall between the two of them. He almost decides to shake his head and act as though nothing is wrong, that it's just the nerves from the upcoming election, but it isn't true and she knows it. They've never kept secrets from one another, that was their thing. They're two peas in a pod, and they know each other as well as the back of their hands. "Madge. It's Madge, Thea."

He looks at her and watches her eyebrows furrow in confusion. They've beaten this topic to death long ago, back when he was still grieving the losses from the rebellion. "The Madge? The one that got away, Madge? Are you still not over that? It's been years, Gale. I'm sorry, but that girl is long gone." She grabs the other bottle of whiskey and hands it to him. "Is it because you're running as mayor and her father was the mayor? Is that what's reminding you of her?"

Gale accepts the bottle, opens it, and drinks. "Except she's not gone. I mean, she was, for a while. But she's alive. She's a journalist now. For The Tribune."

Thea's eyes widen in surprise, a slight smile curving her lips. "Wait, she's alive? So, what's the problem, then? This is great news! I mean… if you still feel that way."

"Nothing. There's no problem, I guess. It's just that… I don't know, I can't quite wrap my head around it. And you know that interview I did the day after the poll results came out? She was the journalist I spoke to."

"She wrote that article?" Thea almost laughs. "No wonder she was so nice about you. 'Speaking to Mr. Hawthorne has been such an honor.' Sorry, hotshot, but talking to you isn't all that special."

He chuckles, feeling warmth rush to his cheeks when Thea quotes Madge's article. "You say that now, but you'll wind up agreeing with her when I become Mr. Mayor and you have to have appointments to come see me."

"Except you're never going to do that to your best friend and campaign manager. And I'm willing to bet you wouldn't do that to Madge, either. Because you're a softy when it comes to her."

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he turns the chicken on the grill over. "I saw her after the interview, you know. While I was on break."

"Is that why you went on an hour long break? You guys went on a quick date?" She's laughs.

"It wasn't a date. We were just catching up. You know how it is, it's been awhile. And I thought she was dead this entire time."

"Right, okay. Do you still love her?"

He sighs and takes another swig of his whiskey. It is a difficult question to answer now, because it's been so long since they'd last seen each other, and their more recent times together have been too brief for him to be certain of anything. For now, he's just grateful she's still alive, and that she doesn't hate him for not saving her.

He remembers a time when he loved her, and how long it took for him to know that. While Katniss was away in the first game she volunteered in, he had grown to adore Madge and her softness, and how careful she was of everything despite being on the safer side of town. But at that time, his feelings for Katniss were too strong. But, when the Quarter Quell took place, and Katniss was forced to return to the arena, he became more certain of how he felt for Madge, and that feeling strengthened as they spent more time with each other. It was then that he really got to know Madge, and it was in the meadow where they'd shared hidden kisses that he convinced himself didn't mean anything.

"I don't know," he manages to say, because the truth is that he doesn't. "But I want to spend more time with her. I want to find out."


author's note: so, just to clarify - i picture these characters to be in their early 30s. still young and full of hope, but without knowledge of the world. as usual, thank you so much for reading!

hint for next chapter: liquid courage and ballgowns