Disclaimer: Original characters and themes are property of Suzanne Collins.
A few days had passed, and Madge had made progress. Her appetite coming back in small bouts made it easier to eat, while questions forming in her mind about the place she was in cut through the fog of pain and heartache. It hadn't gotten easier living with the knowledge that she had no family left, but she began to adapt. After all, adapting was her second nature. When her mother had fallen ill, Madge had been the one to take up watch over her while she slept, administering medicine and checking to ensure she wasn't in pain. After her father had grown absent in the wake of his wife's illness, Madge was forced with the reality that she had to take care of herself around the house; cooking, cleaning, staying busy and out of the way.
Living in 13, she tried to remind herself that she had been on her own for a long time. I should be used to feeling alone by now. Some days her thoughts were enough to take the edge off the sting, long enough to investigate her home if Otto wasn't around, but never enough to venture back out into the labyrinth of hallways.
Each night since her walk, as she closed her eyes, images of Gale Hawthorn's face filled her mind. The way he had quietly snuck up on her, eyebrows knitted in confusion as he tried to determine who she was. He doesn't realize I got out, she would sigh to herself. No one does.
Upon seeing him that night, her heart raced frantically and her body had rushed with adrenaline. She had felt something like prey to his intense gaze. Her flight instinct kicked in, saving herself before he was able to catch her. But only barely.
She couldn't risk it again, someone from District 12 seeing her. What would she say? Oh, I woke up here, drugged, and apparently saved by my father due to his political connections. I got to come here safe and sound while you were bombed, sorry.
No. She had been living her entire life with the sneers from both merchants and Seam folk alike, all assuming she was the spoiled daughter of the mayor. Assuming that she got handed everything on a silver platter while they had to work their hands to the bone and go hungry.
Madge had been something of an outcast in District 12, falling in between the Seam and merchant classes. She was something else entirely. The merchant kids at school didn't trust her for being so close in proximity to the Capitol and the peacekeepers, while the seam children didn't want anything to do with her because she had more than they did. The only thing that had saved her from complete insanity was her quiet interactions with Katniss Everdeen.
Her only friend.
Is she even alive now?
She hadn't realized that she had fallen into a daze until Otto walked in the door, carrying two silver metal trays, breaking her train of thought.
"Dinner, Madge. Are you okay?" He noticed her intense gaze on the far wall as he walked in, but now she was looking at him. She nodded and walked over to the table.
As she sat down across from Otto and began to eat, he launched into his customary recap of the happenings around District 13. Each time they ate Otto did this, most likely to fill the silence, Madge assumed. It was always trivial things, like the food they were serving and how some were continuously upset he got to take food from the mess hall, or the jobs that were being occupied by the new refugees from 12.
"What do you do?" Madge's voice came out, scratchy and faint.
Otto froze, his gaze slowly lifting up from his tray. As if trying not to scare away a mouse, he lightly set down his fork and clasped his hands in his lap. "I worked for a defense team in the Capitol before joining the rebellion. I stayed in the Capitol and relayed all the information here that I could, until joining the District 13 Division of Defense just a few weeks before you arrived." He was slightly confused at her abrupt question. Of all the things to ask, she was curious about his job? His confusion was cleared when she motioned to the food in front of them.
She was smart and observant; she had been listening when he mentioned residents of 13 being angry that he was given special treatment to take food from the mess hall, he realized. Why do you get to take food? was her real question.
He smiled, happy to see that she wasn't catatonic anymore. "District 13 thrives on continuity and conformity. They like everything to be scheduled, regimented, and strict. People used to hoard food around here, until they put a stop to it. Now, I get certain exceptions to the rules, because you're here. I'm respected among the rest of the officials so they're allowing it. For now." He added to the end of the statement, making sure she understood that she would have to leave sooner or later.
He didn't add that the main reason he had been allowed to bring her food was because they didn't want her making a scene in the mess hall or hurting anyone.
She glanced around the room and Otto tried to decipher what she was thinking. Again she spoke, her voice weak from disuse. "Do all the homes look like this?"
He sighed, sadness creeping on to his face. "No, these quarters are designated for families, mostly. Most living compartments are fit for two people, and it's only a shared bedroom and a bathroom. Officials without families are the only residents permitted to live in single compartments."
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. He didn't need to ask to know what she had been thinking. "I had a family; a wife and a son. We were supposed to flee and live here together for the rebellion, but they never made it out of the Capitol." He cleared his throat, willing the tears that were forming in his eyes to go away. "But, plans changed and I-, I needed to help you. I couldn't have you locked up in the ward any longer or be forced into a compartment with someone else before you were ready. When I told them what I wanted to do, the rest of the officials allowed it."
Madge's eyes filled with sadness and tears of her own, wishing she could comfort him in some way. They were both lost; both without families because of the Capitol.
"Looks like we're family now, aren't we?" Otto laughed slightly, wiping the moisture from his eyes; for the first time Madge smiled back.
He needed her just as much as she needed him.
Gale pounded on the compartment door of Haymitch Abernathy. It wasn't early, it was almost noon, but when the door finally opened, Haymitch braced himself on the doorframe and squinted, "What do you want?" His voice was heavy with sleep.
"I want to do something-" Gale began, but the old man cut him off.
"Then go do it." He began to shut the door, but Gale's hand shot out and slammed the door open. He wasn't in the mood for the old drunk, or his games. He was only here because he didn't know who else to go to.
"Listen, I want to help. I want to be a solider or an officer or anything to get out of my damn room and make a difference. I can't sit around and do nothing!"
Haymitch yawned. "Well, a responsible adult would tell you to finish school before going off to war, but what the hell; who am I to say if a kid is too young to die, right?" When Gale clenched his jaw and crossed his arms over his broad chest, Haymitch sighed. "Otto Lemswig, Division of Defense, 2nd floor. Tell him I sent you; he'll give you a job. Now go away." He shut the door in Gale's face, not bothering to wait to see if he needed anything else. That was all the help he was willing to give out today.
Gale wasn't surprised at Haymitch's behavior, hence why he avoided dealing with the abrasive old man as much as possible. He'd repay the gratitude later, he decided.
Going to the elevators and traveling up to the 2nd floor, Gale tried not to grow giddy at the thought of being made a soldier. Being a solider means leaving this underground hole, getting fresh air… The thought made him long to be above ground once again. Every day since he had arrived he was plagued with the same sudden desire. Being underground reminded him of the mines, although he could admit this place was better than an unstable tunnel with coal dust-filled air. At least here there was no danger of being reaped, being whipped by a peacekeeper, and he never had to worry about Rory, Vick, or Posy taking out a tesserae.
He wanted to hate this place as much as possible, but he couldn't avoid admitting it had its perks.
After Gale left the elevator and traveled down the long hallway on the 2nd floor, he encountered two guards. "Name and clearance." The one on the left demanded of him.
"Gale Hawthorn, no clearance. I was sent by Haymitch Abernathy to speak with Otto Lemswig." He replied, hopeful that Haymitch's referral wouldn't let him down.
Apparently it was good enough, because the guard nodded. "Follow me." He began walking further down the hall. Without needing further prompting, Gale followed. Around corners and through a series of doors all marked with "APPROVED PERSONNEL ONLY" Gale was left standing in front of a door. A plaque to the left read "Otto Lemswig, Head Officer, Division of Defense."
Steeling his nerves, Gale knocked on the door and held his breath until he heard a response.
"Come in."
Willing himself to relax, Gale opened the door and stepped into the office, taking in the man in front of him. He could have only been a few years younger than his mother, Gale assumed, but with a head of completely gray hair. His dark blue eyes pierced through Gale when he looked up at him from his paperwork; intimidating him with his assurance. His build was strong, like his, but the telltale signs of a hard life showed in the crinkles around his eyes and the frown lines around his mouth.
Seeing as he was waiting for Gale to introduce himself, he stepped forward. "Gale Hawthorn, sir. Haymitch Abernathy sent me."
Otto nodded and motioned to the chair sitting in front of his desk. "Make this quick, son. I have a lot on my plate right now. I'll be heading back to my quarters soon so I don't have much time." He looked pointedly at the clock on the wall.
Gale cleared his throat. "Well, I wanted to offer my skills for the rebellion. I'm one of the refugees from District 12. I'll do anything you need."
"First, let's start off with what you can do. What particular skills do you have?" He prompted, setting his paperwork aside and grabbing a blank sheet of paper.
Gale launched into an explanation of his life in 12, with the time spent in the woods hunting, designing snares, and fantasizing about his strategy for rebelling against the district and the Capitol. He told him about his days working in the mines, planning with the other workers what they would have done to overthrow the peacekeepers.
For a few moments after Gale finished, the man said nothing, only scribbling down notes on to his piece of paper. Finally, he looked up. "I've got just the thing. You'll be assigned as a soldier, but I'll be upping your clearance. I'm thinking you'll do well in our weapons division. Those snares you designed will come in handy on a larger scale, I'm sure."
Gale couldn't stop the smile from crossing his face. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate the opportunity."
Otto stood from his desk and held his hand out. As Gale shook his hand, his tone turned grave, "I don't want you to forget that you're going to be a solider, and there's a good chance you'll be killed if you go into battle. I know you're feeling valiant and ready to sacrifice yourself for the cause, but never forget who will be heartbroken after losing you if you were to die. Don't be too ready to rush off, Mr. Hawthorn." He gave Gale a pointed look. "Now, go on. I'll have someone send for you tomorrow to get the details about your assignment settled."
I just want to thank everyone for all of the subscriptions, favorites, and reviews over the last week! I'm so glad you're enjoying this story just as much as I'm enjoying writing it.