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 7
AN: Once again, many thanks to Fortunefaded2012 and Nursekelly0429 for the help.
#######
Over the next few days Madge retools her schedule, begs old Josephette to let her have the graveyard shift. It makes avoiding Mr. Abernathy easier.
She feels bad. It was unfair of her to expect him to continue treating her as something special. She isn't though. Nothing could be further from the truth. All her supposed specialness had vanished with the bombing of Twelve, with her father and her old life.
Her mother doesn't know what happed between them. Madge hasn't told her and she doubts Mr. Abernathy would risk her mind by upsetting her like that. At least she hopes he wouldn't. Even if he doesn't seem to think much of Madge she hopes he still has enough consideration for the sister of his former ally to not send her into a fit.
Through the grapevine, Madge learns that Katniss has gone to Two. Occasionally she catches clips of her friend on the television in passing, before she collapses into bed each morning. She's encouraging the rebels and visiting sick and injured. Katniss is earning her place as the face of the rebellion, while Madge is scrubbing pots and pans.
One morning, before she gets off and as she's setting up a few things in her mother's little room to make her candy making for the day go a little smoother, she hears a knock.
Standing, dressed and looking healthier than at any point since he's been in Thirteen, is Finnick Odair.
He stares at her for a moment, leans against the doorframe, his sea green eyes hovering on her for a moment before he smiles, dazzling her with his perfect teeth.
"And how are you this morning, Madge?"
Madge can only muster a shrug. She's exhausted, not from any actually exertion, but more from the simple act of keeping her eyelids propped open. The good thing about the overnight shift is that at the end of it she's too tired to think. She's slept, dreamlessly, more over the past few days than she had in all the time since the bombing.
Finnick strolls in, stops at the dull metal table Madge's mother uses to roll out her candies, runs his finger along a scratch on the surface. "Enjoying the night shift?"
"It suits me," she tells him. At least during the night she doesn't have to deal with anyone else. She can drag herself through the long hours and mindless work then sleep through any possible interactions. It's a blessing really.
He eyes her skeptically, probably noting the dark circles under her eyes and the dullness of her skin. "Clearly."
Sighing, Madge presses her fingers to her eyes. "Can I help you?"
She isn't in the mood to be toyed with, especially by someone she barely knows.
A tight smile forms on his lips, not toothy, but a thin line.
"I was coming to see if I could persuade you to sneak me a few of those orange slice candies your mother makes. Annie really likes them."
It's too sweet a request to deny. Finnick and Annie have been inseparable since reuniting, holding hands and hiding away from all the prying eyes of their new home. It's one of the few pleasant stories to come out of the fiasco that the rescue in the Capitol had brought with it.
Unable and unwilling to deny him such a simple request, Madge goes to the storage closet where the extra candies are being stored with a small brown bag and fills it for him.
"Here." She hands it to him, barely stifling a wide yawn as she does.
He turns to leave and Madge goes back to the table to finish setting out the last few things when she hears him at the door.
"Madge?"
She turns with a frown. What else could he possibly want? She's already going to get in trouble if they notice any of the stock missing.
Chewing his lip, he walks slowly back to the table, sets the bag on it and leans towards her.
"Whatever he did, I know he only had your best interest at heart."
Mind sluggish, Madge just stares at him, unsure what he's even talking about.
"Haymitch," he finally clarifies when it becomes apparent she doesn't have the foggiest idea what he's bugging her over. "He-I know whatever he did to make you so upset with him, he didn't mean to hurt you."
Eyebrows arching, Madge doesn't respond, just continues to stare at him dully. She doesn't feel like discussing this at all, let alone with him.
"We-people do stupid things for the people we love. Sometimes it seems like we're being unfair, like we're deliberately trying to hurt them, but keeping them safe it-we have to do things-"
"Mr. Abernathy isn't trying to help me, Finnick," she cuts him off. "He's thinking about Katniss. She's the important one."
The important one to him, to Gale, to Peeta, to the country. Madge is a kitchen worker.
"It isn't a competition," he says softly.
"I didn't say it was." A competition would imply Madge had a chance, and she never had.
He stares at her, studies her flat expression for a minute, then sighs again, running his hands through his shaggy hair.
"He loves you. He's trying to keep you safe, maybe not the way you'd like him to, but in the best way he knows how." His arms cross over his chest and he glances down at the bag of candy.
"Annie is, well, you've seen her…I tried to keep her safe, because I love her more than anything in this world, by not telling her anything. I thought it might keep her safe if things fell apart, not knowing anything."
"It didn't though," Madge points out. "They still took her."
"But she didn't know anything. Torturing her was pointless-"
"Other than to hurt you-"
"Exactly."
They stare at one another for a minute before a sad smile slowly forms on his lips. "Peeta is their weapon. There's no telling who he might hurt next."
"He wouldn't even give me basic details. He tossed me out," Madge snaps.
Finnick closes his eyes. "Just because we don't handle things the best way, doesn't mean we aren't doing what we think is best."
Finnick's silence is only broken by the noise of the oncoming crew, moving tables and pulling out utensils, and then he opens his eyes and gives Madge a hard look.
"Even if you don't think he is, try to consider Peeta. How do you think he's going to feel if they get him back when he finds out what he did to Katniss? If he hurt anyone else it would be devastating."
Madge nods. That's something to hold onto, something she can get behind, helping Peeta.
Finally, he turns to go, picking up his bag of candy and giving it a small shake.
"Madge," he calls to her again when he reaches the door. "Life is fleeting, I think you know that. You don't want anything to happen to him and still be mad. Talk to him."
She frowns, his tone makes her uneasy. "What's going to happen to him in Thirteen?"
Finnick's eyebrows arch up. "Is he always going to be in Thirteen?"
With that he vanishes through the door, leaving Madge to consider his words. Her stomach drops. He was warning her.
#######
Madge runs.
Her lungs burn and she nearly careens into several people as she takes the corners, desperate to get back to the compartment before Mr. Abernathy leaves for the day, hoping she hadn't wasted too much time.
When the door comes into view as she flies down the final hall, her heart nearly stops as the flat metal of the door slides open and she sees Mr. Abernathy standing in his plain gray outfit just inside the frame.
He's turned slightly, talking to her mother just behind him, and he barely registers Madge coming at him before she almost knocks him to the ground in a tackle of a hug.
It must stun him, or maybe she's knocked the air out of him, because he doesn't respond for a moment or two, just stands there awkwardly as she squeezes him and hopes he can feel her apology in it.
"I'm sorry," she blubbers into his chest, tears and snot mingling as she tries to wipe them on her shoulder before they ruin his shirt. "I'm sorry, please don't go."
After a moment he wraps his arms around her and rests his cheek against her hair, shushing her and gently rubbing her back.
"Don't go, I was just mad. I didn't mean it," she sniffles. "I was just mad and-"
"Hush, Pearl," he whispers. "It's okay."
"No," she pulls back, wiping her nose and cheeks with her sleeve, "it isn't. You've always been so good to me and I was being ungrateful and entitled and-"
He pulls her back into a hug and tightens his arms around her, quieting her.
Her mother coughs behind them.
"I'm going to give you two some privacy," she tells them airily, breezing past and to the door before smiling softly back at them. She leaves without another word, the door sliding closed behind her.
Mr. Abernathy pulls her to the couch and sets her down before going to the kitchen and grabbing up a washrag.
Handing her the rag, he drops down beside her and watches her try to rub the last of her tears from her face before sighing and setting it in her lap.
"What's this nonsense about me leaving?" He finally asks.
Eyes burning, Madge glances at him before refocusing on folding and unfolding her rag.
"Finnick came by and he said-he made it sound like you were leaving." She feels more tears slide down her cheeks, drip onto her lap. "You aren't?"
He takes the rag and blots her cheek, shaking his head. "I'm not much use in the field. My value is here."
Madge nods, takes the rag back and sighs. He isn't leaving. He's going to be safe here with her.
She takes a shuddering breath and tries to steady herself.
"I'm so, so sorry, Mr. Abernathy," she finally manages to choke out. "I know you were just trying to keep me safe. I just-I just expected-and I know I shouldn't have because you aren't under any obligation to tell me anything-I just expected you to, because I was used-"
"Sweetheart," he reaches out and smoothes her wild, run blown hair down, "I should've known you wouldn't take being locked out of the loop well. I just-If you'd seen how he was during his episode-I didn't want you to be anywhere near that."
"I know," she mutters. And with her behavior she had proven that she probably wasn't mature enough to be trusted with any kind of delicate information. "You were right not to tell me. I've just felt so useless since coming here and it felt like you were cutting me off. I was being selfish and jealous."
He shakes his head. "No, I was being selfish."
She glances over at him, watches him run a hand over his face and sigh. He looks over at her, his eyes focusing on her face, taking in every tiny feature.
"Do you know what I see when I look at you?"
At the moment a snotty, puffy-eyed mess, but she doubts that's what he means. She shakes her head.
With a chuckle, he pushes a wild strand of hair over her shoulder.
"I see the baby Danny-boy had beside his desk in his office. I see the runny nosed little tot that could barely keep upright going up the stairs on her back porch, and the kid in the blue dress that brought me a birthday card and ate ice cream with me at night and told me about constellations." He looks away, studies the blank wall across from them. "You're all grown up and I didn't want to see it. You kept telling me and I just kept ignoring it because I wanted you to stay little, so I could protect you."
He leans into her, gives her a playful shove with his shoulder. "And what are you jealous for? Of who?"
Madge feels her face warm. "You know who."
His eyebrows pull together and he huffs. "I told you, you are still my favorite girl. Nothing changes that. Don't you forget it."
Madge leans over, rests her cheek against his shoulder and sniffles. He's probably the last person who'll see her in any of those ways, not including her mother, and she knows he means well. "Thank you."
He relaxes back into the couch and shifts, wraps his arm around her shoulder and presses a kiss into her greasy hair.
"I trust you more than anyone, don't ever doubt that. I'd trust you with my life if it came to it, but I look at you and at what's happening and I don't want to watch them destroy you." He tips her chin up and gives her a weak smile. "You're still my Pearl, whether you like it or not."
"It's not so bad," she tells him, her voice still thick and muffled.
She settles into his side, feeling warm and safe and loved, and lets her heavy eyelids slowly slide closed, waking several hours later tucked safely in bed.
#######
Over the next few days Mr. Abernathy is more forthcoming with information on Peeta, letting her know when they make small steps forward.
"They're trying to reprogram him again," he explains. "Prim suggested it. Pull the memories forward and give him morphling in large doses to counter act the tracker jacker venom."
Madge shivers, thinking about how the morphling had put her mother in a stupor when she'd taken it.
"Is that safe?"
He shrugs. "It doesn't seem to make much difference really. Other than making him extremely confused."
Madge watches her mother fiddling with the pair of knitting needles Mrs. Hawthorne had given her, trying desperately to replicate the pattern the other woman had taught to her, and bites her lip.
"There isn't anything else they can do?"
His red and pink streaked eyes settle on her and he gives her a mirthless smile.
"There aren't many people who've dealt with hijacking, Pearl. The scouts, the Victors who prepped families and gathered information, they had a little experience-"
"Like Birdy?" Madge frowns. "Why don't they just bring her in then? She'll help."
It seemed like such a simple solution.
"Hold up now, Pearl. I said they had a little experience. We talked to Bird and she assured us she didn't know how to undo it." He takes a long breath and then lets it out slowly. "Besides, she's stuck in Five helping with flooding. One of the largest dams that produces electricity was severely damaged during a bombing and she's working with the rebels there to evacuate the surrounding area before the Capitol comes back and takes it out completely."
"They would do that?" Madge looks back over at him. "They would ruin the infrastructure just to win? They need that electricity from the dam too."
He nods. "Yeah, but there are still smaller ones, plus the air turbines and who knows what else. They probably figure rebuilding it will be worth the loss if it ends the fighting in Five."
She doesn't doubt that the Capitol would think that way and she goes to sleep hoping the rebels are able to save the people around the dam.
#######
It takes some time, but she finally convinces Mr. Abernathy to let her talk to Peeta.
While he and several others, doctors and nurses and Mr. Heavensbee, all watch through a special mirror, Madge enters the room where Peeta has been spending his days.
They have him in shackles still, not willing to risk an episode with an innocent bystander in the room.
His eyes are lifeless, dull and deep in his head, and his mouth is flat, no flicker or recognition crosses his face.
"Peeta?"
He doesn't respond. Mr. Abernathy had warned her that her that Peeta had gone through extreme therapy during the day and was often exhausted at night, but this was beyond that. He was in a stupor, just like her mother had always been after a bad terror or a headache and they'd dosed her up for the night.
Madge drops into the uncomfortable chair across the room from him and watches his eyes.
"Oh, Peeta." This isn't him. He would hate this. He's a drugged up animal on display. An exhibit in a single occupant zoo.
She sits and waits, hums a song from when they'd been in school. The Valley Song.
After a few minutes he relaxes and his eyes become less fogged, he tilts his head and squints at her.
"Madge?"
She nods. "Do you remember me?"
He frowns. "Of course."
That earns him a little snort of laughter from her and after a beat a small smile twitches up on his lips.
"How are you feeling?" She asks as she gets to her feet and ventures a little closer to him, small step at a time.
His shoulders jerk. "I've been better."
"I imagine."
The conversation dies after a few seconds and they stare at each other for a minute or two before Peeta tilts his head slightly.
"Did-did your parents make it?" He finally asks.
Madge shakes her head and fights back tears. "My mom did. She's here, in Thirteen. They have her working in the kitchens, making candy like my Poppa did in the old sweet shop. Remember?"
A smile, a genuine smile, forms on Peeta's face. "Yeah. I liked the chocolate buttons."
Unable to keep her expression even, Madge grins. It's almost like a normal conversation. "I'll see if I can get you some. Sound good?"
He nods, still smiling. It falters for a second. "What about your dad?"
The mention of her father wipes the smile from Madge's face. She gives him a weak look.
"He didn't make it."
"She killed him," Peeta says instantly. "Katniss, she-she did it. She killed the Mayor-"
"Peeta," Madge cuts him off, firmly, like she'd so often had to do to her mother when she'd have fits of crying. "Katniss wasn't even there. My father died cutting the power to the District. So we could get the fence down. The Capitol killed him."
"No, she-"
"Peeta, no."
Their eyes stay focused on each other's, unblinking and steady. Madge isn't sure it will help, change a thing, but she feels like she needs to try.
"Peeta," she feels her eyes start to water again. "Peeta, please. Don't let them win. You're so much stronger than this. You can fight back. Please, Peeta, fight."
The faint glimmer of understanding, the few moments of real Peeta that had come through, are gone so quickly Madge almost doubts they even happed until she's out of the room, a screaming Peeta is sedated and retied to his bed, as she's taken into a room to review the conversation.
"You did real well, Pearl," Mr. Abernathy whispers into her ear as he settles her down in a dark room with several televisions set up along the walls.
"Marvelous, Miss Undersee, he seemed to be really listening to you there for a minute," Mr. Heavensbee tells her cheerfully as they watch the conversation over and over and over again, looking for triggers and changes.
The doctors chatter in a low hum, take down notes and ask her questions for hours before she's finally dismissed at nearly midnight.
Mr. Heavensbee stops them at the door. "Where are you going, Haymitch? We need you here to inspect the other tapes."
Mr. Abernathy growls. He's exhausted, anyone can see that, and Madge almost tells Mr. Heavensbee off for even suggesting it, but she's cut off by Mr. Abernathy's hand on her shoulder.
"I gotta walk my girl home. Lady doesn't need to be wandering these halls by herself at this time, you know that?"
"I'll take her," a deep voice comes from behind them.
Turning, Madge finds Gale standing only a few feet away.
He looks tired, his gray shirt and pants are a bit wrinkled, but otherwise he's unchanged from the last time she'd seen him when she tried to convince him not to go on the extraction mission.
"Over my dead body," Mr. Abernathy growls.
Mr. Heavensbee must not hear because he cheerfully takes up the offer for them.
"Good, good. Gale can walk Miss Undersee back to the compartment and we can finish up. Very good."
Before Mr. Abernathy can say any different Madge has been yanked from his side and shoved at Gale, then steered between the rows of beds before finding herself out in the empty hall, Gale at her side.
Madge looks around feeling a bit disoriented, then feels her face begin to warm when she spots Gale staring at her.
His eyes are steady, just as stormy a gray as ever, but darker in the almost nonexistent light of the hall, and a shiver goes up Madge's back as she turns away and starts down the hall.
He catches up with her easily, stays at her side for several quiet minutes before he sighs.
"Ignoring me?"
Madge raises her eyebrows and glances at him. "What's there to talk about?"
"Mellark," he offers. "He did good with you in there. That's the longest he's lasted."
Before she can stop herself, Madge asks, "Disappointed?"
He stops and after a second, Madge does too.
She can't quite pinpoint the expression on his face, somewhere between hurt and disappointed, and she instantly regrets speaking to him at all. She should have ignored him.
"What's that supposed to mean?" His eyebrows pull together as he scowls at her.
Honestly? She isn't really sure. He'd gone into the Capitol, risked his life for Peeta, to bring him back for Katniss. Part of Gale probably did want him to get better.
Madge is also intimately familiar with jealousy. As often as she's felt it boil in her she knows Gale he's felt that same burning against Peeta.
"Peeta's broken, Gale." She shrugs. "He may never get put back together again."
She doesn't say it, but she thinks he hears the 'you win' she implies.
"You think that's what I want?" His voice holds a hint of accusation.
Madge shakes her head. She doesn't think Gale is quite that cruel, but he loves Katniss.
"It simplifies things, doesn't it?'
His scowl softens into something less cold, almost confused.
"Not really," he finally says, his hand rubbing at his neck. "Katniss is so broken up over him she ran off to Two."
As little as she wants to comfort him, Madge can't watch him hurt. It just isn't in her.
Reaching out, she awkwardly pats his shoulder before taking her hand quickly back, knotting her fingers together in front of her.
"A lot has happened to her. She just needs time. She'll come back." She'll come back to you.
"I wanted Peeta to be dead," he says suddenly. "When we went in. I figured it would be for the best, for everyone. There was no way he'd be right after everything, and I was right." His eyes close. "But then Katniss would feel guilty, she'd blame herself…so it was good he was alive. The way he is though…"
He laughs, a bitter little thing, before settling his eyes on Madge.
"I did think it would make things simpler. You've got me pegged I guess. I'm just that bad a person."
Madge shakes her head and starts to tell him that no, he isn't that bad, she is. It was her own experiences she was drawing from, but he continues on.
"We're both wrong though, I guess. It's just made things more complicated."
Madge swallows a lump that's formed in her throat. "Love isn't simple. You can't just turn off how you feel about someone."
She knows that more than anyone.
"Yeah," he mumbles, letting his hand drop from his neck as he closes his eyes. "I thought if Katniss just chose me it would make things easier on me. Make my mind up."
It takes a second for Madge to process what he's said, and when she does, she frowns, first at the ground, then up at him.
"Make up your mind?"
For an uncertain few seconds she doesn't realize what's happening, that he's closed the small space between them and leaned in. It isn't until his rough hands are on her cheeks and his lips, chapped and warm and tasting of coffee, press gently against her that her mind begins to function again.
Don't stop.
She feels him start to back away, his hands start to lose contact and his lips stop being quite so firm against hers, and she panics, grabs him by the front of his day old gray shirt and holds him in place.
It must be the confirmation he needs, that he isn't overstepping, because he leans back in, more eager than before.
As Madge's hands travel up his shirt, tangle in his thick hair, his hands wrap around her waist.
Somehow they end up against the chilly metal wall, Madge's back pressed almost painfully against it as Gale's hands wander lower, fingers tugging on the scratchy material of her pillowcase dress and hiking it, inch by inch, up her legs.
They slide down the wall, Gale firmly settling between Madge's legs, her dress bunched up at her waist, his hands, calluses scraping against the skin of her thighs as he runs them up and down the exposed skin.
He kisses down her neck, pushing the saggy neckline of her dress out of the way and nipping at the skin on her shoulder, raking his teeth over her it, before making a needful noise and returning to her mouth.
It isn't until she's almost on the floor, Gale pressed obscenely against her and one of his hands up the back of her dress and unsnapping the latch on her bra that she even realizes how far things have gone.
She stills under him, her mind racing.
He's only using her. She's his poor substitute, a malleable, weak willed girl he can toy with until Katniss comes back and reminds him that he loves her and only her. Madge will be used up and tossed away, never having meant a thing to him.
Part of her doesn't care, even if a bigger part of her knows she should.
In this moment, maybe, he wants her. Madge can give him something Katniss can't, and it's such a rare occurrence that she wants to snatch it up, no matter how much it will hurt in the harsh light of day.
Gale must feel her stop, because his kisses slow, the heat between them starts to evaporate, and he pulls back, the hand at her back freezing. His eyes are dark and hungry, wanting, but he frowns. "Madge?"
Her heart cracks.
She can't let him. Her conscience won't allow it. It would hurt Katniss and, if she's being completely honest, it would hurt Gale. He wouldn't go out of his way to hurt her, not anymore, and she doesn't want to give him the opportunity.
He doesn't love Madge and she can't give him the opportunity to hurt all of them.
Madge reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, enjoys the texture of it mingled with his sweat, memorizing it and the crush of his body against hers. "Gale…"
Even without telling him, he knows.
For a few minutes they stay there, Madge pinned under his warm body, pressed to the surely filthy floor of the hall, both hesitant to move.
Finally, though, Gale sits up, still between Madge's legs as he takes her hand and pulls her up with him.
It's an empty, raw feeling, the cold air settling over her body and worming into all the exposed skin that Gale's body had so recently been warming and to distract herself Madge begins pushing her dress back down, trying to smooth out the very obvious wrinkles, adjusting her panties a bit as she does.
"I'm sorry."
Looking up, Gale's hand reaches out and he brushes some of her mussed hair behind her ear.
Madge tries to shrug, tries to look unfazed and calm even though her insides are in a jumble.
"It's okay." She forces a small smile. "I'm not the one you want. I can't do that to anyone."
Gale's eyes study her face, trace a line from her eyes to her lips, hover there for a breath before he sighs.
"You don't understand." He rubs his eyes. "I love Katniss, but I don't know if I'm really in love with Katniss or if I just want to be. She's my hunting partner, we mesh, or at least we used to. It makes sense."
He sucks in a breath. "I don't know if I'm in love or jealous or both, it's so damn confusing, and then there's you…"
Madge's heart stops. "Me?"
A small smile, not really happy but not quite sad, tugs at Gale's lips. "You. I don't know what I feel for you. I like you, but…maybe it's just…"
As he stares off at the empty hall, searching for his words, Madge has already found them.
"Lust," she finishes for him.
He sighs. "Lust."
At least he's honest.
Nodding, Madge feels her chin start to quiver. For the briefest second she'd had a little hope, that maybe he might harbor some feeling for her that she could live with.
She's certain that on her side it's more than hormones and primal needs, but the fact that Gale even questions it settles it in her mind. For him it's lust. She's positive.
"I'll walk myself the rest of the way," she says quietly as she turns to leave, but Gale catches her by the wrist.
"Wait, just wait." He watches her for a minute, then shakes his head. "I don't think it is, okay? I don't know what it is, but I don't think it's lust. You don't care what happens to people you're lusting after, you don't worry about hurting their feelings, it's just a need trying to be filled, and this is more than that. It's just another complication."
Madge bites her tongue but can't keep her words in. "Well I'm sorry Peeta and I had to make things so hard on you by not conveniently dying. I'll be a little more thoughtful next time."
It's a bit unfair to say, she knows that, he's being honest, but her body is frustrated with her, aching, and she can't seem to muster up her sympathy.
"That isn't what I meant and you know it," he growls.
"Well that's what it sounded like," she snaps, swatting at her face, brushing the frustrated tears away before they can get too far down her cheeks. "I'm going."
As she turns she hears Gale's voice behind her, soft and broken sounding. "I'm sorry."
She wants to ignore him, but she's weak and even if he isn't sure she is. She loves him and she can't ignore him, no matter how much he hurts her.
"I'm sorry I'm hurting you, Madge. I don't want to, it's the last thing I want to do. I care about you." He sighs in frustration, looks at her weakly. "Have you ever been in love?"
Madge doesn't say anything, she doesn't feel like she can. Telling him she thinks she loves him sounds desperate and pathetic, and she feels both of those things enough already.
"Do you think you can love two people?"
A sad sort of smile pulls Madge's lips up. "What do you think?"
It's what her father always did to her, made her answer her own questions. He told her it made the mind sharper.
"You learn more when you do it yourself," his words echo in her head, and for the first time since the bombing, his memory doesn't take her breath away. It comforts her.
He frowns at her, probably thinking of Katniss and Peeta, all the turmoil their respective feelings have caused, and sighs.
"Maybe," Gale finally says. "But people aren't very good at sharing, there'd always be an inequality. We have to make choices."
Even if they're hard.
Madge gives him a small smile. She doesn't want there to have to be a choice. Part of her wants the fairytale, for him to look at her and just know that he loves her. That's a fantasy though, and her life has been anything but a fantasy. Childhood illusions are beyond her.
Love is hard. It shouldn't be a competition, but somehow that's how it feels, and she hates it because while she's good at games, she never wanted her love life to be one.
Reaching out, Madge runs her hand along his jaw, his stubble prickling her fingertips as she tries to memorize the texture. It isn't hers to have, but she wishes it were.
Popping up on her toes, Madge grazes her lips over his jaw, just barely making contact before dropping back on her heels and giving him a feebly flickering smile.
"There's your answer then."
Before he cans say anything Madge turns on her heels and runs.