He sits with his back against the wall, staring out of the tiny cell he's being locked in and wonders what went wrong.

The strike had been all planned out. There was one leader for each of the eight sections, Gale being the head of his. They used signs made from old cardboard and rotted wood panels. A peaceful protest, that was the goal. They would stand outside the Justice Hall unspeaking and hold up their signs. Landon would be the man that would speak when the time finally came, he would be the one to make negotiations with.

The march started at the beginning of their shift. Perfectly orchestrated, all of their steps in time. Gale was in the front with his heart pounding in his chest. Peaceful, peaceful, peaceful. That's how it was supposed to be. But the second the whistle blew in the mines it all went to shit.

"Gale Hawthorne," a male voice says. He looks up through the bars of his cell and finds Romulus Thread staring down at him. "Come with me."

Immediate gunfire. An abundance of peacekeepers that Gale did not recognize. Someone tipped them off, somehow the peacekeepers knew that there would be a protest. They were ready and waiting, guns aimed and shields raised.

The miners stumbled in their movements, caught off guard by the sudden force. Some fled, some screamed, some charged forward. Gale was caught up in the crowd that ran toward the guns rather than away from them. Shot, shot, shot, men fell to his left and right but he was still standing. Then there were hands, and cuffs, and more and more peacekeepers rounding up whoever they could.

Blood stained the streets and some men were convulsing on the ground. Romulus Thread was there and other ominous looking men with guns and smoke filled the air, it choked Gale to the point of not being able to breathe.

Gale is forced onto a cold metal chair and handcuffed to the table in front of him. The noise of the door locking behind him makes him tense. Romulus Thread sits down across from him. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you again," he says to Gale. "Figured you'd learn to keep your nose out of trouble." Gale swallows and doesn't let this man leave his sight. "A few of my colleagues said you'd be difficult but then I reminded them of your whipping and I told them you'd behave. Ain't that right, Hawthorne? You're going to behave."

Gale grunts but doesn't agree. "That depends," he finally says, "on what I've got to do."

"Oh," Thread grins, "you've just got to answer a few of our questions."


Madge races home the second the final bell of the day rings. The school spent the entire morning under lock down with no one allowed anywhere near the windows and all of the doors locked. Kids screamed as they heard gunshots, Madge tried her hardest to remain neutral and comfort them despite the fact that her body wouldn't stop shaking.

So now she runs, away from the school and back toward her home and prays and prays and prays that Gale is waiting for her. "He has to be here," she chants to herself. "He has to be here!"

Madge bumps into a few people, there are crowds everywhere, but manages to make her way home at last. She slams open the door with such force it hits the back wall. "Gale?" she calls. Please be here, please be here. She rushes into the backroom and then checks the bathroom. Nothing has changed, everything is just as she left it this morning.

Tears are burning her eyes and sobs are threatening to crawl up her throat. She throws her school supplies down and starts for the door to get back into town, to find out anything she possibly can. Just as she goes to leave there's someone at the door and she jumps at the sight of him.

Thom is at the door, a scratch up his cheek and a black eye. His hands are covered in dirt and blood, his face a permanent scowl. Madge flings herself at him immediately, squeezing herself into him. "What happened?" she cries. His arms hesitantly wrap around her as well. "Gale! Where's Gale!"

"They got him," Thom chokes. Madge shoves him away so quickly Thom doesn't even have time to release his grip on her. "He's alive," he continues weakly, "at least he was when they took him into the jailhouse, but—"

"They're killing people?" Madge gasps. She stumbles away from him, her vision swimming. "They—they can't do that!"

Thom gives her a quick debriefing of what happened, how someone tipped them off, how there was random gunfire in the streets. A few people standing nearby, too, he says. Madge's entire body is shaking at this point, her head and her hands and her toes, unable to think properly.

"They've got at least a dozen of the miners; they're pulling in more and more if they find them in the streets. Bristel didn't want me to come over but someone had to tell you what was going on." He paces away and jerks his head to the side. "So much for a peaceful protest."

"I have to get to him," she says. Thom moves to block the door at once and Madge ends up running into his chest. "I've got to get him out, Thom!"

"And how the hell are you planning on doing that?" he snaps. "No one even knows what they're doing to them in there! For all we know he's dead!" She slaps him, the sound echoing through her home. Thom drops his hands down on her shoulders and shakes his head again. "Hit me," he growls. So she does it again. She shoves his shoulder and lets out a cry. "Go on, Madge, do it! It's not going to change a damn thing!"

She hits him and she slaps him and she tries to move him out of the way but he won't and she cries until her throat is raw and she can't see a damn thing and Thom holds her, closing the door behind him, and tells her that it's going to be okay.


Madge stares out the window and watches old lanterns as they drag through the streets. People are returning home. There's a siren going off somewhere. Thom sits on the couch and watches her, she can feel his gaze.

"I can stay if you want," he finally says. Her head tips to the side.

"Bristel's probably worried sick about you," she whispers. He's been here for a few hours, making sure she doesn't do anything stupid like run into the streets. He's been telling her how things have gone, that Rory is safe as well as a few other people she knows. "You should go home. It's getting late."

"Then you can come and sleep on our couch," Thom tries. "Gale wouldn't want you here alone, Madge."

"I'll be fine," she says. "I might…. I think I'll go to Hazelle's. Maybe. I don't know." Thom shifts on the couch and Madge finally turns to look at him. He's washed his face but his eye is still blackened. "Just go, okay? I don't want Bristel worrying." Eventually Thom shifts off the couch. He walks over to Madge and rests his hand on her shoulder. "Please just go," she whimpers. "I want to be alone." He gives her shoulder a quick squeeze and then tips his head before making his way out of the house.

Madge sits alone for a long time and cries. She lifts her legs from the floor so she can weep into her knees. Madge falls asleep with her face pressed against the window, waiting for Gale to come home.


Sometime in the middle of the night Gale wakes up from a nightmare to find himself on the ground of his cell. There aren't enough cots for him to have one of his own and the cells keep getting more and more crowded.

He dreamt of Madge. She had joined him in the protest, she had gotten shot, she had died. Just like that. It happened again and again, the blood pouring from her chest or her throat or her skull, wherever Thread had shot her. And then Thread stood there and said you've got to behave, you're going to behave.

"Gale," Landon's voice pulls him from the darkness and he looks up. The man in charge is slowly being reduced to nothing but welts and bruises. "Here," he extends a small metal cup filled with water. "Clean your face up a bit. You look like death." Gale snorts but it hurts and ends up wincing.

Thread let out a hiss of hot air. "Who was the mastermind behind this rebellion? Who planned it all?"

"It's not a rebellion," Gale choked out. Blood was gushing from his nose, his mouth tasted of copper. "We just want—we want better—" he was cut off by Thread's fist slamming into his nose. Gale heard the crack before he felt it and then pain spiders through his face. He coughed and up came blood, he spit it onto the floor.

"I'm asking you a simple question, Hawthorne," he growled. "Who planned this?"

"Someone should drink it," Gale says, looking around at the men around him. "There's no saying when they'll give us water next."

"Then you have it," Landon says. None of the peacekeepers know who orchestrated the whole thing, not yet. Landon is relatively safe. "I think Thread's taking all his anger out on you, Hawthorne. You look worse than half of us combined."

"Thanks for that," Gale grumbles. He remembers every punch thrown, every spiral of pain that shot through his body. Gale sips at the water and licks his lips, tasting copper again. His eyes are mostly swollen, he can hardly see out of them. He's got a pounding headache that doesn't seem like it's going to ever stop. "Do you know what's next?" he asks.

Landon shrugs. "None of us do."

Gale takes another sip. "You think they'll kill us?"

"They've already killed some," Landon deadpans. A shiver shoots down Gale's spine and he distracts himself with another sip. His thoughts drift back to Madge, all alone back home, perhaps permanently. "I wouldn't put it past them." Landon pauses and digs at the blood stained ground with his fingers. "We've just got to wait and see."


Madge wakes up to the blow of the whistle in the morning for the miners. She's still on the windowsill and her back hurts. She paces over to the television and fiddles with it a bit before it crackles on. There's a man on the screen relaying all of the details of the "situation in District 12".

"There are currently thirty plus miners in custody at the jailhouse," says the man. "The day will resume as normal, all miners not being held shall return to work and all governmental jobs continue as normal. School is still in session—" Madge flicks the television off and quickly goes to change.

She splashes cold water on her face and stares at herself in the mirror. The bags under her red-rimmed eyes are heavy and thick, her hair is a mess. She sniffles once and collects herself before pulling on clean clothes and starting off toward school.

When she gets there she finds it relatively calm. There are lots of students from the Seam that look distraught, but most from town seem less than concerned. Posy ends up in her classroom before the bell rings asking her what she knows about Gale.

"He's being held in the jailhouse," Madge tells her quietly. Posy's chin quivers but she nods sternly, swallowing back her tears. "I'm going to go after school to see what's going on, when they'll be released. I'll stop by afterwards and tell you if I know anything new. If not I'm just going to go home, okay?"

"Okay," Posy whispers. She lunges forward and buries her face against Madge. "I don't want them to hurt Gale," she cries.

"They're not going to hurt him," Madge whispers back. She squeezes her sister-in-law even closer. "I'm not going to let them."


Landon shakes Gale awake sometime in the afternoon. Apparently getting the shit beat out of you really take a lot, he's been in a wake-sleep cycle all day. His stomach is growling and his head is still pounding. When Landon hands Gale water to clean his face Gale uses it to wipe under and around his eyes so he can sort of see again. He drinks the rest, because if they're not going to feed them he might as well put something in his stomach.

"There's a five day holding period," Landon tells him. "If we don't give them what they want then they're going to publically whip all of us, twenty lashes each." Instantly Gale feels his back tingling with pain, remnants of his last time at the whipping post.

"And what do they want?" Gale asks.

Landon hesitates. "They want me."

Gale falls quiet to drink more water. It would be so easy to give Landon over. One name. That's it and he can avoid the whipping post again, but with the one name it's more than just the whips that will be received. This is being broadcasted as a rebellion, not a protest, not a way to gain better rights. There's no way in hell they're going to leave it with just the whipping post.

And Gale can't give Landon over whether he likes him or not. It's not about avoiding punishment, it's about not letting the Capitol get what they want because the miners can't get what they want either.

Suddenly there's yelling that causes all the miners to look up. "Is he alive?" a voice cries. "Please. Please! Just tell me if my husband is alive!"

"Mrs. Hawthorne," Gale hears Thread trying to calm her. "That information is classified. I think it best if you go."

"Madge," Gale croaks. He drops his cup of water and lunges toward the bars. "Madge!"

"Gale, don't!" Landon warns him, trying to pull him back. "Just sit down!"

"Madge!" he cries again.

"Let me see him!" Madge is pleading. "Please! Just let me see him!" Landon forces Gale back onto the ground, he collides with the tiles with a thud as he struggles to reach the bars again. "I'll do whatever you want! I'll pay however much it is! Let him go, please just let him go!"

"Madge," Gale coughs and crawls across the floor. "Oh, God." And then there's nothing, nothing but silence.


Madge stands outside the jailhouse and chokes back her sobs. She heard him, she heard his wounded broken scratchy voice and she knows that he's alive, but it's not enough. She wants to see him. God, his voice sounded so hopeless, so tired.

Tears blur her vision as she makes her way through town. At first she considers going to her father and begging him, begging him to do something about Gale being in the jailhouse, but Madge knows deep down that there's no way in hell he would help at all. He can't stand Gale, and he kicked Madge out so why should he listen to her? And then she realizes she just needs someone to listen to her, someone to sit with her because she doesn't want to be alone.

Madge ends up at the jewelry store where her friend Jace works. He stops whatever it is he's working on when he sees her and opens his arms, accepting a hug immediately. "What do I do?" she croaks. He pulls her close and rubs her back. "I don't know what to do."


Jace ends up at Madge's house with a bottle of fine wine. He doesn't like the Seam at all, it's clear by how his eyes nervously glance around her tiny shack, but he doesn't object.

"I want to stay at my own house," Madge had told him. "Just in case he comes back. But I don't want to be there alone." So Jace had agreed to go with her and brought a bottle of wine as well, hoping that maybe a bit of alcohol will numb all of it.

She sips greedily from a wineglass and watches as he does the same. "It's cozy," Jace finally says.

"You hate it."

"I do," he blurts. Madge lets out a choked laugh and shakes her head. "This is the dumps, Madge." She lifts her shoulders, it's home to her now. She loves it. Nothing will compare. "Don't you miss your mansion? Or not being coal covered every damn day?"

"It wasn't my house," Madge says before taking another sip. "It was the Capitol's. And no. I don't mind the coal." Jace shrugs too. She's sitting by the fireplace that isn't burning in an old chair and he's on the couch a few feet away. "Why do you hate the Seam so much?" she asks him.

"I'm not drunk enough for this conversation," he mutters. "And there are more important things to be worrying about."

"I can worry about Gale all damn day," Madge snaps, "I'd rather be distracted. So drink up and tell me the story." About three glasses later both Jace and Madge are incoherent. He's lying on the couch staring up at the ceiling and she's twirling her fingers through her hair. "Jace," she hums. He hums, too. "Will you tell me the story now? Are you drunk enough?"

"Probably not," he croaks. "But I'll tell you anyway." He shakes his head and the thin strands of dark chestnut hair shakes along with it. His green eyes aren't as bright as normal, but Madge thinks that has something to do with the alcohol. "Does Gale know how lucky he is to have you, Madge? Dammit, you two are the sweetest thing. I hate it, it makes me sick." Madge rolls her eyes and readjusts how she's sitting on her chair so she can face him. "If it weren't for him you and I probably would've gotten married."

"Thank God he came into my life when he did then." Jace feigns being wounded. It's true that Jace and Madge would've most likely ended up together, everyone and their mother had thought that was next. Friends agreeing to marry each other just because it was easiest. "Stop changing the subject."

"I'm not changing the subject, it's relevant." Jace falls silent for a long time. "I was just a kid," he finally blurts. Madge props herself up, her elbow on her knee, so she can see him. "Thirteen, fourteen, I don't remember. Naïve as hell because that's what kids are, and I fell in love with this girl."

"You were in love?"

"It was a long time ago," he mutters. "She was… everything. Older than me by like, five years, four years, shit, I don't remember. Maybe only two. I don't—it doesn't matter." Jace drags his hands through his hair. "She was practically everything. She didn't care that I was from town, that I was younger. I mean I was still taller than her, she said I acted old for my age."

"She was from the Seam," Madge notes. "You said she didn't care you were from town."

"That's what she said anyway," Jace grumbles. "She was sweet and I thought there was nothing better than her. She taught me a lot about… life."

"Sex," Madge says.

"Sex," Jace repeats. "I was way too young for that shit but I didn't care and she didn't care. We were at it for months. I told her I loved her, too. I told her I was going to tell my parents that I was with her, that she was my girl, and she said that was great. I invited her over for dinner and she…" Jace pauses and lets out a deep breath. "She never came. I went to our usual spot behind the school where we met up and she wasn't there either, or the slag heap, or anywhere I would've found her."

Both of them are quiet for a long time and Jace moves to pour himself another glass of wine. As his glass starts filling up Madge frowns. "And that was it?"

"That was it," he nods. "She broke my heart."

"It's a bit extreme to base everything you know about one place or a group of people off of this one girl," Madge scolds him. "You were young, hurting, I get that, but—"

"I loved her," he cuts her off angrily. Jace takes a long swig of his wine and jerks his head to the side. "Never even saw her again. Not at school, not just… around. Nowhere. Like she just up and left."

"Maybe she—"

"Died? Or was Reaped?" Jace shakes his head. "No. She wasn't."

Madge frowns and pulls her knees close to her. "Do you still love her?" she asks.

"No," he says, and the way he says it is so sure she knows that he's telling the truth. "She was only perfect in my head, I know she wasn't actually this… this angel like I made her out to be." He shakes his head again. "I know it's stupid to feel this way, but I do."

"Do I know her?" Madge asks.

"Probably not," Jace grumbles. "No one's heard from Theresa Beau in years."


A/N: Sorry for the delay in update, and the... pretty upsetting(?) chapter. Madge has a plan to get Gale (what do you think it is?) but I decided to end this chapter here for reasons you hopefully can figure out. Happy Thanksgiving to all! Love you, and hope you at least sort of enjoyed the chapter.