AN: Thanks for participating in the poll! And a few of you asked if this means Redux is almost over. Well, not really. We're definitely more than halfway there, but I don't have a specific number of chapters left. I can tell you that the story doesn't end until after they've reached D13.

Chapter 13

Gale's POV

For the first time I get a really good look at my wounded arm while it's wrapped around Madge's shoulders. For a second or two, I contemplate ignoring it to prolong the peaceful mood. But I think better of it and drop my arms. A tear trickles down Madge's cheek as I step backward. I brush it away.

"Hey," she murmurs sleepily. It's been a long, frightening, exhausting day.

"Sorry, Madge. I'm bleeding on you."

Her eyes widen. "Oh! I forgot. I'm sorry!"

"What are you sorry for? I'm making a mess on you." The cut on my chest isn't deep, just stings a lot. But my arm is another story. The kind that drips. Madge wads Rory's shirt in her hands like she's going to staunch the blood with it, but I grab her wrists. "Don't. You should put that back on."

"But, Gale," she protests.

"You don't have a lot of clothes to begin with. I'd hate to see you ruin your shirt." Madge's wet undershirt gapes open a mite, but I don't tell her that because she embarrasses so easily. I avert my eyes instead and drape the flannel around her shoulders, letting her do the rest.

"It's not a long way back…." and then I pause. I'm not sure if I'm ready to go back, or to explain what just occurred. I feel a fresh stab of guilt for yelling at Madge, because I'm starting to understand her reluctance to talk about certain subjects. "You go. I'll be there in a minute."

Madge pales. "I don't want to go alone." Even with that piece of baggage gone, her eyes still show fear. Sure they would, and I don't blame her for not wanting to walk back by herself. But I've got a fear of my own.

"I don't know what I'm going to tell my family," I confess. "I need a moment."

To come to terms.

Her fingers brush my arm. "But it wasn't your fault. Remember?"

"At the moment, it felt like the only choice I had." I pause while my hand skims over the stubble on my jaw. "But how to tell my mother I killed someone…"

"Gale, you let him go once, and he came back with a knife. He attacked you," she says. "From a lawful standpoint, you acted in self-defense."

"I guess." I grimace.

Madge steps closer. "And you did it for me, didn't you?"

"Of course." Which, I guess means I can do this for her, as well.

"Come on, then."

She grips my elbow, leading me through the long grass until we see the outline of our camp.

"What happened?" Mom cries when we approach. So much for easing into our return.

Our family sits in a circle, eating off of snap tins. Dry, clean, everything Madge and I are not.

"Were you two wrestling in the grass?" Bristel quips. "Looks like fun."

My nostrils flare as the muscles in my body tighten. I'm really tired of his jokes. Can't he see that something serious just happened? I already feel like hitting something, and Bristel's making himself an easy target…

I feel someone squeeze my hand. My train of thought cuts off abruptly as I look down at it. Madge's two hands form a vice around one of mine. She's biting her lip like she's anticipating an explosion.

Huh…I can't remember what I'm angry about. I stare blankly back at my friend.

"I don't really know what you're thinking, Bristel, but I didn't do that to Gale's arm…or his chest," says Madge. She's trying to make it sound like a joke, but I hear the waver in her voice.

"Gale?" Mom touches my right arm. "You two look terrible. What happened?"

"We ran into someone," I mutter, brushing her away.

"Who?" Rory and Vick ask at the same time.

I lock eyes with Madge, trying to judge which of us should tell the story. She opens her mouth, then cringes, struggling to make a decision about how much to tell my mother about Sidler. Does she bring up the awful subject of my first kill, does she expose her secret?

She swallows. "A man I traveled with found me alone by the creek. He attacked me and then Gale came." She takes a deep breath before continuing. "I guess he's the reason why I decided to go on my own before you found me the other day."

"Oh, Madge." Mom almost squeezes her to death in a bear hug. "Why didn't you tell us before?"

Her reply is muffled against my mother's shoulder.

"So what happened to the creep?" Bristel asks me, taking the attention away from Madge, who's weepy again. He looks me hard in the eyes. Tightening my jaw, I subtly cut the air with my fingers. In conjunction with my wounds, this indicates the outcome pretty clearly.

Bristel and Rory exchange glances. "Well, I guess that settles it, then," Bristel drawls.

Mrs. E eases past both of them with her healer's satchel. Her shoulders droop. "Your arm healed so nicely," she sighs.

"Sorry," I mutter.

She glances at Madge. "I don't suppose it could be helped."

"No, not really," I reply for Madge.

"Knife?" Mrs. E points at the cut on my chest.

"Yeah."

"Well, knife wounds heal easier than your nicely mangled arm will," she sighs again. "Go sit by that log over there and let me have a better look." She turns to Madge when I hesitate. "You're not hurt?"

"No."

Mrs. E appraises her, taking in the golden tangles and dripping, stained underclothes. "You'd better clean up and get some proper clothes back on."

Madge blinks at the woman's abrasive tone, then gives me a helpless look. I shrug, not knowing what the problem is, except that Mrs. E's behaving a little more sour than usual. After all, Madge does need to clean up, whether or not she's reluctant to go without me. I hand her my bow and quiver.

"Mind putting those away for me while you're at it?" I ask, placing them in her hands.

"Sure," she mumbles, but she doesn't move.

"Maybe you should get something to eat?" I gesture toward the campfire.

Madge looks over her shoulder. "I'm not hungry anymore."

"Come along, Madge." Mom wraps an arm around her waist. "Let me see if I can wash the blood out of your undershirt. There's a certain trick I learned back home. Miners always get blood on their clothes doing the stupidest things…"

Madge walks away with my mom while I follow Mrs. E to the log she mentioned. But I keep looking back. There's a stiffness in Madge's gait that hasn't been there for days. Maybe she didn't realize how hard it would be to find ourselves surrounded by everyone after what just occurred, or maybe she tried to ignore it because I'm bleeding?

I don't know. But I can tell she's afraid and feeling uncertain as she slowly drifts away toward the packs. She even jumps when Posy calls her name. I catch Mom's eyes, and nod my head in Madge's direction. Thankfully, she gets it and keeps Madge under her wing.

"Sit down," Mrs. Everdeen orders, throwing down a blanket. I obey without thinking, stretching my legs out and reclining on my good arm. Or my better arm. That Sidler guy had heavy fists. My mind flies back to Madge and the memory of his hands on her, and the first sight of him forcing her under the water. I must have moved, because Mrs. Everdeen clamps her sensitive, healer hand on my shoulder, pushing me back into a sitting position.

"Relax."

Then a hiss escapes my lips as invisible liquid needles prick all over the gash on my chest.

Mrs. E looks up questioningly. I stopped paying attention to her and didn't notice her cleaning me up. Then I see the small piece of cotton in her hand, and the sharp smell of disinfectant, which will always remind me of the days I spent in the Everdeen kitchen, stings my nose.

"Sorry. Sort of hurts," I mumble more to myself than to her.

"It will," is all she says as she winds a thin gauze strip around my chest.

"Too bad all your neat work went to waste," I say by way of apology when she begins on my arm.

Mrs. E looks sorrowfully at the torn skin. "I'll stitch them this time. Who knows what new trouble you'll get into before we reach civilization?"

Stitches. My lips compress into a thin line as I anticipate that particular pleasure. "Great."

"I can give you something for the pain, if you like. But it'll knock you out." She glances up quickly, then over to her satchel. Without even seeing the clear vials, I know which ones she means.

No way. I don't want any more of that stuff. It makes me feel foggy for hours after I wake up. Besides, that seems like an extreme painkiller for something like stitches. I don't get why Mrs. Everdeen bothered offering.

"I'll live."

"You're like Katniss," she tells me. We both pause like we've been shocked by the sound of her daughter's name, which hasn't been mentioned between the two of us since our last night in Twelve. She's the suffer in silence type. Usually.

She continues awkwardly, "You both pretend to feel less pain than you do."

I stare. "It's just a few stitches. How bad can it be in comparison?" to a back beaten to ribbons…

Mrs. Everdeen shakes her head, then rubs more disinfectant on my arm. I choke down a yelp.

"You know," she muses, breaking her characteristic silence during treatment. There's an edge in her voice that doesn't quite match the reminiscent subject. "I've never seen Katniss so protective of anyone than the day they brought you to us on that plank of wood."

At first her words do something funny to my gut. In a good way, like a series of flips. But then an unwanted reflection comes to mind that squeezes the happiness out of it, leaving me feeling empty. I've seen Katniss protective of someone else.

"Sure you have. Lots of times," I reply, remembering footage of Katniss pounding on windowed doors after she won the first Games, or trying to take on that victor from Four over Mellark's body. Or, really, every time the baker's kid so much as closed his eyes, she'd be up in arms on his behalf. Just to name a few instances. It's a reflex for her – certainly not a guarantee of affection, as I've had the disappointment to learn.

Mrs. Everdeen somehow knows what's going on in my mind. "She did it for the camera, Gale."

I shake my head, though I want to believe her. I used to believe that her relationship with Peeta was scripted, at my most foolish times. So I reply, "I don't think so."

The lines around her mouth splay outward as she frowns. "Katniss stayed up with you all night. In fact, the whole time you were with us, she wouldn't eat or sleep if we didn't make her."

"I know." Friends do stuff like that.

"Do you?" Mrs. Everdeen counters, not quite looking at me. "I know the Games strained your relationship with her. Peeta Mellark didn't help, either, but—"

"Didn't help?" I scowl. "He ruined it."

"But Katniss loved you."

"Not the way I loved her."

"She might have." Mrs. Everdeen looks pointedly in Madge's direction, indicating her daughter's replacement. "And I'm disappointed by how quickly you can forget Katniss now that she's gone."

My jaw drops. "Forget Katniss? That's not possible."

"Then how can you throw yourself at the first female of age that you see?" she cries, baiting me. "If you loved Katniss at all, you'd still—"

I'm beginning to see the woman Katniss used to talk about, the one who pulled out and grieved for a dead man while her kids starved. To her, my relationship with Madge must seem impossible according to her brand of grief.

But it's not the same – what she had with her husband is not what I had with Katniss. Mutual feelings never entered into it.

"That isn't fair. I didn't throw myself at Madge. And I have not betrayed Katniss - she knew what I felt for her. I made myself clear on that point, but she couldn't think of me that way. While she lived, I still never looked at anyone else," I say, my voice cracking. I can't help it. "I didn't pretend to fall in love with someone else, feign an engagement or make up a child, while I tried to decide who I really cared about."

"You knew her the best," she chides. Her lips are drawn in a tight line, like she's trying to hold herself together. "So I don't have to tell you how rarely she loved anybody."

Including you, my jaded conscience inserts. If I've abandoned Katniss, at least it happened after she died.

My head droops to my chest, feeling guilty for that thought. I feel hollow, like my insides lie in a gut pile somewhere for carrion to pick at. I can think of a dozen different things to say in response, in denial, but somehow my tongue has unhinged itself. I didn't ask for any of this. Not Katniss's death, not killing a guy, and certainly not for a guilt trip to top everything off.

I stare at Mrs. Everdeen's worn face while she digs out her supply of catgut, measuring it against the amount of stitches I'll need. She lights a match to clean the curved needle. The trouble is that my arm doesn't have one nice, clean cut, but a series of small, deep and irregular gashes. Each in a different stage of healing, with a freshly damaged top layer of skin. The arm looks like a large, festering pin cushion.

Before Mrs. E makes the first stitch, I want to make one thing clear. I clasp her hand in mine. She looks up, startled.

"You and I saw the same footage on TV two weeks ago," I murmur. "I swear I haven't forgotten Katniss. But do you honestly believe that she thought of me in the arena? Mrs. Everdeen, I remember the day that picture in the locket was taken. She barely glanced at it. What can I do with that? But don't you ever believe that I'm done grieving for her. Just like you." Then I release her hand and hold out my arm.

Mrs. Everdeen says nothing, but her lips quiver while she bends over her supplies.

I bite down on my tongue as she starts to stitch me up. And yet, the pain helps. Sort of the way running in the woods clears my mind. The resurgent feeling of betrayal, confusion, and sadness slowly drains away. After all, Mrs. Everdeen's accusation isn't fair – but she's hurting, too.

I take stock of things while she works. The guy is dead, so Madge is okay. Nothing else will happen. We'll be careful. And taking care of her means she's really mine.

So, I'm glad I killed him. The idea sucker punches me.

Because I don't know how I did it – I mean, I know how I did it with the bow – but I just didn't know I had it in me. And the part of me that doesn't know feels afraid of the part that's glad.

A shadow falls across my legs. I look up to see Bristel standing over me. "So, that visitor of yours, is he still around?"

I nod, still biting my tongue, and blink back the moisture in my eyes caused by the piercing and pulling on my skin.

Bristel crosses his arms. "Does he need to be taken care of?"

I nod again, remembering that the man's body still lies in the creek. If left there, it'll contaminate the water.

"Should I take Rory?"

"No," I grouse through gritted teeth. Mrs. E pulls another stitch.

Bristel scratches his straggly beard. "Dead guys are pretty heavy."

I try not to hiss. "Fine."

Instead of leaving, he stays standing next to me for a moment longer.

"Rory's nearly thirteen, you know. I think he can handle it." Then Bristel muses, "And I think it'd mean a lot to him if you believed he could, too. Kids his age like to be treated like men."

I nod grudgingly. I know. I felt that way too, with our dad. Then he got blown to pieces, and I got my wish. Goes to show how dumb a kid can be when he's wishing.

Bristel waves Rory over. "So, what happened exactly? Besides the guy showing up. Last we knew, you and Madge were swimming around. Sort of." He smirks.

I clamp down on my impatience, which is usually on a short fuse anyway.

Since Mrs. Everdeen has entered her zone, not paying attention to us, I try puzzling together the things she said to me earlier. The disapproval and…resentment? I don't know if I want to talk about finding some guy mauling Madge in front of Mrs. E.

My eyes seek for her yellow hair in the midst of my black-haired family. Mom holds a one-way conversation across the way, piling food onto Madge's tin. Although, Posy's eating most of it herself while she sits on Madge's lap. I don't know how she would feel about me telling everything to Bristel and Rory. In fact, she isn't even talking, just letting my mom chatter away. Silence and secrets – that's my girlfriend. It's going to be interesting. Or hair-raising.

"Well?" Rory asks.

"I'll tell you some other time," I say.

Bristel gives Rory a look that suggests he'll explain later. Quite the pair, they are. I tell them where to find the clump of willows where the fish line used to be, remembering that my tackle box is still down by the creek. I'd hate to lose it, but Rory promises to bring it back. Then they disappear down the dip in the wooded bank, heading off in the direction I told them.

Mrs. Everdeen finishes the last stitch a little later, and I'm glad that Rory and Bristel distracted me most of the time. Not to mention that it gives Mrs. E less of an opportunity to talk about Katniss.

The keening sound of Posy throwing a tantrum throbs through the air, so Mom takes her for a walk. Madge scrapes some food on her tin, then wanders over. She's clean and wearing Rory's corduroys again.

Madge eyes Mrs. Everdeen cautiously. Not that it matters, because the woman gets up before Madge gets close enough to talk to.

Huh. Has Mrs. Everdeen spoken to her as well? I wonder as the older woman stalks off toward the creek. The idea makes me bristle, especially if she tried making Madge feel guilty, too.

After setting the plate of food on my lap, she sits next to me, hugging her legs to her chest, and watching Mrs. Everdeen retreat. Her fingers brush over my hand. "You know, when someone holds your hand, you feel better," she murmurs with forced lightheartedness.

"So I've heard." I give her hand a squeeze. "Too bad you weren't holding mine while I got these."

Madge wrinkles her nose at the short ends of catgut poking out. She traces down my arm, alongside the tight and swollen skin.

"Looks awful," she murmurs. "Will it scar?"

"Do I need more?" I ask.

She bites her lip, then grimaces, reaching up to touch the tender area. "Ouch."

"That's a nice bruise you'll have. Anything else hurt you didn't tell Mrs. E about?" Because with Madge, there's always something else.

"My legs and back are a little scraped up from the creek bed, but nothing bad." She leans forward, lifting up the hem of the oversized shirt to show me the scrapes. Then she seems to remember herself and tugs the shirt back down like she doesn't know why she showed me in the first place.

We sit quietly while I eat leftovers. Madge's eyelids droop, so I tell her to rest her head on my lap. Somehow having her close has a calming effect on me, like when she squeezed my hand earlier. 'Course, food has a calming effect, too.

When I'm finished, I set the tin down. "Thanks for that."

Madge sits up and stretches. "Posy threw a fit when I wouldn't let her eat your lunch. I felt bad for telling her no."

"Well, it looked like she got most of yours, already. She worships you, too, so I doubt it'll matter." I wrap my arm around her waist, dragging her closer. "I'm glad you're all right."

"I'm glad we're all right," she sighs. "What a strange, awful day."

"Not completely awful. I can think of a highlight." I kiss her, feeling her smile. I press my forehead gently against hers. "I guess you're done with swimming?"

She huffs. "I'm done with water. Swimming, drinking, bathing. No more."

I lean back so she can see my look of skepticism. "You don't care if you stop smelling like flowers or go mad from dehydration?"

"I smell like flowers no matter what," she sniffs, crossing her arms.

Not really, but I keep that to myself. I'm learning diplomacy with Madge. With Katniss, I could just say that she stank.

Speaking of. "So…Mrs. Everdeen?"

Madge groans and leans against my shoulder.

"Did she say something to you, too?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No, she hasn't said anything – actually, I think she's avoiding me. I get this sense that I've hurt her feelings. Yesterday she kept staring at me like I'd…I don't know."

"Betrayed Katniss?"

Madge startles. "Yes! But that might be my own conscience."

"I don't think so. Mrs. E had some choice words for me a few minutes ago." I snatch Madge's hand, hoping for that calming effect. "But I don't understand why she'd be upset yesterday. If it's about Katniss, I didn't know that we'd be together. How would she?" Then I remember, "We still haven't told them."

"I don't know, Gale. They might already realize." Madge squirms. "Well…your mom kind of knew that you'd…that we'd…" She blushes.

My eyebrows arch. "What? That I kissed you?" I scoff, "How would she know that?"

"She's a mom, Gale." Madge rolls her eyes. "Hazelle said I looked like I'd been kissed. They know stuff like that."

"My mom talked to you about this? What did she say?"

"Not much." Madge shrugs. "She didn't pry, just wanted to let me know that she's on to us, I guess."

"Huh. I bet she did." She's been meddling between us long before I knew it. I scratch my head, trying to remember if Madge looks a certain way after I kiss her that would give us away. Well, I guess I can find out. Leaning down, I kiss her on the least bruised side of her mouth.

She backs away instantly, with a blush that's never far from the surface. Ah, that must be what my mom saw.

Her eyes dart around the camp. "Gale, I don't think you should do that."

I stroke her cheek, feeling puzzled. "Why?" A disturbing idea makes my gut twist. If being with me makes her think of him. So I ask, "Because of that guy?"

She blanches. "No, it's not Sidler. I can tell the difference between the two of you. It's…well…I mean, Vick and Posy and Prim are right there. And your mom. We shouldn't embarrass them."

Their embarrassment isn't the problem, judging by Madge's pink ears. My family isn't even paying attention. At the moment, Mom is scolding Posy, and Prim's teaching Vick to make daisy chains. I need to have a talk with that kid…

Besides, we grew up with a certain kind of conditioning. "Madge, my whole family slept in one bedroom. A kiss isn't likely to embarrass them."

Her eyes widen. "Your family only had one bedroom?"

I wave my hand in an arc. "All the houses in the Seam have only one bedroom."

"I've never been to a house in the Seam," she mumbles with a grimace.

"Not even to see Katniss?"

"No," she says. "We never visited each other outside of school until after she came back from the Games. By then she lived in the Victor's Village."

"Well," I give her a wry smile, "I guess the mayor wouldn't want his daughter wandering around in the less savory parts of the district."

"Oh stop," she hisses. "That's not fair."

"That's right," I say archly. "I'm the snob."

She beats her fists against the ground in exasperation. "You are."

I grip her chin. "Madge, the material point is that kissing won't scandalize my family. I make no promises for Bristel, granted, but as long as you're comfortable with me kissing you after what just happened, we have no reason to worry."

"I'm not going to let Sidler spoil this," she says adamantly, pointing between us. "But don't you think we should at least tell your family first?" Her lips twitch. "And Bristel?"

"You said they already knew."

"Not formally."

Smirking, I say, "Guess they'll find out if we're obvious enough."

Mrs. Everdeen clears her throat.

Oops. Madge's incredulous eyes meet mine, each wondering how she managed to sneak up on us.

"I just need to gather my things." She opens her bag, which she left behind, and starts wrapping things neatly, making sure the needles are clean…even though she already did that earlier. Something catches Madge's eye.

"Oh, you still have some of that left?" she blurts out.

"I used it very sparingly," Mrs. E replies curtly, tucking the vial away.

I glance between them. "Used what?"

The color drains from Madge's face. Her eyes dart in my direction, then toward my mother, and back to Mrs. Everdeen. She concentrates on her hands after that.

"What is it?" I ask after Mrs. E walks away.

Madge holds a finger up. "Give me a minute…it's coming together."

All right?

Then she grins lopsidedly. It looks kind of goofy with her swollen lip, and there's a manic gleam in her eyes. "It worked."

"What did?"

"Well," she begins, "you know when you accused me of not telling you anything, and that I should? And then I said I don't know you and didn't want to and all that?"

I try to work that out, but it's kind of like an itch I can't reach. "Sounds familiar. Yeah."

Madge sits up very straight and takes a deep breath. Her blue eyes bug a little. "I'm going to tell you something voluntarily."

My heart starts pounding. Madge's confessions usually end with new world orders or dead men…but honesty…yes…great. That's what I've been saying.

"What is it?" I cringe.

She licks hers lips, stares at something over the treetops. "I brought you morphling."

Okay.

No, wait.

My eyes pop. "You brought me medicine?"

"Yes." Her eyes snap back to me.

"When my, uh," I gesture toward my back with my thumb. "The expensive stuff?"

She nods encouragingly. "Last winter."

I don't think I've ever wondered who brought it.

I remember leaning against the whipping post, then waking up on my stomach. Burning. Awake or asleep, it hurt just the same. Whenever Mrs. Everdeen touched my back, I wanted to scream for her to stop. Then more burning. Blacking out. Then the pain floating away. I woke up again. Prim held a glass of water to my lips and told me it had been three days since the whipping. Then Mrs. E gave me a shot, told me it was the last one of morphling she'd give me, that they'd rely on the snow coats from now on. And that's the last I thought about it.

"I figured it belonged to the Everdeens…" And our families don't pay each other back.

"No, it belonged to my mother. She wanted you to have it." Madge purses her lips. "Honestly I don't really know why, because she'd never heard of you till that night."

Something snaps in my brain – an image of a frailer, older version of Madge standing on the stairs inside a home within a condemned district. I remember feeling nothing for her. "If I had known that…" I swallow. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

Some things feel more frightening than wild dogs or even the reaping, and that's generosity. Especially when it sneaks up on you, and you find yourself beholden to the last family you never would have wanted to owe.

"If I'd told you about the morphling then you would have felt obligated to me," Madge murmurs. "I wanted you to l-love me."

We stare at each other for a moment.

Then I frown. "But I could have paid you back." I might have been more understanding.

"Ugh!" She throws her hands in the air. "With what money, Gale? Don't you understand the concept of a gift? Hazelle said you'd act this way."

"My mother?" I ask stupidly.

"We had a whole discussion about the morphling on the night you were whipped," Madge explains, clearly frustrated. "She came to thank me, but my mother didn't want reimbursement, and neither did I. And I tried to convince Hazelle that we were even anyway, but no. All of a sudden you show up on my doorstep one awful night because your mother can't leave well enough alone…"

I hold my hand up. "Wait, wait, wait. My mom knew about all this?" Another piece of the puzzle fits together in my mind. "That's why…that's the debt she mentioned the night of the bombing." That explains the disappointment written on her face when I refused to go at first. Hell's teeth.

I rest my forehead on my upturned palm. "So if she knew, then who else?"

"Katniss and the Everdeens, of course. Haymitch. Peeta," Madge lists their names on her fingers. "I don't know who else might have been in the house, but that's everyone who crowded around their front door."

"Katniss never told me." I feel completely puzzled. Whispering, more to myself, "Why didn't she tell me?"

Maybe the same reason why she didn't tell me about the boy with the bread, I grouse in my head. Thinking of Katniss as the one keeping secrets from me, instead of the mayor's daughter, feels like a stab in the back.

Madge gives me a sad look. "A lot happened after that night, what with Thread wreaking havoc in the district. It probably slipped her mind." She shrugs. "Besides, it's not important."

I look up. "Not important? I've never experienced so much pain in my life and I never got to thank you. I should have had that chance, at least."

"Forget it," she says, then snaps her mouth shut. The words sound familiar. "I mean, we're even now. Or we were."

My brows contract. "What do you mean?"

"Well," she sighs. "You helped me that one time just before the Harvest Festival."

"I did?"

Madge's head tilts to the side. "Don't you remember those disgusting Peacekeepers?"

"Oh, them." I laugh bitterly. Well, with Katniss's recent engagement announcement, I needed a punching bag. Those idiots did me a favor, providing the excuse. "I forgot about them," I say. "They were drunk."

Then I take a good look at Madge, trying to see her from an objective, male point of view. "Hell's teeth. I'm always pulling men off of you, aren't I?"

Her jaw drops in horror. "Gale Hawthorne!"

"Sorry," I mutter, rubbing my eyes. I don't know what's gotten into me – I feel cracked all over. "That was out of line."

Madge sits silently with her ruffled feathers for a few moments before she finally says, "The point I am trying to make is that I owed you for helping me. So, you don't have to thank me for the morphling."

"Still…"

"And then you helped me escape Twelve, fed and clothed me, and you beat off Sidler. So, I'm still in your debt."

I lie down on the blanket and stare heavenward for a few moments, collecting my thoughts. "Madge, maybe we should stop keeping track. Don't you think?"

She considers this for a moment. "But..."

I brush a finger over her lips. Ideas race through my mind, connecting in new ways. "When I first met Katniss in the woods, we kept everything as even as possible – as profitable as possible. I wondered if she'd cheat me if I let my guard down." My lips turn up fondly at the memory. "Somehow that turned into friendship, but only because we stopped keeping track of what we owed the other. And her profit became my profit. Maybe that doesn't make sense, but we did much better in the woods when we were watching the other's back, and not our own."

"So what are you saying?" she whispers.

"I'm saying, who cares if we're even or beholden? Let's just agree to help each other out. Not because of rescues or food or morphling, but because that's what people do when they care about each other. " I hold out my hand for hers. "Agreed?"

Madge places her hand in mine and we shake. Her eyes shine. "Agreed."

TBC

Thank you for reading!

Ceylon, thank you for beta and advice. Awesome!