Military School (Part 3)
(Gale/Madge)
(Modern Day)

A/N: Guest,
"She hands slide into her hair and he groans into the kiss, his chest dipping down some. His chest brushes against her and she arches her back. Soon enough they're tumbling into the barrack and stumbling into the shower room. They both press a button on the wall and the showers come blazing down on them in an icy stream." Here is the paragraph (excerpt from Part 2) explaining how they went from the meadow to the showers. Hope that helps! Thanks for the review.

Gadge Lover,

Glad I could do justice for what you asked for. I'm so happy you had fun reading it because I had fun writing it. I do plan to write more of this AU. Thanks so much for your review and please, if there's any more things you wanted imputed in this AU please share your thoughts! And that goes for anyone!

Madge's legs are hairy. They are absolutely disgusting. She couldn't stand it another day. This fifteen minute shower thing was a problem. She only had enough time to either wash her hair or shave her armpits and legs. And when you have mud caked in your hair…it doesn't leave you much of a choice between the options. And she hated it. It was outright torture.

On the other hand, she would end up stuck showering right next to Gale. It was like there was this unspoken rule that where they were now was where they would stay. And as much as she loved sneaking small glances at Gale's amazing body, he was distracting and she couldn't properly wash her hair without wanting to yank out strands in frustration. And it sure didn't help when Gale Hawthorne smirked at the wall every damn time he caught her looking at him, sometimes a little too low.

He would never dare to utter a word to her, he wasn't like that, but it didn't mean he didn't like the rose color that blossomed across her cheeks every time she'd snap her head back to her own shower wall. He'd find her looking at him more often than not. Her eyes would trace the lines of flames down his side or the spindles of the dream catcher (she found out there were names written in the webbing) with a faraway look. Gale found her beautiful. Not…not that he, you know, would admit that or anything.

Now they were resting on their individual cots after a long day at the obstacle course, located on the Battlefield. It turns out they have to beat their times next time around. Of course, Mr. Perfect (Abs) beat his time from last time, still ranking the fastest course time in the group. Kenji, Gale's friend, had to do it three times before he actually passed it; and to be perfect honest, Gale thinks Wiress pitied him and let him slide with a few seconds to spare.

Madge, on the other hand, can barely climb through the barbed wire section without her hair getting caught in its professional bun, yanking the strands harshly every time. Her hands burn from the friction of the old rope rubbing harshly against her palms in fear. That, too, was awful. Madge just wasn't built for high agility training. She wasn't a soldier, she more like a princess. She was known for her crown and jewels, not her fatigues and combat boots. Her makeup was supposed to be done tastefully, not black strips under her eyes and camouflage painted everywhere. Currently, she was a diamond in a rough.

She demised Gale for his quick learning. He adapted to the Military well, like he belonged there. And maybe he did, she never knew if he was here for personal reasons of misconduct like her or if he wanted to be here. She didn't even know how long he's been here at Panem Military Academy. To be honest, she didn't really know that much about him.

Sure, he was good looking, excelled in math and science, and had a knack for grammar, but what did that mean besides that he was smart and still good looking? That didn't tell her if he was a good person or a bad person. The only thing she could really rely on her thoughts for was stick with Gale, he'll protect you, teach you, and help you. But it was no guarantee that he would do that.

"Gale?" she asks as she rolled over to face him. He quirks and eyebrow up and sets his book on his lap. "Why are you here?"

He freezes up. His hands tighten against the book until his knuckles were white. His throat felt tight and his eyes went a little wider. Why would she want to know that? He's not proud of why he is here. He doesn't like to talk about it. He doesn't want to ruin what he has built up for Madge. He smiled tightly, "Because this is my barrack too."

It clearly wasn't the answer she was looking for, if you could judge anything by the frown lacing her lips. He picks his book back up and returns to reading before she can ask for the real reason. He can hear her sigh dejectedly, clearly not going to push him for an answer.

His eyes skirt over the words lining the page without actually reading them. He glances down at the bottom of the page, memorizing the page number before he continued to flip through the rest of the chapter. 146. He'd pick up there next time when his mind wasn't on a fast course. He couldn't think about what was happening to Adam Cassidy in Paranoia when Madge's question was spinning around in his head.

Why are you here…?

Why are you here…?

Why are you here…?

He was meant to be here. He was a bad kid that needed to be reformed. He was a kid that disappointed people so many times his own mother wouldn't talk to him. And sure, he died a little every time he thought about his siblings growing up without him, his mother soothing them with they needed it. And yet, here he is, all by his lonesome because he couldn't make good choices. He didn't talk about it. He didn't want to talk about it. The only people that know why he's here are the people in charge. He's never told a living soul why he's here.

All he knows is that he is meant to be here. He deserves it. He deserves every little pain, heartache, and torment. Because why should a fuck up like him be treated like a real person? It's not like he's going anywhere in life.

Tears burn the back of his eyes. He slips his bookmark, a Polaroid picture of his siblings and mother on Posy's 2nd birthday, back into his book and sets it on the trunk at the end of the bed. He pulls the covers up to his chin and turns his back to Madge. He curls up in a tightly wound ball and shut his eyes tightly. He tried to block out the sounds of all the people he disappointed. But at the same time, he embraces the torture because there was no other way to get better without letting it hurt you more. Or at the least that's what he believes. He was a misunderstood, neglected teenage that wants someone to actually care. Yet, he was too afraid to let anyone in to close in fear that he will disappoint them too.

He hated to admit it, but he was afraid. He was afraid of how much power people have over him.

He just wants to go home.

…

Today was Sunday, their only day off. It was around 1100 hours and Gale was still sleeping soundly on his cot. Madge was starting to worry that he was sick or something because he was a morning person and was never up later than five in the morning. And there he was a cot over oversleeping by six hours.

"Do you think he's okay?" Katniss asks, her graze following Madge's. She shrugs and only continues to stare at his sleeping form. His back was turned to her so she couldn't tell if his cheeks for tinted pink with fever or not. He only had a thin blanket thrown over his shoulders; his comforter was still folded neatly at the bottom on the bed.

She could see his back muscles pull taunt against his skin and his hair was everywhere. The baggy gray t-shirt he wore had slipped off his shoulder during the night and if she stretched her neck she could see his sharp collarbone jutting out. He took too thin. Her eyes traveled once down the line of his spine, her eyes rolling over all the bumps and ridges before turning back to her friend and shrugging.

"Guess we'll see when he gets up." Katniss looks once more over Madge's shoulder at Gale. Her eyes filled with worry for a split second before her slate gray eyes turn back to Madge's ocean blue ones. Katniss nods once, like she's trying to make herself believe he was alright.

She's always gotten this impression that he was lonely, that he was scared of something unknown. She could almost feel it radiating off him like heat waves. She didn't know why she felt like her and Madge had to take care of him if he is sick, he's clearly able to take care of himself, but she felt like no one has taken the time to do so in a long time. He only seemed to have one really good friend here, Kenji. And sure, the rest admired him like Katniss does and Madge too, but some seemed to just be out to get him.

She felt bad. She knew how Gale felt. Her own mother has been vacant the last few years.

When he wakes at almost 2030 hours, he looks refreshed as he stretches his arms above his head, his back popping in the process. He rolls his head back and forth to get the cricks out of it before collapsing back against his pillows once more. He glances at the girls with a lazy smile.

"Good morning." He murmurs in morning voice. Madge almost dies right there on her cot. His voice was way too hot in the morning. It should be illegal!

"It's the afternoon, sleepyhead." Madge replies. His eyes widen and one eyebrow rises higher than the other. "It's almost 2:30." He shakes his head in disbelief, that small smile from earlier still gracing his features, causing Madge's stomach to erupt with butterflies.

Madge is overjoyed when Gale goes to brush his teeth; it gives her the much needed time to cool her cheeks down. And, well, maybe her hormones, too. Katniss snorts at her and shakes her head.

"Oh my god, you like him, don't you?" Madge violently shakes her head no. "You do!" Kat exclaims.

"Well don't tell him!" she whisper-yells back at the brunette. Katniss shakes her head and takes out the braid she slept on.

…

"Hey Peet." Gale nods at the young cook behind the counter. Despite what most people think, Military food at this base is phenomenal all because of that damn baker boy.

"Gale." Peeta nods back. His smiles brighten when a certain brunette behind Madge nods at him too. Katniss' cheeks heat up much like Madge's had earlier. She smirks at her friend. Katniss swats at Madge's arms and pushes her quicker down the line.

They sit at their usual table and eat; quiet conversation fills their table while the rest of the cafeteria screams with excitement.

Katniss and Madge were idly chatting about their families. Madge was excited to hear from her dad that her mother felt well enough to make the trip down for family day. Katniss was about to burst open with excitement because she gets to see her little sister, Prim, in a little while. Gale sits and watches the two ladies converse about their families. He silences listens and nods at all the right places, but his heart felt heavy.

They fall into line back to Barrack 12 with straight backs and ridges, structured steps. They were second to last to leave the cafeteria in front of Barrack 13. They march left, right, left, right, left, right until they're standing in front of their cots with their hands back their backs and their feet shoulder length apart.

Gale's thoughts drifted. He knew he should listen and act all excited about family day, he thinks with disgust, but he couldn't get into it. He wasn't even aware of the Admiral standing in front of him until his spittle came flying into his eyes and wetting his face.

"Hawthorne," he barks, "be perfectly honest with me…Do you want to go home?" the man's piercing green eyes strike Gale like a lightning bolt. He knew he was putting salt to Gale's wounds. But he didn't care; the boy needs to pay attention.

If the Admiral Finnick wasn't standing as close to Gale as he was (boot to boot), he wouldn't have seen the slight blush appear on the young man's cheeks. Finnick knew he was being harsh, cruel even, and embarrassing the young lad, but the Military was the Military, and they had rules.

"Yes, sir." He mutters.

"Then you better clean up your act." His voice comes out softer than he wanted, but he doesn't regret the way it sounds. The kid has been through a lot. And it sucks to know that his family is the only family that didn't show today, or last year. It's like the kid is alone, but it seems he's always been that way.

But there was one thing that Finnick couldn't have begged for more than Gale's hard work. But the more he watches Gale, the more he realizes maybe the kid pushes himself too hard to not think about the past. He's bettering himself, Finnick thinks; I just have to push it a little harder.

Finnick said it last year, and he'll say it every year until Gale graduates, but Gale needs to clean up his act or his family will never come to see him. He probably should have told him when he was alone, but that just wasn't how it was done. Better to let the kid down now, than let him go out there and look for his family that will never be found.

"Yes, sir." Gale nods, his eyes downcast to the dirty floor, too embarrassed to face his peers, too sad to look at all the hopeful, eager faces. They get to see their families. They get to be wrapped in love. They were loved. And Gale was not.

…

Madge races through the crowd towards her dad, who towers over the crowd. He's 6'5 so he's super tall, even taller than Gale. Her father wrap around her shoulders and her mother's thin, frail arms around her waist.

"It's so good to see you." Her mother whispers against Madge's back. All the anger she held towards them was long dissipated and she was overjoyed to see them again. "Got a boyfriend yet?"

"Mom!" Madge's cheeks burn scarlet. All the memories of late nights with Gale comes flooding back, the showers (oh god, the showers), the late night talks (damn, he was really intelligent), and god almighty…those kisses (those lips). It has only happened two or three times, the talks she means. The shower and kisses were only once, but man she wishes it was more. Thinking about it now, her body almost aches for his again. But she knew it was inappropriate and she hardly knew anything about it.

"Just asking!" her mother's hand raise in surrender. Her father chuckles and pulls his two ladies along. They visit the barracks and Madge is surprised to find it Gale absent. They visit the meadows and Madge's cheeks heat up unforgivingly. And visit the Battlefield where Madge (thanks to honing in her observation skills) spots Gale all the way up the obstacle course, hidden in the corner where hardly anyone can see him. If you weren't looking for him, you wouldn't see him. Madge quickly steers away from there, trying to give him his peace.

They head towards the cafeteria for food and drinks.

…

Madge wonders away from her parents, letting her feet carry her wherever they please. She doesn't even realize they took her to the Battlefield until her feet stop in front of the wooden latter. She climbs it slowly, the first time she could take it at her own leisure, until she reaches the top.

"Want some company?" she whispers to the boy across the platform. He's startled by her presence. He looks up quickly, shaking his head before bowing it again. Even in the dim moon light she can tell his shoulders are shaking. He's crying. And her entire body feels like it shatters.

She ignores his wants and crawls across the space towards him. She doesn't wrap her arms around him or even place a hand on his knee. Instead, she just sits there letting the wind slap her in her face and rustle her hair in wild waves, and lets him do his thing. She tightens her jackets and it comes to her that's he's probably freezing. She glances at the boy next to her, he's curled up in a ball and she can tell he's holding his breath, almost like he knew she would look at him.

"Are you cold?" she questions. He shakes his head.

Of course he isn't. All the inner turmoil raging inside of him is heating him. He isn't too hot and isn't too cold. He just tired. He tired of trying. The weight of the world feels like it's been placed on his thin shoulders. It's felt like that for a while now.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks with hesitance. She doesn't want to push him or even anger him. But she wants to let him know she's listen.

There isn't an answer, unless the wind counts. They sit in silence, Madge listening to the sounds of the earth and Gale listening to the sound of his heart beating against his ribcage and his mother's voice in his head.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." He mutters, his voice is like a solid wall of misery when it hits Madge's ear. It's like a slap in the face. He hits the side of his head with the heel of his hand repeatedly. Madge grips his wrist on the way back and holds it in her own. She kisses the inside of his wrist.

"Gale," she breathes out his name, "what's wrong?"

It's the first time he's look at her since before. His skin looks too heavy, pulling his face into a face of pure misery, brokenness, and loneness. She hates it. She kisses his wrist again just as the waterfall of words come pouring out from his lips.

"I've screwed up, Madge." He sounds exhausted, like the world has put him through the ringer five thousand times over.

"Everyone screws up Gale."

"No, no, you don't understand. I've. Screwed. Up. Madge!" he buries his head into her shoulder and sobs, his words are hardly recognizable through his tears and her jacket, "My, m-m-my family hates me. They won't even talk to me. They never come, Madge. Never. I've been here over a year and they never once came." He's not even trying to hold back his tears now. He just lets it out.

Even she can tell he's been holding this in for a long time now, probably since the day he last saw his family. Her heart is shattering into even tinier pieces.

"Gale." She whispers as she closes her eyes. "Gale."

She can feel his fingertips – feather light – against her jawline. His rough fingers following the line of her jaw slowly, like he memorizing it. She can feel him shift in his spot as he moves closer to her. She knows he's going to kiss her before he does it. His lips hover over hers, barely a breath of space between their parted lips. He stares at her with an intense graze before pressing his lips to hers sweetly, softly, lightly.

Her stomach erupts in flames of pleasure. She feels at home, but she knows he's in pain and that he's only using her to distract himself. But before she can even let him continue to use her he pulls away, his fingers – barely there – still linger on her jaw, his mouth a centimeter away from hers. All she has to do is stretch her lips to meet his again, but she doesn't. She keeps her eyes closed.

"And I'll mess up with you, too." He whispers, his words spreads across her lips and sink into her eyes like sun rays.

"No, you won't." she states, leaving no room for disbelief, "I won't allow it."

He looks up at her, "You won't?" he pauses, stares, and breathes, "How?"

She leans forwards, closing that sliver of space, to kiss him again. She watches his eyes fall shut and her follow shortly after. Their lips move like they've done this a thousand times instead of once. Their lips mold together like they were made to bend against each other's. Their breathing intermingled and exchanged between the short pants between kisses. She never let his lips get too far and he never let her lips leave his for too long.

He needed her. He needed her in the simplest way. He needed – no he wanted – her to take care of him. To love him in the purest way. The way his stomach knotted and twisted in the best way around her made him want her even more. She affected him. And for the first time in a while, she affected him in a good way. He wasn't afraid of disappointing her because he knew she'd forgive him if he didn't mess up too bad. She radiated light so bright it matched the color of her hair, brighter than the sun. She felt safe. And that falling feeling that was constantly in him for so long – so long¬ – stilled and he felt grounded, stable for the first time in what feels like forever.

"Madge," he pants, "Madge, I need to tell you something."

"Mmm?" her lips never leave his.

"Madge," he dips his head down, her lips land on his forehead. I can live with this; he thinks of the placement of her lips, I can focus like this. Now, just tell her. "I've done bad things, like really, really bad things."

"Like what?" she question gently.

"I've done drugs and gotten into too many fights – "

She cuts him off, "If that's the worst you've done than I don't care." She presses her lips further into his forehead in a kiss.

"I almost kill someone…" he whispers it so low that he's not sure if she heard him. And she not sure if she heard him right.

"What do you mean almost killed someone?"

"Like attempt at murder." He chokes out. He squeezes his eyes so tightly shut he sees white. "I didn't mean it. I wasn't well. I-I-I…" he trails off.

"Why?" he can hear tears in her voice, but she hasn't pulled away.

"I-I, he made me so mad – "

She cuts him off again, "That doesn't justify murder, Gale." In completely monotone.

"You must hate me." it comes out as a whine; his heart is beating way to fast that it's scaring it. He wishes a black hole would come and suck him into it. He wanted to disappear.

"I don't hate you. Gale, I know you're better than that. I know you're a better person now. I see it. I watch you better yourself every day. You're not a violent person anymore, Gale. And that's saying you were. Gale, believe me when I say you're too cute to hate." She tries to lighten up the mood. He huffs out a laugh through his nose.

He leans away from her, on his hands, "So you think I'm cute, huh?" she blushes.

"Well, I'm not blind." She smirks, leaning forward to brush his hair away from his face. He grabs her wrist and pulls her to him, kissing her.

"You're not afraid of me? Hate me?"

"Nope." She pops the 'p.'

"Good." He grins against her lips. She takes advantage of his slanted position. She pushes his shoulders back until they hit the wood beneath them. Her hands snake up his shirt and groans into her mouth. He runs his tongue across her bottom lip, asking for entrance, but she doesn't let him. She's in control of this situation. He allows her entrance when she silently asks, though.

He groans against when she tugs on his belt loops, causing his hips to rise. He flips them so he's now on top. He peppers kisses down her throat and collarbone, causing her to moan against his hair.

"I like you." He pants against her skin.

"I like you, too." He grins against her throat. "So it's official?"

"If you want it to be." But neither one of them know what the other is saying but they don't care. Of course they aren't officially together, they can't be, they hardly know each other. They don't even know each other's middle name.

When they part they laugh. He peppers a quick secession of kisses against her lips like an old lady.

He leans back against his hands again, they legs still tangled together.

"So why are you here?"

"I got a detention at school." She states like it was too big deal.

And for the next twenty minutes, he can't stop laughing.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. God I haven't written in forever! I only have 6 more weeks until school starts again! *makes a horrified expression* Why does summer feel so short!? I want more summer!