Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine

Mirrors

Madge can't say she's fond of District Thirteen.

While on the outside it's the opposite of the Capitol in every way, at its core, it feels a little too familiar, a little too much like the constant presence she grew up under the thumb of. Instead of pageantry and glitter, and control through fear and coercion, Thirteen has stark simplicity and military efficiency, control through schedules and uniforms. In Madge's mind, they're nothing less than a reflection in a mirror, the same, but backwards.

When she'd told Mr. Abernathy this, shortly after he'd arrived in Thirteen, after the bombing and after the unexpected end of the Games, he'd chuckled.

"You have a pretty good measure of it, Pearl."

They only speak of it in the little apartment they shared. It isn't safe talking about the likelihood that their adopted home, their supposed savior, is something less than a miracle.

"Just keep your head down and your nose clean," he tells her.

She thinks that's a bit rich coming from him, considering he argues with almost everyone he comes into contact with, the exception being Madge and her mother.

When he'd first arrived in Thirteen he'd thrown a fit after learning that Madge and her mother were having to share and apartment with another woman, who'd worked in the Justice Building, and her two wild children, supposedly due to a shortage of accommodations, despite the fact that almost everyone not connected with the government received private apartments.

"It's discrimination," he'd growled at the group of people in charge of assigning housing. "They worked for the Capitol, that doesn't mean they are Capitol."

It had taken nearly an entire day, but in the end he'd gotten them moved, up several floors and into the Spartan little apartment he'd been pre-assigned. Madge and her mother got the bed and he got the couch. Madge decided there were worse arrangements. At least she no longer had to listen to the woman's children throwing rubber balls at the walls until they went to sleep at night.

The only downside to moving had been that the Everdeens and Hawthornes were now several floors away. Madge had enjoyed having the children to talk to and play with while she waited for the District to decide on a proper job for her. She'd also like the proximity to Gale.

When they'd first arrived in Thirteen he'd defended her when the processors had tried to take her and her mother away for questioning.

"She warned us to get out," Gale had snapped at them, guarding Madge and her mother from the little group of men sent to pull them from the group of survivors.

"And how did she know?" The oily man had asked, eyeing Madge over Gale's shoulder and sending a shiver up her spine.

"Birdy Alameda and her friends from Ten," Madge had told him, trying to step out from behind Gale, only to have him grab her by the back of her filthy blouse and her voice cracking. She didn't know what they would do to her and her mother if they managed to get them away from Gale's protective shadow, but she doubted it would be pleasant. "They knew something was coming and had everything ready."

The man dark eyes, glowing dimly in the florescent lighting, scanned all around in unsubtle mocking.

"And where is Miss Alameda? Why did she and her friends from Ten not come with you?"

Madge had almost told him that Birdy hadn't even wanted Madge and her mother to make the journey to Thirteen, that neither the Victor nor her friends trusted the no longer dead District, but she held her tongue. She knew better than to place herself under more scrutiny by aligning with a group of people that, judging by the man's expression, were already suspicion.

"They still had a District to go back to, so they did." It was a part of the truth at any rate.

He'd sneered at her, eyes traveling from the top of her matted head down to her ragged shoes, and shrugged. "Carry on."

It was only after he and his men moved on, taking down names and ages of the other survivors, that Gale finally let his hand drop from her back.

Things had been going so well between them for the short time she'd been living down the hall from him and the others.

Madge and her mother had been allowed to sit at the table with them for meals, invited back to their apartments for card games and to talk, and fretted with them during those long days as they waited to learn what had actually happened when Katniss had shot the Arena.

"I don't understand why they won't tell us anything," Gale had grumbled as Madge had helped him with the burns on his arms.

She'd gently dabbed the rationing of gauze on the raw skin and shrugged. "It's their way of controlling us, Gale. They have something we want, and the only way to get it is to behave. Then maybe they give us a nugget."

Gale hadn't liked that answer, but over the last year, since Madge had helped Katniss and Peeta train and proven that her guesses were well thought out, and more often than not accurate, he'd started to listen to her more. He'd nodded and chewed the inside of his cheek, mulling over how long he had to play nice before receiving his reward.

Not long after that several men from the military, in starched uniforms and severe haircuts, came for Gale, telling him his assistance was needed.

After that everything had gone quickly.

Katniss was there, alive but confused and unwell, along with Mr. Abernathy and a few others, all saved from the destruction of the Arena.

There was no Peeta though.

That detail had seemed, to Madge at least, to be of little consequence to the officials in Thirteen Madge overheard as Mr. Abernathy had dragged her along with him as his personal assistant for several days before the officials told him she wasn't allowed to attend meetings with him anymore.

"You let that hothead cousin come play in our sandbox, but I bring someone with actual brains to the table and you want her out?" He'd grumbled, glaring at them through bloodshot eyes.

Touched as she was that he thought her mind was sharp enough to be part of the planning for whatever the group was slowly formulating, Madge was glad to be away from it.

At first she'd seen it as a way to spend more time with Gale and Katniss, but that hope was quickly squashed. The two of them vanished after every meeting they attended. Just like in Twelve, they found an escape from the suffocating hold of those in control together. She didn't know where they went, what they did, or what it really meant, and her aching heart didn't want to know.

Slowly Madge saw Gale less and less, visited his family and Katniss' less and less, pulled herself away from them as much as she could. It was for the best. They were never hers to begin with and it had been foolish to think she could ever be a permanent part of their lives.

Beyond that, though, she hadn't liked the whispers she often heard around her. The military of Thirteen was just as brutal, just as bloodthirsty and cruel, as any Peacekeeper. Thirteen had seventy-five years worth of resentment built up, bubbling and boiling, and they were finally about to use Katniss and her position as the final flash of heat to exact their revenge, whatever that was.

When Mr. Abernathy finally gave her the 'bad' news, that she was going to be assigned a new job, Madge made an appropriately disappointed face despite her immense relieve. Mr. Abernathy had seen through her.

"You could've just told me you didn't want to be there," he'd smiled sadly.

Madge shrugged, eyes focused on her feet, and mumbled, "I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

He chuckled, "Sweetheart, I don't have any feelings. You know that."

Two days later, after deciding that the best way to heal her wounded heart would be to separate herself from the Everdeens and Hawthornes completely, Madge asked Mr. Abernathy to help her get on in the agriculture section.

"I miss working with plants," she told him when he gave her a questioning look.

"I could go with her," Madge's mother had said brightly. "I always liked gardening."

Despite having no morphling, no medication of any sort due to the tight control the government of Thirteen on those sort of things, she'd been better. Especially since the move from the old apartment. Madge wonders if perhaps there's something in the recycled air making her formerly crippling headaches more tolerable.

"The only openings are in the late shift," Mr. Abernathy told them during 'reflection' time the next day.

"Perfect," Madge nodded. They were underground, what did circadian rhythms matter when there was no sun, no moon, no stars?

"Are you sure?"

Madge nodded again. It was the best possible outcome. An evening shift would put her at opposites of both the Everdeens and Hawthornes. No shared meals, no shared 'open' times on their schedules, no room for more heartache. She could heal in peace.

Or so she'd thought.

Shortly after starting her new job, picking sickly green beans in one of Thirteen's immense gardens under artificial sunlight, Vick and Rory find her.

"Are you avoiding us," Vick asks.

"No," Madge answers, a little too quickly. "I couldn't be Mr. Abernathy's assistant anymore so I had to get a new job."

"When are you going to be on a normal schedule?" Rory probes.

Madge shrugs as she begins walking, brushing dirt from her drab gray pants and smearing a patch of brown on the stomach of her thin shirt.

"It's because of Gale, isn't it?" Vick asks as he and Rory trail along behind her.

"Why would you think that?" Madge chuckles, trying to make it sound as if she finds the idea laughable.

"Because you like him and he's a complete idiot," Rory offers.

She doesn't break her step; she needs to get to the tomato gardens to retrieve her mother. "Gale isn't an idiot, Rory."

Though, honestly, she thinks he is sometimes.

"Haymitch thinks he is," Rory offers with a small smirk.

"Mr. Abernathy thinks everyone is an idiot," Madge tells him.

Vick pipes up, "He doesn't think you're an idiot."

Madge finally stops, turns on her heals and sighs. She hates lying, but this is necessary she thinks.

"Boys, I'm not avoiding you or Gale or anyone. Everyone has a job here and this is mine, understand?"

Before she realizes what's about to happen, Vick has thrown his arms around her. "I just miss you."

Her arms are pinned to her sides and his cheek, slightly chubbier from the consistent meals but also paler from the extended time underground, is pressed to her chest. Feeling her own cheeks warm, Madge sighs. "I know, Vick, I miss you too."

He holds on a few seconds too long and Madge has to gently shrug him off, gives him a pat on the shoulder and a smile.

"Maybe we can come walk you home?" He offers brightly.

Madge frowns. "Did your schedule change?"

She didn't remember them having free time at this hour, in fact, she's pretty sure they should be in bed.

"I hate those things," Rory mutters. He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "We're making our own schedule. Gale does what he wants, why shouldn't we?"

Madge doesn't argue with it, because really, it's a fair point. Gale's always gotten to have a degree of freedom, it seems only fair that in this new land, with new leaders and new rules, that his brothers should be allowed to have their own chance at grabbing what little freedom they could find.

Besides, she's missed them.

After that, every night without fail, Vick and Rory are waiting for her.

They tell her about their day, complain about the lessons and the homework, tell her about the girls in their class-discussions that Madge's mother has more than enough to contribute to, much to Madge's mortification-and grumble about Gale.

"He's never there," Vick tells her as they wait for Madge's mother to finish washing her hands. "All he does is go with those military people and Katniss and he never has time for us."

"He's got very important work to do, Vick. Don't be too hard on him."

Both Vick and Rory roll their eyes at that.

A few days later they come, panic in their eyes, and frantically gesture for her despite the fact that her shift doesn't end for quite some time.

Avoiding the glare of her supervisor, Madge ducks and runs over to the pair.

"What's the matter?" She asks, slightly out of breath.

"Gale is going somewhere," Vick tells her, his eyes shining.

Madge frowns. "Going somewhere?"

"He came home and said Katniss is sick and that they're going to get Peeta. He told us not to worry," Rory says, his voice tight. "He's going to the Capitol."

It's a ridiculous thought, that those in charge would make an untrained man, someone with no military experience, participate in such a clandestine plan. Madge wouldn't put it past them though. Gale is handsome and increasingly well known, first as Katniss' 'cousin' and now as something much less wholesome. Even if he's killed it would provide a spectacular bit of programming for Thirteen.

"I'll go talk to Mr. Abernathy," Madge tells them quickly, pulling her apron over her neck. "If anyone can put a stop to this, it'll be him."

Before they can say anything Madge takes off, running down the narrow gap between the gardens toward the halls leading to the multitudes of locked room where the distrustful government of Thirteen plots and plans.

When she finally makes her way to the lower levels, down countless stairs and weaving through the trickling crowds, she's stopped by a pair of young guards.

"I'm here to see Haymitch Abernathy," she tells them, pulling herself up and brushing her now sweaty hair out of her face and trying to catch her breath.

"He's unavailable," one of them tells her.

Madge grits her teeth. There has never been a time when Mr. Abernathy has been 'unavailable' to her. "Tell him Madge is here to see him."

"You'll have to come back later, ma'am," the other one tells her, taking her by the upper arms and turning her.

When he starts to pull her away from the hall, away from the only person she's certain can help Gale, her frustration boils over.

"MR. ABERNATHY!"

"Ma'am-"

"MR. ABERNATHY!"

"Ma'am, you need to sto-"

"MR. ABERNATH-"

One of the guards finally clamps his hand over her mouth to silence her as him and his cohort try to drag her away. Madge kicks one in the shin and twists, freeing herself from their grip. As she starts to run down the now unguarded hall though, one of them trips her and pins her to the ground.

"Ma'am, you are not allow-"

Before he can finish someone pulls him from her and tosses him to the wall with a thud.

Gale and a man Madge is certain she recognizes but can't quite place a name with, stare down at her.

"Gale!" Madge squeaks as she tries to scramble to her feet.

Before she manages to get up, Gale reaches down and hauls her to her feet, steadying her by the shoulders. He gives her a scrutinizing look before turning to glare at the pair of slowly standing guards. "Did they hurt you?"

Madge's heart stutters. She's missed his concern. As his hands burn on her shoulders, she realizes she's also missed what little physical contact he gave her and her cheeks flush even more. "I'm fine."

He gives the guards one last dark look before letting his hands drop from her shoulders and sighing. His calloused fingertips press to his eyes before falling to his sides. "What were you yelling about?"

The reason for her abandoning her job, something she'll pay for when she gets back, comes back to her.

"Vick and Rory, they came and told me their making you go to the Capitol for Peeta." Without thinking Madge grabs his hand and begins dragging him down the hall, to where she remembers taking notes on Mr. Abernathy's behalf. "Come on. I'll talk to Mr. Abernathy. He'll fix this."

"Fix what?" Gale stops her, his hand still tight around hers, and waits for her answer with raised eyebrows.

Madge gives him another tug. "They can't make you go, Gale. It's insane. You have no training. This is a job for specialist. I read about extractions in my father's books. They're using you to make this into possible propaganda if something happens to you. Mr. Abernathy can get you out of it, I know he can."

Gale shakes his head. "Madge…"

"No, I know you don't think much of him, but he can do this. He'll do it for me," she assures him as she tries to unroot him from the spot.

"No, Madge, he can't."

"Yes-"

"He can't because I volunteered," he tells her.

Madge feels her heart stop as she turns and stares at him. She swallows down bile rising in her throat. "What?"

Gale's eyes fall then jump up, focusing on a point beyond Madge's shoulder. "I volunteered."

It doesn't make any sense. He's being an idiot.

"Why would you do that?" She asks.

Gale simply stares at her, shadows forming on his face as he swallows and his Adam's apple bobs. When he doesn't answer for several long seconds, the indignation Madge had felt on his behalf, the anger she'd built up against the government of Thirteen for using him and risking his life is redirected at Gale.

"Why would you do that?" She drops his hand as if it's contaminated and takes a step back.

"I have to," he tells her simply.

Madge's mind freezes and her stomach drops. She begins shaking, shivering like she's been doused in ice water. He doesn't have to. He wants to.

"What about your family, Gale? Did you think about them when you signed up for this suicide mission?"

"It's been carefully planned out," he tells her, crossing his arms and setting his mouth in a thin line. "And don't you dare accuse me of not thinking about my family. Everything I do is because of them."

Taking a step back, out of his reach, Madge tries to steady her shaking.

"How is going into a potentially deadly rescue mission, that's only had a few hours of planning so don't insult my intelligence by telling me it's been 'carefully planned out', thinking of your family?" Frustrated tears begin forming behind Madge's eyes, she refuses to let them fall. She had so make Gale see that he doesn't have to do this and crying isn't going to help.

"There are people trained for this, Gale. Please don't do this. Your family needs you." He doesn't have to play the hero. This isn't Twelve and they aren't on their own. As much as Madge doesn't trust Thirteen, she's willing to use them and their resources for as long as it's available and Gale should do the same.

Gale's jaw tenses and blows out a rough puff of air. "Katniss had a meltdown over him. I have to."

That familiar ache forms in Madge's chest. Gale loves Katniss so much he's willing to risk his life to get the man fighting him for her heart back from a tortured existence.

Something hot and wet slides down Madge's cheek and she rubs it away. Crying again. Damn that.

"Gale," Madge begins, voice thick and wet sounding, "she'll love you no matter what. You don't have to do this."

For a second he just stares at her, then, just like Vick, he's got her arms pinned to her sides and his arms wrapped tightly around her. His hand runs up her back and he sighs, a warms puff of air ghosting through her slightly damp hair.

Madge closes her eyes and inhales his warm scent; let's herself enjoy the temporary closeness that isn't hers to have. Jealousy and irritation temporarily flare in her stomach. Katniss has two men, both amazing in their own way, and Madge can't help but think she doesn't fully appreciate them. As quickly at the thought form Madge squashes it down. It's unfair. Katniss hadn't asked for any of this, and if Prim's name had never been plucked from the Reaping Bowl the odds were that at the end of all things, Katniss and Gale would've married, Peeta would've ended up just as miserable as his father, and Madge's life would've continued to be just as hollow as it had always been. She should just be grateful for fleeting moments of contact, flickers of whatever affection she's tossed, and not angry over things beyond anyone's control.

"I have to do this," Gale whispers and a shiver shoots up Madge's spine.

He gives her one last squeeze, and Madge is certain she feels his chapped lips press into her now less sweaty hair, before he pulls back. His lips turn up, just a little. "I was going to ask you to keep an eye on the kids for me, okay?"

Trying to keep the tears from falling Madge nods. "I'll try."

"Feel free to beat Rory if you need to," he chuckles softly.

Madge shakes her head. "I think he'd enjoy it."

Gale's eyebrows knit together then he nods. "Yeah, probably right. Just ignore him."

For a few seconds he studies her, Madge can feel his eyes dancing over her face. She knows it's an impossibility, he's hopelessly in love with Katniss, but she can't help but wish he would kiss her too, just this once. If kisses mean as little to him as hugs clearly do, surely one wouldn't hurt.

She wonders what he would do if she bounced up on her toes and kissed him, in the middle of the dully lighted hall with only the strange man in glasses as a witness. Would he be mad? Push her away? Kiss her back?

She's a heartbeat from trying it. If he doesn't come back she wants to know how his lips feel for a few seconds when he isn't mad or hurt, but she stops herself. Her father had always taught her to do what was best for the most people, to think of others and how they would be helped or hurt by her actions. Kissing Gale would only complicate the already uncertain situation between him, Katniss, and Peeta. Madge cares too much to do that.

Instead, she reaches out and gives his hand a little squeeze. "Please be careful, Gale."

He looks at her hands, at the smudges of dirt, and a crooked little smile twitches up on his lips. "I'll see you when I get back."

He pulls her hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss to her dirty knuckles before giving it one last squeeze and turning to leave.

Madge watches as he and the man disappear down the hall, into the labyrinth of hallways and locked doors, before sighing and heading back to work with a knot forming in her stomach.

She isn't sure how she's going to apologize to Vick and Rory for failing to get Gale out of his self-appointed mission and hopes they understand.

With slow steps she takes off, back to the gardens to apologize for abandoning her post, Madge thinks letting Gale place himself in this dangerous position is just one more reason to dislike District Thirteen.

They're no better than the Capitol. Just a mirror image, different, but no less frightening.