Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine.
Reflection
AN: Follow up to 'Mirror', the 'Madge in Thirteen' story.
Madge doesn't see Gale for a week after the extraction.
Katniss disappears too, much to Prim's frustration.
"They let her go to Two," she tells Madge. "They're going to get her killed."
Though she'd like to tell Prim that the powers that be won't let Katniss be killed, Madge can't say it for sure. Even if Katniss were to be lost in a battle, Thirteen and Coin would find a way to twist her death into a buoy for the Rebellion. She'd probably be as effective a martyr as she is a figurehead.
To top it all off, Mr. Abernathy forbids her from seeing Peeta.
"He isn't right, Pearl," he tells her.
"You get to see him," she snaps. "He needs to see a friendly face. I can be that face. Please, just let me."
"And if he has another episode?" He growls, bloodshot eyes focused on her and his teeth gritted. "I'm not going to risk it."
It took all the self-control she possessed not to stomp her foot. Instead, Madge narrowed her eyes. "You aren't my father. You don't get to tell me what to do."
Thinking back, she feels that slapping him would've probably done him less damage. His eyes had widened, then narrowed, just before he'd turned his back and stomped out of the little apartment he shared with her and her mother.
It had taken until the early morning hours for him to turn back up.
He hadn't been drunk, Thirteen didn't allow that kind of thing, but he was still sullen.
Noisily, he'd stumbled in, kicked his boots off and thrown his coat at the small hook on the wall, missing it wildly.
Madge had run at him, pulled him into a hug before he'd been able to use anymore of his clothing as projectiles.
"I'm sorry," she'd mumbled into his shoulder, tears leaking out the corners of her eyes and onto the drab fabric of his shirt. "I was just-I used to know so much, or I could guess, and now-now I don't know anything. I feel so cut off and useless and I just want-"
"Shhhh," he'd whispered, his cheek resting against her hair. "I know it's hard, sweetheart. And frustrating. Just bare with me."
He'd still refused to let her visit Peeta after that, but he'd let her go to the infirmary to look through the thick glass they have Peeta locked behind.
It's as she enters the hospital wing, after a late shift of digging up pale, unappealing potatoes from the dry gardens, that she finally sees Gale coming out of the little antechamber leading to Peeta's room.
He's a little worn looking, dark circles under his eyes and a sharp frown on his face, but otherwise he's well looking, which is a relief. Vick had told her he'd hurt his shoulder during the extraction, but he'd been unable to tell her what exactly was wrong or how severe the injury was.
"They had him rest, but I think that's just 'cause he'd 'overdo it' if they didn't."
Deciding he probably doesn't want to see her, he hasn't sought her out since his return and that tells her all she needs to know, Madge ducks sideways, into one of the dozen or so empty rooms that fills the infirmary, before he sees her.
Pressing her ear against the cool metal, she listens for him to pass.
Hollow footsteps echo down the hall, mixing with the beeping and humming of the medical equipment, getting closer and then finally dying in the distance.
Sighing, Madge opens the door, only to find the exit blocked by a very solid body.
"Avoiding me, Madge?"
Blinking, Madge tries to think while cursing her hearing. She was better at this back home.
"No," she tells him, though she doesn't really have an explanation for why she's currently hiding in what looks like a storage room, packed to the gills with broken equipment.
Gale scowls, then pushes past her, into the room, pulling the metal door closed behind him.
For several seconds he's quiet, looking around, while his calloused hands toy with the exposed cords on what Madge recognizes as the machine they used to check her vitals when she'd arrive in Thirteen. Finally, he sighs.
"Going to see Mellark?"
Madge nods.
Gale slumps onto a lopsided stretcher and presses his fingers to his eyes. "He's homicidal and he's still got people fighting over him."
"I'm not 'fighting over' Peeta," Madge tells him. "He's my friend. He's sick. I want to be there for him."
"You don't go in there do you?" He ask, looking up at her, something she'd almost call worry flickering in his eyes. "You shouldn't g-"
"I'm not allowed," she reassures him, crossing her arms over her chest to show him she wasn't choosing to leave Peeta in his solitary confinement by choice.
He doesn't say anything to that, just nods and picks at the crumbling stuffing peaking out of the mattress of the stretcher.
Hesitantly, Madge takes the few steps across the room and gently takes the set next to him, enjoying the warmth radiating from his body contrasting against the chill of the room.
"I wasn't allowed to see you either, after you came back," she says softly. "They said you wanted family only."
As upset at that as she'd been, she'd understood after learning what had happened with Peeta. She'd expected him to at least drop a note off for her though, let her know he was alright. The fact that he hadn't, made his ignoring her sting that much more.
"Haven't felt much like talking," is his only response.
Madge tries not to roll her eyes. He probably only didn't feel like talking to her. "Sure."
When she starts to get up, she can take a hint-he doesn't want to talk then fine, neither does she-she's stopped by a rough hand grabbing hers and tugging her back to her seat.
"Madge…" He starts to say something, but stops and just stares at her.
Just as it starts to get uncomfortable, he sighs.
"I just needed to do some thinking," he finally says.
Giving his hand a squeeze of encouragement, Madge feels her eyebrows pull together slightly.
The pad of Gale's thumb rubs over her knuckles and he looks down, studying her hand for a few seconds more before taking another breath.
"I wanted Peeta to be dead," he starts. "When we went in. I figured it would be for the best, for everyone. There was no way he'd be right after everything, and I was right." His eyes close. "But then Katniss would feel guilty, she'd blame herself…so it was good he was alive."
"He's not the guy they took though. He's…they messed him up." Gale looks up at her, his eyes dark in the almost nonexistent light. "And I was a little happy about that. I thought it made things simpler."
She isn't sure, but she thinks he means simpler for him. Peeta isn't fighting him for Katniss' affection anymore, things have reset. Gale is back to being the hero he so loves to be.
"I was wrong though," he continues. "It's just made things morecomplicated."
"You can't just turn off a switch when you care about someone," Madge tells him softly, swallowing down a lump. "Love isn't that simple."
She knows that more than anyone.
"Yeah," he mumbles, dropping her hand.
At first she thinks she's upset him, but then he wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her to his side, burying his face in her hair and inhaling.
"I thought if Katniss just chose me it would make things easier on me. Make my mind up."
Pulling away, Madge frowns up at him.
Before she can ask him is he means make his mind up to fight for Katniss or not, because he really isn't making any sense, he leans in.
His lips are chapped and rough, but for some reason she likes it. They're just like his hands and hair, coarse, but soft and inviting. She understands why so many girls were willing to let him take them to the slag heap back home.
It's soft at first, just barely his lips pressing to hers, but quickly escalates. There's a needfulness in it, in the harsh noises coming from his throat, and she hopes they mean he's as contented with what's happening as she is.
Madge tries to memorize the smell of his hair as his mouth moves from hers, to her jaw and down her neck. She tries to imprint on her memory the feel of his stubble scratching against her skin; this may be the only chance she gets to do so.
Her eyes flutter closed as he nips at her shoulder, his teeth scrapping and his nose pushing the unflattering neckline of her pillowcase dress out of his way.
It isn't until his hands, large and calloused, start working up the bottom hem of her dress, skimming along her thighs, that her inner voice of reason starts to yell. It sounds suspiciously like Mr. Abernathy.
He's only using her. She's a substitute for Katniss and that's all she can ever hope to be.
She tries to ignore it.
For a few minutes Gale is focused on her. She can pretend he isn't imagining someone else kissing him, letting him touch them, wanting him. Madge can pretend he wants her.
Gale must pick up on her sudden hesitancy, because his kisses become slower, less fevered, before he finally stops and looks down at her.
How and when they ended up reclined on the suspect looking stretcher, Madge doesn't remember, her mind isn't functioning anymore, but Gale is hovering over the top of her, settled between her legs with her dress bunched up at her waist.
He pushes her wild hair out of her face before cupping her cheek. "I'm sorry."
She shakes her head, meaning to say 'don't be', but her voice is gone.
They stay like that, at a standstill, Gale's body pressed against hers, for several minutes, before he finally sits up and crawls from the stretcher.
It's a lonely, exposed feeling that hits her with the loss of contact, but she forces it down and straightens her clothes.
Getting up, she wants to get away and lick her wounds alone, she starts for the door, only to be pulled into a crushing hug.
"I'm sorry," he says again.
"It's okay," Madge whispers. "You're just…I'm not the one you want, that's okay."
His arms tighten around her and she feels his sigh ghost through her hair.
"That's not it, Madge." He shifts, looks down at her, eyebrows knitted together. "I love Katniss-or at least I thought I did-but now I don't know if it was love or just jealousy, and I hate that feeling."
Irritation flares in her stomach.
"So you start to do whatever you were going to do with me to help you straighten out your head?" She snaps, trying to pull away. He's exhausting.
"No, damn it! It's-You're here and there's something here and I don't understand it. It's another complication," he tells her a little too loudly.
"Sorry I couldn't do you the courtesy of dying and making everything a little easier on you." She finally pulls away, runs for the door and flings it open.
Despite having a head start by a few stunned minutes, down one of the empty halls, Gale catches up with her. He grabs her by the wrist to stop her.
"Madge!"
"Let go!" She tries to pry his hand off, he's holding too tight. "You're hurting me!"
That gets his attention, startles him into breaking his hold and letting her fall down to the ground with a thud. His eyes widen and he starts to reach down to help her up, but she pushes him away.
"Don't touch me!" She doesn't want him to touch her ever again.
He doesn't try to help her again, just stays crouched in front of her, disappointment etched on his face.
"I'm sorry, Madge," he says, his voice just barely audible.
Glancing up at him, Madge sees he's got his fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at it in frustration.
"I'm sorry I don't know what I'm feeling and I'm sorry for hurting you."
Madge swats at her face, refusing to let him see her crying, but her voice is thick and gives her away anyway.
"I don't want be your consolation prize." She doesn't want to be anyone's second choice.
"You aren't," he growls.
They sit silently on the on the cold ground for a few more minutes before Gale lets out a long breath and drops his hands from his hair.
"Have you ever been in love?" His eyes are dark again, but different than before, it's a kind of hopeless dark.
When Madge doesn't say anything, because telling him she thinks she loves him sounds desperate and pathetic, he reaches out and brushes a finger, feather-light, over her cheek.
"You're the most certain person I know. You have an answer for everything, Madge, and you're almost always right. If you don't know, if you can't tell me what it's supposed to feel like, then how is some stupid miner like me supposed to know?"
He sighs. "Maybe I love both of you? Is that possible?"
Biting her lip, Madge thinks it over for a few minutes, then shrugs. "I don't know, Gale, but would you have let Katniss tell you she loved both you and Peeta?"
Gale rubs his hand over his pant leg, frowns down at the gray material before shaking his head. "I'd have told her to make a decision." He looks up with a small smile. "I'm not too good at sharing."
Getting to her feet, Madge straightens out the wrinkled edges of her dress. She reaches out and runs a hand through his hair, enjoying for what she knows is probably the last time the texture of his hair. A day's worth of grim and sweat settled in it.
She doesn't want to be a choice, all she wants is for Gale to look at her and know she's the one he wants. This shouldn't be a competition, but life isn't that easy, that simple. He's known Katniss for ages, they have a bond, and Madge can't hope for him to ignore that familiar pull. It's unrealistic and childish, something out of a fairytale, and she lost her faith in such things a long time ago.
A sad smile forms on her lips. "Well, there's your answer."
He doesn't follow her this time, just stays rooted in the middle of the empty hall staring at spot Madge had just vacated.
Madge wipes away a few more tears and heads down the hall, away from the infirmary. Peeta will just have to wait until tomorrow.