Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
AN: So I'm planning at least 1 more chapter for this, from Gale's pov because there's a lot that get's missed when something is only from one person's perspective. It'll be a while though, this thing turned into a beast. Anyways, enjoy the mess.
Kaleidoscope, pt 5
Madge woke wrapped snugly on her first morning as a married woman.
Gale was gone already, though where to she wasn't sure. It isn't until he comes home, smelling of earth and wind and mud splattered on his boots and the bottoms of his pants that's she realizes he'd woken early to go to the woods.
Of course he had. There's a baby to think of, and Gale won't let his child starve.
"Needed to check the traps," he explained as he went to the bathroom to wash up. "You eat rabbit?"
She never has, but she nods anyway.
It's a delicacy she'll have to get used to in her new life.
For the baby, she'll do it.
"My mom'll be by and she can teach you to fry it up," he tells her as he pulls on his boots and laces them up, preparing to go back out.
Madge almost grumbles that he has no faith in her. That for all he knows she's cooked hundreds of rabbits, but she doesn't. He may barely know her, but he knows she's not a cook, and definitely not one familiar with something so exotic.
It stings that she's so transparently helpless, but it's just another hurdle she'll have to overcome.
He hurries past her and into the kitchen, quickly tossing a few things into his battered lunch pail, leaving too much behind in Madge's opinion, before turning back to her.
"Tell my mom I put the rabbits on the back porch, under the steps, okay?"
It feels less like a husband leaving his wife to go hunt and more like a parent giving their very dim child instructions, but Madge doesn't object. She is a child, much more so than Gale has ever been.
Nodding, Madge tries not to let the tears building up fall.
She doesn't want him to leave her in their strange new house just yet. He may only be with her out of necessity, but he's familiar, a strange kind of comfort, and she's afraid to be without him.
Closing her eyes, Madge forces the fear away.
This is her life now, and she can't have someone with her every minute.
Her life has always been a lonely one, there's not much difference now but the setting.
Something warm and damp presses to her cheek, and when she opens her eyes she finds Gale pulling back, his color a little darker.
"I'll see you tonight," he mumbles, hitching the blanket a little closer around her, before hurrying out the door.
She follows him, watches him disappear into the foggy morning before shutting the door and locking it tight.
Turning, she stares out at the empty room.
It's warm, Gale had started a small fire and it crackles happily on the hearth, bathing the room in a cheerful golden glow.
He doesn't want her to be cold, it's bad for the baby.
Involuntarily, her fingers touch her cheek, the tingling spot Gale had kissed.
That wasn't for the baby.
#######
Gale's mother comes by a few hours after he leaves for the woods again.
Madge instantly points her in the direction of the rabbits.
"Nice and fat," she comments, inspecting them closely. "I imagine Gale'll have a few squirrel tonight too."
The rabbit are bad enough, limp and dead eyed, Madge doesn't know if she can take seeing another innocent woodland creature lifeless on her back porch. Let alone being expected to skin and gut the poor thing.
Nodding, Madge bites her lip and hopes the disgust doesn't register on her face.
Squirrel and rabbit will keep them alive, she can't be sickened by them.
Watching Mrs. Hawthorne for a few more moments, Madge plucks up the courage to ask what she knows she has to. It's inevitable.
It's for the baby, she tells herself.
"Mrs. Hawthorne?"
"It's Hazelle, dear," Mrs. Hawthorne tells her with a gentle smile. "You're Mrs. Hawthorne too now."
The strangeness of her own words had been lost on Madge, and she feels her face flush when it registers what she's said. She'd forgotten something she'd been so focused on less than a day before.
"Yeah, I guess." She shakes her head. "I-Mrs-Hazelle, do you...could you teach me to cook?"
She needs to learn how, and there's no one better to teach her than the grandmother of her child.
If Gale is willing to go out to provide for them, she needs to learn to prepare. It's the very least she can do.
Hazelle stares at her for a moment, maybe contemplating just how awful her son's luck is to have gotten the most useless girl in the District pregnant, before smiling a little brighter.
"I'd love to."
#######
Madge's first lesson, skinning the poor little rabbits, goes about as well as she'd expected.
The noises of the skin and sinew pulling apart, the awful ripping, almost upturn her stomach.
"You shouldn't worry about cooking," Rory tells her, after noon when he, Vick, and Posy finally turn up. "Gale didn't marry you because he thought you'd make a good housewife."
That earns a very warning glare from his mother.
"I can't believe you're really pregnant," Vick tells her, looking at her stomach in awe.
"I can't believe he knocked you up. How drunk were you?"
That earns Rory a very loud slap on the back of the head.
"What? It's a legitimate question. She's way too good for him."
Rory gets sent outside after that with strict orders not to come back in until he's learned to watch his mouth.
"Can I name the baby?" Posy asks, her hands on Madge's belly, as if trying to peer inside at her growing niece or nephew.
"Posy, Madge and Gale are going to name their baby, without your input," she sternly tells her. "I told you that last night."
"But Gale didn't even know he was havin' a baby. I'm just tryin' to help him."
Flashing Madge an apologetic smile, Hazelle shakes her head at Posy.
"They'll pick out their own name."
After that they goes back to cooking, but Madge does very little learning.
"It's only a little overdone," Hazelle tells her, examining the very burnt looking bits of rabbit they'd just pulled from the wood burning stove.
Vick picks up a chunk and bites into it, makes a face, then sets it back before forcing a smile for Madge. "Yeah, it's not bad."
Madge almost bursts into tears when she manages to burn the tessera grain rolls as well.
"I'm so sorry," she apologizes, voice breaking. "I didn't pay attention to the time."
There's so little grain and she's wasted something so precious. It's inexcusable.
"It's okay," Hazelle assures her. "The kids had both of us distracted."
Which was partly true, but Madge had still been responsible. It was her dinner.
"Don't worry, Gale'll eat anything you make," Vick promises her as his mother shuffles him and Posy out the door, telling them that Gale and Madge need time alone together.
"Why? She's already knocked up," Rory points out, from his spot just outside the door.
"Rory!"
From what Madge overhears of their conversation on the porch after that, she doubts she'll see her brother-in-law again for quite some time.
It's another few hours before Gale turns up.
He's sweaty and filthy, more than just grime clinging to his clothes, lots of little cuts on his hands and face, and he looks past exhausted, but he still smiles when he sees her.
"Got some squirrel."
He holds up a ratty looking bag, stained horribly with what looks like blood, gives it a shake.
"They put up a fight?" Madge frowns, tilting her head as she reaches out and touches a bloody knuckle.
It raw, skinned and cracked, reminding Madge a little too much of Mr. Abernathy's occasional wounds after a fight. He's usually sporting a black eye too, and normally reeks of liquor.
Other than a few scrapes and cuts, Gale's face is clear, and he only smells of woods and sweat.
Wincing, Gale pulls back and wipes the blood from the back of his hand. "Something like that."
There's more to it, but he clearly isn't going to tell her, and that only worries her more.
Pushing the fear that his wounds are to do with her, Madge just nods.
"We can have it tomorrow." He carries on, glances past Madge, to the plate of burnt meat. "My mom come by?"
Nodding, Madge waves toward the kitchen. "She tried to teach me to cook."
Gale steps past her, casting an incredulous look her way as he eyes the ruined rabbit.
"Didn't take, huh?"
He seems to be joking, but it falls flat.
The tears she'd held back earlier start to trickle out and Madge swallows down a sob.
"I'll keep trying," she tells him.
She won't fail at this. It's her life now, and she has to learn to survive it. Everyone is expecting her to be awful, make Gale miserable, and she won't live down to their expectations.
A rough finger brushes her cheek, wiping away the tears. "I know you will."
Gale pulls his hand back and clears his throat, looking flustered, then takes up a blackened scrap of meat and bites into it with an audible crunch before grimacing.
"Well," he forces a smile, "I'm not gonna get poisoned from it."
#######
Madge's cooking doesn't get improve over the next few weeks.
She tries and tries, but cooking just isn't in her blood.
"You shouldn't have to cook," Mr. Abernathy tells her when he finally forgives her for getting married without telling him and comes to her new house, her mother in tow. "You're a lady."
Madge just gives him a weary look.
"I'm no lady."
Not according to the rumors anyways.
She's a whore, and a manipulative one at that. Gale only married her for reasons she doesn't dare repeat in front of Mr. Abernathy. If people are wise enough to keep their mouths shut and opinions to themselves around him, she won't out them, won't start that fight. Still, it's the worst the gossip has been in her life, and part of wants to release a fury on them.
She'd gone to work the Monday after getting married, and the girls at the office hadn't even let her get formally fired, just joyfully told her she was out.
"God, and I thought you were just getting fat," one of them says, eyeing her disdainfully. "But you actually used those big boobs of yours to trap a guy."
Madge doesn't even bother to defend herself. It would fall on deaf ears anyways.
"Couldn't your daddy have gotten you a boy from the Capitol?" Another asks. "You had to take the best looking guy from the Seam instead."
"Always knew girls from Town could keep their legs together."
"Probably did more work on your back than you've done in your chair."
"Poor Hawthorne. Probably not even his." Someone sneers. "Her daddy probably bribed him."
"Well I hope he's well compensated," one of the women loudly whispers in response, clearly hoping Madge hears her. "Worthless whore like that, been ridden by every guy around, it'd take a lot to make a nice guy like that take that."
Madge almost snaps and asks when she's supposed to have had all these filthy liaisons, who they were, why she'd bother.
She doesn't though. It'd do no good and only fuel their dislike for her.
Her boss is a little more kind.
"You left all the work on Friday undone," he points out. "I hate to lose you, but that's a terminable offense."
Tears had welled up in her eyes as she nodded.
Her job, her first and only job, something she'd worked for herself and earned, was all gone.
"And beside that, being pregnant is a distraction."
"You mean all the yammering about my being pregnant will be a distraction."
He'd just smiled sadly and given her the last weeks pay.
"You're more a lady than any of those gossipy old hens, don't doubt that, Pearl," Mr. Abernathy simply says, almost daring her to argue.
She does doubt that, more than he knows, but keeps those thought to herself.
Going into Town just to see her parents had become such a nightmare that she'd given it up. She was used to the subtle stares and cool reception, but people had always kept most of their nastiness to themselves.
Now that she'd proven herself a woman without morals, their consideration had waned.
It had taken only a few times going home in tears for her to decide that her parents would have to come to see her rather than the other way around. Whether it was hormones or plain old tiredness, she couldn't put up with the abuse anymore.
While Mr. Abernathy ignores the ugly truth of human nature, her mother focuses on Madge's strengths.
"You make the nicest sweets, love," she reminds Madge. "And you're so beautiful."
Madge only smiles weakly at that.
Prettiness and candy mean little in a place like the Seam. Her mother won't understand that.
Despite her woeful performance as a wife, Gale doesn't snap. He doesn't belittle her or turn up his nose.
He's playing the part of the ideal husband, even if she's nowhere near the perfect wife.
It's for the baby, that's what she tells herself. Gale loves their baby, and he's taking care of her for its sake.
Every morning before work he leaves to check his snares, brings home more squirrels and rabbits for Madge to practice on, sometimes roots and the occasional handful of nuts, then kisses her cheek and heads out.
To her relief, he comes home with fewer and fewer mysterious cuts, less suspiciously bloody knuckles, until finally Madge no longer has to wash blood from his uniform other than the occasional scraped knee. Eventually, all his wounds can be explained by the woods or the mines. That doesn't really ease her mind much, but it's something.
He goes after work to hunt more, then comes home to burnt meat and over boiled root soups.
"I think you're getting better," he tells her one night. "The, uh, flavor wasn't bad on that one."
It's every bit as awful as all the other meals Madge made, but she appreciates his trying to boost her spirits.
"Here, maybe she's going too fast," he tells her one night, his bones cracking as he pushes himself from the rickety chair he'd brought home from the Hob to sit around the wobbly kitchen table he'd made from a discarded bit of plywood and a stump.
Pulling Madge up, he drags her toward the stove and sets one of the heavy pans on its top.
"Watch," he orders her, not sounding so much bossy as eager, as he takes some of the meat and seasons it, lights the fire and waits for the fat in the pan to liquefy.
"You just have to keep watching it. Never turn your back on the oil."
Madge nods, wondering if such a simple rule had slipped his mother's mind because it was so common knowledge.
While she's lost in thought, wondering just how many more lessons she'll fail for lack of inborn sense, Gale grabs her around the middle and forces her between his arms, facing the stove.
"You aren't paying attention," he grumbles.
Madge tries to focus after that, but the scent of his skin, the heat from his breath over her, even the scratch of his stubble where it brushes her cheek occasionally as he shifts to better see the meat, all distract her.
When the meat is finally done, a delicate golden brown and smelling delicious, Gale lets her go and smiles.
"See? Easy."
Madge just nods, certain she's lost more knowledge than gained during Gale's lesson.
#######
Madge begins to sense when Gale's left in the mornings.
The bed seems colder, the house much bigger, and she finds herself unable to sleep without his soft snores echoing on the thin walls.
So instead of trying to sleep, she gets up and goes to the kitchen to make his lunch. It's the least she can do.
There's not much to it. Wrap up some of the cheese, a few of the in season berries he's foraged for, and tuck in some of the burnt bits of meat, then wishes she could put in more. Wishes what she did have to put in were better prepared.
Gale's already slender frame hasn't suffered from her cooking yet, but he has no reserves. If he keeps pushing his food off on her he'll waste away.
"You don't have to do this," he tells her the second day she does it. "You need your rest."
She almost tells him that he does too, that he's running himself ragged and she doesn't want him to, but settles on simply shrugging.
"I want to."
And that's the truth. He's trying to help her through this strange new world, and she wants to return the favor.
They're partners in this, and she hates being anything less than equal.
"Teach me to sew."
"I need to learn to knit."
"Let me help you with the wash."
Hazelle tries to impart on her new daughter-in-law all the knowledge she can, with varying success.
Madge masters washing easily enough, getting the blood, coal dust, and dirt from Gale's clothes, and her repair work on his uniforms slowly gets less and less sloppy, but knitting becomes almost as challenging as cooking.
In the end, Madge sneaks off to the District library to employ the best teachers she's known, books.
She takes book after book, copies down helpful notes, practices until her fingers are raw, until finally she manages to make a lumpy pair of socks.
They're small, ugly, barely recognizable for what they are, but she made them.
"Not bad," Gale chuckles. "Maybe you'll make a sweater by next winter."
"Maybe I will," she jabs back, smiling. "What color do you want?"
Gale leans in, so close Madge can see every prickle of stubble on his jaw, and grins.
"Blue, like your eyes."
Madge's cheeks burn and she quickly looks away, toying with a loose strand of yarn on the socks.
She wishes he wouldn't say things like that. It makes keeping the wall she's built between them harder to maintain.
Because even if he's grown fond of her, beyond just caring about the baby, she's still afraid. Maybe this is just a faze he'll grow out of. Maybe once the baby is born it'll all change.
She can't bring herself to let him take her down that path.
Hope is just too dangerous.
#######
She starts waking before Gale goes, always nestled to his side no matter how far away she starts the night.
Her body has a mind of its own, and even if she's convinced Gale is only taking care of her for the sake of the baby, it's hard to deny that he makes her feel loved.
Even if she doesn't believe it. Can't believe it.
It's comfortable, safe, tucked against Gale, and more and more often Madge finds herself wishing he'd stay in bed rather than go out.
It's simpler when he's sleeping, his arms wrapped around her. Madge can pretend he really does love her when he's sleeping. He can't hurt her when he's sleeping.
Then, after months it finally hits her.
As her middle expands, making her more and more clumsy, as Gale carefully untangles himself from her every single morning, tucks her gently in with the heavy blankets her father sent with the bed, kisses her forehead before he leaves each morning…he doesn't want to hurt her when he's awake either.
The hunting and the working himself raw, trying to teach her to cook when he's not too exhausted, that's not for the baby, it's for her.
That makes her failings that much worse.
When she was just an unfortunate necessity he had to tolerate because of the baby, she'd felt guilty for being such an abysmal wife. His really caring for her doubles that guilt.
He's gotten attached to her, and she's been nothing but a disappointment.
Her efforts double after that.
Cooking stops being about survival and more about proving she's worth the effort he's putting in. She's more than just an incubator.
The wall she's put up doesn't fall though.
A piece of her refuses to let it.
Gale hurt her, and her mind won't let her forget it.
Not even when she desperately wants it to.
#######
He turns up one evening, his game bag tossed over his shoulder and one hand hidden behind his back.
"What've you got?" Madge asks, trying to peek around his back.
Turning, Gale swallows, his expression tense.
"I got you something."
That went without saying, and the more he tries to hide it, the more curious she gets.
"Gale," she grins, almost edging around him, "let me see."
He catches her around the middle, quite a feat considering she's enormous, and pulls her against his chest.
His nose nuzzles into her hair and he chuckles, vibrating through his chest and into Madge's back. "Hold still and I'll show you."
When she finally stills, Gale's free hand whips around, clutching a handful of wildflowers.
"I've been watching them for a few weeks," he explains, his hold on her loosening. "Figured they wouldn't get any prettier."
Madge takes them from his hand and quietly examines them.
The names escape her, but that doesn't take away from their beauty.
"Gale…"
It isn't like him. Food is one thing, that's about survival, but flowers are...pointless.
Pretty, but without a use, a lot like he's always viewed her, actually.
There's no need for them, and it baffles her that he's wasted precious time on picking them for her.
"They're really pretty." She shakes her head. "What're they for?"
He frowns, tosses the bloody game bag to the floor by the door, and shrugs, his hand jumping to his neck and rubbing it.
"Thought you'd like them," he mutters. "I'm looking for seeds, you know, because I remember you always had a garden. The ground here is shit and no one really has any luck, but I figured if anyone could it'd be you." He shrugs. "I-the flowers seemed like a good idea."
Though he looks to be having serious doubts about that now though.
Silence stretches between them, filling up their empty living room.
Gale shifts uncomfortably; increasingly uncertain if he's done something stupid, before he finally mumbles something about warming dinner and heads to the kitchen.
Madge stays frozen on the spot, her mind desperately trying to keep her from doing something stupidly painful.
Her heart ignores it.
Taking the few steps from the living room to the kitchen, Madge finds Gale at the stove.
He's got his back to her, fussing with something as he jabs the pan.
Gale is a good man, makes some terrible decisions sometimes, but he's a good man. He wouldn't have hurt her if she hadn't let him. The mess they'd landed in wasn't all on his shoulders, and it was unfair to blame it all on him.
He's been trying to make it up to her, abandoning her after their mistake, more than he needed to.
"Gale?"
For a moment he doesn't hear her, or he's ignoring her, then he turns.
"Ye-"
Madge doesn't let him finish, just rushes at him, flowers still tight in her fist, and flings herself around him.
"Thank you." Tears spill out, soaking his shirt. "Thank you for not walking away."
He had every reason to.
She'd kept the baby a secret, hadn't worked hard enough to tell him, and now she's just an awful, useful wife…
He's got to be praying she's going to shine as a mother. Evidence so far doesn't paint a hopeful picture.
"You're trying so hard and I'm just-I'm just not-"
Gale quiets her with his lips.
"You're great," he mumbles against her mouth. "You're wonderful, you're-"
"An absolute disaster!" She sobs.
He doesn't care, at least not if his lips and hands are any indication.
"Not," he growls, hoisting her up, carrying her to the table and depositing her, causing the table to shudder under her weight.
"Gale," she breathes his name out, ignoring all the warnings her mind is giving her. "The table…"
It groans again, and Gale scoops her up.
They end up falling on the bed, tangling up in blankets, knocking flat pillows to the floor as they kiss.
Madge doesn't stop him when he peels the dress off, doesn't end it when he deftly unlatches her bra, kisses every inch of skin he can get to...
She doesn't want to.
Her hands move without thought, quickly unbuttoning his uniform, tugging his undershirt off and throwing it to the corner. She's needed his skin against hers for months now, it's been boiling up, and nothing can stop it.
She won't let it.
#######
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Madge whispers against his chest. "It's just, every time I did…"
"I was a jackass?" He offers.
She agrees with that assessment, but doesn't say anything. It's in the past now.
"I'm sorry I walked away." He sighs, his arms tightening around her. "Good things don't happen to me that much. Having you-being with you, that was just...not something I expected."
The cool moonlight filters in through the window, casting the bare walls in an eerie silver glow, and when Madge looks up at him, Gale's eyes are dark. The moonlight absorbed in them, not reflected.
"It's okay," she assures him, pressing her ear to his chest, his eyes too intense for her.
His heartbeat is steady, strong, and Madge wants nothing but to listen to it every night for the rest of her life.
"It's not okay," he growls. "It was cowardly. If my dad were alive...he'd never let me treat anyone like that."
His fingers twirl her hair, and Madge closes her eyes.
"You've made up for it," she tells him. "I haven't though."
He chuckles, a warm, deep thing that soothes her through.
"You have."
"How?" She props herself up and squints at him. "You've been nothing but wonderful and I haven't even managed to not burn a roll. The most useful thing I've done is make a really terrible pair of socks."
"Madge," he says her name softly, but sternly, his eyes locked with hers. "You're trying. You could've whined to your dad and gotten him to get us a nicer place or left every night and eaten with them. Hell, you could've just left and what could I have done? Your dad would find a way to help you and I'd be married to an empty house."
The options had never crossed her mind, and she isn't sure if that makes her very stupid or very loyal.
"You could've just gotten rid of it too, but you didn't. You were working for this before I even knew what happened. While I was busy being an asshole."
"I was hiding-"
"Becau-"
"And I haven't worked hard enough since we got together."
Tears threaten to break through, but Madge blinks them back.
"I'm just a-"
"-a little too hard on yourself." He wipes her cheek, smearing tears across it. "Madge, you were willing to get shipped off for this baby. You've taken everyone's crap for this marriage. Just trying is more than enough."
He's letting her off easy, and he has to know it, but Madge wants it so badly to be the truth that she just lurches forward and kisses him, pretends it's real.
"Goddamn," Gale growls. "If I'd known flowers worked so well I'd've tried them months ago."
#######
Gale doesn't go out before work anymore, and he spends less time in the woods after.
As much free time as he can gather is spent with Madge.
"That kid is coming any day now. I'm not missing it," tells her.
He's practically giddy, bringing home receiving blankets and ointments, a few tiny clothes that would work for either a boy or a girl.
For several days in a row, he toils in the backyard, occasionally with Rory and Vick helping, building a small wooden baby bed.
It goes in their room, wedged between the wall and Gale's side of the bed.
"We should put it at the end so I can get to him at night too."
Gale shakes his head, grinning.
"You're gonna have her all day. Nights are mine."
She argues that he'll be exhausted, that it's sweet but she's capable of taking care of the baby while he recovers from work each night. Gale doesn't care though.
"I want to take care of her."
Madge sighs. "Or him."
Taking a bite of meat, a cut his mother had cooked, Gale just grins. "Naw, that little peanut is a girl."
Ignoring him, Madge just rolls her eyes. He's impossible.
Each day Gale seems to anticipate the birth more than Madge.
"Because it's not coming out of you," she grumbles.
Vick had explained to her, in painful graphic detail, exactly what she was in for with delivering a baby, and she can't say she's as excited as Gale for it. It's downright terrifying.
She isn't Hazelle, as the midwife has told her several times.
"That woman has hips just made for birthing." She'd glanced at Madge and sighed. "You...well, we'll get by."
That had done nothing to ease her mind.
Months ago it hadn't seemed so daunting a task, but as it gets closer, she's increasingly relieved she has Gale.
He's been to a birth, even if he'd only been a teenager at the time. Having him near will relieve the stress a little.
At least that's what she told herself up until the first contraction started. Then it became apparent nothing made it easier.
It's stormy out, a warm summer rain followed by thundering clouds and lightening in the afternoon.
Gale is at work when the first one hits.
It isn't quite what she expected, more an intense cramp than anything, but her expression is enough that both Rory and Vick go running for their mother.
While they're gone her water breaks. She's glad her brothers-in-law aren't around for that.
Gale had enlisted them weeks before, had them coming by after school every day to keep an eye on her, make sure she didn't over exert herself. They took their duty very seriously.
"I sent them for the midwife," Hazelle tells her. "They can get your mother after that, if you like."
Madge shakes her head. "No."
Definitely not. Her mother had only barely survived Madge's birth. She's not likely to be much help.
Gale actually manages to beat the midwife to the house.
"That dumbass," Gale growls. "What's taking her so long?"
"She'll be here Gale," his mother tries to calm him as he holds Madge's hand. "The weather is bad."
That's little consolation to Gale. When the poor woman finally does arrive, half drowned by the look of it, he shoots her the filthiest look he can muster.
"About damn time," he mutters darkly.
"You're moving along nicely," she tells them, cheerfully, once she's dried out a bit. "You should get up and walk a bit. It'll move things quicker."
So Madge's walks and walks, then walks more, until finally she can't.
Each contraction seems to last hours, not minutes, and she barely has time to catch her breath when the next hits.
"You're doing great," Gale tells her, kissing her sweat soaked hair. "Almost there."
There isn't even time to snap at him that she isn't even close, and she damn well isn't doing 'great', when another contraction rips through her.
She knows she's screaming, she can feel it vibrating through her body, but she doesn't hear it. All she hears is the fragile first cry of a new life.
It warbles in the air around her, and Madge strains to see the baby cradled in the midwife's arms.
"You have a boy," she tells them.
He's got a mess of dark hair, and he's tinier than Madge had expected, but he's perfect. The pain seems worth it when she sees him. It barely registers with her as she watches her son get carefully swaddled up.
Before the midwife can hand the baby to Gale though, let him and Madge enjoy their first moment as a family, another cramp hits.
"It's just the afterbirth," the midwife tells them, handing the baby to Gale.
Gale's eyebrows knit together and his mouth forms a thin line as Madge cries out. "I don't remember it being quite so rough."
The midwife waves him off, mumbling something about Gale not having delivered half the babies she has, though Madge sees a flicker of worry in her eyes as the next cramp hits.
"This isn't an afterbirth," Gale snarls, when Madge can't even catch her breath, focus enough to see the baby in his arms.
"No," the midwife agrees. "Not afterbirth."
It's another half an hour of Gale propping Madge up with one arm, cradling their newborn son in his other, telling her to push again, before she fully understands what they mean.
"Your daughter."
The woman, face dripping with sweat, holds the crying baby up and passes her to Gale.
Exhaustion begins to take over, and the room feels foggy, but she understands.
Two. Two babies.
Gale is standing, his face caught somewhere between overwhelmed and overjoyed.
In each arm he's cradling a bundle.
For a moment he seems too shocked to speak. He's not just the father to one new baby. He's got two.
"Twins," he half whispers, sounding equal part amazed and terrified. "How the hell?"
"Runs in my family," Madge explains softly, barely able to keep her eyes open. "Guess I should've warned you."
Even if she'd never dreamed she was carrying twins.
"Doesn't matter," Gale says, shaking his head, grinning down at the pair. "They're perfect."
She's pretty sure they could both be sporting tentacles and he'd still say that. There's too much wonder clouding his eyes as he stares at his children. Madge doesn't blame him.
"I want to see them," she barely whispers, her voice hoarse. "I wanna see my babies."
She's so tired, but she wants to see them.
Carefully, Gale settles back into the bed, balancing the babies in his arms as he scoots closer to Madge.
Despite her arms feeling boneless, not having the strength to even lift her head, Madge reaches for them, runs her fingers over their tiny noses and miniscule lips.
"They look like you," she sighs, smiling down at the sleeping pair.
They both have dark hair, Gale's grumpy expression, and she'd bet once the daylight hit them, they'll be as olive as him too.
"I think they take after you," he counters, kissing the girl's nose, causing her to grimace and wiggle deeper in her blankets. "Gorgeous, the both of them."
Madge doesn't have the energy to roll her eyes at him.
They are kind of perfect though, she thinks, before she finally passes out.
#######
Madge is weak for weeks after.
"The midwife said she lost a lot of blood," Gale explains to her father when he and her mother come the next day. "She'll be okay though."
It had rattled him more than it had her.
She'd been out for several hours, apparently, and Gale hadn't been kind to the midwife as she'd explained the situation to him.
"All she told me is you lost a lot of blood," he explained when Madge finally woke. "You looked dead."
Madge thought he looked a little pale himself, as he shoveled greens at her, encouraging her to eat. Apparently, Vick had told him they encouraged blood production.
Her father just nods, cradling his grandson and smiling.
"Matilda had a rough delivery too."
Nodding vaguely, her mother's hazy eyes clear some when they settle on the baby in Madge's lap.
"You made such darling babies, love."
They bring several little outfits, tiny hats and socks, and Madge half expects Gale to get angry. He doesn't though.
"If they want to spoil them, let them."
His pride takes a backseat to his desire for his children to have the best.
The ill will people had toward Madge seems to wane, or maybe their curiosity just gets the better of them. Several of Gale's coworkers come by, bringing used baby clothes and blankets for them, all expressing their most heartfelt congratulations.
Madge actually believes a few of them.
The only time he nearly refuses a gift is when Mr. Abernathy turns up, carrying a satchel stuffed with clothes and soft toys.
"Thank god," Mr. Abernathy grumbles. "They take after you, Pearl."
"You do see all their black hair, right?" She asks, not even shocked he's pretending the babies only inherited her genes.
"Got it from Danny boy."
He's impossible.
Gale's family is there every day, helping out while Gale is at work.
"Lochia slows gradually," Vick tells her, reading straight from a medical book he'd borrowed from the District library. "That's the bleeding from your vag-"
"Vick!"
Lessons on the progress of the postpartum body end after that, much to Madge's relief.
Posy is less concerned with her sister-in-law's ghostly pale appearance and listlessness than she is with changing her newest playmates clothes.
"I'm going to make Briar a big bow," she tells Madge.
"What about Sage?"
Posy huffs. "Boys don't wear bows, Madge."
Neither, it seemed, did Briar. She swatted at the awful, enormous bow until it fell off, much to Posy's annoyance.
Much as she loves them all, and appreciates the company and help, she barely has the strength to feed the babies, Madge like the evenings best. When it's just Gale and the babies.
He's better at swaddling them than she is, though he's an excellent teacher.
"They like it nice and snug," he explains. "I mean, they've been all nice and warm in you for months. It's familiar."
Just as he'd said, he gets up in the night and soothes them, using a rocking chair he'd bartered for at the Hob the Sunday after the birth to lull them when they get fussy.
"When you get older," Madge hears him whispering to Sage one night as he's putting him down, "I'm taking you out to the woods and teaching you to set snares. Sound good?"
Sage only yawns in response, but Briar makes a much more promising noise from the cradle.
"Yeah, you too Bri." He scoops her up in his other arm and continues rocking them. "You're too tuff to get left behind."
It scares Madge, to imagine her babies out in the woods, which seem so foreign and dangerous, but her desire for them to be strong, survivors like Gale, pushes the fear away. They need to have the skills she so obviously lacks. She never wants them to feel weak, like they need protected. Like she has for so long.
The thought of Sage growing up and going into the mines terrifies her too, and she wonders how Hazelle will survive it when all three of her boys are down in those pits.
All those thoughts get shoved away. There's too much life to be lived between then and now, and she won't let the dark ahead steal the light of her todays.
"Thank you," Gale whispers, pressing a kiss to her hair as they settle in one night.
Madge frowns. "For what?"
He shifts, pulls her closer. "For marrying me."
"Gale…"
"No," he shakes his head. "I know your dad pretty much made you, and I know you had all the reasons in the world not to, but…I'm glad you did. I hope you're glad you married me too."
Shifting in the bed, Madge presses a kiss to his lips, letting it linger for a moment before falling back.
It wasn't exactly a choice she'd have made if her father hadn't pushed her to it, made her feel guilty, used her inclination to keep others safe against her, but it's one she doesn't regret.
Despite how it came about, it's turned out for the best.
"I'm happy."
He stares at her for a moment, processing what she's said, then slowly, a smile creeps on his face.
Dipping in, he begins kissing her, down her throat and nosing the neck of her nightgown out of the way before making a frustrated noise, apparently realizing her body is in no way recovered enough for the activity his is so eager for.
"I'm happy too," he growls, his voice vibrating through his chest and through her body.
"I'd hope so," Madge waves toward the cradle, hoping to ease the disappointment a little. "I did give you twice the children of a normal woman."
"Hey, I contributed you know?"
Madge snorts. "Well, don't be so ambitious next time."
One baby would be a breeze after this.
Gale's eyebrows pull together in a scowl. "Next time? There's no 'next time' Madge. Two is plenty, especially with how hard the delivery was on you."
"Gale…"
"No," he shakes his head, pulling her closer. "You didn't see how much blood was there. I've never seen that much before."
While that's disconcerting, he's slaughtered a deer before, Madge simply shrugs.
"You wouldn't wake up. I thought you were gonna die Madge."
His heartbeat quickens, and when Madge looks up, she sees his skin has taken on a sickly pallor.
"I just got you, and I thought I was gonna lose you." He shakes his head. "We got two perfect kids. Let's not push our luck."
Any doubt that might've lingered about his love, about it being conditional, attached to what she could provide, vanishes. Gale, who faces death in the mines every day, braves the woods at the risk of being executed, was scared of losing her.
He loves her.
"Gale," she whispers, inching up until her nose is inches from his, their breath mingling. "I love you."
For a minute he doesn't say anything, just stares at her in disbelief, then smiles.
"I love you too." He brushes a stand of wild hair from her face. "I loved you from the start, even if I was shitty about it."
Pressing her forehead to his, Madge closes her eyes and presses a kiss to his rough lips.
"Me too."
#######
AN, pt 2: Okay, yeah, I went all cliche and gave them twins. Sorry. I avoid it so often with my other stories and I just wanted to do it once. They didn't get named Glen and Savanna either, mostly because I feel like the world they're being born into is very different than Glen and Savanna's. Plus, being twins, I wanted to give them separate identities. Ah well. And yes, in every incarnation of Vick, he's obsessed with female anatomy and reproduction. It's just how it is. Hope y'all enjoyed it anyways.