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. I also don't own Marvel or any their storylines or characters, I don't even know most of their storylines or characters. I'm just a sad little fan here.
AN: Again, thanks to Nursekelly for the help.
Earth-7475 Universe, pt 3
Their flight is delayed three hours and when they finally land in DFW they've missed their connection.
They also have close to fifteen missed calls from Abernathy, so Gale feels by missing talking to the bastard they've come out ahead.
Madge looks annoyed when he says just that, for some reason.
"It might be important," she grumbles, putting her ear to her phone and listening to what is probably the mad ramblings of an alcohol pickled brain.
"Or he can't find his mason jar of moonshine," Gale mutters to himself before chuckling at his little joke. The home brew hadn't even phased him, but if drinking it annoyed Abernathy he'd down every jar he could find.
While Gale tosses his bag on the floor and prepares himself for an uncomfortable few more hours of waiting for the frazzled woman at the desk to get them another flight, Madge paces, her expression getting grimmer with each step.
"We aren't going to Little Rock," she finally tells him, pressing a finger to her temple and sighing. "There's been sightings of a girl matching Delly's description nearby."
She holds out her phone with a message from Abernathy, pulled up listing times beside blurry thumbnails.
"She was spotted in Denton, on the interstate, yesterday," Madge tells him, enlarging a photo of a wrecked semi. "She ran out in front of this tractor trailer and when they hit her...well, you can see."
It's probably the only vehicle vs human contest where the human has won, and handily.
The entire front of the semi is collapsed in, crushed like an aluminum can from hitting the solid mass that was probably Delly Cartwright.
"Bet that scared the hell out of him," Gale mumbles, frowning at the photo of a bewildered looking trucker who doesn't look certain what he's just been a part of.
Madge taps the screen and brings up another picture, this time grainy black and white stills from a security camera.
"She must've booked it running. This one is from Lewisville, not even half an hour later."
The stills scroll by for a moment, frame by uninteresting frame, then the wall on the right explodes inward and a confused and rumpled looking woman seems to tumble in. She looks around for a moment, then turns and apparently sees something, or someone, coming behind her.
Half a second later she's crashed through the wall on the left, leaving the convenience store in shambles and the poor clerk crawling over rubble, trying to look out the Cartwright shaped hole to see what had just wrecked his store.
"This is from just an hour ago," Madge says finally, bringing up the last set of photos.
It's film from a dash cam, a state trooper's from the looks of it, taken while sitting near what appears to be construction, in the parking lot of what looks to be a fast food restaurant.
The first few seconds are nothing, then a truck flies, tumbling end over end, past the trooper's car, crashing somewhere out of sight.
A few seconds pass, marked by time stamps, before a blurry blonde figure steps into frame.
The trooper appears walking beside his car, and Gale watches him edge cautiously toward Cartwright, probably giving her orders to get down and put her hands behind her head, but she doesn't comply. Instead, the pulls the bumper off a Tahoe and flings it at him. It ends up crashing through his windshield and ending the stream.
"I don't wanna think about how they're going to make anyone forget what they saw, even if we destroyed all the proof except this," Madge mumbles, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"That didn't seem like Cartwright," Gale whispers, rewinding the footage and frowning at the feral expression on the normally gentle blonde's face. "What the hell happened to her? Why did she attack the cop?"
Delly Cartwright isn't violent. In fact, her mild temperament had almost gotten her cut from the super soldier program, only her already freakish strength had kept her in.
Madge pales a little and her expression becomes pained when Gale looks at her, and suddenly he doesn't need her to tell him what's gotten into Cartwright.
Hydra, what's left of it, must've gotten their hands on her, like they'd suspected, and it's clear that even just being in their custody for a few days had been enough to trigger something awful.
Whatever was done to her was there to begin with, and that means it's in Gale too.
Involuntarily, Gale's hand begins to squeeze the phone and the screen cracks.
Staring down at it, a rush of terror floods him.
If sweet, simple Cartwright could be turned into a beast that attacks a cop for no reason, what would Gale be like? He's never had any of her gentleness, her easy temper.
Gale is a walking time bomb.
"She's running wild," Madge says suddenly, taking the cracked phone from him, flicking it back to the convenience store stills of Cartwright looking over her shoulder. She smiles, almost manically. "Gale, she's escaped. They turned on whatever programing they put in the soldiers but she's fighting it, she's trying to get away from them!"
"Okay," Gale mutters, running a hand through his hair, not really seeing why she's getting excited.
She locks her phone and snatches up her bag.
"If she can fight it, even just enough to get away, then there's hope. Whatever is in you isn't foolproof." Her expression settles into determination. "If we can find Delly we can help her, and if we can help her, we might just be able to keep you from ever having to suffer like she is."
Spinning on her heels, Madge doesn't even wait for Gale to catch up with her thoughts, just marches toward the spinning doors leading to the luggage claim.
Grabbing his bag, Gale chases after her, barely catching her before she's past the carousel and to the exit.
"That last sighting was in Farmers Branch," she tells him as she pulls her phone back out and types something in.
"She'll be gone from there by the time we even get out of this place," Gale points out.
Madge shakes her head. "We aren't going to her last known place, we're going to her next stop."
Gale stops, grabs her by the arm and frowns. "Her next stop?"
Holding out her phone, Madge points to the line of sightings she's built and nods.
"She's following the interstate, we just need to start heading south and listen for her next sighting."
Not waiting for an objection, Madge starts walking again, leaving Gale shaking his head, certain it isn't going to be as simple as she thinks.
#######
They drive until well after midnight, Madge's phone scanning every emergency call for possible Cartwright sightings. There isn't so much as a mention of a Braum's calling in a girl tearing through their ice cream display.
When Madge finally nods off, Gale takes it as a sign he needs to find her somewhere to sleep. He might be able to stay up for days at a time, she clearly can't.
He passes up a few of the bigger hotels, ones that look like Gale would have to sell a vital organ to afford even half a night in, before spotting what he thinks is an excellent choice.
Locking the doors of the car, Gale leaves Madge sleeping in the passenger seat and goes into the tiny front room of the motel.
It's dim, illuminated with a flickering fluorescent tube light overhead and the slight reflection of the red 'vacancy' sign mounted in the front window.
Gale frowns as he smells the caustic aroma of burnt food and stale cigarette smoke in the air. Behind the desk an Elvis clock ticks loudly, his hips rocking back and forth as Gale waits for someone to come.
Finally, he hears a man with heavy, clumsy steps coming up the hall, shouting orders at someone behind him before fixing a smile on his face to greet Gale.
"Need a room?"
It takes all Gale's strength not to roll his eyes. Why the hell else would he be there?
"Yeah." He forces a smile onto his face. "Honeymoon."
The man's expression twitches, clearly not used to his establishment being the sight of a first night of marital bliss. Maybe the scene of the cause of a divorce, but not a honeymoon.
He quickly schools his smile back into a winning one.
"I'll get you the honeymoon suite then. You're lucky it ain't taken."
To his credit, he keeps the sarcasm from his voice.
Taking Gale's card, with the alias 'Glen Smith' stamped on it, the man charges the room to him before giving him a battered key with an ancient diamond shaped red piece of plastic dangling from it, the room number 112 painted on in peeling gold paint.
"Congratulations," the man tells him as Gale turns to go.
Gale doesn't even turn back, just grunts in reply.
When he gets back to the car Madge is awake, her bleary eyes squinting up at the rough exterior of the hotel.
"Did I miss something?"
Handing her the key, Gale shakes his head.
"You're exhausted. I got us a room."
Her nose wrinkles up. "Here?"
Shrugging, Gale backs out and pulls the car around to the backside of the building.
It's darker than the front, a little grimier. The lights from the interstate don't quite shine over the flat roof, and there's an overflowing garbage bin taking up one of the parking places, but Gale's stayed in worse.
"It's cheap."
Looking unimpressed, she sighs. "Looking like this it ought to be."
Grabbing her bag from the back seat, Gale waits as she reluctantly gets out of the car and follows him up the banged up metal stairs leading to the room.
The door sticks, and Gale makes a great effort not to knock it off its hinges as he shoves it open.
He instantly wishes he had. Then they'd maybe be able to get a new room.
Inside is every tacky nightmare version of a honeymoon suite Gale has ever seen.
A rusted brass chandelier is hanging at the center of the room, casting everything in a disconcerting pink glow.
The bed is shaped like a giant heart, complete with a pink silk comforter and a red padded headboard.
Not even the bathroom is safe. From the door Gale can see the chipped counter with heart shaped sinks and gold plated mirror with a fat Cupid tacked to the corner, an arrow already notched in his bow.
"What-Gale, what on earth is this?"
Brain slowing, Gale only manages to shrug and mumble, "I didn't think he actually had a honeymoon suite."
Why would he?
Looking mortified, Madge shakes her head. "I'll sleep in the car."
"No," Gale grabs her before she can bolt back down the steps. "This is fine. It's fine. Look, it's probably the cleanest room her. No one's ever used it, I'm sure."
"Or they've only used it for some-some freaky sex role playing!"
Okay, she might be right about that.
Sighing, Gale glances around, runs his free hand through his hair and forces a smile.
"Please, Madge, you can't sleep in the car and you know you want a shower."
She cuts a suspicious glance at the bathroom and huffs.
"Probably cameras in there."
#######
After scanning the room from top to bottom and assuring herself there are no hidden cameras, Madge agrees to stay in the room.
"But I'm picking the next place," she stipulates before looking warily around again and cringing at the sign posted by the tiny fridge letting guests know that to control the lights, all they have to do is 'clap on, clap off'.
Classy. Gale thinks she deserves to pick their next stop after that find.
She'd gone into the shower mumbling about wishing she had a way of scanning for bodily fluids on walls and upholstery and telling Gale to keep his shoes on.
Eyeing the gold shag carpet, Gale decides to take that bit of advice before pulling the comforter off and tossing it in the corner. Madge had mentioned something about those being 'the absolute filthiest' and he isn't eager to upset her more.
Plus he needs a distraction.
The room is too quiet. Not even the noise of the cars on the interstate make it back to them, ensuring his far too perfect hearing is making him painfully aware of what's going on through the thin walls of the bathroom.
First he hears Madge tossing down a towel to step on, then the water turns on. She might as well be standing right next to him for how loud the zipper on her jeans is. Even the latch on her bra seems to echo in his head.
Before she steps in the shower, subjecting Gale to the tantalizing music of water off her body, he goes to the sink and begins brushing his teeth. Anything to dull the noise.
Humming, he focuses on the sound of the bristles on his teeth, the water in the sink, everything but Madge in the shower.
He's so absorbed, in fact, that he doesn't even hear the door click next to him as Madge steps out.
"Are you humming 'Party in the USA'?"
The toothbrush freezes in his hand and Gale nods mutely, unable to form so much as a single word.
It's mesmerizing how her damp hair hangs around her face, dewy skin seems to glow, even the way she holds her used towel steels his thoughts.
She's gorgeous.
She also looks very confused.
"You hate that song," she points out.
In fact, he does. It's one of Mellark's favorites and he plays it with little provocation. Maybe that's why Gale subconsciously chose it. Something annoying to drone out something he loves dearly.
Shrugging, Gale spits his toothpaste out and rinses, trying not to look at Madge as she continues to stare at him, mouth a little agape.
Finally, as Gale's nightly routine expands to involve an extended face washing, Madge gives up on getting answers and he watches in the mirror as she goes to the bed and drops her bag.
When he can't avoid talking anymore, Gale wipes his face and walks to the bed.
"I'll, uh, take the couch," he mumbles, running a hand through his hair, standing it on end.
"Don't be ridiculous," Madge sighs. "This bed is huge. We can both fit."
Gale's stomach rolls as he cuts her a look, takes in her oversized shirt and fraying running shorts just peeking out from under the hem.
They might both fit, but he isn't sure he can handle being in such close proximity to her while sleeping. He just doesn't trust his body not to embarrass him during the night.
"No-"
"Gale, just get in the bed and go to sleep," she grumbles, taking her bag and gingerly setting it on the brass bedside table.
She makes a face and then climbs in, turning on her side and curling her arms under her head to avoid the pillow.
If he weren't feeling a little sick, Gale would find it funny. She's just barely on the bed. One good roll and she'd be flailing on the dirty ground.
Then she'd have to take another shower…
He doesn't think he can take that again so soon.
There's nothing he can do about that though.
As easily as he can, Gale pulls down the sheets and climbs onto the bed before glancing over at Madge.
She hasn't pulled out a blanket from her bag, and she looks as likely to climb under the sheets as she is to sprout wings, so Gale assumes she plans on spending the whole night shivering in the overactive AC. He can see goosebumps prickling up on her skin, and has half a mind to ask her if she wants to leech off his body heat. The question never forms though.
Rolling over, Gale sighs and claps, plunging them into darkness.
#######
Gale wakes the next morning with something warm and soft burrowed into his side.
Blinking into the pale light filtering in around the gold curtains, he turns his head and finds tangles of blonde hair in his vision.
Looking down, he almost laughs.
Apparently Madge had gotten cold during the night.
She's curled into him, knees tucked to her middle and hands tucked under her arms, nose pressed to his chest. A little sigh escapes her lips and Gale feels her breath ghost through his undershirt.
He lets himself enjoy the comforting warmth of her body for a moment more before careful edging away.
Madge's nose wrinkles up once Gale's body is completely away from hers, squishing herself into a tiny ball, and Gale wishes he could've been her human radiator for a little bit longer.
It isn't practical though, not when he isn't sure how his body is going to react to her.
They're lucky something hadn't happened when she snuggled up to him in the middle of the night. He's a time bomb.
Fleetingly he considers leaving. He never should've come in the first place, not when whatever is in him is still such an unknown.
Then Madge begins stretching, yawning and blinking, before bolting up, frantically looking around.
"Oh god," she whispers, a blush so bright Gale can even see it in the dim room burning onto her cheeks. "I'm so sorry Gale."
Frowning, Gale tilts his head. "For what?"
She sighs before burying her face in her hands. "I pushed you off the bed, didn't I?"
Gale snorts. She couldn't push him off the bed even if she were awake and putting in all her effort.
"Almost," he lies, enjoying her panic a little. It's cute. "I woke up before I ended up in the gold jungle."
Groaning, Madge spends another ten minutes apologizing before Gale pretends to accept, despite it being wholly unnecessary.
She ducks in the bathroom to change as Gale digs through his bag as noisily as he can and gets dressed by the bed.
As he's finishing pulling his shirt over his head, Madge walks back in.
Her phone is out again, probably catching up on overnight briefings from the local police, she isn't looking at it though.
Instead, her gaze is focused on Gale, her cheeks once again blossoming crimson.
"I, uh, the phone says-I mean, the overnight reports say-don't say-I mean-" she shakes her head, eyes closing. "No sightings. Sorry, just not feeling great."
Crossing over to her, Gale presses the back of his hand to her forehead. She is a little warm.
"We can stop and get some medicine," he tells her, going back and grabbing both their bags, slinging them over his shoulder. "Then breakfast."
He could eat his weight in waffles the way he feels.
Nodding, Madge presses the backs of her hands to her cheeks and gives him a grateful smile.
Opening the door, they leave the nightmare room behind and head out into the blinding morning light.