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.
Victors and Heroes
AN: A follow-up long in the making for the 'Gale as a victor' au 'Survival'. I wrote something, after months of absolutely no motivation, so...eh. Not perfect, but okay. Be kind.
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Gale watches through the glass as the doctors and nurses, all clad in white, masks hiding everything but their eyes, rushing around the surgical suite.
One of them shouts something, directing an unseen assistant to turn some of the overhead lights to a more favorable position.
As the lights shift magically, and the team rushes around, all jockeying for a better position around a seemingly impassable boundary at the center of the room, the floor begins to gap.
Beside Gale, Haymitch steps forward, his bloodshot eyes narrowed and his nose less than an inch from the glass. It not for the anti-fog coating, the window would be heavy with the traces of his hot breath.
For a few moments nothing happens, then something rises from the gap.
The table is pristine, shining under the harsh lights. Or it would be pristine. The filthy mass quivering at the center keeps it from being completely clean.
If Gale hadn't spent the past week watching the Games, hadn't just watched as the final two Tributes fight for their lives, seen one die and the other be plucked from the Arena, he wouldn't know that heap on the table is a person.
That shivering, half dead pile is the Capitol's newest Victor.
Madge Undersee.
She isn't awake, not really. Delirium has sent in. Between that and the cocktail they'd injected in her when they pulled her out, a 'Victory Day Spritzer'-or so they call it-she won't remember a thing about the next few days.
Which is why Haymitch is dead set on staying with her every moment.
"I don't care what these assholes are, doctors or saints. I'm not trusting any of them."
People aren't trustworthy, especially people in the Capitol. There's no telling what one or more of those perverts or money hungry pigs would do to her without eyes on them at all times.
"And she's a pretty thing too," Wiress had sighed, days before when Haymitch had been sending Madge what Gale felt was a piss-poor gift of dried fruit. "Pity, isn't it?"
"She's smart," Haymitch snapped, tossing a cool glance over his shoulder at her. "Smarter than you."
"Somehow I doubt that," Wiress replied, sounding almost bored. "Considering her mother, after all."
"Go to hell, Wiress, and take all your monkeys with you," Haymitch snarled. "I've got a Game to win."
With that he'd gone to the far side of Twelve's screen, grumbling to himself about strategy and air currents.
Wiress had simply sighed and turned to Gale.
Her dark eyes focused on him, seemingly examining every inch of his soul. Which she might've been. She and Alameda knew all his secrets, helped keep the noose around his neck for Snow. Every filthy, awful thing that happened to him was because of her.
Skin crawling, Gale had started to leave, but stopped when Wiress' lips flicked up, into one of her rare and unnerving smiles.
"There's only three left," she said simply. "The girl is smart, despite her obvious genetic disadvantage. Haymitch will want to speak with me soon. He needs to if he wants her to have any hope."
She'd glanced at the screen, at Madge struggling through a smoky wood, before turning back to Gale.
"I'll be at the Oyster, you'll let him know."
It wasn't a request. There was no such thing as a request with Wiress.
So Gale had passed her not-quite message along to the drunk, just after the boy from Two died.
The Capitol had been in a frenzy, salivating in anticipation of the showdown between the sultry girl from One and the soft-spoken Mayor's daughter.
"A cat fight for the ages!" Flickerman laughed as Old Iridi from One made thinly veiled comments about the ragged states of both girls' clothing.
"I'll have until tomorrow night then," Haymitch muttered to himself, rubbing at his eyes.
"Until tomorrow until what?"
Glaring, Haymitch rolled his eyes. "Until the end, kid."
It had taken a minute before Gale had processed just what he'd said, and almost as long to figure out what that meant.
The Gamemakers would keep the two apart for as long as possible, build the anticipation, and when they'd sold every possible commercial spot, then heard them together for a grand finale. Just as prime time viewing started.
"I need to, uh, work out some things with Wiress."
It was Gale's turn to roll his eyes.
Haymitch was going to beg, borrow, and steal to get Wiress to help him save Madge from being sold off to the highest bidder, if she won. It was something he'd clearly never attempted on Gale's behalf.
As Haymitch had straightened his jacket and hurried off, Gale glared at the screen.
Madge had settled down for the night, her skin covered in a thin layer of soot and her outfit in tatters.
There was nothing special about her that he could see. Why did Haymitch care about her surviving? About her not being turned into a piece of meat to be devoured by the Capitol?
What made her more important than any of the others? More important than Gale?
"Maybe he really does have a crush on her," Finnick had shrugged, sipping whatever disgusting drink his latest client had bought him, grimacing. "Does it matter?"
After a night of abuse at the hand of a pair of sisters, arriving back at the Training Center with whelps and bruises on his entire body, Gale decided it didn't.
Whatever Haymitch's reason for wanting to spare Madge the indignities of Victory, Gale didn't need to know. He didn't wish his suffering on anyone, least of all her. Maybe compassion for the Mayor's kid, someone he'd known her whole life, was the last sliver of Haymitch's humanity shining through.
A fist banging on the thick glass pulls Gale back into the moment, glancing sideways at Haymitch.
"Don't even think about it you piece of shit," he growls into an intercom on the wall, his voice magnified into the blindingly white room in front of them.
One of the so-called doctors jumps, startled by the intrusion, before sheepishly glancing over his shoulder and giving Haymitch a little wave.
Haymitch jabs a finger at his eye, then to the man, letting him know he's watching him, before crossing his arms over his chest and settling the room in an icy glare.
The lump that is Madge stirs. Her head, hair matted and dull, lifts, and a pair of blue eyes open a fraction up at the ceiling.
For a moment she appears too much in a daze, as if she might fall back asleep, then she shoots up.
Screams echo around the room as she claws and hits the medical personnel in a blind panic.
"Don't you hurt her, you bastards!" Haymitch howls, banging more forcefully on the glass. "So help me, I'll kill you all if you much as bruise her!"
Haymitch's threats seem to concern them less than Madge's attack though. They shout orders to one another and at the unseen controllers, demanding sedatives and restraints.
It only takes a minute before something zips out of one of the walls, into Madge's arm, and another second more before her eyes dim, lids slid down, and she collapses to the floor.
Beside him, Gale hears Haymitch raging on, spewing out obscenities and threats easier than breathing. It does no good.
Unceremoniously, one of the people on the other side of the glass picks Madge throwing her around like a broken toy, before tossing her back onto the table.
Gale winces on her behalf.
A moment later Haymitch is gone, still shouting as he heads to the hall, presumably to fight his way into the control room, then into the medical theater, to defend Madge's honor.
"I think I like him better drunk."
Gale doesn't turn to look at who has spoken, just keeps his eyes on Madge, now still and sedated on the table even as the gowned people poke and prod her arms, stitch up the gash on her leg and begin applying ointments to reduce scarring to her burns.
He feels someone take up Haymitch's spot beside him, hears them sighing loudly.
"I mean, he's all wound up." Alameda leans against the glass, her back to the scene unfolding behind her. "I'd say we should get him a woman, or a doll or something, but I don't think his particular proclivities would be satisfied by what the Capitol has to offer."
Rolling his eyes, Gale turns from her and leans into the glass. Sometimes if he ignores her she goes away.
Undeterred, Alameda steps around him and grins, jerks her head toward the window.
"We ain't got anything that innocent in these parts."
Grinding his teeth, Gale starts to turn away, head to the hall and go help Haymitch, but is stopped by green talons wrapping around his arm.
"What do you want?" He snaps, pushing her away. "Can't you go annoy Cashmere or Wiress or-or anyone else?"
Because Gale has enough to deal with without her pestering him.
"Sadly, no. Cashmere is with a high-roller and Wiress told me she'd used her new shock gun on me again if I bothered her tonight. Something about 'reinforcement' work. I dunno." She waves a hand absently, pretending not to care about whatever secret she's being left out of. "So that makes you the lucky winner of my attentions tonight."
"I'll pass," he mutters, brushing past her.
"My company isn't optional."
And if anyone knows that, it's Gale. Sometimes he thinks tormenting him is less of a job requirement and more a stress reliever for her. She certainly seems to enjoy harassing him than anyone else.
Groaning, Gale pushes past her anyways, into the dark hall.
Before he's taken more than ten steps, just enough to hear Haymitch's bellowing echoing off the walls, he's pushed roughly into a closet he hadn't even noticed.
"What the-"
Alameda's calloused little hand slams over his mouth and she hisses for him to be quiet.
There's just enough light squeezing under the door for Gale to see her outline, a glint of green on her hair and eyes, but nothing else.
Her eyes dart around before she takes a step back and her hand darts into her grubby bag. She digs in it for a moment before pulling her compact out, flipping it open, and sighing.
"Okay, we have five minutes before they come sniffing you out," she tells him, chewing her lip. "So shut up and listen."
Before Gale can disobey her, she hurries on.
"Something funny's going-Haymitch is bizarrely attached to your newest cell mate in Victory Hell-really attached-it's creepy, actually." She shakes her head, makes a face, then shrugs. "He's desperate to keep her from getting sold off-like you and Finnick-and he's got Wiress in on it somehow. They're wheeling and dealing to save her. Any idea why?"
It annoys him that his own thoughts had mirrored a mad woman's so closely, but keeps that to himself. Instead he just rolls his eyes.
"Maybe he grew a heart."
"If anything grew, it isn't that."
"Is your mind always in the gutter?"
She shrugs. "Mostly, but that's not often the wrong place."
Well, that's not a lie.
"What does it matter?" Gale finally asks. "I don't care why he wants to help her, and you shouldn't either."
Even if Gale is curious.
"Because you and I are getting dragged into her protection, that's why," she snaps, glancing at the door before glaring back at him, her eyes darker. "I heard Haymitch asking Wiress if she could get her with our group-surveillance and that stuff-but the President is strict on how many of us there are. She reminded him that. Then he asked if she could work out a deal, like Finnick did for Annie. And three guesses who he's bartering with."
Gale doesn't need even one guess.
Haymitch is a bad tempered, pot-bellied drunk. He passed his prime decades ago of his own free-will.
Straightening up, Gale crosses his arms over his chest and snorts.
"Finnick offered himself up for Annie. I'm not."
Even in the dark Gale sees her eyes roll.
"You will." She holds up a hand, silencing him before he argues. "You've got one hell of a hero complex Dorothy, it almost lost you your Games, remember? You get one good look at those big blue eyes and you'll be tripping over yourself to keep her from some freaky pervert's bed."
Grinding his teeth, Gale shakes his head.
"You will," she says again, glancing at the door. Footsteps are coming toward them. "And when you do, we can use it to save those cute little parasites living in your house. Might as well get something out of it."
Gale barely has time to realize she's talking about his siblings when she flicks the lights on, seconds before the door flies open.
A pair of white clad officials stare in at them, eye narrowed.
They don't get a chance to so much as open their mouths to ask a question before Alameda grins.
"Gale was just showing me a rash." She turns back to Gale, grin widening. "Don't worry too much about it. I'm sure they have something for it that'll be gentle in such a delicate area."
She darts off, leaving Gale awkwardly standing in front of a pair of red faced men, both mumbling apologies.
Muttering to himself, Gale pushes past them and down the hall.
He's still rolling Alameda's words around in his head when he gets to the control room.
Haymitch has already blown through, leaving crying staff in his wake.
Stepping through the carnage, Gale crosses to the door and pushes it open, steps into the medical theater.
Haymitch is at Madge's side, having chased off the medical staff, and is apparently whispering comforting nonsense to her.
For a moment Gale just watches as the old drunk smooths down her hair, pulls the blankets more securely at her shoulders, holds her hand.
Madge's eyes flutter for a second, then open enough to squint at Haymitch.
"It's gonna be okay, Pearl. You're gonna okay."
She doesn't smile, but her lips quirk a bit as she sighs, still heavily medicated.
Then she glances over at Gale.
Even only half open, Gale can see use how blue, how frightened, they are.
He closes his own and groans.
If it'll help his brothers and sisters, he'll save Madge Undersee.
Opening his eyes he runs his hands through his hair, watches those blue eyes close, squeezing a tear out as they do.
Alameda was right, he thinks bitterly. He can't let them tear her apart, not if there's a way to keep it from happening. Whether it saves his family from whatever vague threat is hanging over it or not, he'll help her.
He doesn't know how not to.