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: Last chapter for a while.
Kaleidoscope, pt 13
Gale waits on the broken down sofa, some of Thom's awful home brew in a cracked glass, gripped in his hands. He glances at the clock.
Briar will be home soon, she's as predictable as the sun and moon.
It's Wednesday, snare checking day, she'll be home just after dark.
He hasn't dreaded anything as much as this since he'd told his mom about Madge's pregnancy and how badly he'd mangled that relationship. This might be worse actually.
Daisy is on the back porch with Madge, maybe talking, maybe just sitting. They've talked for hours, silence might be all that's left.
Leaning forward, Gale presses his fingers to his eyes, runs them up and through his hair. If it wasn't gray before, it will be now. Drama over some idiot boy isn't how he wanted to earn it, but he supposes he deserves it that way.
He'd gotten off easy when Madge got pregnant. Daniel had been the picture of calm and Matilda loved him from the moment she met him. Madge might have kept him at arm's length, but she'd thawed. He hadn't suffered like he should have.
Instead of being punished for his own stupidity, he's got another jackass' mess to deal with.
He shakes the thought away.
He isn't the one going to be hurting for this. His girls will be.
Why couldn't Daisy have liked another boy? Why Barrows?
A mirthless chuckle rumbles in his chest.
Much as she looks like Madge, this proves she's his daughter. Impulsive and short sighted to a fault. Of all the traits to inherit.
"I just…" Daisy had grasped for the words to explain just how she'd ended up at this point.
"Got swept up?" Gale echoes his father-in-law's words from a lifetime ago.
She nodded, swatted at the tears still trickling down her cheeks.
"I didn't-I didn't want to hurt Bri...but I just...I fell." She takes a shuddering breath. "I can already hear her-telling me I'm stupid-I just did it for attention-I want to be the victim-"
"She won't say that," Gale tried to comfort her, but Daisy had just snorted.
"Why not? She's said it all before."
Gale didn't know what to say to that, if he even should try. He hadn't known, and neither had Madge.
"If she said those thing, Dais, she didn't mean them," Madge told her, holding her hand.
"She said them," Daisy whispers, rubbing her nose. "And she meant every word."
Madge opened her mouth to argue, but Daisy kept going.
"Maybe she's right," she mutters. "I do like the attention, maybe not like she thinks, but...I like having someone who brings me flowers, and is excited to talk to me, who wants me around even if I'm useless."
"You aren't useless," Gale grumbled.
She shook her head. "I can't hunt or set snares or bring home dinner like Briar."
"I can't do any of those things either," Madge reminded her. "You can cook, bake, sew, knit-I couldn't do any of those things when your dad and I got married."
"Briar can do all of it," Daisy sighed. "She's always gonna be better than me, and she's always gonna hate me, because she's right, I'm stupid and useless. I'm just a victim."
Much as they tried to convince her otherwise, Daisy had simple sat, teary eyed and silent. Her energy spent.
"Do you think Briar said those things?" Gale asked Madge, once Daisy was on the porch, out of earshot.
Madge shrugged.
"No?" She buried her face in her hands. "I don't know. Maybe? She might've said things and Daisy interpreted them wrong…"
Because the cold reality was, Briar didn't soften her words. She was blunt, and Gale and Madge both knew she may have said just what Daisy repeated.
They both doubt her intent was to hurt her sister. Gale imagines Briar had been using her own brand of tough love, trying to goad her into learning new skills, stand up for herself, be more self-sustaining. Not that any of that eased the blow.
Slouching back, Gale sighs. He'd created this situation.
Briar had always been his shadow, been the most like him, and he'd fed that. He'd encouraged her to help her siblings, and that no doubt lead to her treatment of Daisy.
The front door creaks open, drawing Gale from his self-loathing.
Briar steps in, drops her game bag and shrugs off her coat before she even notices Gale.
She smiles, and Gale tries to memorize it. He has a feeling he won't be seeing it again for a while.
It vanishes the second she sees his grim expression.
"Who died?"
Gale shakes his head. "No one." He pats the couch. "Sit down, Briar."
She hesitates, looking more uneasy about his request than she has about anything in her life, but finally, slowly, sits down next to him, perched at the edge of the cushion, ready to bolt.
Taking a long drink, Gale tries to think of a good way to tell, some way to soften it. He's been thinking about it for hours. There's no good way to break a heart.
"You-you, uh, catch anything?"
Her nose wrinkles up, sensing his stalling. "Just say what you need to say, dad."
Almost laughing, Gale nods, downs the rest of his drink.
"Daisy, she's...Daisy is pregnant."
For a moment she just stares at him, seemingly processing what he's said, then she stands.
"I always knew she'd get in trouble," she grumbles, grabbing her coat. She frowns. "Why aren't you getting up? Did you already get the asshole? Did you tell Papa? He can get the papers going-and Mr. Abernathy-if this guy tries anything, he's always told me he knows a girl-"
Gale stands, cuts her off. "We don't need Haymitch or his weird friends."
She makes a frustrated noise. "Of course we d-"
"The guy-he's told her he wants to get married already."
Grip in her coat loosening, Briar closes her eyes and sighs. She opens them and sets him in a weary look. "He's an asshole, isn't he?"
You have no idea, Gale thinks darkly.
Walking to her, Gale takes a breath.
"Briar…" he feels his heart stop. "Briar, it's Barrows."
She freezes, an animal caught in one of her snares, confused and panicked but trapped all the same.
"Rowan?"
Gale nods.
Her breath shudders in her chest and she nods, rubs her nose.
"Okay-sure, fine-that's fine-great," she nods, tears swelling in her eyes. "I was always gonna lose that one, right? Didn't have a chance against pretty, perfect Daisy."
Turning, she tosses her coat, crosses her arms over her chest and takes several deep breaths before turning back to Gale, tears rolling off her cheeks.
"Why?" She shakes her head. "What's wrong with me? What's she got that I don't?"
Reaching for her, Gale pulls her into a hug, presses a kiss into her hair.
"Nothing. It's just…"
He can't tell her. He doesn't have an answer.
Her tears soak through his shirt and she grips him tighter, cries harder.
Several minutes tick by, punctuated by hiccups and sniffles, until finally Briar's breathing evens out.
"She's easier to love," she finally mumbles. "She's prettier and she's nicer and she's just-she's easier to love."
Gale isn't sure how to respond to that, if he's even supposed to.
Pulling back, she frantically wipes her eyes, laughs, watery and angry.
"She's soft and I'm tough and-and now she's pregnant and I'm just…"she snatched her coat from the ground. "I need to go."
Reaching out, Gale catches her by the wrist, but she yanks it away.
"Don't touch me!" She snarls, loud enough Gale is sure their nosy neighbor will be at the window, trying to hear the argument. "I don't need comfort, or pity, or any of that crap, I'm not Daisy, obviously."
Madge comes rushing in from the porch, stopping at the kitchen entry, watching Briar sadly. "Sweetheart…"
"Don't," she snap, shaking her head. "You can't make this better, mom."
Daisy appears around Madge's side, looking more anxious than she'd been when she'd told Gale.
"Don't yell at mom, this isn't her fault," she tells her, voice shaking.
"You're right," Briar agrees, grinding her teeth. "It's yours."
"I'm so-"
"You aren't," Briar cuts her off. "Don't try that bullshit with me. I'm not some horny boy. You can't just bat your eyes and push up your boobs and expect me-"
"That's enough," Gale warns her. Mad as she is, hurt as she is, he won't let her do this.
Daisy is crying, silent tears dripping off her face, arms protectively crossed over her middle. She won't argue or defend herself, that isn't her nature. She's always taken Briar's barbs quietly, accepted her apologies without question. He can't watch her get torn to pieces.
"No, it's not. You always protect her. Well now you can't. She's gone out and now every awful thing anyone's ever said about her is true. She's not even out of school and a few trips to the Slag Heap and she's knocked up. Because she just a big sl-"
"Stop," Madge cuts her off, her voice not so much as rising.
At some point she'd walked to Briar, taken her by the shoulders. She smoothes her hair, tries to smile as she wipes a few of the tears from Briar's face.
"Bri, baby, don't say another word," she gently tells her. "I know you're hurt, and hurting Daisy might make you feel better right now, but tomorrow, the next day, or the next...you'll regret it."
Briar snorts, shakes her head and puts on her coat. "I won't."
She tosses one last dark look over her shoulder at Daisy before flinging open the door and storming out without another word.
#######
Hours creep by, but Briar doesn't come home. They hadn't expected her to return, but they'd hoped.
"She's probably at Sage's," Gale muttered, heading for the door, pulling on his coat.
Madge nodded.
Daisy had gone to her room, shut the door and cried herself to sleep, minutes after Briar had run off. Miles and Wren were still at Hazelle's. That left Madge to hold her lonely vigil.
The house is empty and cold without the kids, and she considers going to the porch when the front door opens.
Gale steps in, followed by Sage, but no Briar.
"We looked everywhere," he tells her, shaking his head, sighing.
Sage nods, plucks at the cuff of his jacket.
"She came by my place," he tells her. "She told me about Daisy."
He's quiet for a moment, then he sighs.
"I don't know what she wanted me to say, mom." He tugs on the hairs at the nape of his neck. "I didn't know what to say."
Madge crosses the room and wraps her arms around him.
"I don't think there's anything to say."
And if there is, Madge hasn't found it yet.
She feels him nod before he pulls back, looks toward the hall.
"Day in her room?"
When Madge nods he smiles, heads toward his sister's room.
Once she hears the bedroom door click shut, Madge looks to Gale.
He curses under his breath.
"Sage said she was drunk when she got to his place." He sighs. "Said she just sat there and cried for an hour before she ran out of liquor and left. He tried to stop her, but she ran off."
They'd check all along the fence, the Hob, the meadow, the Victors Village and Mr. Abernathy's house, Madge's parents, but she didn't want to be found.
"She's in the woods," he finally says. "But I'll be damned if I know how she got out there. They've been turning the electricity on after dark."
Determination and fury, Madge thinks dimly, as Gale tells her he hadn't told her parents why Briar ran off.
"And Haymitch was passed out drunk," he'd huffed. "Probably where Bri got the drinks."
Madge nods in agreement, but doesn't actually hear him. She's too ate up with worry for Briar.
Drunk and angry, there's no telling what will happen to her. She might not think it, but she is a pretty girl, and there are a lot of men who'd hurt her without a thought. It's a worry Madge has nursed for years, that the awful men of her childhood, who'd shouted lewd things at her and threatened her would someday catch one of her children and hurt them.
"I hope she is in the woods," Madge mumbles, more to herself than Gale. At least in the woods she can rage without the fear that someone will hurt her.
Anxiety bubbling over, Madge feels tears brimming in her eyes. She tries to blink them away, but they just slid down her cheeks.
Before she can stop, she's sobbing.
For Briar and Daisy and all their insecurities.
For the childhood Daisy is losing.
For Briar's broken heart.
For their fractured bond.
Gale wraps his arms around her, murmurs comforting nonsense into her hair as he tries to calm her, reassure her it'll all be okay.
It's doesn't do any good though.
What's broken is broken, and she's afraid there's no mending her daughters' relationship.
Her tears slow to a trickle, her breathing evens out, punctuated by little shuddering breaths, until she's still in his arms.
What are they going to do?
The question hangs on her lips, interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Mr. Hawthorne?" A deep voice calls out.
Frowning, Gale lets Madge go and walks to the door, carefully opens it.
Madge's heart stops dead in her chest.
A Peacekeeper.
He's young, maybe a few years older than the twins, umber skin and thick hair pulled back into a knot. There are dirt smears on his uniform, mud splatters on the pants and boots, a tear on his sleeve, his helmet is off, and over his shoulder is a struggling figure.
"I think you lost this," he tells Gale as he sets Briar down.
She swears and takes a swing at him, misses, and stumbles, over correcting and landing on her bottom with a loud thud.
The Peacekeeper sighs, looking unimpressed.
"She's drunk, in case you missed that."
"I'm no-not dr-drinked," she counters, slurring as she struggles to her feet. "You're jus-just a b-big jerk. A big jerk."
"Mmhmm," The Peacekeeper agrees, reaching out and steadying her as she loses her footing again.
She pushes his hand away. "Don't t-toushme."
Madge steps between the two and forces a smile for him.
"Thank you for bringing her home," she tells him, silently willing Briar to be quiet. She's gotten lucky, getting a lenient Peacekeeper, she doesn't need to ruin it by picking a fight.
His amused expression tugs up into interest as he eyes Madge.
"You're her mom?" He lets out a low whistle. "This where you got that pretty face Briar?"
"Shudup," Briar snaps.
The Peacekeeper chuckles. "But you got daddy's temper. Tragic."
Gale rolls his eyes and catches Briar as she nearly topples over.
"What do I owe you, Lew?"
The Peacekeeper, Lew, shrugs.
"A few ramps when they come up next spring," he finally says. "We'll call it even."
Madge wonders if the man knows he could ask for more than a few wild onions, demand more for not tossing Briar in the drunk tank, she's the granddaughter of the Mayor after all, but he seems wholly unconcerned.
Gale nods. "I can do that."
The man starts to leave, but then reaches in his bag and pulls out a boot. Briar's boot.
Madge hadn't even noticed it was gone.
"She threw it at me," he explains. "She missed."
Taking the boot, Madge grimaces.
"Thank you, Lewis."
"Lewes," he corrects her. When she frowns he shrugs. "Ephraim Lewes."
She forces a smile. "Thank you, Ephraim."
"The pleasure's all mine, Mrs. Hawthorne."
He peeks over Madge's shoulder, at the still fuming Briar.
"Night, gorgeous. Stay away from the fence, unless you want those hands of yours fried off."
Briar makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like more swearing as Ephraim chuckles and leaves.
Once the door is shut and locked, Madge turns back and finds Gale has maneuvered Briar to the couch.
She tries to get up a few more times, but she's too exhausted and drowsy with drink to put up much of a fight.
"I'm leavin'," she grumbles before slumping back into the sofa, sniffling as her eyelids droop. "I'm leavin'."
She mumbles a few more times, swears, before finally stilling, snoring softly on Gale's shoulder.
"She's out."
Madge nearly jumps at the sound of Sage's voice. She'd forgotten he was there.
Both he and Daisy had stayed hidden in the hallway, apparently listening in until Briar fell asleep.
Sage glances at the door and then to Gale.
"It's lucky Lew found her and not someone else," he finally says.
Gale nods and brushes a few wild strands from Briar's face.
Silence settles over them, no one quite sure what to say. Daisy shifts uncomfortably, tear stains still on her cheeks as she stares at her sister.
"I should leave," she finally says, nodding in agreement with herself. "I should go."
"No," Gale growls. "No one is going anywhere."
"Dad-"
"You're still a child and until you get married you're staying here."
"I can't stay here," Daisy tells him, voice breaking. "I'm only hurting her."
Madge feels her insides roll.
She's right. For now, one of the girls has to go. Forcing them together isn't going to fix things, not yet.
"Bri can stay with me and Abby," Sage offers. "She needs to cool off and she needs a break from...everything."
And everyone.
"No," Gale shakes his head, eyes still on Briar's face. "I'm not letting her think we're just tossing her out."
"She's drunk," Sage counters. "She's not even going to remember being dragged home."
He looks at Madge.
Briar might be Gale's daughter through and through, but Sage is still her twin. He's been her confidant, her best friend, since the day they were born. They share things with each other that the other kids, and Gale and Madge, aren't privileged to.
It hurts, but he probably knows better than either she or Gale what Briar needs.
"Let me get her some clothes," Madge finally says.
"Madge…"
Looking at Gale, Madge gives him a small smile.
"Sage will take care of her. We can go talk to her in the morning." She walks over, leans in, and whispers, "This isn't picking one over the other. This is giving them both what they need."
Briar needs space, time to figure out how to deal with everything that's happened. She won't want either of them at her elbow, trying to put her back together, until she's ready.
Daisy needs support. She's pregnant and not even out of school, about to be married. Even if her body and the government say she's an adult, she isn't. Her world is about to dramatically change, and there's no way she's prepared for it.
Judging by the way Gale's jaw tightens, his arm stiffens around Briar, he'd like to argue, but then he looks between Daisy and Briar.
He won't admit it, not yet, but he knows she's right.
He finally sighs, nods.
Straightening up, Madge goes to the girls' room and packs a few things in a bag, cinches it up, and takes it back to the living room.
Sage has already picked Briar up, has her cradled in his arms, so Madge carefully places the bag in his hand and kisses his cheek.
"Tell her we love her," she whispers.
Gale presses a kiss to Briar's hair, claps Sage on the back, then opens the door.
And they're gone.
Madge watches as Gale stares at the door for a moment, probably trying to work out just how thing had come to this point, wondering if his daughter will ever come home, before the lock clicks.
He looks at Madge, exhaustion that only watching your children fall apart in front of your eyes can bring on weighing on him.
Did they make the right decision? He seems to want to ask.
If she had an answer, she'd happily give it to him.
A small noise draws them out of their silent conversation.
Behind them, Daisy is crying, eyes red and puffy, focused on the door.
"I'm sorry," she tells them, voice cracking. "I know she doesn't believe me, but I am. I never meant to hurt her."
In two strides Gale is past Madge, pulling Daisy into a hug.
"We know," he mumbles into her hair as she cries harder.
Tears pricking at her eyes, Madge walks over and lets Gale pull her to him.
She wraps her arms around him and Daisy, lets their warmth ease her aching soul.
Closing her eyes, she pretends for a moment things are going to be okay.
She hopes things will be okay.