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: Slowly writing again (this is version 5, maybe 6, of this chapter, and I'm still not loving the ending). Tried to play with interactions and personalities, wasn't real successful, but it was a good distraction.
Kaleidoscope, pt 20
Despite the earliness of the day, and the shade of the trees, the air is still sticky and thick.
Madge shifts Wren in her arms, brushes some sweat from her own forehead, then hurries on, along the wooded path to the Victors' Village.
It's the first day she's felt strong enough to make the journey to the Victors' Village since the delivery, or so she'd thought.
The humidity and the sun though are making her question her judgment.
"Come'on momma," Miles encourages her, tugging at her skirt and hurrying along after the older kids.
She forces a smile and nods, tries to quicken her steps, but her energy is spent and her breathing is getting harder.
She should've taken Mr. Abernathy up on his offer to come to the Seam.
"It doesn't bother me," he'd told her days before, when he'd turned up and started helping the kids with the garden. "I like the walk."
He also likes to keep an eye on her, and keep Gale from bringing the kids up on Sundays.
"The less I see of that little bastard the better," he'd grumbled.
Madge sighed, not bothering to argue. Mostly because Gale had said more or less the same thing.
"As long as he's gone before I have to see his ugly face," Gale muttered. "And he keeps you off your feet."
"I had a baby, I'm not incapacitated."
Gale just shook his head.
Despite it being convenient, not having to round up and herd four children, Madge hated being stuck at home. She'd missed the independence.
Being trapped in the house, having Gale, the kids, and even Mr. Abernathy coddling her, fed her ever present insecurity, gave weight to the whispers that still haunt her, say she's useless and pampered.
So she'd walked to her parents' house, accompanied by a fretful Mr. Abernathy, the past few days, and done well.
"You look so well, love," her mother had told her, scooping out ice cream for everyone.
"Don't encourage this foolishness, 'Tilda," Mr. Abernathy grunted. "She's in a delicate state, she shouldn't be out in this heat."
Her mother just smiled airily, patted his hand. "You worry too much, Haymitch."
"No, problem is, you don't worry enough," he mumbled.
Madge's Mother quieted his complaining by stuffing a spoonful of melting ice cream in his mouth.
Now though, Madge thinks he may have been just concerned enough. This excursion may have been a little too ambitious.
"You just go ahead," she tells Miles, forcing a smile. "I need to slow down."
He stops, watches her for a moment, then shakes his head.
"I'll stay wi'you."
"Do we need to go get Mr. Abernathy?" Sage asks.
Madge shakes her head. "No, I'm fine. I just need to go a little slower."
Briar scowls and crosses her arms, clearly disbelieving, but doesn't say anything.
"I can carry Wren," Daisy offers, arms already outstretched.
Briar huffs. "You're too little, Daisy. You'll trip and fall with her."
She probably doesn't intend it to come out as harshly as it does, she never really does, but Briar is all sharp edges and words. There's no softening things with her.
Daisy's expression falls and she gives Madge an apologetic smile.
Reaching out, Madge gives her pigtail a tug.
"It's okay, baby, I'll make it."
Grimacing but hoping it looks more like a smile, Madge gives Miles a nudge.
"Lead the way."
Their pace considerably slower, they creep through the shaded wood, finally reaching the edge of the Village half an hour later.
Normally the kids race off once they have the path to Mr. Abernathy's in sight. It's a testament to how poorly Madge must look that they hover around her right up until they reach the back steps.
Heart pounding, Madge let's Sage help her up the steps as Briar races up and flings the door open, Daisy and Miles at her heels.
"Mr. Abernathy! We're here!"
They all vanish into the depths of the house, leaving Sage to sit on the swing with Madge and Wren.
"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks, his eyes taking in her heavy breathing and shaking hands.
Madge nods. "I just-just overworked myself I think."
Her breathing is already easing and her heart not pounding quite so hard when the screen door flies open and Mr. Abernathy rushes out in a fit.
"Dammit, Pearl!" He snaps. "What're you thinking, coming all the way up here?"
Madge just shrugs. "Made it, didn't I?"
He adds a few more curses under his breath as he gently takes Wren and hands her off to Sage before pulling Madge up and ushering her into his kitchen.
It's a relief, the coolness of his air conditioned house, and Madge half melts into the chair he steers her to.
"Here momma," Daisy tells her, forcing a glass of water into her hands.
Miles reappears, bringing a cool wash rag that Mr. Abernathy swiftly takes and places on Madge's neck, all the while muttering curses under his breath.
Feeling better, Madge gently takes the baby back from Sage and smiles.
"See? I'm fine."
"Like hell you are."
He glares at her for a moment, willing her to see things his way. Madge simply arches an eyebrow, steadies her breathing, refusing to admit she'd miscalculated her own stamina.
Finally, he lets out a long breathe, runs a hand over his weathered face, seemingly ready to conceding defeat.
"You're still getting looked over."
Before Madge can question him, see just what he means, the back door flies open and Briar tumbles in.
"I got 'em, Mr. Abernathy!" She shouts, her face flush as she tries to catch her breath.
Behind her, looking panicked, come Mrs. Everdeen and Prim.
Madge has seen them, in passing, over the years as she's come up to see Mr. Abernathy. They're usually outside, tending their garden or their small herd of goats, waving occasionally, but rarely saying more than a short greeting.
This is the closest she's been to them since before her and Gale's rushed wedding.
They're more careworn than she remembers. Dulled and ragged, more than their life of ease should produce.
The life of a Victor, or their family, isn't quite as carefree as people believe though.
Mrs. Everdeen glances around, then fixes Mr. Abernathy in a hard look.
"What on earth, Haymitch?"
He points to Madge. "Just give her a once over, Val. She's-"
"I'm fine," Madge cuts him off.
Mrs. Everdeen's expression softens, then she walks over, takes Madge's face in her hands and tugs her cheeks down with her thumbs, inspects her eyes.
She glances down at Wren.
"She's a month, right?"
Madge nods. "Six weeks."
She nods, pulls her hands back and rests them on her hips. "You're still anemic."
"I know."
It's been a problem with all her deliveries. Hardly news.
Turning back to Mr. Abernathy, Mrs. Everdeen smiles faintly.
"Her blood is still low, that's why she's so exhausted. Let her rest, drink some water, and," she turns her gaze back to Madge, "don't make the trip up here again until you're fully recovered."
Madge fights the urge to sigh. She's going to be confined to her home after this.
"You're eating plenty?"
"Dad makes sure we have food," Briar cuts in, her little scowl tacked back in place, arms crossed in defiance.
"Bri…" Madge quiets her, taking her hand and pulling her back from her defensive position. "She's just helping."
Briar's expression actually softens and she mumbles an incomprehensible apology as Mrs. Everdeen looks back at Prim.
"Go home and get some pickle juice and chamomile, and you, put on some water for tea."
It isn't until Prim has darted out the door that Madge realizes who the second command was directed at.
Katniss looks the opposite of her television self, hunched shoulders and dirty clothes, as she opens cabinets looking for a kettle.
"It's here, Mrs. Mellark," Daisy tells her, handing her a dented kettle and smiling.
For a moment Katniss just stares at her, probably thrown by the address, before mumbling a thanks and taking the kettle, filling it with water and lighting the stove top.
Before her marriage, Madge had seen her and Peeta with forced regularity, at Capitol sponsored events and the Victory Tours. Since then, though…
Peeta takes every opportunity he's afforded to greet the children, comes to his deck and chats with them on their way to Mr. Abernathy's.
Katniss, on the other hand, has been even more distant than her mother and sister.
For a while, Madge had imagined she was avoiding her. Madge got Gale, and even though Peeta was lovely, she'd been forced into the union. Maybe she resented Madge for her happiness?
She'd shaken the thought off. It wasn't her fault, what happened to Katniss, and she'd never hate her for her life.
"Have you seen her in the woods?" She'd asked Gale, thinking it the only logical answer to where the Girl on Fire was spending her days.
Gale only shook his head. "I haven't seen her out there since before she and Mellark had their 'Wedding Extravaganza'."
The dark part of Madge's mind, the cruel part that fed her insecurities and repeated all the hateful things she's heard all her life, told her he was lying. He and Katniss were probably meeting in the woods, having an affair. She and Peeta were nothing more than fronts for the always watchful eyes of the Capitol.
"It's a big place out there, though," he'd shrugged. "Maybe she's just found new ground."
Madge's good sense agreed with him. That was a much more reasonable explanation, and she'd scolded herself for her lack of faith and wild imagination.
Gale loved her, he wouldn't hurt her like that. He wouldn't lie, and as the years slipped by, their family grew, the more certain of that she was.
Watching Katniss, her expression uncertain and guarded, Madge doesn't think she's ever seen someone who was less of a threat. The rational part of her mind had always known it, but a sliver of jealousy had persisted.
Now it's silent, and Madge knows it'll take more than gossipy old women and hateful remarks to bring it back to life. Katniss is no more a threat to her happiness than a rainy Sunday.
Prim rushes back in and hands off the tea and a jar of murky juice to her mother.
Sage, seeming to sense the room is too full, a little stuffy, quietly ushers Daisy and Miles out, but Briar stays glued to Madge's side as Mr. Everdeen brings her a glass.
"Drink this," she directs her.
Taking a sip, Madge gags. "I thought I was getting tea!"
Mrs. Everdeen laughs.
"You Get pickle juice, it'll help rehydrate you." She looks at Mr. Abernathy. "The tea is for Haymitch, he needs to calm down."
He glares in response, but doesn't argue when Prim brings him a cup, steam still wafting over the brim.
Nose wrinkling, Madge sips the juice without complaint.
"Any candy?" Mrs. Everdeen asks.
Mr. Abernathy grunts, goes to the cabinet and pulls out a tin, battered and dented, opens it and reveals some of Madge's mother's glass candies.
Taking a shard, Mrs. Everdeen hands it to Madge.
"You're shaking, it takes a lot feeding a baby. This should help some."
It's a nasty combination, the sickly sweet of her mother's candy and the sour juice, but after a few minutes she does feel better.
"Wait until the evening to go home, when it's cooler. And don't make the trip again, not until you're fully recovered," Mrs. Everdeen warns her. "Promise?"
Madge nods.
Mrs. Everdeen gives her a scrutinizing look, seeming to sense Madge's unhappiness with the agreement.
"You're mother was never this obstinate." She shoots Mr. Abernathy a wary look. "You must get your mulish streak from your father."
"'Tilda's plenty stubborn," Mr. Abernathy grunts.
"You'd know better than me."
He crosses his arms and glares in place of a response.
Turning back to Madge, Mrs. Everdeen reaches out, presses her fingers to her wrist.
"That's better."
#######
The Everdeens leave once Mrs. Everdeen is happy Madge has recovered, and has sworn she won't come back to the Village until she's completely well.
"We won't let her," Briar promises on Madge's behalf.
"No, we won't," Mr. Abernathy agrees.
Mrs. Everdeen takes their word, despite casting Madge doubtful looks.
After the eventfulness of their arrival, the rest of the day is lazy.
They stay in, out of the heat, the kids drawing Mr. Abernathy dozens of pictures before they all stretch and yawn, begin drifting off to sleep.
Miles is first, nestled in the crook of Mr. Abernathy's arm, undisturbed by the snoring. Then Daisy curls up on a pillow, half hidden under the coffee table. Sage slumps over beside the basket Wren is sleeping in, after humming her a lullaby.
Only Briar stays up, through her eyes droop as she colors in the tulip she's drawn.
The gentle hum of the ceiling fan coupled with the buzzing of insects outside creates a lull, stifling all senses, and before Madge knows it, she's nodding off too.
It isn't until she hears a hard knock on the door that she shudders awake.
Sitting up, she stretches and yawns, spots Sage now sprawled our beside Daisy and Wren in her basket, thinking she'd imagined it.
Then she hears it again.
"Briar?"
Looking around, she doesn't see her, and laughs. She must've gone out and got stuck.
Getting up, Madge goes to the kitchen.
Through the back window she can see someone with dark hair, but it's too tall for Briar.
Crossing the room, Madge opens the door.
"Katniss?"
Up close she's even more haggard than Madge realized.
Without the Capitol's magic all the strain of a life under their glare is evident, more clear than it could ever be on the television.
Her lips have been plumped, and the crows feet at the corners of her eyes filled, an attempt to stave off the tides of time, but without the Capitol's maintenance they're not quite so impressive. The fact that Madge can see them is proof enough the magic has a short shelf life. They only returned from the Games just after Wren was born.
She pushes a jar stuffed with yellow citrus into Madge's hands.
"My mom and Prim sent this." She frowns. "There's a note with it."
Taking them, Madge smiles.
"Thanks."
A moment passes and neither says anything. Madge can't seem to think of anything.
It seems silly to ask how she's been. Terrible, undoubtedly, though she could never say as much. How was the Capitol? The Games? Awful, that goes without asking.
They have nothing to talk about. Their lives have diverged so far from one another they don't have so much as the dullest small talk to engage in.
Finally, Katniss sighs. "I need to get home."
She probably doesn't, but it breaks the awkward silence.
"It was good seeing you," Madge finally manages to say, forcing a smile. "Prim and your mom too."
Katniss nods, starts to turn to go, but stops.
"Your kids...Haymitch talks about them a lot." She talks a breath. "Peeta likes them too. He tells me when he gets to talk to them."
It's telling, that the thing that they have the least in common is the thing she brings up, and it breaks Madge's heart.
Whether Katniss wanted or wants children doesn't matter. They aren't an option unless she wants to serve them up to the Capitol.
"They like talking to him," Madge finally says. Well, with the exception of Briar. "Or talking at him."
"Yeah," Katniss responds, a bit absently. "They're-they-you have a lot of them."
Madge snorts.
A ghost of a smile twitches on Katniss' lips.
"He doesn't mind."
She glances over her shoulder, back towards her house, then forces a smile.
"Be careful." She nods toward the screen door. "They need you."
It could be seen as a warning, a threat, but that's not what it is.
It's encouragement, a kind bit of advice.
Take care of what you have, you have no idea how lucky you are to have it.
Madge nods. "I know. I will."
With that she heads off, her footfalls silent, vanishing around the corner towards her back yard.
"What'd she want?"
Startled, Madge turns and finds Briar, her face shaded by the screen.
Holding up the jar of lemon slices, Madge opens the door and steps in, hands them off to Briar while reading the note.
"We can make lemonade," Madge tells her.
It'll make Madge feel less guilty for having scared the kids, and still get her whatever nutrient Mrs. Everdeen hopes she'll take in from it.
Briar's nose wrinkles up as she sets the lemons on the counter.
"Are you really feeling better?"
Smiling, Madge reaches out, pulls Briar into a hug and kisses her hair.
"Much."
#######
Madge convinces Mr. Abernathy to walk them home before sundown.
"It's either walk us home or Gale will show up here looking for us."
When that failed to sway him, she promised to wait for him before going to her parents and that she'd let him carry Wren.
"Cutest bargaining chip I've ever seen," he chuckled as they slowly made their way to the edge of the Seam, the baby cradled in his arms.
He'd left scant moments before Gale got home.
After each of the children had provided their own interpretation of the days events, Gale had looked torn between being angry or amused.
"At least someone finally got you to be reasonable," he grumbled as he finally settled on grateful with a heaping dose of frustration.
Snuggling closer, Madge presses kisses to his scruffy jaw, trying to coax him out of his surly mood before they both fall asleep.
"Stop trying to butter me up," he mutters. "You were-"
"Really stupid today," Madge finishes for him. "I know."
Pressing her cheek to his chest, she sighs.
"I just-it's stupid that here I am, weeks out, and I can't go like everyone else. I hate being like this."
She hates being the weak one. It feels like confirmation, that she doesn't belong and she never will.
Gale's arm tucks her in closer and he presses a kiss to her hair.
"I know." He traces lazy patterns on her back and sighs. "It's the price you pay for having such robust babies."
Madge makes an inhuman noise.
"Robust?" She props herself use on her elbow, shakes her head. "Is that what the problem is?"
He nods, his lips twitching.
"Definitely. You saw that scrawny little thing Thom and Bristol made." He makes a noise. "Pathetic."
Still laughing, Madge nestles back next to him.
She's still worn down, weak, but that seems like such a small problem compared to most.
Her children are healthy, robust even, and her life is her own. Needing an escort for a few more weeks, having to reign in her walks, seems like a small price to pay. Her troubles are temporary.
Some aren't so lucky.