Present Day — Four Weeks After The Bombing of District 12
Location: District 13
...
"What is wrong with you, Katniss?" Gale snaps in a voice harsher than he had intended, his hand on her wrist.
His eyes are fiery. Haymitch pulled him aside earlier and demanded Gale to try and convince Katniss to cooperate. So, after a hostile meeting with Haymitch Abernathy, he stomped through the long halls of District 13 and stumbled upon Katniss. Almost immediately after catching sight of her, his hand wrapped around her wrist. From where she was standing, Gale guesses that she was on her way back to her family's room.
Her gaze snaps up to meet his angrily, and she shakes her wrist out of his grasp violently. "Let go of me," she hisses, slapping his hand away.
His hand returns to his side, but his eyes are still angry. "Haymitch visited me today," he says.
Katniss scoffs. "Great, I'm thrilled that you and the drunk had a heart-to-heart. Now, what does that have anything to do with me?"
Gale grits his teeth. "He told me that you're refusing to work with Coin." His heels dig into the ground, and his fingernails dig into his palm.
The brunette rolls her eyes. "So that's what this is about. You're here to convince me to cooperate with a bunch of liars."
"It isn't about who's lying, and who's not," Gale snaps, bitterness in his voice. "It's about the Capitol, and avenging the people who died at their grimy, little hands. It's about stopping the god-awful Hunger Games. Hell's teeth, Katniss, anyone would think that you outta all people would be the most willing to bring down Snow!"
Katniss' brow furrows.
"And after personally experiencing the atrocities of the Capitol, you're going to forsake the entire rebellion because you've got a petty quarrel with Abernathy?"
"A petty quarrel?" she echoes, disbelief practically bouncing with each word. "Gale, he lied to me and saved me over Peeta! He promised me, looked me dead in the eye, and told me that he'd save Peeta over me. No matter what. That's the only fucking thing I wanted from him. He can't meet my requirement, then why should I be expected to meet his?"
Gale sighs, the anger slowly leaving his eyes. They're instantly replaced with hurt.
"Katniss," he starts, voice thick with emotion. "You weren't there that night the bombs fell. You have no idea how horrible it was. Little kids screaming at the top of their lungs because their skin was melting off. Pregnant women wailing from inside burning buildings. Men who lost everything running back into burning houses because burning to death would be preferable to living without their families."
Katniss swallows thickly, and she squeezes her eyes shut.
"People you personally know died in those bombs. Peeta's family, the Undersees, basically everyone from the Town — they're all gone." He looks at her with such disappointment in his eyes that she would prefer a punch in the face. "And you're just going to leave all of them burning, simply out of spite."
Before she could even figure out how to respond, he turns on his heel sharply and walks away. She leans against the wall for support, fearing that her wobbly knees won't support her weight. She bites the inside of her cheek so hard, she tastes the swirls of copper that come forth. The tears she had been fighting to keep at bay for so long trickle down her face slowly.
For the longest time, she had thought that she was burning alone, desperately isolated in this cruel world.
But, now, she realizes that she has caused everyone she's ever cared about — along with several people she's never even met — to burn with her.
...
Gale walks away, wondering if he was too harsh with her. He probably was. He let his emotions get the best of him, and he feels guilty. He's completely ignoring everything she went through in the past two years.
But he likes to think his outburst was justified. After all, hearing a dead girl speak can really shock you to the core. He shivers, remembering his nightmare from last night.
{flashback}
Gale tossed and turned on his firm, District 13 issued mattress. For the first time in his life, he wished that he was back at home, sleeping on his old bed. Though the mattress back home was just as firm as the one here, he preferred it over this one. It smelt like home; it smelt of coal, and the woods, and his mother's homemade detergent. And on the nights he couldn't sleep, he'd look out his window and gaze at the stars.
Here? Everything smelled like nothing, and you'd have to go check out an astrology book from the library if you want to see the stars.
He groaned and pulled the covers over his head, watching imaginary sheep jump over an imaginary fence.
1 sheep... 2 sheep... 3 sheep... 4 sheep... 5 sheep... 6... 7...
By around the 10th sheep, he finally managed to fall asleep. And as soon as he slipped into the lull of sleep, he desperately wished he was awake. Usually, he's pretty good at keeping the nightmares at bay; as soon as the beginnings of a nightmare play in his mind, he forces himself awake.
But tonight, he was back in a burning District 12 and unable to move. Specifically, in front of Mayor Undersee's house and unable to move.
The house, glorious and tall, stood firm on the top of a long sloping hill with yards upon yards of rolling green grass behind it. Tall white pillars supported the house and the front porch was practically spotless, a result of the daily trips of housekeepers. Gale vaguely remembered Madge mentioning something about how the house has to be spotless should they have unexpected Capitol guests.
Despite the pretentiousness of the house, there was something... off about it. Gale squinted his eyes, trying to figure out what about it felt so off. He finally noticed it. A thin vapor of dark smoke rose from behind the house. Soon, the vapor of smoke turned into huge plumes, rising higher and higher. Screams sounded from inside the home, horrible anguished screams that he wished he never had to hear again.
He wanted to run in and rescue the burning people, but his feet were practically rooted to the ground. So all he could do was try and wake himself up.
Try as he might, his mind was still plagued by the image of the flaming home, the anguished screams still ringing in his ears. After what feels like an eternity, the screaming stopped. Guilt speared through him. He should've known that she wouldn't make it to the meadow in time. He should've grabbed her hand and dragged her to the fence. She's dead, and it's all his fault.
After a few moments, a young girl materialized from the raging flames. Madge. She was dressed in the same outfit she had on when she died: A light pink dress that reached her knees and tall white socks paired with coal-stained shoes. Her hair was tied up out of her face with a plain white ribbon, frivolous in every sense of the word. The most impractical outfit he'd ever seen.
Actually, on second thought, the only thing actually practical about the outfit was the dark belt tied around her waist. He suspected that she had worn it to make her waist look slimmer, but at least it could be useful in certain circumstances.
And now, she was here, in front of him. Her hair, once golden and soft, was a fiery halo around her head. Her eyes, once an electrifying blue, were now a muted grey like the smoke that billowed from the remains of her house. Her dress sparked when she turns, similar to that of Katniss' Opening Ceremony dress. Small blue flames danced across her skin, the fire hovering over her skin but not burning the pale flesh.
Her feet didn't touch the ground, but instead, hovered over it as she makes her way to him. She tilted her head up and gave him the sweetest of smiles. She looked so ethereal, so perfect, and he wants to cherish the moment forever. Her lips, a frightening shade of scarlet, were inches away from his. Her fingers, soft and delicate, brushed over his temple, cupping his face.
And when she speaks, it felt as though a thousand voices were echoing through her voice. "Gale," she whispered.
He shuddered, a chill running down his spine. "I'm sorry," he croaked.
She smiled an impossibly soft smile, her fingers tracing his jawline. They're like that for a moment, their faces so close, their foreheads were practically touching. Then, Madge pulled away and replaced her soft expression with a slightly more serious one.
"You've got to talk to her," she said gently, but firmly at the same time. "If she doesn't step up and avenge us, she'll be leaving us all to burn."
"Wha—what're you talking about?"
Madge had given him a sad smile. "We're burning, Gale." She gestured with her fiery hand around the flames of District 12. "We're all burning, and we'll continue to burn till the day the Capitol falls." Her delicate fingers danced across his cheekbone, sending sparks of heat across his face. "She's stubborn, but I think you can get through to her."
"To who?" Gale demanded, "Who do I need to get through to?"
Her smile faltered. "Who do you think?"
{end of flashback}
Later that day, Haymitch Abernathy would angrily march over to him in the cafeteria and demand that he talk to her.
"I hope you can get through to her," Haymitch had growled. "It shouldn't be too hard with you being cousins and all."
Gale had immediately remembered dream-Madge's words to him. He had put aside his annoyance with the "cousin" remark, and felt the anger rising in him. It was then that he decided that he would avenge Madge's death, even if Katniss was unwilling to. He'd make each and every one of those Capitol scum-bags feel the heat of his fury. He'd make every one of them feel the pain he's felt.
He didn't care how many people would be hurt as a result of his wrath; they were all the same in his eyes. To him, the Capitolites and their supporters were cold-hearted murders who cherished the death of children. They were so blissfully idiotic; they rejoiced and cheered over the deaths of countless kids over the past seventy-five goddamn years. They're all the same, and none of them deserved his mercy.
It was then he decided that he will take down the Capitol, with or without the support of the Mockingjay.
Present Day — Four Weeks After The Bombing of District 12
Location: Remains of District 12
...
Madge wanders out of the woods, her backpacks clutched tightly between her hands. Her stomach growls despite her eating a few saltine crackers in the morning. From her estimates, it's been about 3 or 4 weeks since the bombs fell. In that time, she's been surviving off of water from the spring, jerky strips, and saltine crackers. She's been rationing her food strictly, limiting herself to one-and-a-half strips of jerky and two saltine crackers a day.
In addition to her very sparse rations, she's been eating plants she's absolutely confident are edible. Staying away from unfamiliar berries, she's snacked on a variety of nuts, occasionally popping a mint leaves into her mouth to temporarily stave off the hunger. Despite the mint leaf she popped into her chapped mouth moments ago, however, the hunger in her belly strikes painfully.
She doesn't know how long she'll be out here, and she's going to need to find a food source immediately. And this morning, after pondering the situation, she came across an idea.
When her mother dragged her through the house the night of the bombings, her father's communication radio was still turned on and sitting on top of the kitchen counter. The device was used to transfer messages between all the officials in District 12. So if the Head Peacekeeper gave an order to the rest of the Peacekeepers, Mayor Undersee would hear the order via the radio. And as Madge was being pulled across the house, she heard Thread's voice through the device.
"Attention Peacekeepers, head to Victor's Village. I repeat, head to Victor's Village," his gruff voice had sounded through the device.
Madge had paid no mind to it then. In all honestly, she had forgotten about it as well until this morning. But now that she thinks about it, the Peacekeepers wouldn't have had enough time to board the train out of District 12. They would've had to stay somewhere that would be safe from the bombings. And they weren't going to hide away in the Justice Building, as it was too close to the Square which would inevitably get bombed.
They must've stayed in Victor's Village, the one place far enough away from the rest of the District to be safe from the bombs.
Madge approaches the fence that separates the woods from the destruction of District 12. She exhales a shaky breath, nervous at the thought of leaving these woods. The woods were uncomfortable and bugs crawled over her skin while she slept, but at least it distracted her from the burning souls of the district she once called home. She's contemplating the merit of reliving the worst day of her life.
"You're going to need to survive for the both of us now, Madge," her mother's words echo in her head. Her fingers, blistered and scarred, find their way to her mother's necklace. Her fingers trace the cool pendant, and she feels a sense of comfort.
Without giving herself enough time to back out of it, she lifts the fence up and forces her way under it.
A/N: Hope you liked this chapter. As always, criticism/feedback is greatly appreciated. And to the anon review asking whether or not Madge will find out about District 13 soon, yes she will.
