Chapter 6: Conflicts of Interest
Madge wakes up to the sound of Zipper scratching at the door to the spare bedroom in her aunt and uncle's house. She'd waken up first yesterday and taken him on a walk, which he apparently interpreted as a standing offer. But this morning she's more inclined to lie in bed and relive yesterday in her mind: actually hugging Gale in person instead of watching him on TV, and witnessing his relief and joy at learning she was alive.
When the sniffing and pawing sounds don't let up, she throws on some clothes, fends off Zipper's eager bouncing greeting as she opens the door, and walks him around the neighborhood in a blissed out daze. On her way back into the house she plucks a few blue and white flowers from the front yard, deciding they'd spruce up the kitchen table. Inside, she finds her aunt and uncle leisurely sipping coffee at the table in their bathrobes, sharing the newspaper.
Swallowing the lump in her throat at the vivid memory of her parents enjoying the same routine at home, she pushes forward and says a little too brightly, "Good morning! Is there a vase somewhere?"
Dusty looks up and smiles warmly. "Morning, Madge. Columbine. Nice. Check under the sink." He glances at Perri out of the corner of his eye and then quickly ducks back behind the newspaper.
Madge rummages under the sink for the vase, thinking about how strange it is to be getting to know these people who are all the family she has left. From the time she and the rebel operatives had stealthily approached Perri in the District 2 square, through the nerve-wracking ride in the back of a quarry truck to a forested spot near the district's border fence and subsequent transport under fire through the mountain valley that sheltered the rebel base, she hadn't been able to do much other than occasionally stare at them in quiet disbelief. Then, at the base, Dusty had been immediately marshaled into strategy sessions with high-ranking officers anxious for information on District 2's infrastructure vulnerabilities and Perri had been pulled into morale operations. Madge herself had been shunted into special training and subsequently assigned to Covert Intelligence and packed off to District 3. To consider that time a blur would be an overstatement.
She locates a simple glass vase for the flowers, and as she sets it on the table, Perri lowers her newspaper slightly to gaze at her. Madge braces herself, familiar with that same expression on her father: it meant a lecture was still structuring itself in his mind, waiting for the right moment to break free.
"Gale called while you were out," Perri says. "He apologized but said he forgot about another commitment and can't join us today after all."
Madge doubts Gale used those exact words, and then the meaning hits her. "Did he say what he was doing?"
"I didn't ask," Perri says, sounding slightly offended that Madge could possibly think she would make such a rude inquiry.
"Did he sound all right?" What if something happened to him? He'd seemed so thrilled to see her yesterday.
"Madge, I have no idea. Doesn't he always sound irritated?"
Madge retrieves her research file on Gale from her room; it contains his phone number among other things. Using the dining room phone, she tries to call his house but only gets his answering machine.
"Hi Gale, it's Madge. I'm sorry you can't come to the house with us. I hope you're OK. I'll call later this week if it looks like I'll be visiting next weekend… Um, hopefully I can see you then… Uh… Bye."
She quickly replaces the phone, embarrassed at how Not Smooth she sounded, especially since this house is so small everyone can hear everything. She and Gale probably woke up her aunt and uncle last night when they were bandaging her hand… An even more powerful wave of embarrassment overtakes her at the memory of Perri walking in on them kissing. Maybe Gale was too embarrassed to spend the day with all of them after that?
She walks back to the kitchen and pours a cup of tea. "We need to leave soon to get to the house by 9:00, don't we?" She speaks briskly, hoping it's not obvious how disappointed she is. "Can you drop me off at the train station afterward? I want to get back early to check on a few things at work."
"Whatever you want, Madge," Dusty says.
Perri stands up and starts pulling eggs out of the refrigerator. "Breakfast?"
Madge nods, still anchored to the counter near the sink where she's drinking her tea, and watches her aunt pull out a pan and turn on the range.
"Have a seat," Perri directs. Madge sits delicately in the nearest chair, thinking to herself that she should be used to not having Gale by now. It's not like she 'had' him before the war separated them, either. "Madge," Perri says as she cracks an egg into the pan, "war changes people."
Here it is: the lecture is spilling out of her aunt like the contents of the now-sizzling egg.
"I know that," Madge says, a little more sharply than she intends.
"I know you know. You'll probably be the first to say how you aren't the same person you were before the war. Which is why proceeding slowly would be wise. You might not know Gale as well as you think you do."
Madge glares at her aunt. "He's not really how he seems on TV."
"True," Perri says. "But I do see him nearly everyday at work. I'm only saying it would be good for both of you to get to know each other as you are now before rushing into anything."
Madge slouches lower in her chair, annoyed at the tone of this lecture. Shouldn't being an orphan mean she shouldn't have to endure awkward parental lectures about moving too fast with boys? She feels tears prick her eyes, imagining what would have happened if her mother caught her kissing anyone, let alone a miner, in their kitchen back home. It wouldn't have been pretty; Perri's lecture feels positively indulgent in comparison.
She notices Dusty studiously pretending to read the newspaper, avoiding getting involved in the conflict. Not that there's even a conflict; Perri is just warning Madge. Pointlessly since she won't get to see Gale for at least another week, and that's only if everything goes well. That's slow, isn't it? Seeing someone once a week, if that?
"You're an adult and I know you'll exercise good judgment," Perri says, dishing the eggs onto three plates lined up on the counter.
Madge isn't sure what Perri's basing her opinion about Madge's judgment on other than aspirations. How does Perri know Madge wasn't a total hellion in 12?
"What did my parents tell you about me?" she asks. Even though their families didn't visit in person anymore after the Capitol harmed her mother, they still exchanged letters and spoke on the phone when they could get a connection.
"Quite a bit," Perri says with a smile. "They were very proud of you."
Madge guiltily remembers all the stress she caused them with her efforts to avoid the Capitol's training program and decides Perri doesn't know what she's talking about. Her parents couldn't have communicated freely, so Dusty and Perri no doubt have a very incomplete picture of Madge. In fact, Gale knows her much better than either of them.
She keeps her comments to herself, though, and politely accepts the plate of eggs from Perri. Thankfully, Perri starts talking to Dusty about her travel schedule for the Reconstruction Committee's upcoming fact-finding missions. Madge listens half-heartedly to their conversation as she eats, does the washing up, and then retreats to the spare room to pack her things for the trip back to the Capitol.
Her mood improves once they arrive at her grandparents' former house. Or, as Madge thinks of it: one of the few buildings still standing that her father had a connection to. Inside the house, Perri points out which items arguably belong to their family, not the government, though Madge doesn't care about things like paintings and curtains. She's more interested in picturing her father walking through these same rooms while growing up. The house reminds her of her home in 12—large and used for official functions. She never knew anything different and feels comforted that her father had a similar childhood experience.
Best of all, the house has a piano. Madge's fingers twitch in anticipation as soon as her eyes land on it. It's a grand, covered with a dust cloth that she pushes back far enough so she can lift the keyboard cover and test a few keys to gauge how well in tune it is. Not great, but not bad enough to deter her. She pushes the dust cloth back further and slides onto the edge of the bench near the high notes. Using just her right hand, she crawls her fingers downward toward the lower notes, the bandage from her Zipper-injury not hindering her progress. It feels so good to hear the familiar tones, she slides all the way onto the bench and puts both hands on the keys to see if she remembers her scales. She does: the notes pour out, her fingers remembering more than she realized. And then, just like she's back home in District 12 in her family's parlor on one of her mother's good days, her hands find a song to match her mood and a melancholy tune starts to wind its way through the room.
When she reaches the end of the song, she doesn't pull her hands away from the keys, listening to the echo of the final note float through the air.
"Sounds sad." Looking up, she sees Dusty watching her from the doorway, hands in his pockets.
"Maybe, but it has little hints of happiness here and there," Madge says.
Dusty wanders over and absently presses one of the keys. "You know, Perri isn't used to kids. She's just worried about you."
"I'm not a kid," Madge points out.
He shrugs. "You were… It'll take some adjusting. She wants to do right by your parents."
Madge feels the watery feeling returning at the reminder of her parents and stares at the piano keys without responding. This weekend has been full of so many highs and lows, it's like she's a leaf being twisted around on competing wind currents, wearing her out. She just wants to get back to her normal routine and Simon and work.
#
The whooshing sensation the fast-moving elevator sends through her stomach still surprises her, even after living in this building for over a month, and triggers her to cling to the decorative gilt railing to steady herself. On the top floor, she steps out and walks down the long hallway to her apartment. Opening the door just wide enough, she tosses her backpack in without bothering to turn on the light and then pivots and crosses the hallway to knock on the door immediately across from hers.
Simon opens the door a few moments later, and she can tell from his too-tousled hair and preoccupied expression that something is off. As soon as Madge enters the apartment she understands what it is: a slightly older, more polished version of Simon is standing behind him in the entryway. She's seen pictures and of course has studied the file, but this is the first time she's ever seen his brother in person and she's instantly on edge as well.
"Madge, Edwin," Simon says unenthusiastically. "Ed, Madge."
Edwin gazes at Madge with barely disguised hostility, and then snidely smiles and extends his hand to shake hers. "Charmed. So, Undersee, you're the paragon of integrity and saintliness influencing my dear little brother."
"Watch it," Simon warns, glaring at his brother.
"Just some good-natured teasing," Edwin says without smiling, still watching Madge closely through narrowed eyes.
Madge can't believe Edwin half-raised Simon when their father died; he's vile. And clearly still harboring resentment toward her for her father's role in getting their mother arrested before he became the mayor of 12.
Simon holds the door open in a clear gesture for Edwin to exit. "I'll let you know if I hear anything else."
His brother leaves without another word but his cologne lingers, burning the back of Madge's throat. Simon closes the door and glowers at it briefly before slumping against the wall with a deep sigh. He looks at Madge, the exhaustion and strain of the past few months evident in his eyes. As difficult and stressful as the war was, returning to the Capitol afterward was even more difficult for him because his brother was facing possible execution and because everyone he knew was suspicious of him for working for the rebels.
"So," he says apologetically, "that was him. Do you see why I didn't bring you when I visited before?" He pushes himself off the wall, and moves toward the kitchen. "Hungry? I can re-heat some soup. Carrot ginger," he adds with a hint of a grin, aware it's one of her favorites.
"Thanks," Madge says, moving to her favorite barstool on the other side of the counter where she usually sits while Simon cooks. She calls it her Supervisor's Stool and watches as he pulls a container out of the refrigerator and pours its contents into a pot. She eats most of her meals at Simon's apartment because he actually shops and knows how to cook. Apparently cooking was a competitive hobby in the Capitol, with people constantly trying to one-up their friends with increasingly exotic recipes and expensive ingredients. Simon had been a champion in his circles, but now that he's an outcast Madge is the primary recipient of his culinary efforts.
While she's trying to assess his mood so she'll know how hard to probe to get him to talk about his brother's visit—a stressful topic for him on the best days—he casts sly look at her. "Well? Did you see the war hero?"
Madge nods, her smile from the previous day sneaking out again.
Simon stirs the simmering soup and smirks. "You're blushing. Must have gone nauseatingly well."
She makes a noncommittal noise and wishes she could better control her flushing cheeks.
Simon laughs. "And did he say anything about Committee Member Fisher? Or Douglas?"
Targets of some of their most recent investigations. "You know I wasn't going to ask him," Madge scolds. They covered this before she left.
"I know, and I agree with you," Simon says nonchalantly, "but if he happened to mention something useful about them in passing…"
He did, but it doesn't feel fair to disclose that to Simon. Besides, Gale had just been blowing off steam about how much those two annoyed him, and earning Gale Hawthorne's disdain isn't exactly a distinctive achievement.
Eager to shift the conversation away from Gale, Madge asks, "Did they decide yet about your brother's trial? Is that why he was here?"
Simon turns to the refrigerator and starts pulling out vegetables for a salad. "They're still reviewing the file. But I think he might be able to get out of the trial if he testifies at the loyalty hearings."
"I didn't realize those were actually happening," Madge says with a frown. The new government only recently realized they needed the expertise of some of the former Capitol officials, and after endless debate about whether they could be trusted or not, the loyalty hearings were proposed. All the most senior Capitol officials have already been kicked out of their positions, with most having been convicted in trials of crimes against the districts, but no one was sure what to do with the lower-level people who had crucial knowledge about how to run the country yet weren't influential enough to have been making the decisions that marked President Snow's reign of terror. Simon, whether out of brotherly concern or an awareness that he would have been in the same position as his brother if he hadn't been in 12 when the bombs hit, has been doing what he can to advocate on his brother's behalf, but it puts him in a tricky position.
"The hearings sound totally useless," Madge adds, reaching for a cucumber slice to nibble on. "People will say whatever keeps them alive or ends the scrutiny."
"It's for optics. Makes it look like the government is doing something, and possibly scares those testifying into actually being loyal… I'm hoping Edwin fits into that category." He looks up from the cutting board and raises his eyebrows. "Luckily, we have more effective methods of proving loyalty and disloyalty…"
"Have you told your brother about our other methods?"
Simon shakes his head tightly. "Gave him the standard cover story about working in the Department of Economic Analysis and having done helpful work for the rebels during the war. I think he suspects it's B.S., though. He's sharp."
Madge quietly watches Simon cut a tomato. Their group is responsible for generating a lot of the evidence that's been used against the former Capitol officials in the trials, and they haven't uncovered any damaging evidence about his brother yet, which she's grateful for purely out of concern for Simon. Edwin had worked in the Gambling Regulation Office so everything he did related to the Capitol citizens' own propensity for gaming and at least arguably didn't directly harm the districts.
"Speaking of other methods," Simon continues, "I need you to go back to 7 this week."
"Jennings?"
"Who else?" He tilts his head toward the file on the counter, which Madge picks up and flips through. They've been trying to get some dirt on this guy for a while now, but he's slippery. As she scans the printouts, some suspiciously large withdrawals from his company's primary account catch her eye.
"Bribery?"
"I think so," he says. "But who? And for what?"
Cash is harder for them to track, which is probably why Simon wants her to go in person to investigate. Madge scans the file, starting to come up with theories based on the few facts they already have and what she remembers from her time in District 7. Jennings ran the main lumber mill and had been eager to resume operations… She can check her theories in the district.
"Who else is coming?" Madge asks.
"Take the new girl. I want her to get some field experience."
Officially, Simon is her boss, in charge of their financial investigations group. He's usually so busy managing their group and getting the evidence in order for the trials that he doesn't perform many of the actual investigations anymore.
"Once she's ready, you can downgrade to doing pure analyst work." He looks up at her and winks. "Assuming all goes well with the war hero."
"I'm not downgrading again," Madge says firmly. She just gave up her Classified Status and submitted all the paperwork so she can officially be Madge Undersee again, and she only took those actions so she could see her aunt and uncle again and try to make contact with Gale. She's not giving up any more of her access.
Simon pauses slicing to frown at her. "If you want to see your family and the war hero more often, it might be a good idea…"
"I can visit on weekends. They're all busy on weekdays anyway." She sets down the file. "And shouldn't you want me to keep working?"
"The duplicity will start to wear on you, Madge. Just remember it's an option."
Madge ignores him and keeps reading the file. He's getting soft.
#
Gale bursts into his apartment late on Thursday night, exhausted from all the extra assignments he's been taking on at work, and from climbing and volunteering during his non-working hours. The idea is to stay busy and he's been so successful that he hardly thinks anymore about canceling on Madge last Sunday. After realizing what a horrible error he'd made in trying to reconnect with her, he'd migrated to one of his most hated destinations: the hospital. Specifically, the burn unit. He can't unburn Katniss or Peeta or Prim or any of the others, but he can try to distract other burn victims from their pain. He arranged with the nurses to read to people—anonymously—and spent the day in various patients' rooms.
Between early morning climbs at the old quarry and staying at work as late as he can, he's been able to avoid arriving at home until just before he'd keel over from fatigue anyway. It's almost like being back in 12 when he had to work the overtime mining shifts.
He's half-heartedly considering tackling the mountain of unopened mail on his counter when the phone rings from somewhere under the pile. Unconcerned, he lets the answering device deal with it, but then he freezes when he hears Madge's voice, muffled slightly through the layers of papers.
"Hi Gale. It's Madge." Like he doesn't know that. "I guess I missed you again. Um, I'm really sorry but I have to work this weekend and won't be able to visit. Maybe you're busy anyway. I'll try to call again later… Sorry there isn't a number where you can reach me…"
No number? He frantically pushes the catalogs and envelopes away to excavate the phone, but the line has already disconnected. What if he needs to talk to her? He notices there are 8 other messages blinking at him and suddenly he has to hear if she tried to call earlier.
She did. So did his mom and Milo and a bunch of idiot reporters, but he deletes all those messages and saves the ones from Madge. He replays them a few times purely to hear her voice, justifying the sappiness as allowed because there are no witnesses. She seems distracted, and slightly sad. Even though he's sworn her off, shouldn't he still at least check that she's all right?
He calls her aunt and uncle, relieved Dusty is the one to answer. Perri had made it clear at work on Monday that she was disgusted he'd ditched their excursion to the mansion, although all she said was that she hoped he'd seen to his other business adequately.
"It's Gale. How can I get in touch with Madge? She left messages saying there's no number where she is."
"She must be embedded," Dusty says. "I don't quite understand it, and she doesn't explain… She calls when she can."
"What if there was an emergency?" Gale demands. Not being able to talk to her is starting to feel like one.
"Exactly. We don't like it, either," Dusty says sadly. "The best we can do is call her friend, someone named Simon, but he's not always available either. Do you want his number?"
Hell no. "It's not urgent."
Gale doesn't know why he's so mad that she's not visiting; this is better, since he shouldn't see her anyway. Still, he clears off the counter near the phone and stares at it, ready to pounce if she calls again. Every time the stupid light blinks, taunting him, he gets angrier. Why does Madge get to keep fighting the war, while he sits in meetings all day?
#
Gale is starting to regret the addition of the sub-committees to the Reconstruction Committee's mission. For one thing, routine business takes twice as long now and even fewer decisions are made. Second, he has to fend off accusing looks from Madge's aunt. It's been over two weeks since he saw Madge, and she eventually stopped calling his empty house, no doubt because she only ever got the answering device. Concern and worry had finally forced him to inquire with Perri whether they'd heard from her. Perri confirmed that Madge had called a few times to say that she was still tied up and couldn't visit, which had quickly replaced Gale's concern with resentment that she was blowing him off now.
He's also aware that his latest crime in Perri's eyes is his refusal to attend the Committee's fact-finding mission to 12. Perri hadn't bought his excuse that he didn't need to go since he's a military representative, not the official delegate from 12. Instead she had pointedly volunteered herself for the trip to 12 when it was apparent that they needed more people. Gale, looking for extra work to keep him busy and unavailable to travel, had volunteered for the group making recommendations on how to expand the districts beyond their existing boundaries.
He's in a meeting on that topic at the moment, and finds he actually has useful comments to contribute. The group is debating a detailed plan to allow citizens to purchase land through a lottery system, with the plan's proponents arguing that this would be the fairest way to distribute parcels.
"No, it's not fair at all," Gale interrupts. "Who has that kind of money?"
The others peer at him curiously, probably amazed he's speaking.
"People from the Capitol and people who benefited from the Capitol, that's who," Gale answers for them. "Not the people who fought to win this war." Not the former slaves like him and the vast majority of district citizens.
"People can't expect to get something for nothing," Committee Member Douglas scolds.
Gale doesn't like his tone, or his implication that people like Gale didn't 'give' anything to the Capitol. "People in the districts labored their entire lives." He thinks of his father. "In some cases, to their deaths. They gave plenty."
He gazes challengingly at the other meeting attendees, aware in that moment more than ever before that his ability to influence this debate outweighs theirs. If he detects even a hint of unfairness in the proposal, all it would take is a few comments in a press briefing to turn public sentiment against the idea, which would eventually have to be approved by a vote of the country's citizens. The others can easily go to the press, too, but they'll come off as the faceless, privileged bureaucrats they are while he's the skeptical rebel keeping an eye on them. He sees that the others are equally aware of his outsized influence over public opinion and that they need to listen to his points. He's not entirely comfortable with this unwelcome level of power, but he's not comfortable with the plan they're suggesting, either, and that's more important at the moment.
"What about," Rhoda suggests after a lengthy silence, "a system of loans, where people would be able to purchase land with the promise of repaying the price later."
The idea of owning anyone anything doesn't sit well with Gale, but neither does being left out of land distribution. "That might work," he says. "If it could be done fairly and the repayment wouldn't be another way to enslave people. We also might be able to value past labor."
Rhoda nods cautiously. "Let's keep thinking about this, shall we?" She adjourns the meeting, and Gale's left with the strange feeling that it wasn't a total waste of time. The idea of getting some land of his own is also enticing…
He's in a marginally better mood than usual as he exits the building, and automatically breaks into a smile when he sees Madge waiting outside the building. She's safe and back from wherever she was. And the way she's leaning against the stone pillar at the base of the stairs reminds him of waiting with his mother at the mine entrance for his father to get off his shifts, back in the pre-Rory days before Gale started school and when his mother had more time. But then he remembers he's supposed to be either avoiding Madge or angry with her for being totally elusive and schools his expression back into a disapproving frown.
By the time he reaches the bottom of the stairs, his greeting is limited to a blunt question. "You waiting for me, or your aunt?"
"You," she says, sounding slightly insulted. "Perri actually answers her phone. If I want to talk to her I don't have to wait outside buildings."
"If you want to talk to people, you could leave a return number," he shoots back. She's even more difficult to get in touch with than he is. "What did you need to see me about?"
"Does there have to be a reason?"
"You're here," he points out. Someone exiting the building bustles past them, pushing Madge slightly into him. He steadies her by grabbing her upper arms and notices she smells as good as ever, distracting him momentarily from his irritation.
She blushes and steps out of the temptation zone quickly, thank goodness. "I need to talk to you about something."
He's instantly wary. "What?"
Not the response she was hoping for, judging by her frown. She glances at her watch. "I'm getting a ride home with Perri whenever her meeting ends. Can we sit at the fountain and wait for her to come out?"
He could invite her to dinner and offer to give her a ride to her aunt and uncle's house afterward, but both of those would require spending more time with her than is allowed. So he limits himself to a curt nod and follows her to the fountain in the courtyard, where he makes sure to sit a safe distance away. Madge eyes the wide space between them on the ledge of the fountain and looks hurt. He's grateful he's wearing his dress uniform with a high collar so she won't be able to see that he stopped wearing the key necklace; he'd surely cave if he had to witness her registering its absence.
Madge takes a deep breath. "Perri wants me to go with her when she travels to 12 for research next week. She said the historian wants to talk to me since I worked in my dad's office. All the records were destroyed and barely anyone who worked in the Justice Building survived. And I could see Katniss and Peeta."
"Are you going? Don't you have to work?" Huh, more bitter than he realized about her work keeping her from him…
Madge twists her bracelet, some kind of sparkly silver thing. He wonders if she bought it in the Capitol and is transforming into a jewelry kind of person. "I just wrapped up a project, so I could go," she says quietly, as though she's speaking to the bracelet. "But I was hoping you could come with us. I know you told Perri you didn't want to go, but I thought if I asked you…" She looks up at him and he has to look away quickly or he won't be able to say no to her.
Because of course he can't go; he needs to give Katniss time to heal. He's the absolute worst thing for her. "I can't go back," he says, not looking at Madge and speaking in a low tone.
"You did before," she says. The implication he hears is that he went with Katniss, so he should go with her. And that he's already faced the destruction, so he can do it again.
"Madge, I can't go back to 12."
"Why?" She definitely sounds hurt and he feels awful for being the cause… This is exactly why she should stay away from him. He keeps staring at the pattern of pebbles on the ground until Madge prompts him again. "Gale. Why not?"
"I can't see Katniss." He hopes that will kill this line of questioning. She was always sensitive about whatever was going on between him and Katniss (nothing, confusion, pain, and finally: nothing but pain).
"Gale," she persists, twisting to look at him, "you're both stubborn. But you were such good friends, if you guys just talked—"
"Madge," he interrupts, "there's nothing to talk about. It's best for her if I stay away from 12."
"Why, though? That doesn't make any sense."
"Not to you, maybe, but it's the right thing." He flicks a piece of debris into the fountain.
Madge sits quietly and he thinks she'll drop all this and let him go on his decidedly non-merry way. Instead, she tries one more time. "What happened?" Her voice is barely a whisper, as though she isn't sure she wants to know.
He doesn't answer her question. "I need to get home."
"Why won't you tell me?"
"Because you always try to fix things," he snaps, turning to look at her. "You don't get it that some things aren't fixable."
"Everything is fixable—"
"Madge, leave this alone."
He stands up abruptly. He's been through all the facts and arguments with the head doctor the army made him talk to and he knows on a rational level that he shouldn't be blaming himself to the extent he is, but knowing that doesn't change how terrible he feels all the time. And Madge will just say all the same useless things the doctor did.
"I'll see you around, Madge."
She stands up, too, searching his face for understanding. "Around? I thought… You were glad to see me… I'm visiting for the whole weekend."
"Sorry I didn't arrange a parade in your honor. Since I never know where you are or when you'll turn up again."
He clamps his mouth shut, horrified that he lashed out. More evidence of why he would be terrible for her; he can't even control himself to be civil to his long lost… whatever Madge is. Nothing. He doesn't owe her anything other than clarity that they are nothing.
She seems just as shocked at his rudeness as he is, and he takes advantage of her silence to step back. "I can't see you, Madge. Not this weekend or any others."
He forces himself to watch her reaction; her mouth opens as though to protest, but no words come out. He needs to leave before she starts yelling or crying or tries to touch him because his resolve is tenuous at best, and even though he knows this is the right decision it feels sickeningly wrong.
A/N: And… we're definitely down from the high of the reunion. :P Wow, Gale sure thinks he has all the answers. I hate letting them fight.
Thanks for reading and reviewing!