Chapter 17: Team Meeting
The Whistlers' little car isn't in their driveway when Gale pulls up to their house, but neither are any other vehicles, meaning their home is a camera-free zone at the moment. That's one relief, although Gale would feel a lot more at ease if Madge were here.
"How did you do that, Gale?" Rory asks, reminding Gale that he forgot to explain how to park the jeep just now. Driving lessons for his mom and Rory were a convenient way to keep the conversation during the ride from straying into all the rumors and innuendo that had flooded the broadcasts this morning. Gale's decree that the car radio stay off during the drive and Posy's endless questions about the passing scenery also helped.
Gale hurriedly describes the basics of parking as he unlocks the doors and herds his family toward the Whistlers' front door.
"Are you sure it's all right for us to be here?" his mother asks (again), eyeing the house skeptically. "It sounds like they have a guard dog."
"That's just Zipper," Gale says as he retrieves the spare key from its hiding place under the large flower pot near the front door. "He's not dangerous, although he might annoy you to death."
He reconsiders his warning when he opens the door and Zipper bolts out. The dog bypasses Gale, ignoring the shouted commands in favor of jumping up on Rory only to immediately ricochet off Rory's legs and land on the crumpled form of Vick, who had already dropped to the ground to cover his head. Meanwhile, Posy is screaming and burying her face in their mother's long skirt.
"It's attacking us!" Vick shouts.
Zipper barks and starts to do a lap around all of them on the front lawn, which lets Gale calculate exactly when to hurl himself at the little beast, tackling him on the front lawn.
"That thing is a pet?" Hazelle asks, arm wrapped protectively around a wide-eyed Posy.
"Do you need me to knock it out?" Rory appears at Gale's side, holding one of his shoes above his head threateningly.
"I've got him," Gale mutters. Zipper stops squirming other than making a few determined attempts to lick Gale, which Gale thwarts with a stern "NO" until Zipper calms down and looks away submissively. What the hell kind of anything goes operation are Madge's aunt and uncle running here? Zipper completely relapsed into his old ways in a matter of days!
Pushing himself to his feet while restraining Zipper, Gale nods toward the house. "They'll be home soon, it's fine to wait inside." His mother leads the way, Posy following closely and turning around every few seconds to be sure Zipper hasn't gotten loose again.
Gale holds a remedial training session with Zipper in the entryway while his family circulates through the living room, examining family pictures and the other furnishings. He gets Zipper to sit after a few efforts, a distressing backslide in such a short period of time. Maybe he should steal Madge and Zipper from the Whistlers.
"Look," Vick calls from the wall of photos. "The mayor! He has all his hair in this picture."
Their mom tears herself away from her inspection of the Whistlers' fireplace and joins Vick. "That's what he looked like when he first arrived in 12. I was pregnant with Gale during the swearing-in ceremony." She smiles at Gale as though he remembers the event too, and then lifts Posy up to see the photo. "That's Madge's father."
"Does he live here too?"
"No, he died in District 12."
"Like my daddy," Posy says solemnly.
The reminder that Posy doesn't even know their father other than as a ghost hurts, more than he expected even after all this time. Gale sees Rory turn sharply from the adjacent wall where he'd been studying a painting so he can watch their mom and Posy. Vick is eyeing them too, always quietly eager for the slightest tidbit about their father.
"Yes, but after Daddy. Madge lost her mommy and her daddy on the night with all the fire when we left home and lived in the forest. She lives here with her aunt and uncle now."
Rory returns to staring at the painting, jaw clenched. Then he abruptly walks over to the TV to turn it on.
"We aren't watching that—" Gale starts to say, but stops protesting when he recognizes footage of District 12 on the screen. The Victor's Village, to be specific, which sends a shiver of worry down his spine: did they get to Katniss?
Haymitch appears, shuffling along the road that leads from the Victor's Village to town. Or where town used to be… Haymitch pushes a microphone out of his face and then lunges threateningly toward the camera, making the image wobble for a few seconds before it stabilizes and follows along side him as he walks.
"Of course they're still in the district, not that it's any of your business. They have food poisoning and wouldn't talk to you schmucks even if they weren't puking their guts out. Now get the hell out of my way."
Gale smirks to himself, relieved Katniss and Peeta took his warning seriously and feeling grateful once again for Haymitch. The guy comes in handy.
"They're bothering Katniss now?" Rory asks incredulously. "She doesn't have anything to do with this!"
"They'll always bother her," Gale snaps, annoyed at the tabloids more than Rory, but it doesn't help that Rory is probably blaming Madge for this latest intrusion into Katniss' life. He reaches to shut the thing off again, but pauses when the coverage shifts to the Reconstruction Committee's building and the promise of an "exclusive report" from one of the tabloid speculators commenting on Gale Hawthorne's "conspicuous" absence from an important sub-committee meeting, "most likely because he's on his way to the Capitol to confront the two-timing spy."
Gale switches the TV off with a glare at Rory, who glares back. And unlike Zipper, Rory doesn't look away.
Their mom intervenes. "Gale, can we go in the backyard? Maybe you could show us how to control this animal."
Zipper has hopped up onto the Whistlers' couch and is happily pulling the stuffing out of one of his mangled toys, getting slobber and toy innards all over the cushions.
"Let's go," Gale agrees, shooing Zipper off the couch. As everyone files outside it occurs to him that at least skipping out on work threw the vultures off his tracks. For now.
#
After a half hour or so of practicing commands and playing fetch with the Hawthornes, Zipper's ears perk up and he starts barking maniacally, which must mean that Madge and Perri are home. Gale rushes inside the house almost as enthusiastically as Zipper, and sure enough, finds Madge and her aunt and uncle walking through the front door. Madge freezes mid-step when she sees him, her face spotted with the red blotches he recognizes as a sign she's been crying. She reminds him of the novice soldiers in 13, the ones who would return from their first battle vacant and exhausted.
"Hello Gale," Dusty calls as he sets Madge's suitcase in the hallway and stoops to pet a wriggling, happy Zipper. "Glad you could make it. And you all must be Gale's family! Welcome to District 2! We've heard so much about you." Dusty is smiling warmly and greeting them as though they dropped by for a social visit rather than to flee a scandal.
Once names and handshakes have been exchanged and the younger Hawthornes prompted on manners, Dusty smoothly suggests that he and Zipper show everyone around the neighborhood. "We can walk over to the quarry. And maybe stop at the candy store on the way home," he adds with a wink.
"That sounds lovely," Hazelle says, matching Dusty's cheerfulness. "Posy, we have our very own tour guide to answer your questions! And I can't thank you enough for letting us visit. Those tabloids were stalking Gale's apartment and office. You wouldn't believe the things they were saying about—" Stopping herself with a blush, she seems to realize too late that she's making Madge feel even more guilty and smiles gently in her direction. "It was all nonsense, of course."
Madge gives a microscopic nod without making eye contact and then mumbles, "Excuse me," before starting down the hallway toward her bedroom. Gale moves to follow her, but Perri catches his arm.
"You skipped your sub-committee meeting this afternoon," she says grimly. Before Gale can lash out—Perri can't seriously be scolding him for ditching work under these circumstances, especially not when she left even earlier than he did to drive to the Capitol and get Madge—Perri nods in Madge's direction and pats his arm. "We'll talk after."
Without a second glance Gale continues toward Madge's room. He finds that she left the door open, shed her jacket in a pile on the floor and retreated onto her bed, where she's sitting wrapped in a fuzzy brown blanket covering so much of her that only her face pokes out. She doesn't look up as Gale walks into the room, instead tugging the blanket more tightly around her body as though it can hide her. Gale sits gingerly next to her, making sure not to touch her if she doesn't want him to. She doesn't react, eyes fixed on a point on the floor.
In the distance he can hear the front door shut, leaving nothing but faint clinking sounds in the kitchen—Perri must have stayed behind but is giving him and Madge space. The silence between them balloons, each passing second filling with new reasons Gale can imagine for why she isn't speaking yet. Finally he can't take it anymore.
"Madge—"
"There's nothing going on with me and Simon," she blurts, turning to look at him. "I sleep on his couch. The actual couch," she clarifies, "not like when I was supposed to sleep on the couch at your house."
He tries to hide how relieved he is, not wanting to admit to himself much less to Madge that he was worried about Simon's role in her life and that the thought of her snuggling with anyone other than him inspires the types of vicious thoughts he's been trying to curb. But this is also probably the least important of the problems Madge is currently facing, and other than being secretly glad she was concerned about it too, they need to focus on the more serious stuff.
"Good. What about the rest of it?"
Her face starts to crumple and she shrinks further into the blanket. "Gale, they're warping everything so badly…"
"Believe me, Madge, I understand how that works. I could tell you a thing or two about being a famous cousin."
Madge peers out of the blanket at him and he can see her slow recognition of just how much he understands being portrayed on TV differently than reality. He went from being Katniss' cousin before and during the war to her jilted ex-whatever during her trial, only to be followed by a near-constant stream of gossipy speculation about anything and everything he's done after the war. He gets it.
"Right. You would know." She buries her face in her hands again and mumbles, "It feels terrible. And I can't speak to the press to correct any of it or I'll get in even more trouble. They already sent me away because they've started an inquiry, whatever that is. And they're including Simon in it, too, which is unfair because he didn't do anything!"
She's starting to get shrill, so he scoots close enough that he can put his arm around her shoulder. Or where he thinks her shoulder is—she's basically a lump under the brown blanket. But the effect he has on her is immediate and he can feel her starting to relax into his side with a series of shaky breaths.
"Tell me what's going on," he says in a low, calm voice. But also firm; he's done with her keeping things from him.
Madge stays nestled in his side for a few more moments before twisting slightly so she can look at him. "You could get drawn into the trouble Simon and I are in if you get involved."
"I'm already involved," Gale points out. Between their sabotaged hiking trip and the tabloid reports, anyone working on that inquiry thing will assume Madge has already told him whatever they think she knows. He wonders briefly why those TV reports made it sound like Madge was seducing him for secrets when she's the one who apparently knows all the good stuff. And how did he end up without either seduction or secrets? By tabloid standards, he's pretty lousy at being involved with a supposed spy.
"Madge, I can't help you if I don't know what you've been doing. Talk."
She studies his face for a few seconds and he can see a hint of a smile tugging at her eyes, but then her brain catches up and she takes a deep breath.
"You know some of it already, like what we did during the war. A lot of Capitol companies and people tried to hide their money or use it to fund Snow's weapons, supplies, and other support for the Peacekeeper troops. Simon and I figured out their tricks and could find the money and freeze it so they couldn't use it anymore.
"After the war, those same companies and people would claim they wanted the rebels to win all along, but we could show by their fund transfers that they were lying: money talks. We provided a lot of the evidence used in those trials of the former Capitol people," she says quietly. "And during the loyalty hearings. I thought they only used our evidence in public trials and hearings but now I'm not so sure… The people in charge of Covert Intelligence may have been using the information in secret trials. Simon hadn't heard of anything like that, but we're not in on everything."
Spying on money doesn't sound that bad to Gale, especially if it was being used to support Snow's side in the war. Gale never had a bank account until moving to District 2, but there doesn't seem to be anything particularly secret about his money. It's not like he has much or uses it for anything other than normal life stuff like housing and food. But from what he's seen on TV and from the protest outside his building earlier, people didn't seem to be so outraged about spying on money; it was the idea of personal intrusions that sparked the most visceral anger. And he remembers how easily Madge started digging around in that construction equipment they found on their hike and how she insisted on checking his apartment for bugs… It seems likely that she's doing more than accessing bank accounts.
"What else do you do, Madge?"
She looks down briefly at where her lap would be if she weren't hidden in her stupid blanket, apparently reluctant to answer. Gale gently pushes the top of the blanket off her head so at least she resembles a person instead of a mole hill, triggering her to meet his eyes again, but she still seems hesitant to speak.
He holds her gaze. "I'm pretty sure whatever you've done doesn't even compare to designing a bomb that killed medics and children."
Madge flinches, possibly out of lingering horror at the reminder of how terrible he is or maybe at his suspicion that she went too far with her spying. But she swallows and starts to talk again.
"I… plant bugs so we can get into bank systems if they don't give us permission. Sometimes they do. But during the war the Capitol still controlled everything so we didn't even ask. And now we don't want to tip anyone off that we're investigating so we don't always ask. And… I go into offices to look for records." The last bit tumbles out quickly, as though she wants to gloss over details.
"Does 'go into' mean break into?"
"I never break anything," she says. "I'm good. But entering without permission, yes." She watches his reaction carefully, probably to see how surprised he is. Not very.
"Also," she adds, "sometimes we use the surveillance equipment Snow's people had already set up."
That's exactly what those people were talking about on the TV reports… meaning at least some of that speculating was based on truth. Gross.
"Listening in at people's houses?" Gale asks. "Like Snow did to your family? To Katniss?" He can't help the disgust from creeping into his voice. "How can you be OK with that?" he demands.
"These people hate us," Madge says angrily, shifting away so she can face him directly. "You should hear the things they say about people from the districts—they think we're stupid and uncivilized. That we only won the war because people in the Capitol turned against Snow for their own personal gain, not because they cared about the districts or the rebellion. They're convinced we're going to foul everything up in the new government and are just waiting until they can get an advantage, and since they can't do that through holding office they'll do it by controlling the money."
Gale stands up, frustrated that he fully understands Madge's anger and absolutely believes she's heard Capitol people saying those things, but torn because it feels wrong for her to be using that creepy surveillance. He starts pacing, unable to sit still anymore.
"What do you do—just listen to everything and if someone says something you don't like, start looking for a way to bust them?"
Madge jumps to her feet too, still clutching that damn blanket around her shoulders like it's a suit of armor protecting her. "No, that's not what we do. In my group, at least," she amends. "We start by looking at the banking information for suspicious patterns and then follow that… Then we'll supplement with information from the surveillance or records searches. We do audits and arrest people if there's enough evidence."
"So what has Simon's brother actually done that's so bad?" Gale asks. "He's pretty obnoxious on TV about how innocent he is." It rubs Gale the wrong way; the guy is as slimy as moss on a river rock but they must not have anything on him if he's walking around loose giving non-stop interviews.
A furious look lodges itself on Madge's face. "I don't have any evidence yet, but I know he's got something planned."
"Great, so they run this inquiry on you and find out you don't even have any evidence against his company?" He rubs his face wearily. "So it looks like you really are just targeting Simon's brother for personal reasons."
"It only looks like that because he set me up! And now thanks to the president caving in, he can do whatever he wants."
"What did she do?" Gale hasn't heard of anything, but he's also been deliberately avoiding the latest developments.
"Passed an executive order banning all surveillance until some kind of review can be completed." Madge sounds offended. "I think she went too far—it's going to screw up ongoing investigations, but Perri said she probably did it partly to make the point that she's furious with the people working in her own government who have been doing things without briefing her. Still, no surveillance means jerks like Simon's brother can do whatever they want without worrying about us finding out."
"So they can do what, Madge? What is this grand conspiracy?"
Madge makes a frustrated sound. "I don't know! I only have theories. But my theories are usually good—I know how they think."
Gale narrows his eyes at her; she probably knows how they think because she spends so much time with Simon and listens in on the creeps so often. He's frustrated that they're going in circles with this discussion: everything she's saying makes sense, but without anything to back up her ideas nobody will believe her. Gale himself can't even tell if she's onto something real or acting on lingering hurt from what the Capitol did to her family and District 12.
She flops back onto her bed and pulls her blanket around her shoulders again. "I know you don't like the surveillance, Gale. But this is such a vulnerable point in time with the new government forming. Everything is uncertain—where the district borders are going to be, what type of government we'll have, what kinds of laws will be in place… These people like Simon's brother know how everything worked in the old system and are more influential in shaping the new system than anyone realizes, and I'm worried they're going to rig it so they come out on top once again and that we won't be able to do anything about it until it's too late. But they know how to avoid being caught, and it's tough to even know what qualifies as 'wrong' since so many things we don't like were legal under Snow. Like the Hunger Games! Even the surveillance was legal up until President Paylor passed that executive order."
She shuts her eyes tightly. "The things I've heard some of these jerks say about the mayors… Calling them Snow's puppets, not acknowledging the way Snow manipulated them by hurting and threatening their families…" She looks pained, no doubt remembering her own family's sad saga of manipulation, and then opens her eyes again to meet Gale's eyes. "So the distinction I make about listening on the surveillance is to prevent anything like that from ever happening again. The idea of these same sick people having so much power—in whatever form they can manage it—makes me worry the war was pointless. It can't have all been for nothing."
"It wasn't for nothing," he says vehemently, sitting down next to her again. He didn't lose all those people—and part of himself—for nothing. The idea is nauseating, and reminds him again of how Katniss saved them all from that very fate by assassinating Coin. If what Madge is saying is true, maybe it's a recurring threat, disguised differently each time…
Whatever the case, he's relieved to hear that she's still the same Madge he remembers, trying to do the right thing. Maybe she got in over her head, and maybe there aren't clear answers to the things she's confronting. He knows both scenarios all too well, and how hard it is to see when you're in the middle of everything. Which maybe she needs to hear.
"Madge, if ranting and making nasty comments is all they're doing, well, I do that all the time."
"I know, I need more evidence," she says in a frustrated tone. She slouches and scowls without looking at anything for a few moments before turning to watch him. He sees her expression soften and when she speaks again she sounds calmer, with a hint of sadness. "Gale, I'm sorry you and your family have been affected by this. I owed you an explanation, but I think you'd better keep your distance. You're doing good things at work and I don't want your credibility hurt by associating with me if they decide I was out of line. I think they already have, since it gives them a way to salvage the surveillance program but make it look like they responded to the outrage. So it's just a question of how much trouble I'm in."
"No," he says automatically. "That's not how we're dealing with this. I'm not letting them screw you over."
She's still looking at him skeptically, like she isn't sure he knows what he's talking about. He does, and takes hold of her shoulders to really make the point. "No matter what, I'm on your side."
Sitting a little straighter, she searches his face and slowly starts to smile as she realizes he's serious. "I thought you might not like me anymore after hearing all this…"
"You're still you," he says simply. "I always like you, even if I don't like everything you've done." He pauses, processing just now that that's how Madge reacted to learning about his own actions she doesn't like. She thought his bomb design was horrible and got mad at him for not going with her to District 12 and not telling her why he wouldn't go, but she always seemed to understand that he was trying to do what he thought was best at the time, however wrong he might have turned out to be. "You still like me even though I've done much worse things than you," he points out.
"I do like you," she says, reaching out from the blanket to rest her hands on his chest as she moves closer to him. "A lot. And you're still you, too." Her eyes are locked on his and he knows what's seconds away from happening but can't wait that long and leans forward to meet her. She's as soft and insistent as ever as she kisses him back, and he wishes they could be like this all the time. He discreetly tugs that annoying blanket from her shoulders so he can run his hands up her bare arms and feel her skin, which she must like because she shifts to press herself against his chest, her hands suddenly on his neck, in his hair, everywhere. He's just starting to lean to tip them over so they're lying on the bed instead of sitting up when the far-off sound of a tea kettle whistles, reminding him that they're not alone in the house and shouldn't get too carried away.
He stops kissing her and can sense Madge listening to the kettle too because she moves back a few inches. And then stares at him. He's used to being the one to force other people to look away, but this time he breaks eye contact because if he keeps looking at her they'll end up right where they were seconds ago—her restraint is practically as bad as his, and they were on the fast track to severe embarrassment if her aunt walked in on them.
"I think Perri is making tea," he says as he lifts Madge off his lap and returns her to the spot next to him on the bed.
She's like a little rubber band and springs back to him, circling her arms around his neck and murmuring in his ear. "Is it OK if I hate tea right now?"
He smiles. "Yeah." Without his awareness, his hands worked their way around her waist again.
Still hugging him, Madge kisses his cheek. "We need some real alone time. Before I have to go back to the Capitol. Who knows what will happen to me with this inquiry and when I'll see you again—"
"What?" He nudges her away so he can look at her more clearly. "Won't they just fire you?" The idea of Madge being fired in disgrace makes him want to personally punch everyone involved in that probably crooked inquiry, but considering he doesn't like her job, Madge resigning or being fired and vilified publicly—what he assumed as the worst case scenarios of this situation—hadn't seemed like the end of the world.
"They might." She retreats into her own space and folds her hands on her lap like the proper little town girl she was raised to be. Red flag that she's being evasive, since he's known for a long time she's no proper town girl. Typical town girls didn't run around to all the darkest corners of District 12 trying to undermine the Capitol, or turn into spies when you thought they were dead. And the ones he knew definitely didn't kiss the way she does.
"Madge." He sits cross-legged on the bed to face her. Out of the danger zone so they can talk without temptation. "What could happen to you if they decide you did something wrong? Really."
She hesitates, and then quickly says, "I could be reprimanded or fired, if someone wants to make an example of me to score political points." And then she pauses again, speaking more slowly. "They could also put me through a trial for breaking confidentiality by talking to you and Perri about all this, which could mean going to jail…" She scrunches her eyes closed, as though not wanting to consider the possibility; no wonder she'd rather kiss him. He's familiar with the kissing-to-avoid-difficult issues coping technique. "Maybe by a secret trial, if those actually exist. But Perri says she won't let that happen."
"I won't either," Gale vows. He reaches for her hand and gives it a firm squeeze. Safe from the danger zone, but he can't not touch her.
Madge looks at their hands and then smiles gratefully at him as she squeezes back. He wants to anchor her and reassure her after the kind of day she's had—being ambushed at Simon's apartment, getting suspended from work, no doubt stressing and worrying about too many things to even count… She's gone from crying to ranting to kissing to fretting in the space of mere hours and he's surprised she hasn't fallen apart even more.
They sit in silence, and he lets Madge decide when she wants to start talking again. After a few minutes, she glances at the bedroom doorway. "The secret trials possibility is probably the most serious thing. Perri's really upset about it. I've never seen her like this… She's calling people she knew when she was a judge to see if anyone knows anything—"
"I thought she ran that underground printing press," Gale interrupts, but even as he's saying it he thinks back to the meeting when Perri and the other new committee members were introduced—he wasn't even trying to pay attention and must have completely missed hearing how and why she got involved with the rebels… He also realizes he can absolutely see Perri as a judge: he's felt judged by her every second he's known her.
"She started the printing press after she faked a nervous breakdown and moved back here with my grandparents," Madge says. "Did you really not know she was a judge? She chairs the ethics and justice sub-committee, and she administered that confidentiality oath to you when I first came back…"
"What do I know about how all that stuff works?" Gale asks testily. "Your dad and the Peacekeepers were the only judges we had in 12, and my run-in with the Peacekeepers didn't involve any confidentiality oaths. It was pretty damn public." He remembers all those helpless faces staring at him as the Peacekeepers tied him to the post, a reminder lesson in just how powerless their entire district was. He can still feel the sick smacking of the whip on his flesh and instinctively rolls his shoulders to lift his shirt off his back for a few seconds.
"Does it still hurt?" Madge asks quietly, releasing his hand to reach for his shoulder.
He shakes his head. The occasional physical discomfort barely registers in comparison to the painful memories he struggles constantly not to drown in. But he lets Madge touch him, gently running her fingers over the uneven ridges of scar tissue on his back just below his collar; she somehow makes both the physical and the mental pain not as bad. He's also found some relief from the attacks of regret and guilt in knowing that every day he's doing his best to make up for his wrongs by working on this rebuilding stuff, even though the endless arguments and meetings and slowness of it all infuriate him…
Madge pulls her hand back and worriedly watches Gale. "Do you… blame my father?"
Why is she asking about this old issue? But if answering gives her one less thing to worry about then that's good enough for him. "No," he says truthfully. "He couldn't have done anything. Poaching was a Peacekeeper issue. But I do hope that Peacekeeper died a painful death in the war." Very painful.
"My dad felt terrible about what that last batch of Peacekeepers did to the district," Madge says sadly. "And that was something out of his power. Perri won't even talk about what she had to do before she got out…"
Gale thinks back to Simon's comment about Perri having a dark history and suddenly understands what he meant. To be the one actually sentencing people to avoxings or executions if she didn't believe in the crimes or the punishments—which clearly she didn't, based on what he knows about her now—would be devastating. She's probably dealing with the kind of guilt Gale knows something about. She's also probably just as motivated to protect Madge as he is, and definitely better equipped to help Madge than he is in this new type of battlefield involving confidentiality oaths and secret trials and suddenly illegal surveillance.
"Come on," Gale says resolutely, climbing off the bed and pulling Madge with him. It's time for them to get her out of this mess. "Let's go see what Perri found out."
A/N: Happy New Year! I hope everybody had a great holiday season. Thanks for the reviews, appreciated as always. :)