A/N: As promised, the next chapter faster than usual! This is the second to last chapter of this story and it's long, but I needed to deal with a lot before the final chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter, and to Miss Scarlett 05 for her editing help.

Chapter 23: Second Chance

He's had this nightmare before. He's lived this nightmare before. Yet here he is again, pushing through fleeing crowds, seeking out her face in the chaos of smoke and onslaught of shouting and sirens, praying she wasn't anywhere near the blast zone. The bomb took out the western side of the bank, and even in his frenzied state Gale can tell from the gash in the wall that the explosion originated from ground level just outside the two-story building. Flames, smoke, and rubble reach into the side street, where Covert Intelligence agents in black suits establish a perimeter a safe distance away. A teenaged girl with blood streaming down one side of her face shouts hysterically for someone named Roscoe. Other figures sit hunched over on the sidewalk, cradling wounded arms or staring dazedly at the flames.

Madge isn't among them.

Pushing through the crowd, Gale grabs the nearest agent's arm. "You seen Agent Undersee?"

"No, not since we all split up at the front door when we got here. Hey. I don't care who you are, Hawthorne, that area's not stable. Stay back. Bomb squad's coming."

Gale shoves the agent out of his way. "I am the bomb squad." More so than this guy, at least. Spies might be good at sifting through files and bank records, but Gale knows bombs. He's got his dress uniform on rather than the fatigues he wore in the field when he really was on the bomb squad—good enough to pass himself off.

He takes the bank's front entrance stairs two at a time. A handful of agents and civilians, covered in plaster dust, argue just outside the front door. From what Gale can see of the interior of the building, desk-sized pieces of ceiling litter the floor in the same way quarry rocks dislodge and scatter after a blast. Within seconds he ascertains that these people are debating returning for people in the building's basement where the bomb went off, or waiting for the firefighters.

"Bomb squad," he announces. "How many still inside?"

"Two," one of the agents says. "One of ours and one of the bank's. They were in the records center downstairs… The smoke is getting worse."

"Get behind the line," Gale orders, pointing to the invisible perimeter the other agents set up. He doesn't wait to see if they obey and doesn't respond when they ask why he doesn't have any protective gear or defusing equipment. Inside, he weaves through the debris to the bombed side of the building, where smoke streams into the main floor around the edges of a door. When Gale pushes the door open an even thicker cloud engulfs him.

"Madge!" He yanks his uniform over his nose and mouth and ducks his head as he starts down the stairs. The corridor crackles with the muted, ominous sound of burning, but he can't see any flames. The smoke poses the biggest problem; even if his eyes weren't watering he wouldn't be able to see through the billowing gray haze. Running his hand along the wall, he feels his way down the stairs, taking as few breaths as possible. He prays he's going after someone other than Madge, that she's waiting safely outside the building, intact and plagued only by worries.

The smoke grows denser the lower he descends. When he runs out of stairs, he stumbles along the hallway until he trips on debris that feels like stone. He must be closer to the detonation site. Definitely closer to the fire, judging by the heat, although no flames have reached the hallway. He ducks down to crawl since the smoke is incrementally less overwhelming on the floor, and fights off the memories of struggling through smoke during the worst of it that final night in 12. This smoke is even worse because it's trapped in an enclosed area, and he has to shut his eyes as he crawls.

He hears coughing over the chorus of splintering wood and distant sirens. Squinting through the haze, he spots a human-shaped form ahead, half-standing, half-leaning against the wall.

"Madge!" His voice comes out like a croak, but it's enough. The person turns.

He pushes himself to his feet and lunges forward, relieved beyond belief to see it is Madge and that she's well enough to stand. Her CID uniform is covered with dust and the right sleeve of her jacket is ripped, but he doesn't see any blood or broken bones.

"Help me pull her!" Madge rasps, gesturing to the floor. A dark-haired woman stretches face-down along the hallway, apparently unconscious. Madge must have been lugging her to safety.

"Anyone else down here?" he shouts.

She shakes her head and starts coughing again, so he pushes her toward the stairs and grabs the woman's hands. Madge had the right idea; dragging is faster and keeps her out of the worst of the smoke. When he reaches the stairs, he picks the woman up under her knees and ribs, hoping it isn't too late for her. A ragged red cut jags across her forehead. It's not gushing, though it does explain why she's out.

Ahead of him on the stairs Madge starts to sway and then doubles over, succumbing to a violent coughing fit and coming dangerously close to losing her balance. He twists so he can reach up to steady her.

"Almost there." She feels so delicate—how did she end up in this situation? Again! He pushes the thought away and gives her another shove upward. Thankfully she stumbles forward. He tries to stay one step behind her so he can catch her if she loses her balance again, and clears his mind of anything other than moving upward one stair at a time, guarding Madge, and not dropping the woman he's carrying.

Halfway through their struggle up the stairs, three figures in fatigues and facemasks appear. Gale slumps against the wall in relief; never before have his old bomb squad crewmates looked so good. One person scoops up Madge and the other two rush toward Gale and the unconscious woman.

"They said there's no one else," he reports through hacking coughs as he hands over the woman. "Fire's back there." Obviously. He's wasting his breath and they know it—they just shove him up the stairs before rushing deeper into the smoke. When he reaches the top of the stairwell, he lurches into someone else who wraps him in a crinkly foil blanket and guides him toward the sunlight. Several more bomb squad members and firefighters run past him into the building. The blanket-giver—a medic?—passes him a canteen of water, which he gulps gratefully and pours on his face to wash away the layer of ash.

The air clears outside the building, making breathing much easier. A large crowd has gathered behind the perimeter line, anxious to see what's happening within the bank. Gale's focus is outward, though. Where is she? How can there be so many people on this street but not the one he needs? Where did they take her?

Another fire truck approaches the building, horn and siren angrily warning the crowd to clear a path. As the wall of people shifts, Gale catches a glimpse of Madge and feels his panic subside. She sits on a bench across the street behind the crowd, wrapped in a foil blanket. A medic and a CID agent seem to be tending to her and asking her questions because every once in a while she distractedly shakes her head. Mostly she keeps trying to stand up and return to the building.

With a jolt he realizes she must be looking for him. He jogs down the stairs, and when Madge's eyes find his her face scrunches into what he recognizes as Madge-is-going-to-cry mode. Whatever foundation of calm she'd cobbled together has clearly collapsed. She runs toward him and he catches her in a hug to tight they both almost fall over. Madge erupts into body-wracking sobs that he can feel through his chest. He fights back a choking sensation in his throat and squeezes his eyes shut to ward off that prickly feeling that's threatening to make him cry too.

"You did it," he whispers. "You got her out. She'll be all right."

The words are for his benefit as much as hers, but Madge is crying too violently to speak so he guides her away from the crowd to a shaded area between two buildings. She continues to cling to him, head buried in his chest.

"You're safe now," he says softly into her hair. He mumbles other reassurances—she was so good at keeping her head during the crisis, they'll catch whoever did this—but he doubts it matters what he says as much as that he's speaking to her in a low, soothing voice and rubbing her back comfortingly—physical reminders that he's nearby.

Eventually her crying slows to an occasional hiccupping sound. Still hugging her, he taps out a message on his communicuff to Simon and Perri that she's safe. Over her head, he watches the slow return of order to the scene around the bank across the street. The firefighters and bomb squad congregate around the bank's destroyed wall and front entrance. Uniformed soldiers and CID agents work together on crowd control. Several agents also appear to be interviewing bystanders and victims—starting to sort out how the hell the bank was bombed during a raid, he hopes.

Madge pulls herself back, rubbing her eyes with her hands. When she smiles weakly at him, he pulls her hands into his and holds her gaze. He wants to tell her how relieved he is that she's safe, but the words seem too inconsequential to convey how overwhelming the feeling is. He wants to soak the sensation in and let it fill in the hollowness he remembers from that devastating final night in 12 when he couldn't find her. She even looks like she must have that night—ash coats her face except where tears tracked across her splotchy red cheeks.

Only right now she's smiling. "Gale—"

"Madge!"

Gale turns to find Simon standing unsteadily at the entrance to the alley. Breathing heavily, he looks like he skidded to a stop from a run as soon as he spotted Gale and Madge. He must have just gotten Gale's communicuff message. Madge immediately pulls herself away from Gale and rushes at Simon to hug him. Then they both start talking at once.

"You're all right?" Simon demands, pushing her away to inspect her. "Did you report to Barnes already? What about the rest of your team?"

"Everyone's out." Her voice sounds raw and huskier than usual. "I was in the basement records room with the bank's file clerk. I was behind a filing cabinet when it happened, but she was closer to the wall…"

Gale winces at the image and the awareness that even Madge's "strictly paper" assignment took such a dangerous turn. He glances toward the bank again, putting it together that the bomb was most likely deliberately set to target that records room. External detonation, could have had a timer… Maybe some of the components survived the explosion. Madge seems stable enough now, engaged in a rapid-fire exchange with Simon about people Gale doesn't know; Gale should go help the bomb squad forensics team search for clues.

He's about to excuse himself when Simon says something that grabs his attention.

"He's here, Madge. My brother. In District 2."

#

Madge walks steadily alongside Simon, but internally she careens back and forth between sympathy for what he must be going through and her own fury at his brother. Simon weaves deftly through the crowds of people standing on the square watching the ongoing attempt to fight the now-smaller fire at the bank.

"Apparently an agent recognized Edwin on the street in the crowd after the bombing," Simon explains. "They invited him to answer some questions, since he's a target of the raid on his office and he obviously wasn't there… It's all very polite since there's no good evidence on him."

"Yet," Madge adds.

"Yet," Simon agrees grimly. "But, what is he doing here? His office is in the Capitol."

Madge agrees the coincidence is a bit much. "Do they… think he had something to do with the bomb?" Her voice doesn't sound like her own yet, still scratchy from all her coughing and the smoke damage.

"I don't know."

She doesn't think Simon sounds confident in his brother's innocence, but she also knows his brother is rarely the one to get his hands dirty and won't usually risk anything being traced back to him. But that doesn't mean he couldn't have ordered someone else to set off the bomb, especially if he was tipped off about the raid. "Where is he now?"

"They said he was over this way," Simon gestures vaguely down the street away from the bank. The street teems with people straining to watch the dwindling fire and conferring with one another about the latest news. "Like that helps. God, what a mess. I thought the war was over."

The street does look eerily like some of the districts Madge visited during the war. She scans the scene, eyes lingering on the explosion site and, specifically, Gale. He's helping the bomb squad experts piece together clues from the smoldering wreckage. Madge watches him frown as he listens to another man speak, and then they both scramble over the rubble into the building's interior. She worries about the possibility of another bomb or that he'll hurt himself. As if he can feel her eyes on him, he turns and shoots her a reassuring smile. She smiles back and keeps watching him until she feels Simon's walking pace beside her slow and then stop.

Madge stops as well and follows his gaze to the shuttered storefront across the street. Simon mutters, "Why am I even surprised?"

His brother Edwin stands surrounded by a knot of reporters holding handheld recording machines toward him like offerings. Trust Edwin to get an early start on warping public opinion. Madge seethes at his ability to switch so quickly from being a raid target to a media darling.

Simon seems to be frozen to the ground, like he isn't sure what to do now that they've found Edwin. Madge doesn't know either. She wants to support Simon, but she doesn't want to risk the success of the investigation by giving anything away to Edwin. He knows now that he was a target in the raids, so any advantage they had on him due to surprise has vanished.

Finally Simon recovers enough to make his legs walk to his brother. Madge follows. They hang back behind the clustered reporters and catch the tail end of Edwin's comments.

"And I hope for the sake of other bank customers like myself that operations can resume quickly so we can keep our businesses thriving. And hiring more workers so we can all move on with our lives after the war." Looking over the heads of some of the reporters, Edwin raises his eyebrows at the sight of Simon. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to my brother." He smiles graciously at the reporters. When they move to follow him he adds, "I'm sorry, private family time—like everyone else, we're very upset about these events." Then he walks over to Madge and Simon. Looking only at Simon, he gestures for them to follow him further down the block to a more secluded area. Madge wonders if he doesn't recognize her, or if the reporters haven't identified her because the bomb and fire left her looking like a… well, what she is: a District 12 refugee.

Edwin does recognize her, though, and stops restraining his sneer when they stop walking. But he also doesn't waste energy on her and directs his comments only to Simon.

"You're involved in all this? Mother said you were on vacation. You lie to her now, too?"

Simon crosses his arms. "I was suspended from work until this morning. Thanks for that, by the way."

Edwin glares in Madge's direction. It's startling to see such hostility from someone who looks so similar to Simon. "Thank her and your own poor judgment for associating with her. Still, I see." He turns back to Simon. "One of your little friends in these silly black uniforms wanted to ask me questions but he vanished. You know, Simon, I really don't have time for this ongoing harassment from your office. My bank was just bombed. This is a huge disruption to my business affairs—"

Simon grabs his brother's arm and says in a low voice, "You brought this on yourself and you know it. You set up Madge, you purposefully blew our covers at work—"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Edwin smoothly withdraws his arm. "But I can see you've been poisoned by these vindictive fools into mistrusting me." He glances again at Madge distastefully. "You are aware, Simon, that she's not interested in you? That she's sleeping with that trash from her former district."

Madge sucks in her breath, but before she can say anything Simon stumbles backward as though he's been pushed. "You don't know me at all," he says with a shake of his head. "You don't even want to, or you'd know how wrong you are about me. And Madge. And, damn it, I live in this country, too. Whether you like it or not, the rest of us have a say now. And we don't want to spend the next ten years with power-hungry assholes squabbling over every damn mineral claim and risking the rest of us for it. I don't want people setting off bombs to get their way!"

"Nor do I," Edwin says calmly.

"Then don't do it!" Simon shouts. A few people across the street glance in their direction, and even Madge flinches in surprise. She's never seen Simon this angry. "People could have been killed! I could have been in there! Madge was in there!" He turns to look down the street and exhales slowly, trying to collect his composure. After a few seconds he looks back at his brother. "Advice. Don't lie when they question you; they might go easier on the punishment if you cooperate."

"How dare you suggest—"

Madge can't take it anymore and steps forward. "How confident are you that the bank's records were destroyed?" She doesn't care if he thinks she's bluffing; she isn't. That woman wasn't all Madge rescued from the bank. The backup server disk was small enough to shove into the pocket of her uniform. She already turned it over to her team leader so the data retrieval experts could get to work.

Edwin glares at her with so much venom it feels like a physical assault. He doesn't say anything else, but she guesses he's thinking through the potential damage—his contact with the bank, which accounts, which transfers can be linked to him. From the preliminary data they collected overnight, quite a bit. She also smugly thinks about the rare earth metal mining prospectors she and Gale encountered in the mountains yesterday morning—they provided statements about employees linked to Edwin's businesses sneaking around in the mountains sabotaging competitors' vehicles and equipment.

Before Edwin can speak again, two soldiers approach. Madge doesn't know them, but she perks up when she spots Gale flanking them. He hangs back, wearing one of his deadly calm expressions that just barely masks his anger.

"Edwin Barker," one soldier says, "we have some questions for you."

Edwin lets out an exasperated sigh. "I'm already waiting for the spies to question me. Now the army, too? Are you all so incompetent that you can't keep straight who's doing what?"

The soldier eyes Simon and Madge in their black uniforms. "I don't give a rat's ass who you're waiting for. We're questioning everybody seen near the bank before the explosion. Several witnesses place you on the street."

"I had a meeting at the bank earlier," Edwin says testily. "I have accounts for my businesses in District 2."

"Fine. Answer our questions, test clean for gunpowder residue, and be on your merry way to talk to the CID agents."

Edwin glares over the soldiers' shoulders to the silent and dark shadow Gale casts. Then he narrows his eyes at Madge and Simon. "I won't let it stand that your sordid little love triangle means I have to be subjected to accusations and invasive tests—"

"Enough of this garbage," Gale says sharply. He nods to the other two soldiers. "Run the test." As they step forward and pull a wand out of a case, Gale adds, "We're questioning and testing everyone who was seen near the bomb site. You're not special. We found the remnants of the bomb's casing. It was small enough to fit in a pocket and could easily have been fitted with a timer—any passerby could have planted it. Conveniently outside the records room."

Madge bites her lip anxiously as she watches one soldier wave the wand over Edwin while the other monitors a small screen attached by a wire. Simon tenses beside her, studying his brother closely. Edwin's face is a picture of steely fury. Madge imagines he's outraged at the situation no matter whether he set off the bomb or not. If he didn't do it, he's undoubtedly furious at the indignity of being suspected and subjected to a gunpowder residue test. If he did do it, he probably refuses to believe he could be caught.

A shrill series of electronic beeps emits from the wand. The soldier moves it back and forth over Edwin's chest, and the beeping intensifies when he pushes the wand into the suit jacket's interior breast pocket.

"Positive for powder," the soldier watching the monitor announces.

The wand also beeps when they hold it over Edwin's hands.

Simon looks as pale as he did after the bombing of 12 when he was so injured he would wake up for only minutes at a time. Madge grabs his elbow to catch him if he faints. She's surprised, too—Edwin gives orders and always takes special care to ensure nothing can be pinned on him. She has enough evidence on him from other sources to show how central he is to the corruption she's uncovered. But if he physically set off the bomb at the bank, maybe it means the raid caught him off-guard and desperation forced him to abandon his usual caution…

Edwin immediately launches into accusation mode. "This is a set up," he hisses at Gale. "You rigged that machine."

The bomb squad soldiers calmly stow their wand and monitor and pull out handcuffs. "The machine works perfectly, sir." They put the handcuffs on Edwin and squint in Gale's direction, probably wondering why this guy is bothering to dispute something so obvious. Madge knows why: in the World According to Edwin, if he thinks something then it must be true. He doesn't want to get caught having set off a bomb; therefore someone else is responsible.

Edwin keeps glaring at Gale. "You won't get away with framing me. I know your type. You hate me and everyone from the Capitol on principle, will go to any lengths to punish those of us who didn't suffer like you did." He says "suffer" as though it's a false badge that district residents claim—outrageously—as a justification for the war.

Gale shakes his head in disgust and crosses his arms over his chest. "No one is framing you, jackass. You just set off a bomb that nearly killed my girlfriend and a bunch of other people. You can't spin your way out of this."

"Come on," one of the soldiers says. Edwin grits his teeth and roughly brushes past Gale, who shoves back. And then without a glance at Simon, Edwin follows the soldiers away.

Madge doesn't feel vindicated as much as worried about Simon, who hasn't said anything since Gale and the bomb squad soldiers arrived. He still looks pale and dazed.

"Let's go sit down," she says decisively, pulling Simon by the elbow to the window ledge of the nearest storefront. He follows mutely, apparently still in shock. Madge sits him down and puts her hands on both of his shoulders. "I'm going to talk to Gale for a second, and then you and I will figure out what you're going to do about all this. OK?"

He nods, barely, and then bends his head into his hands. It's strange to see him so distraught. Simon has taken such good care of her lately, but maybe now it's her turn to take care of him. She squeezes his shoulder once and then walks back to where Gale waits.

Seeing the hint of a smile on Gale's face brighten the closer she draws to him is thrilling in the same way hearing him refer to her as his girlfriend was. Even better: being close enough to rest her hands on his chest while they talk and feeling his arms automatically encircling her.

Gale kisses her forehead and sighs heavily. "Remind me to never say anything snotty about Rory ever again. He's a baby chick in comparison to that guy."

Madge smiles sadly and glances over at Simon, who's staring at his shoes. "It was always going to be tough once we nabbed his brother, but this bomb takes it to another level…" Edwin is probably already dreaming up other explanations for how gunpowder ended up on his hands and how he had no knowledge of any of the shady deals and acts of sabotage his companies were conducting. The bank records will help contradict that—payments to certain thugs and businesses on certain days—but it's virtually certain Edwin will fight every scrap of evidence. The gunpowder will be tough to overcome, though.

Gale tugs her closer so she has to pay attention to him again. "I want to see you later. Are you staying in 2 tonight?" His voice is still gravelly and lower than usual from the smoke. Or maybe he's purposefully lowering his tone because he knows she likes it. He slides his hands down her back to her rear and smiles slyly. "You can always crash with me."

She wants nothing more than to crash with him, into him, whatever. But she and her raid team have to return to headquarters in the Capitol immediately to sort through all the evidence collected in the raids and to see if any more raids are necessary. Madge apologetically explains that the mission isn't over yet and adds, "It's probably just as well. I think Simon could use some company."

Gale nuzzles her ear, clearly attempting to get her to sign on to a new mission: Operation Slumber Party with Gale. "Let his own girlfriend comfort him. That District 3 girl, whatsername."

Madge snaps to attention and moves her head so she can see Gale's face. "Simon has a girlfriend?"

He looks startled at her reaction and then quickly narrows his eyes at her. "You're jealous?"

"No!" She swats him. "Surprised! How could he not have told me? How do you know this before me?"

"I don't know," Gale says, his tone also conveying that he doesn't care now that he understands Madge's alarm was due not knowing the news rather than jealousy. "You guys can gossip tonight and get caught up. When are you coming back here again?"

"Soon," she promises. "By the 20th for sure." Gale stares blankly at her so she reminds him. "For the concert." Their date.

Gale grins. Then his expression grows serious again. "You sure you'll be all right tonight, Madge? That bomb probably stirred up some memories—"

"I'll be okay." She reaches up to hug him tightly and holds on for a long time that still doesn't feel like nearly enough. Finally he releases her with a kiss, promises to actually answer the phone when she calls, and walks back to the crumbling bank wall to help with the bomb cleanup. Madge watches him retreat and thinks about what he'll look like in a suit on their date. He owns a suit, doesn't he? It doesn't matter—he would look good in anything. And nothing. She blushes the second the thought pops into her head, and of course Gale chooses that exact moment to turn around and look back at her. She waves quickly, hoping her hand blocks her red face.

Then she walks back to Simon and sits beside him, though he barely reacts. He looks tired, like everyone, but without the excited edge most other agents have had about the raids. She doesn't know what to say. Sorry your brother is a dirty criminal? I hope they lock him up for a long time? Have fun explaining to your pro-Capitol mother why you helped get her favorite son arrested?

What comes out is: "Why did Gale know before I do that you have a girlfriend?"

It's either so surprising or so inconsequential that it spurs Simon out of his dazed state.

"Gale exaggerates out of wishful thinking," he says slowly. "Although if I knew him thinking I had a girlfriend would get him off my back, I would have made someone up a long time ago. He's a lot easier to deal with now."

Madge keeps staring at him. "Well? Who is she?" And what if Madge doesn't approve?

After a pause, Simon runs his hand through his hair. Stalling. "Remember Melinda?"

In a flash it makes sense. Melinda was a District 3 operative Madge and Simon ate dinner with every night when they were at the rebel base in 3 during the war. Madge remembers that Melinda and Simon did spend an awful lot of time flirt-fighting during those dinners. Something else clicks.

"Oh! She was the 'M' I saw on your calendar the other day! Were you visiting her in District 3?"

Simon rolls his eyes, a comfortingly normal response that gives her hope he's still himself despite this situation with his brother. "You're such a snoop, Madge. Yeah, we kept in touch, would get together when she had business in the Capitol. You were usually out on missions in other districts. I… wasn't really sure what was going on and you were having your own problems so I didn't say anything. When we were suspended I figured I'd visit her in 3. I couldn't deal with all Edwin's distortions or my mom haranguing me about doing what he says—I just needed to get away.

"Melinda is the one who found those weapons contracts, actually," he offers. "She's got a lot of contacts in 3. After Gale told me what you guys found yesterday in the mountains, Melinda and I started asking around." He turns to looks at Madge, guessing what she's wondering. "Yes, of course I thought—for a second—about not turning the contracts over. I knew he was a jerk and that he was wrong… I thought, or maybe just hoped, there might be some kind of mistake in the paperwork—it was like I could already hear him explaining it all away in some perfectly rational, plausible way… But by going so far he made it easier for me. Nuclear weapons? Who knows if he wanted them made for the political leverage or if he actually meant to use them at some point… I'm sure he'll have and endless stream of explanations. He's so convinced he's right and everyone else is wrong, especially me—how can you reason with someone like that? I couldn't take the risk."

Madge just nods, not wanting to belabor how troubling Edwin's actions are. Simon sounds so downtrodden a flare of sympathy pushes her into giving him another hug. She lost her parents in the war, but Simon's family has fallen apart before his eyes with his mother and brother still living.

"You know you're family to me, right?" she says.

He releases her and smiles sadly. "Family? Or a hotel?"

"Hotel with an excellent restaurant. And great prices."

Simon smiles and shakes his head. "Brat."

#

Fighting through the fog of fatigue, Gale drives out to the Whistlers' house once again, this time to retrieve his family. It's time for him to bring them back to his own apartment, and past time for him to talk, really talk, to them. He spends the majority of the ride rehearsing what he'll say. When he gets to the house he's greeted by the frenzied barking of Zipper, who darts from the garage workshop into the entryway to assault Gale's legs. Vick, Posy, and Rory pour out of the garage in pursuit. He hopes they were being careful; Dusty and Perri aren't home yet and he suspects Vick and Rory think they know more than they do about how to use the tools.

"Look at this, Gale." Posy grabs Zipper around the neck. "We went shopping today and I got Zipper a purple collar so he can be pretty."

Vick looks offended. "I keep telling you, Zipper is a boy. He doesn't want to be pretty."

"He was excited for his new collar," Posy counters.

"He's excited for everything!"

Their mom interrupts the exchange by emerging from the kitchen and greeting Gale with a hug. Quietly she asks, "And you said Madge is all right?"

He'd given her an abbreviated version of the afternoon's events over the phone and suggested she not turn on the news. The scenes of bomb damage wouldn't do his siblings any favors.

"She's shaken but fine. Really," he adds when his mother looks skeptical. Then he clears his throat and says more loudly, "I need to talk to everyone."

Hazelle gestures for the others to take seats in the living room. Posy scrambles for the seat next to her on the long couch, while Vick sits at the other end. Rory warily crosses his arms and follows them into the living room, but leans against the wall instead of committing to the conversation by taking a seat. Gale perches on the arm of the same loveseat he and Madge sat in when reading over the land proposal just days ago. It feels too empty without her for him to sit in it properly.

Once everyone settles, he tries to remember exactly how he was going to start his speech but the fatigue has driven it out of his mind. He goes for the direct approach. "I want to stay here," he announces. "In District 2. I need to stick with this Reconstruction Committee work at least until the new government is formed."

His mother squints at him. "Is this supposed to be news, dear? We figured that's what you intended. You're enlisted and you've been stationed here. You're quite popular, you know; I can't imagine them assigning you to something other than what you're doing right now."

"I'm not going to reenlist when my service is up," he clarifies. He's ready to make his own decisions about his life, and today's bombing incident aside, the country doesn't need as many active duty soldiers anymore. "Even after the elections, I want to stay on with the new government. There are still a lot of jack—" he glances at Posy and edits himself. "—corrupt people trying to cheat their way back to how things were under Snow. Stopping them is what I can do to make sure the war stays won. And to make sure things are better than they were." Like working on those warfare rules...

He takes a breath and continues with the second half of his announcement. "If you all want to settle in District 12, I'll visit you as often as I can. And you can visit me. I just need to be here for right now."

That was it. The speech seemed longer in his head. He watches his family for their reactions.

Posy speaks first. "IwanttostaywithGale." She looks nervously at the rest of the family, as though scared someone will challenge her opinion. Hazelle pats her head but doesn't say anything.

Rory pushes himself off the wall. "So you might move back to 12 later? Once we have the new government?"

"I don't know. Maybe." On taking in Rory's suspicious expression, Gale adds, "I want to be with Madge." No point hiding that. It's one of the few things he's certain of. "I don't know if she'll want to move back to 12. But for now I think it would be best for her to be out here near her aunt and uncle, and her friend Simon in the Capitol."

"Zipper lives here too," Posy adds. "She'll want to be near him." On hearing his name, Zipper trots over to Posy and nudges her leg until she pets him.

Vick raises his hand.

Rory rolls his eyes. "You don't need to raise your hand, Vick. We're not in school."

Vick ignores Rory and waits until Gale impatiently nods in his direction. "I think that seems fair," Vick says. "Madge doesn't have any parents or other relatives in District 12 anymore. I can see why she would want to stay here."

Hazelle studies Gale for a moment and then turns her gaze to Rory. "Rory? What do you think?"

Rory examines the floor for a few long seconds. "Vick's right." He looks out the window, where a hummingbird hovers near a branch of the small pine tree in the Whistlers' front yard. "And this place isn't as bad as I thought," Rory says grudgingly. "But what about Katniss? Can we visit her?"

Gale nods stiffly and hopes that his inner turmoil isn't obvious. "If she wants to see us," he says carefully. For him, that's a big if. But Katniss already saw the rest of them without melting down, so maybe they can visit her without him.

Rory seems to be satisfied with his answer and walks over to one of the armchairs, which he slumps into. Zipper wanders over to sniff his leg and is rewarded with a scratch behind the ears. Gale feels a surge of affection for Rory, especially in contrast to Simon's corrupt brother. Maybe being consulted about where the family should live was what Rory needed—he even seemed to accept that Madge factored into Gale's priorities.

Vick looks intently at their mother. "So, are we staying here?" When she smiles in his direction and nods, he blurts out, "I call the attic room."

Rory sits up and glares at Vick. "You're younger, you don't just get to call which room you want and get it."

Vick makes a panicked plea to their mother. "Mom, I never get anything—"

She cuts him off. "We don't have the house yet. I'm not listening to any of this." At Gale's confused expression, she explains, "We found a house we like in the village here. It's available and in our price range once the resettlement funds come through." She smiles and gets a faraway look in her eyes. "It has a washing machine and dryer."

That cues a conversation about the other qualities of the house, with everyone else chiming in with their favorite feature. Too mystified to respond, Gale just listens.

A/N: Cleverness points to Miss Scarlett 05 for Hazelle's washing machine line. ;) One more chapter: Gadge concert date! For everyone who wanted more of Gadge together, you'll be getting it! In the meantime, I'm interested in your reactions to this chapter so please review (liked, didn't like, confused, anything). Thanks in advance!