Author's Note: Last chapter! I wanted to take a moment up front to thank last chapter's reviewers without accounts who I couldn't respond to individually—thanks, all! And to the person who was wondering what Simon looks like, all I've said about him is that his hair is a shade slightly darker than Madge's, that they can pull off looking related, and that he dresses well (being from the Capitol). But you can also infer that he's attractive enough that Gale feels threatened of him for a reason—that's just something that neither Madge nor Gale will consciously think about, Madge because she doesn't think of Simon that way and Gale because he doesn't want to acknowledge his jealousy. :P
Chapter 24: Concert Date
Gale tugs on his tie as Madge's train rumbles into the station. He feels like he's being choked and doesn't trust that Milo taught him the right knot. It looked okay in the mirror, although the concept of wearing a decorative noose is still disturbing. He's only tolerating it because formalwear seems to be expected at these concerts and because Madge will probably like it.
Where is she? Other travelers disembark, but he hasn't seen her yet. He hopes she didn't miss this train, too—she was supposed to be on the earlier one but there were several last minute arrests this afternoon in the investigation and Madge wanted to ask them some questions herself. They were more members of that network of investors conspiring to take control of the natural resources. Over the week and a half since the raids began, Madge's theories have been proven right by the information collected in the raids and the confessions of people like Douglas's assistants, whose loyalty to the network was only paycheck-to-paycheck. The investigators were able to leverage confessions from lower-ranking network members to nail the ringleaders like Simon's slimy brother Edwin. Madge said they have plenty of evidence and witnesses to prove Edwin was one of the brains behind the operation, though of course he's got an army of lawyers helping him spin reality into whatever slant he thinks best supports his story, facts be damned. Luckily, Edwin's trial—public—will be one of the first, scheduled to start in the fall.
Gale spots a blonde woman stepping off the train, and it takes him a second to recognize her as Madge. She's wearing a deep green, slinky dress that sweeps to just below her knees. A shimmery white wrap drapes over her nearly bare shoulders, the thin straps of her dress the only splash of color above the dress's neckline. Her hair is twisted on top of her head in a complicated knot that he can't wait to undo later. She looks more grown up, and unfamiliar in an exotic way… Until she smiles. The second she spots him, her face lights up and she becomes every inch his Madge. She unglamorously leaps toward him and he catches her in a hug. He lifts her off the ground and spins her, which makes her laugh through her rushed apology about being late.
When he sets her down, she beams up at him and he realizes her face is closer to his than usual. "You're taller."
Madge kicks out a foot clad in what looks like a sandal armed with a battle-ready spike. "I grew. For tonight only. But don't worry, I packed your kind of shoes, too." She gestures toward her traveling bag, which Gale reaches over to pick up. He's glad she remembered to bring her hiking gear—he's got a route planned out already for the weekend.
Without warning, Madge hugs him again. "I missed you," she says into his shoulder.
"I missed you, too." He squeezes her for emphasis, and takes a moment to breathe her in and feel her body against his. It's only been a little over a week since he last saw her and they talk on the phone every night, but nothing compares to this. She won't be moving to District 2 for several more months—she's too integral to the corruption investigation based in the Capitol—and he has a feeling it's going to get harder and harder to only see her on weekends. But compared to her being dead, weekends and an hour-long train ride aren't so bad.
Also not so bad: her slinky dress. The fabric is can't-keep-his-hands-off-it silky and he finds himself sliding his hands along her sides. Seconds later they're kissing and he drops her traveling bag back onto the ground so he can focus on using both hands to fully enjoy the satiny fabric of her dress.
"Get a room! Geez!"
A voice shouts from across the platform, causing Madge to jump back from Gale. He glares in the direction of the yeller, a guy a little older than him who looks like the District 2 types who trained to be Careers. In other words, a complete tool. But Gale's actually more frustrated by the awareness that he agrees with the tool and wishes they could get a room instead of going to this concert.
"Um, we are running late," Madge says. Her face is flushed, and Gale suspects not only due to embarrassment.
"Let's go," he agrees, grabbing her bag again with one hand and sliding the other around her waist for the walk to the jeep. "So," he says, determined not to ruin their first date by dragging her back to his empty apartment right now, "what happened in that meeting this morning? Did your boss get canned?"
"No, and I don't think she will," Madge says petulantly. "She's one of those people who always manages to come out on top. Perri said Fiona usually does the right thing and gets the right result, which is why she's survived for so long both under Snow and under Paylor. She's getting credit for the success of the raids." Madge shrugs. "Which I guess is the bargain we made by dealing with her. But she did clear my record and Simon's, and everyone we work with knows the raids were our idea. That's enough for me."
Gale grunts in response as he opens the passenger door for Madge. He thinks she should get a national medal for peacefully foiling what could have been a very messy, dangerous situation, but he knows she's more concerned with repairing the problems and keeping a low profile than recognition. Besides, he wouldn't wish fame on anyone.
He walks to the driver's side of the jeep and starts the engine. The auditorium is located on the outskirts of town and they should arrive just in time. As he pulls into traffic, he asks how Simon is coping.
"All right," Madge says unconvincingly. She sighs and looks out the window at the passing stone block buildings. "At least he has that surveillance project with Perri to focus on. That's been helping."
Simon and Perri have been organizing a large public forum on the role of surveillance in the new country. Perri said the purpose was to assess public values and opinions about when surveillance should be allowed, in what forms, and who should have authority to approve it. Gale's working on a similar forum related to weapons and warfare guidelines. They'll use the feedback from the forums to develop new laws and standards.
Madge looks over at him. "Did you talk to Milo about the maps today?"
Gale grins. "He said it would only be a week or two before all the new ones are ready. Which means we can have the public vote a couple of weeks after that." Because of the investigation, the Reconstruction Committee's land distribution proposal vote was cancelled until accurate maps were available. So many of the mapping materials were confiscated in the raids, Gale had been worried it would take forever to get updated maps, but Milo assured him that he had all the information and just needed to hire the right person to help pull everything together. Milo had seemed dazed during the discussion, not yet used to the reality that he was in charge of the mapping company, thanks to the previous owners being implicated in the corruption probe.
"I might have to suffer through some field trips to double-check the maps are right this time," Gale adds with a wink at Madge. He was voted in as chair of the newly formed geography subcommittee earlier in the week.
Madge reaches over and pats his knee. "You're good at suffering, aren't you?"
#
The District 2 auditorium is part of a complex formerly used for Peacekeeper training; Gale assumes they used the auditorium for presentations and training films on how to oppress and be a jerk. Since the war ended, it's been converted into a cultural venue and this piano concert is the inaugural event. A slough of media outlets are covering the concert, judging from the vehicles Gale spots as he pulls into the parking lot. He decides it's a blessing that he and Madge are behind schedule and parks behind the building so they can sneak in through a back entrance. The tabloids don't hang around outside his apartment anymore, and he was able to claim that his gun had gone off accidentally so he didn't have to pay for the damage to their transmitter whatsit thing, but they'd probably flip out to see him dressed up and on a date.
Inside, Gale guides Madge to the second floor to their seats: a private balcony. Apparently the balconies were formerly observation areas used by visiting Capitol big wigs to scrutinize their troops. Taking in the secluded, cozy balcony, Gale appreciates the trade he made to upgrade their seats. All he has to do is take the son of one of the Reconstruction Committee members on a few hunting trips, which Gale figures means letting the kid tag along when he takes his own siblings out for their lessons. Even though he's optimistic about the new government, he's not taking any chances; he wants his family equipped to survive off the land.
"Here we are." Gale pushes aside a heavy royal blue felt curtain to reveal their balcony. The view spans the entire auditorium and Madge immediately rushes to the ledge to take it in. Gale sees an old, functional government training facility gussied up with new carpeting, a paint job in muted tones, and the occasional potted plant. But Madge seems enraptured, eagerly absorbing every detail.
He joins her at the ledge. "Spying?"
She turns and smiles. "There are so many famous musicians here tonight, Gale. Culture really is coming back. Isn't it lovely that they're holding this concert in a district? All the best performances used to be exclusively in the Capitol. If we were lucky we could pick them up on radio or TV."
Gale restrains himself from reminding her that in the Seam they wouldn't have even had the electricity to pick up broadcasts—it doesn't matter anymore and he wouldn't have tuned in to a piano concert anyway.
Madge traces the grain pattern in the wood ledge of the balcony. "My mom… used to tell me about a symphony performance in the Capitol she and my dad went to before the Capitol hurt her… She hated the Capitol more than anyone, but she loved that concert and always said she wanted me see one…"
He pulls her into a hug, sensing she's about to get weepy. Her parents are understandably a sensitive subject and probably always will be, even during happy times. He knows the feeling. He holds her until the lights dim, and then they take their seats.
Gale tries to listen to the music. He really does. But all the songs sound the same. He reads the program to try to understand what's so appealing about this music, but it's just a list of song titles and a biography of the piano guy. Being in the balcony also means it's harder to people-watch the other audience members for entertainment. He tries not to fidget too badly and makes a game out of memorizing the song titles to occupy himself. Every once in a while the music gets angry and the piano guy pounds on the keys, but since there's no obvious reason for the rage it just leaves Gale annoyed. He wouldn't mind pounding on some piano keys himself, especially if it would speed up the performance.
More than once Gale has to fold his hands together to refrain from the temptation of touching Madge's dress again. She smells even more intriguing than usual tonight and it's a new kind of torture to sit so close to her without interfering with her enjoyment of this concert. They have these private seats, he could easily start kissing her neck...
He notices Madge leaning forward in her seat, a rapt expression on her face. The music sounds especially swoopy, building to something. It actually is a little exciting, he admits. Then suddenly the music stops and silence reverberates throughout the auditorium. Everybody in the audience, including Madge, seems frozen. The silence stretches for so long Gale wonders if the song is over. But nobody claps, and slowly the piano starts up again, the notes so soft initially that he isn't sure he's hearing them or imagining them. As the song picks up in volume and tempo, he senses Madge relaxing and sinking back into her seat.
Seconds later, she leans over the armchair between them and whispers, "I love you." Her breath tickles his ear and her eyes shine like she's been crying, but she's smiling. Whatever that song just triggered in her, he definitely likes the way she's looking at him. Holding his gaze, she puts a hand on his cheek and kisses him softly. He's been holding back for so long that he can't help from returning the kiss energetically, and before he realizes it his hands have found their way to the silky dress, skimming from her knee to her thigh to her waist. But when Madge shifts to get a better grasp on his neck, he comes to his senses and pulls his hands back and stops kissing her.
He whispers, "I love you, too. So much that I'm going to let you listen to this concert in peace."
Madge looks surprised for a second, but then she laughs and quickly stifles it by covering her mouth with her hand. She reclines into her own chair, smoothes her dress, and then holds out her hand for him to hold. He takes it.
#
When the last song ends—really ends, and isn't an "encore" (Gale hadn't been pleased to learn of the concept)—Gale follows Madge's lead and jumps to his feet to join the clapping and cheering. He absolutely supports the effect the music had on Madge, and joyously celebrates the concert being over.
As they leave their seats, Madge immediately starts rhapsodizing about how amazing the music was. "It's so much better live. Couldn't you feel it? Wolfgang Mercer is the best. We have to see him again during his next tour." She squeezes Gale's hand playfully. "Maybe Simon will go with me if you don't want to."
"Maybe if you wear an ugly, thick wool sweater." Gale pauses to look her up and down. "Not this dress. This one's for me."
A slow smile plays on Madge's lips and she steps closer to him. Out of the corner of his eye Gale spots a flash bulb go off. He doesn't think the camera was pointed in their direction, but he recognizes the telltale neon green and purple logo of one of the tabloids adorning the uniforms of the figures clustered ahead of them in the corridor. Steering Madge into an alcove, he explains that they should wait a few minutes. "Unless you want to go out there and give an interview."
Madge frowns and shakes her head. Gale peers out to see which direction the photographers are moving, but they seem to have the corridor staked out. He and Madge will have to wait until they can backtrack and circle around to the service entrance. Then it will only be a short dash to the jeep, if anyone even sees them—
His thoughts are interrupted by Madge sliding her arms around his torso to unbutton his suit jacket. He freezes, like on a hunt when he doesn't want to disturb an animal; no way is he discouraging Madge right now. Seconds later she gently untucks his dress shirt and he feels her hands, warm and soft, exploring the bare skin of his stomach.
"Do you remember," she murmurs into his back, "at home when we did all that sneaking around together? The cemetery shed, the Justice Building, alleys, my backyard, stairwells…"
"I remember," he says huskily.
"I thought about kissing you then," Madge says. "Even before you did actually kiss me. There was something exciting and forbidden about not just what we were doing, but you—"
He swivels to face her, flooded by the memories of pent-up longing and frustration he used to struggle with when they lived in 12. Everything had been so muddled. He felt like a rebel for plotting against the Capitol with her, but weak for being drawn to her when Katniss was going through so much of her own turmoil. He wanted more of Madge than he could get and had to settle for stolen moments with her, the same way he had to make do with whatever scraps the Capitol left for people like him. Madge looks up at him with her earnest blue eyes and he completely understands why hiding in this little alcove reminds her of their past. It also reminds him that their present and future are so much better—now they do finally have each other and can do whatever they want.
And what he wants to do is kiss her, so he does. Without a concert taking her attention anymore, Madge seems to pour all her energy into him—the way it should be. He pushes her deeper into the alcove against the far wall so he can feel more of her body against his and slides the left strap of her gown off her shoulder. In response, she unknots his tie so quickly he wonders what she knows about ties. He kisses her bare shoulder where the dress strap used to be while slowly inching up the skirt of her dress. By the time his hand reaches her bare leg and he squeezes her thigh, he realizes they're heading for trouble.
"We can't do this here," he mumbles. It would probably be more convincing if he stopped kissing her when he spoke, but even getting the words out was a major feat. Now it's her turn.
Madge screws up her eyes and pushes him incrementally away. He feels every inch of the sudden Madge-lessness and pulls her toward him again. She kisses him for a few seconds before pushing him farther away, her arm extended fully. Holding him at a distance, she attempts to straighten her dress with her free hand. Whatever that silky material is, it sure wrinkles easily. He doesn't even remember messing with her hair, now half-falling out of its knot.
"Let's go home now," she says briskly. Then she looks at him critically. "Gale. Your shirt… And your tie."
He yanks the tie off and shoves it into his pocket. No point fixing it. Then he grabs Madge's hand and peers out of the alcove again. Now they really need to avoid the photographers.
"Home it is."
#
Gale wakes up first. He can tell from the angle of the sun's rays shining into his bedroom that it's later than he usually sleeps, but last night wasn't a usual night. He also isn't used to sleeping on a proper bed. The prospect of Madge staying with him finally motivated him to buy a bed frame for his mattress. Easy enough purchase since he was helping his family get furniture for their new house. They moved in a couple of days ago, which means he has his apartment to himself again. Well, himself and Madge.
She's still sleeping, a relaxed hint of a smile on her face. The little sneak must have gotten out of bed at some point after he drifted off because she put on one of his gray T-shirts. A shaft of sunlight inches along the pillow toward her eyes and will probably wake her up soon, so he takes advantage of the opportunity to watch her. He likes what he sees: a tousled, happy, barely clothed Madge. His stare must be heavy because after only a few seconds her eyes open. A smile immediately stretches across her face and she rolls into him. She fits as perfectly as she always has.
"Morning, Gorgeous," he murmurs.
Madge instantly buries her head in his neck. He hears her muffled voice say, "I'm sure I look scary."
He laughs and pulls her on top of him. "I've never been so scared." He pushes his hands through her hair and kisses her until he feels her relaxing into him again. But it's only temporary; a few seconds later she sits up and glances around the room.
"Gale, what time is it? What if your mom comes over? Didn't you say they were doing some shopping for the new house in town today?"
He did mention that on the phone to Madge earlier this week, though now he heartily regrets it and wishes Madge's memory wasn't as good as it is. He rolls over and lazily reaches for his communicuff to check the time. It's absurdly late for him to still be in bed. Well, under normal circumstances. Having Madge in his bed means it would be absurd to leave. But he did forget his mom said she might stop by and he can tell Madge is getting worked up—and not in a good way. He climbs off the bed and throws on whatever clothes he first encounters on the floor.
"I'll call her and tell her we're busy," he offers. When Madge starts to crawl out of bed too, he clarifies, "Busy means you stay in bed, Madge."
She peers anxiously at him. "I think some photographers got pictures of us last night. Your mom will be suspicious."
"So?" He tugs a T-shirt over his head. It seems clean enough. "The worst thing she would do is harass us about how soon we're having a toasting ceremony." Which she already does anyway. He omits that his mom would also probably give him her other favorite tedious lecture. (Did he know that he was a surprise to his parents? Yes, he's heard approximately 1,000 times how much more lovely a surprise he would have been if they had been just a few years older.) But unlike his parents back then, he and Madge can afford birth control and neither of them needs that lecture.
Madge pauses mid-crawl and looks back at him, blushing. "Toasting?"
Pleased she's not trying to crawl out of bed anymore, Gale rolls his eyes as a reassurance about how annoying his mom can be. "Just ignore her if she says anything to you. She's obsessed." The last thing he wants is for Madge to think he only wants to marry her to get his mom off his back. Madge likes romance and probably wouldn't appreciate a proposal tainted by suspicions of maternal pressure.
He leaves to use the phone in the kitchen, and as he walks down the hallway he hears Madge dart into the bathroom and turn on the shower. With a sigh he opens the front door to retrieve the newspaper. The downside of dating a town girl: this unnatural love of showers.
He decides to make coffee while he waits for Madge. There should be plenty of time to convince her back into bed. Or onto the couch. That had seemed like a possibility last night. He wanders over to her rumpled green dress on the floor next to the couch and paws through the fabric until he finds the key necklace. Madge stole it from him the last time she stayed at his house. She gave it an upgrade, ditching the worn leather cord he'd fashioned in favor of a thin silver chain that matched the earrings she wore to the concert. He'd removed the necklace last night along with everything else she'd been wearing, but now he picks it up and studies it. The jeweler in town could probably easily convert it into a ring. He slips it into his pocket.
Then he calls his family's new phone number. "I'm busy today," he announces when his mom answers. "Don't come over."
"I figured you had plans, dear. We're staying in the village today anyway. Vick found a beehive on the roof. Hans has a ladder and is going to help us get rid of it this afternoon."
"I'll get rid of the hive," Gale says. "That neighbor is a… vulture."
"Actually, he's a perfectly friendly, pleasant man. And we aren't carcasses so I don't know where this vulture comparison is coming from."
"He's been hovering around you ever since you moved in—"
"We'd love to see you and Madge this weekend when you're free," his mother interrupts brightly. "Posy wants to show off the color we painted her bedroom. And we'd like to have Madge's aunt and uncle and their… animal… over, too, as a thank you for all their hospitality. Let us know what works best for you and Madge. By the way, there's a picture of the two of you on page 6 of today's paper. It looks like you had a nice time last night at the concert."
Gale says good-bye to his mother and flips to page 6. Sure enough in the "People!" section—which he normally avoids at all costs—there's a shot of him leaning over in his seat in the private balcony and whispering to Madge. Her face is blocked in the shot, taken from quite a distance, and she just looks like an anonymous blonde in a slinky green dress clutching the lapel of his suit. Their body postures don't leave much to the imagination about what's on their minds. He skims the accompanying "article" which speculates on the young lady's name, including Madge as one possibility. It also theorizes that he and Madge had a falling out due to his volatile personality and that he's now seeking solace in other blondes. Typical tabloid crap.
He's still looking at the photograph when the phone rings again. Assuming it's his mom calling back because she forgot to hassle him about a toasting ceremony, he picks up without screening. Too late he glances at the display and sees that it's a District 12 number.
Then he hears a voice he knows better than nearly anything. "Gale?"
"…Katniss?"
"Hi." She doesn't say anything else for a few seconds and Gale checks the phone to be sure it didn't disconnect.
"Are you still there?" he asks.
"Is Madge all right?" Katniss blurts. "I don't have her phone number and you said you would help her. I've been worried. We all have. Peeta and Haymitch, too."
"She's fine," he says quickly. "She's not in trouble anymore." When Katniss's silence stretches to the uncomfortable point, he adds, "She was investigating some criminals and busted them… All those raids and arrests this past week? It's been in the news…"
"We don't watch the news," Katniss mumbles.
Another awkward pause balloons. Gale feels bad that he didn't think to call Katniss and Peeta to tell them the tabloid storm had blown over. Everything was so hectic with the raids, the arrests, the bombing, the reorganizations at work, his family moving into their house… He clears his throat. "How're you doing?"
He can practically hear her shrug through the phone. "Okay."
"Peeta?"
"He's good." Her voice sounds noticeably warmer, which triggers Gale's apparently not quite dormant instincts to kick Peeta's face in.
"Really? No more hallucinations or fits?"
"He's good," Katniss says sharply. The rebuke in her tone is actually encouraging. It hints at the old Katniss, who cared about things. But her answer also cut off that line of conversation, leaving Gale to bring up what he knows he needs to say but without any good way to say it…
"Katniss," he starts, still searching for the right words. Then suddenly it all rushes out. "I wish I could say something that would make a difference. You were right that that bomb crossed a line. I wish I could go back and stop myself—"
"I know, Gale. You don't need to say anything." She sounds tired, like even a few minutes of him is too much. She also sounds unwilling to delve into this topic, including any hint that she's considering forgiving him for his possible role. He swallows any protest and accepts the blame and pain. This is apparently how things are now: she understands his regret and that he wouldn't have purposefully hurt her sister, but it doesn't change that she associates him with losing Prim.
"Are you… staying in District 2?" she asks after another stretch of tense quiet.
"For now. I can't make up for what I did in the war, but I can try to keep it from happening again." On behalf of people like Katniss who don't have anything left to give, thanks to the Capitol and then the rebels using her up. He can spare her that. He still has it in him to keep fighting in this new way. Or maybe it's the fighting that helps him keep going.
"How about your family?" Katniss asks. "I haven't seen them here in 12."
"They're staying here, too. They just got a house."
Katniss doesn't respond, and he doesn't know how to interpret her silence. As an accusation that he still has his family? He knows her mom didn't go back to 12. Does she wish his family moved back? Does she feel like they abandoned her, that Gale took away her real family and her fake family? After a few more moments, Katniss finally says, "Good," which doesn't do much to clarify what she thinks. Then she adds, "They're building in town again. And the fence is gone."
"Like we wanted," Gale says quietly, and then immediately regrets the comment in case Katniss takes it as him being glad about the war's result. Which he is, in most respects—losing wasn't an option—but obviously not everything about the war's outcome was good. Like what happened to Prim… He winces. Talking to Katniss feels like trying to avoid stepping on a landmine, which in turn makes him thinks of bombs and bodies and how many people that terrible fence trapped before they got it down on the night 12 was destroyed…
He tries to pull himself out of the swirl of bad memories. "I'll have to come see the district for myself," he says. No response from Katniss, triggering more worrying that he set off another landmine. Katniss doesn't want to see him, he reminds himself. "Sometime," he adds vaguely. Like fifty years from now.
"Sometime," she echoes unenthusiastically.
Fifty years it is.
"I need to go," she finally says. She sounds even more fatigued than before.
"Take care," he says softly.
A few seconds later he hears the dial tone.
He sets the phone down and swallows anxiously. The familiar, overwhelming sensation of dread starts to wash over him and he focuses on taking one breath in and one breath out like that (stupid) therapist had suggested. He could go for a climb—that always clears his head. And wears him out, and makes him forget about anything other than the handholds and the hard, unforgiving rocks scraping his skin and bruising his muscles…
A blonde head pokes out from the hallway. Madge's hair is damp from the shower and she slipped on shorts, but she's still wearing his T-shirt. She looks worried and glances at the phone uneasily. He realizes she must have listened to the conversation, or at least part of it. He can't remember when the shower water turned off. Plus, she's a professional spy (although, in fairness his apartment is small enough that she would have had to go out of her way to avoid overhearing).
"That was Katniss?" she asks nervously. When he nods, she immediately inquires if he's all right.
"She was worried about you," he explains. "When the scandal first broke, I called to warn them not to talk to the press, and they don't have TVs so they didn't know you were all right now. She doesn't have your number… You should call her."
Madge walks into the room and leans against the opposite side of the kitchen island, irritatingly out of reach. She swallows and picks up a fork, which she spins nervously in her hands. Without looking at him, she asks, "Did you tell her we were together?"
He realizes he didn't. "No. It didn't even occur to me." He hadn't thought about why not, but now that Madge is asking him he wonders if he was unconsciously avoiding telling Katniss about something good in his life, like he wants to assure her that he's miserable and suffering… But then he notices Madge frowning and adds, "It doesn't concern her."
"I think she'd want to know," Madge says uncomfortably, which Gale reluctantly agrees with. It also makes him wonder which of them should tell her. With a pang, he realizes he probably doesn't even qualify as Katniss's friend anymore, let alone the closer friend who should be responsible for telling her. It feels backwards to know that Madge is on better terms with Katniss now than he is.
"You want to visit her?" Madge prompts.
He nods. "At some point. I'm part of why she fell apart. I need to know that she'll be all right. Peeta's helping her get better, but he's got his own problems, and Haymitch is a fucking alcoholic." Thank goodness for Greasy Sae.
Madge keeps staring at the fork as she twirls it. "Do you think… Is there a chance… Do you still love her?" Her voice trails into almost nothing. "Is that why you didn't want to talk to me about a toasting?"
Her question hits him like a slap and he's too stunned to respond right away. Then he stands up and walks around the kitchen island to Madge, putting his hands on her shoulders so she'll look at him instead of the damn fork. Worried blue eyes meet his.
"I love you." Didn't he tell her several times last night? Maybe she needs even more assurance. "I've loved you ever since we were in 12 together."
Madge stares back at him, and he can see the tears filling her eyes anyway. "But you loved Katniss for so long, Gale, including that whole time you loved me when we were in 12. I know I can't compare with her. Maybe you guys will patch things up, and realize later—"
"No." Gale doesn't even want to entertain this ridiculous line of thought. He glares at Madge, angry though mostly at himself for not having explained this to her before now. "I did love her. Yes, at the same time I started to love you. She didn't feel the same way about me, but you did, and then you died, Madge." His voice catches as he remembers again how overwhelmingly desolate that time was. He swallows and tries to speak more calmly, but he's still agitated. "And then Katniss and I were suddenly in 13, where Katniss was so different half the time I couldn't figure out where the girl I knew had gone. I lost her. And then I lost myself. I'm the one who should have died in the war, not Prim." He slumps into the stool next to Madge, feeling defeated. "I didn't deserve to survive. But I did, and I got all this—" he gestures to the apartment —"and you, too."
It's too much. But he knows that's the wrong way to think about it and can see Madge watching him cautiously. It seems so absurd that she could possibly doubt her importance to him but he can't think of the best way to explain to her the huge upwelling of joy he feels whenever he sees her, or whenever she smiles at him or kisses him. Or every single second of the night they just spent together.
He tries, though, and sits up straighter on the stool. "Katniss doesn't want me and I don't want her that way anymore either. I don't want her to suffer, I want her to get better, I care about her in that sense…" He grits his teeth, frustrated that he has to fight for the right words. "Madge, I love you more than I loved her because you love me back and—it's just different."
Shockingly, a small smile appears on Madge's face. "I used to love you when you didn't love me back."
He narrows his eyes at her. Why does she need to bring that up? He's aware that she developed feelings for him before he returned them. He isn't sure precisely when she started to matter so much, but he does remember consciously trying not to encourage her.
Madge puts her hand on his chest and looks intently at him. "What I mean is: I get it, Gale. What you're trying to say. I loved you, but when you started actually liking me back it was like whatever I felt before that was pale and spindly in comparison. Like a little plant that never got any sunlight. And now… I know you love me. And it's more somehow."
He stands up and kisses her instead of fumbling for words. This is a better way to show her how much he loves her anyway. And even though he wants to steer her backward over to the couch, he stops kissing her to see if she understands what he's trying to convey. One glimpse of her eyes confirms she does.
"Happy crying," she assures him as he wipes her tears away with his thumbs.
He kisses her forehead and holds her for a few minutes, soaking in the hopefulness that's slowly starting to feel as right as Madge tucked against his body. The emotion and the person are intertwined, and that's how it's always been. When they first started plotting together in District 12, he hadn't even realized how closely he associated his feelings for her with the sense, however slight, of empowerment that came with fighting back instead of just accepting what the Capitol kept dishing out. Fighting back and Madge went together, and he needed both.
Releasing her enough for eye contact, he adds, "And we can talk about a toasting anytime. I just don't want my mom bugging us so often—it's our decision, not hers."
Madge searches his eyes and then smiles. "You're right." She seems calm, and content to know the topic is open but not something they need to talk about it this very second. Which means he can't resist...
He pulls away from her and turns toward the kitchen island, where he nudges his toaster forward with a sly smile. "Ready for breakfast?"
Madge's eyes widen and she takes a nervous step backward. "Gale… I'd want my aunt and uncle, and Simon, to be with us… And your family… And a real fire, not a toaster..."
He winks at her. "I know. I want all that, too." He pushes the toaster back behind the coffee maker and pours them each a cup. "Besides, I bet you already know how to make toast. We need something more advanced for you to try for breakfast this morning." Madge tilts her head and squints at him, clearly confused, so he explains, "I'm giving you a cooking lesson."
Eyeing the refrigerator and stove suspiciously, Madge sighs like he just told her she has detention. Then her eyes shift back to the counter and land on the newspaper, still open to the photo of them canoodling at the concert. She pulls it closer and her mouth falls open in surprise. "They did get a picture of us!"
"Yeah. And it turns out my mom saw this and wasn't planning on coming over anyway, so you didn't need to worry." Madge looks up at him with a pained expression, not comforted. He raises his eyebrows. "Be grateful they didn't catch us after the concert when you were seducing me—"
"I wasn't seducing you!"
He grins. It is way too easy to rile her up. "Guess I have something to look forward to, then, if that didn't count."
Madge looks huffy, like she isn't quite sure what to say or how much he's messing with her. He's going to have fun loosening her up. But in the meantime he takes mercy on her by changing the subject. "My mom invited us over to see the house. And she invited Dusty and Perri and Zipper."
He's pleased to see Madge's face brighten. "Perfect. I want to see everyone. Today?"
"I was thinking tomorrow. We've got your cooking lesson right now." Madge wrinkles her nose in distaste, even though she hasn't burned anything yet. "Then, we're going on a hike in the mountains." He extracts a folder from the clutter on the kitchen island and pushes a map toward her. "This is the official version."
She looks up at him in bewilderment. "You really, officially named that mountain after me?"
He smiles that the officialness of the mountain's name is what gets her. She's such a mayor's daughter. "Milo okayed it, since it didn't have a name before," he explains. He's anxious for her to see the mountain, and the land around it. With the value equation, between his work in the mines and war service, he should have enough for a bid and obviously he needs her to approve. It will be a good investment, even if they decide to move back to District 12 later.
She hugs him again. "You know it would be the tabloid scoop of the year if I told them how sweet you really are?"
He laughs. There's hope for her. Madge loops her arms around his neck and starts playing with his hair, a tickling, soothing sensation. He sees a certain glimmer in her eyes that reminds him of how she looked when they were hiding in the alcove last night.
"I think," he says as he kisses her, "you're trying to get out of your cooking lesson."
"I wouldn't do that," she protests in an exaggeratedly innocent voice. "Although apparently I do have to prove that I can seduce you," she adds nonchalantly.
There's definitely hope for her. And for him. And maybe for their new country, too.
THE END
A/N 2: Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has been reading this story and reviewing and supporting me. It means so much, and I'm still shocked that people enjoy something I've written. Extra special thanks to Medea Smyke and Miss Scarlett 05 for their writing critiques, friendship, good humor, and encouragement whenever I wanted to quit. I had originally aimed to finish this by December 2011 – obviously that didn't happen! – but the story turned out to be more complicated and took more effort to wrap up than I'd anticipated. Add to that my shrinking free time due to stressful RL issues, and this story lingered much longer than I'd intended. I know readers cycle in and out of fanfiction and it's hard to keep up with a story that's dragged on for this long, so for those of you who've stuck with me I REALLY appreciate your loyalty and support.
I think there are enough hints of further resolution here that I didn't need to write more, though when ending a story this long it's a tough call about what to include/omit, especially in the fanfic realm because part of why we read fanfic is for the "extra" moments. I did start an epilogue where Gale and Madge visit Katniss and Peeta in District 12, but decided not to tack it on here. I'm burned out on writing at this point but if I finish it, it will be a separate, stand-alone story because 1) I can't bear to add to OWG's word count, and 2) it introduces new storylines and conflicts (most notably, Katniss's reaction to Gale/Madge) that didn't fit into this story. OWG focused on Gale and Madge finding each other and learning to live in the post-war world, not on Katniss. I also have a few other Gadge stories and ideas that I've been holding off on finishing/developing so I could focus on completing OWG. And now unfortunately I'm so burned out I think I need some time off from writing. :( But if anyone is interested in the epilogue/follow-up story, please let me know. I also put a poll on my profile about some of the other ideas to gauge interest levels in case that helps motivate me to write again.
One last thing: I'm very interested in feedback and constructive criticism of this story. I started writing it out of love for the Gale and Madge characters, but I finished writing it (where the real effort turned out to be) to prove to myself that I could complete a long, complicated story like this one. In other words, it was partly an exercise in learning to write, and an aspect of that learning process is thinking about what I should do differently next time. I have my own criticisms of this story, but I'd still appreciate other perspectives on what I could do differently or better. Or what worked best. People read fanfiction for different reasons – I know there's a contingent who want lots of Gadge together (which hopefully this chapter satisfied!) but other readers don't go for as much romance… That's all useful to hear.
OK, I've rambled long enough, both in this story and in this author's note. Thanks again for reading, everyone. Please review!