CHAPTER 12: District Pride

*** Author's note: From V: Some of you may be wondering why I am reposting this/why you are receiving it as an update. It is because, upon a careful rereading of Mockingjay, I remembered that Portia was executed on Live TV… so, seeing as I feel like we are pushing it by miraculously keeping Madge from having died, I am not going to magically resurrect someone as a plot device… And if I did, no offense to Portia, it would be Cinna or Finnick. On that note, only the ending to this chapter has changed. Please re-read in order for Chapter 14: A Big Day to make sense.

From Super Nova: Peeta's brothers are, as he is, named for bread. Where we live, a flat, Scandinavian potato bread called lefse is very popular- thus Leffsa. Ciab is a shortening of Ciabatta bread.

Gale crept through the woods, his careful footsteps making barely a sound as he approached the fence outside of District 12. As he reached the edge of the treeline, he recognized the spot in the fence where he and Katniss always snuck underneath it. He approached warily, but he needn't have worried. From the silence, he could tell that the power in the fence was off. This was the normal state of things in his home District. This made sense.

How confusing then, when he found himself moving his hand toward it, just to be sure, though he wasn't sure why. He started a bit when he touched the fence and nothing happened.

After a moment of watching his own fingers flex around the links of the fence, he shook himself free of whatever was keeping him entranced and made his way under the fence as gracefully as he could. The town seemed oddly quiet. There was no one around that he could see, and no smoke rose from any chimneys, even though a brisk breeze gave him a chill.

He blew into his hands and rubbed his arms, then moved swiftly to his house, where he thought he would see his mother and younger siblings. Perhaps his mother would have some idea as to why the town seemed to be abandoned.

When he pushed open the door, no one was inside... in fact... nothing was inside at all. The furniture was all gone, along with their personal belongings. He looked around, baffled.

He moved to one of the walls to examine a spot where the paint seemed to be peeling, unsure how a flake of paint could tell him where his family had gone, but determined to start looking somewhere. He touched the wall with his hand, and suddenly, the paint on the walls instantly transformed into ash and began to flake and fall all around him. It stung his eyes and got in his mouth, choking him. He tried to stay calm, though his instinct was to panic, and began to look for a way out, but the door seemed to have disappeared.

As though the innards of his home turning to ash weren't disconcerting enough, suddenly, somewhere far away a single shot rang out. Then, slowly, the distant sounds of gunfire and explosions replaced the silence, muffled as they were through the flaking walls.

Gale began to claw at himself in panic. The ash coated him, caking on his clothes, his skin, and in his nose and throat. It was becoming harder to breathe. When brushing the ash off did nothing to alleviate his situation, he ran over the window, fingers fumbling to get it open, but it wouldn't budge. He even tried to break the glass, but only succeeded in hurting his hand. Through the warped and dirty window, he caught sight of Katniss as she ran into his yard, looking the way she looked in the Hunger Games - wild and deadly. Her bow was at the ready, and he realized that she looked as in danger as she did dangerous.

She had stopped to look at his house, but she didn't seem to see him.

He tried to call out to her, to scream, but ash filled his mouth and no sound came out. As he watched her, helpless, a silver parachute soared across his view and into her hands.

Suddenly, cold sweat broke out all over Gale's body, and he managed to choke out a single, quiet syllable through his mouthful of burning ash, "No."

He tried again to scream for her to drop the parachute and run, but it was no use. The parachute exploded in Katniss's hands and she transformed into a pillar of brilliant flames as blue as the eyes of the boy who managed to stay close to Katniss, destructive as she was, by ensuring that she was the only thing he had to lose - Peeta Mellark.

As he watched her burn, a strange calm settled over him - certainly not because he took any pleasure in watching her burn; he didn't - but because almost immediately after she became the embodiment of her Capitol nickname, "the Girl on Fire," a misty, soft rain began to fall. Slowly, the fire died, leaving in its wake not a charred Katniss, but a clean and beautiful Madge, holding their daughter Maysilee.

He still could not find his voice, and the ash was burning his skin, but regardless, the sight of his fiance and his daughter relaxed him, as if their presence somehow meant that everything would be alright. He reached his hand out toward his daughter, and softly, it met the pane of glass that divided them. Maysilee reached out her tiny hands towards him.

Gale's eyes fluttered open.

He was not in District 12. He was not in the woods or in his old house that he shared with his mother and siblings. He was in his own bed, in his house, in his new home, District 2.

Sometimes he woke from his dreams screaming, or confused to the point of disorientation, but this morning, he simply felt... out of sorts. He wasn't sweating, or thrashing, or scared... just... what was it that Madge's friend Caridee said sometimes? Perhaps this was what it felt like to "wake up on the wrong side of the bed."

He concentrated hard, studying the texture of the white ceiling, and feeling the cool, soft sheets resting on his body, trying to will himself into the present. Each time he blinked, however, lingering images from his dream swam before his eyes.

A soft noise from his left side was all it took to bring him up to speed rather quickly though, to wash the images from his mind and fill it with new ones. A million synapses firing in his brain all at once, connecting a million dots to tell him that moan came from his fiance, the mother of his child, Madge.

So smoothly and naturally that it almost seemed involuntary, he rolled towards her, his hand finding the curve of her waist, resting there only briefly, and then moving on to find her graceful hands. He interlaced his fingers with hers, and used their joined hands to pull her into him, his hips meeting hers, her shoulders finding their crook in his chest, and her long legs tangling with his. She stirred a bit, and tucked her head near his, cooing a soft, "good morning" before continuing to doze.

The first time he had held her, he had been amazed at how their bodies seemed to fit together perfectly, like the essential components of a delicate snare. There were still days when this was amazing to him. A Merchant girl and a Seam boy, though now, he supposed they were considered a man and woman, who seemed truly, to be made for each other, even after all this time.

His mind drifted absently as he took a deep inhale of the scent of wildflowers from Madge's blonde hair. He thought of the few times he had held Katniss, always feeling like he was trapping, rather than holding her, wrestling the parts that didn't fit into the places that they should, with a result that just didn't quite feel comfortable. With Madge it was so different, so natural.

He stroked Madge's face softly with his free hand, and pulled the mess of hair from her face. He tucked it carefully behind her neck and smiled as he caught sight of one of his favorite spots on Madge's whole body. Just behind her ear, the small patch of skin before her hair began was so soft, and somehow, it seemed to be the place on her body where all the wildflower scent emanated from.

The spot was so delicate and perfect - just like Madge. It also would remind him every day of something that most people probably never knew to start with.

He had been relieved when, despite living in District 2 in the lap of luxury, at least in comparison with how they lived in 12, Madge had not subjected herself to any body alteration or extravagant lifestyle upgrades. District 2 was not nearly as despicable as the Capitol in terms of these things, but the temptation was certainly there, especially with all of the money that Gale's new job, and his stipend for his role the Rebellion from 13 had afforded them.

Granted, he had used a large sum of it to get Madge and his family - his mother and the kids that is - settled and living in District 2, but it was more money than he would have seen in an entire lifetime of living in District 12.

The only modification Madge had allowed herself to indulge in was a tiny tattoo, smack dab in the middle of Gale's secret spot behind her ear. It might have upset him, except that the tattoo read "12." He would never forget the day that she got it - only a few months ago.

He, Madge, and Maysilee had been in one of marketplaces in District 2, shopping for a few things. District 2 had sprawling indoor warehouses and streets of upscale shops where you could shop, but Gale and Madge's favorite market was the street of vendors that sold from little kiosks, or even the backs of carts or trucks. It felt much more like shopping in the Square in District 12, or even a little like the Hob. Sometimes, these street vendors would haggle with you, trade, and they were certainly friendlier than the alternatives.

On this particular trip, they made a special stop at a new coffee vendor to buy some beans. Gale knew very little about the coffee bean selection process. He had never even tasted coffee until the night of the Feast at Madge's house during Katniss's first Games. He had forced himself to develop a taste for it, because Madge loved it and because tea - his usual hot drink of choice - reminded him so much and so painfully of Katniss.

It was their drink, the one they clutched for warmth in tiny metal cups in the frozen wilderness outside of 12 in the late fall and winter and even early spring - mint or nettle or even a good green tea when they could afford it. He couldn't even smell tea without thinking of her... of Katniss Everdeen.

At this coffee vendor, as Madge was sampling a few different roasts to pick out which one to purchase, Maysilee caught sight of a tray of fresh baked cookies that were being sold along with the coffee. There were a few different kinds, hearty looking oatmeal cookies with dried fruits baked into them, dark molasses cookies with white icing, and even lavishly decorated cookies with colorful frosting. Maysilee, who was nearly as serious about all matters as he was, had marched up to her father, and asked him, "Daddy, may I please have a cookie?" He had said no.

He could remember, as a child, standing outside of the Mellark Bakery, staring in the windows at the beautifully frosted cakes and cookies, smelling the freshly baked breads - which was as close as he ever got to tasting them until after he could hunt, and trade. He wondered with a pang of envy if Peeta Mellark and his older brothers were already being allowed to frost the indulgent desserts - getting to eat broken bits of cookie, or lick extra frosting off of spoons. Not getting to indulge in such luxuries had taught him more than simply being given cookies when he wanted them ever would.

He wouldn't raise his daughter like the Mellarks, or any other Merchant's children for that matter. At least that was what he told Madge when later, she drilled him about why he hadn't let their daughter have one of the cookies. Though Maysilee had accepted her father's answer without protest, she had asked her mother later, "Why not?"

Madge was furious.

"You don't want her to end up like a Merchant's kid, what, like me?"

"No, you're not... you're different."

"Then, Peeta," she was fuming, "What's wrong with how he turned out?"

It became clear that they would not see eye to eye on this, so Gale collected his thoughts, and finally was able to put his argument into a phrase that made sense - a phrase that he was proud of, since words were not his strong point.

"I just- don't want to forget where I'm from."

As proud as he was of his ability to turn a phrase for once in his life, Madge could turn hers even better.

"Where we're from."

With that, she turned on her heel and stomped out the door. Gale spent the evening worrying that he had chased her away forever, realizing that he may have some issues about Madge leaving that stemmed from the way they had left things before the Quarter Quell. He eventually lay down in their bed and waited, and late into the night, she finally returned.

They kissed their apologies and went to sleep.

The next morning, when he rolled over to awaken her with a kiss to her secret spot, he saw it. The tattoo declaring that Madge Undersee had enough District pride for their home, District 12, that she wanted it permanently displayed on her skin. This spot however, few had ever seen. Even when Madge's hair was up, usually some of it concealed this spot, as if it existed just for him - for them, so that they would never forget where it was they came from, but also, where it was their daughter came from, and where she didn't.

Maysilee was born in District 2. She would never know District 12 the way that Gale and Madge did, and when Gale thought of the starving, dirty children in 12, he realized that may be for the better.

He leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on the tattoo. This was a morning ritual of sorts, and it meant that it was time to wake up. Gale was always up before Madge. Years of waking up early to hunt, then to mine, and then his strict schedule in District 13 ensured that he was up by 7 a.m. everyday, even on days when he and Madge had nothing going on, like today.

Madge, however, loved to sleep in, and spend time in bed.

When she and Maysilee first moved in, he had gone with her to pick out a new bed. His was too small to share with her on a permanent basis, and it quickly became obvious that sleeping separately was just not going to happen. He and Madge spent hours in a giant furniture store in District 2 trying out mattresses and bed frames in different combinations before she had picked out one, and satisfied, declared that it was theirs. It was the first thing that they ever bought together.

The day after they brought it home, he and Madge had spent literally most of their day in bed, sleeping, having sex, lazing about, touching each other, talking. It had been a wonderful day, but the day after that, Gale spent in frenzy of activity, because he felt so antsy from the day before.

In response to his kiss, Madge rolled over in his arms and nuzzled her lips up to his neck.

"5 more minutes."

"You can sleep all day if you want," he teased her. "I'm getting up."

"Nope," she smiled, and wrapped her arms around him in a way that made it difficult for him to move. "Now I've got you trapped."

"Oh really?" he broke free of her embrace and rolled on top of her, meeting her protests with kisses until the idea of getting up really didn't seem so appealing after all. He began to ache for her, and he pressed his body against hers. Her giggles changed tone, to soft moans, and he slid a hand up her thigh, finding her already wet for him.

"What are you guys doing?" a small voice interrupted them, and Gale leapt off of Madge, whipping around to see his daughter standing in the doorway to their bedroom. She was rubbing sleep from her eyes, nightgown drooping off one shoulder, dark hair messy around her impossibly tiny neck. Gale found his mouth rather dry when he tried to form words of explanation to his daughter.

"Daddy was just tickling me," Madge recovered so quickly. She was so much better at speaking in a way that Maysilee could understand. Gale found himself tongue-tied when talking to Maysilee, or just plain saying completely the wrong thing. Once, in the District 2 Marketplace, Maysilee asked about a pregnant woman,

"What's in her tummy?"

Madge had picked Maysilee up, and in an incredibly whimsical voice, as if telling Maysilee about some fantastical magic trick, told her that the woman was going to have a baby. Maysilee asked how the baby got there, and Gale answered her, "Sex."

He would never forget the look on Madge's face, first shock, and then disapproval darkened her soft features. Gale had thought it was funny, Madge treating his statement of truth like a dirty word, until later when Maysilee asked a shopkeeper what sex was. Then he began to understand why Madge was so angry about his comment.

However, in this case, Maysilee seemed to accept Madge's tickling explanation with no further comment. She simply cocked her tiny head, over-large grey eyes finding her target - him, her father. She wound up a bit, then dashed forward and launched herself onto Madge and Gale's giant bed.

Gale helped haul her up onto the bed when she missed her mark a bit, and held her tight to his chest. There were still days when the dangers of the world seemed imminent, and holding Maysilee gave him a panic attack, almost as much as letting her go did. He, like Madge, felt so helpless to protect her from everything, seen and unseen - and this was without ever having to face the reaping. He marveled for a moment at his own mother's strength at facing this not just once, but 7 times, and with his name being in so many times. It might have been enough to drive him completely insane.

Maysilee pulled away from her father's protective embrace.

"What's for breakfast, mommy?"

Madge, who had risen to a sitting position, met Gale's eyes with a playful, warm smile. "Well," she began, "I was hoping I could convince your father here to make some of his famous oatmeal pancakes."

Maysilee's eyes lit up in a way that ensured that Gale would be making pancakes for breakfast, because they just looked too hopeful to refuse.

"Why don't you go into the kitchen and we'll be right behind you?" Madge offered to Maysilee. Maysilee, enjoying Madge's phrasing, like there may be something she could do to help in the breakfast making process, scampered off to the kitchen and began banging around looking for, Gale wasn't sure what - mixing bowls or something. She was a smart girl. She wouldn't be pulling out one hundred and one things that he didn't need. Still, it wasn't a great idea to leave her unsupervised for too long.

As Gale moved to get out of bed, Madge caught his hand, and his eye. He thought perhaps that she wanted a bit more "tickling," but as he took a closer look at her face, he could tell that something was wrong. She looked a little pale, and her eyebrows were poised in a concerned frown.

"You were dreaming."

"Yes."

"You... you called out for Katniss."

Gale could say nothing. So he had. He tried to form words of apology, but none came. He wasn't sure how to explain himself to Madge without making things sound worse. Maybe if he just acknowledged it and moved on, she would assume that he had nothing to hide.

"Yes. She was... in my dream," He hated this, feeling so inarticulate, so inadequate to voice the way that thinking about Katniss made him feel. Not longing, not love certainly, but panic. Fear. Resentment - No, nothing positive to be felt about Katniss Everdeen. Not anymore.

He thought about this after breakfast, as he leaned on the railing of the porch. A soft rain had begun to fall, and the sound of it calmed Gale, cooling some of the morning heatedness between him and Madge. Needless to say, admitting to dreaming about Katniss hadn't alleviated Madge's concern, nor had making an amazing breakfast for her and Maysilee. Though Maysilee had been thrilled - hot chocolate, juice, pancakes, and berries with real maple syrup.

Gale took a sip of his coffee and sighed. Madge had told him once that building a life together was different than just staying alive. By "different" he was pretty sure she mean harder. He let his mind wander, and was surprised to find himself wondering how Katniss and Peeta were faring in 12.

Had they seen Madge and him on television the other night? Did they do mundane things like watch television or were they too busy trying to rebuild Peeta's memories from the ground up? Had Katniss remained in the catatonic state that she had sunken into after President Coin's assassination in the Captiol? He couldn't stand it. Why couldn't he get Katniss off his mind, and why did the thought of her leave him feeling so agitated and bitter?

He was interrupted in his brooding by Madge, placing a hand on his shoulder. He spun around, startled. He really must be out of it if he hadn't heard her footsteps approaching - the boards on their porch were creaky and old. He tried to mask his inner turmoil with a calm face, but he could tell he was failing, because Madge didn't look angry, or apologetic. She looked concerned.

She clutched her sweater tightly around her shoulders, commenting weakly that Maysilee was inside coloring, and Gale realized that it must be chilly on the porch. He was still shirtless, wearing only pajama bottoms, but he tended to run a bit hot, and Madge a bit cold, so he opened his arms to her. It would feel good to hold her right now.

Madge however, shook her head slightly. Was she rejecting him? He tilted his head, trying not to let hurt show on his face, when he noticed that she was pointing to their porch swing, which was just a little more removed, and a little more comfortable for a long embrace.

Gale smiled, shaking the doubt from his mind, and sat down on the swing, scooting back against one of the armrests so that Madge could settle in front of him, and lean back on his chest. She began to try to apologize, but he shushed her. Enough had been said for a while. She had come out here to be with him, she was not abandoning him, and so no apologies were needed.

She was dressed in her nightgown and a sweater, no bra, and no panties. He knew this because he had watched her dress, and so when he slipped his arms around her, one crawling up her nightdress to cup one of her breasts and the other finding its resting place between her legs, she gave a small gasp, which he stifled with a kiss.

He massaged her nipples and used his fingers to stroke her, inside and out until she was wet and gasping. He loved to explore her, smell her, taste her. He loved everything about her, truly. He loved her. As he used his fingers to coax from her the most intimate and delicious sounds, she began to move her hips just slightly against him, and he know that she was close to climaxing.

He rubbed her clitoris up and down with his thumb, steadily increasing pace and pressure until she arched and swelled against him, and finally let out a small, pleasured cry. He could feel her muscles tensing, trying to pull him into her, and so he thrust his fingers inside her, holding them there until he could feel her heartbeat slow from where his fingers were inside her. Her body relaxed, and he held her there in silence for a long time.

The rain stopped, and only the occasional drips and drops from rooftops and treetops interrupted their intimate and complete silence. Gale swallowed hard, jaw tensing as he fought the urge to stay silent, to avoid saying the words he said everyday to their daughter, but never to Madge. On the one hand, he assumed she knew, but on the other, it was never safe to assume anything. The last time he had said these words to a girl, it had ended in bitter disappointment, but Madge was not that girl. She was different - which, as in the case of building a life versus surviving, was synonymous with "harder" was also synonymous with "better."

"I love you."

Madge's body tensed, and for just a moment, she was quiet. Then she responded, in a voice quivering with tears, "I love you too, Gale."

This moment would have been perfect, as perfect as the first time he held Maysilee in his arms, if it weren't for the interruption of a car door slamming shut in shocking proximity. There was a car in their driveway? How long had it been there?

Madge and Gale rose in surprise and moved to the other end of the porch to see who had arrived to silently, and so unexpectedly. The couple walking up their driveway was enough to stop both of them in their tracks. The juxtaposition, as well as the implications were staggering - Johanna Mason was marching up their driveway, alongside Annie Odair, whose step was inevitably a bit less deliberate, but still strong. On her hip was perched her son, whom Gale had never met, but he knew to be named "Fin" for his father.

Johanna looked better than the last time that Gale had seen her, still stick thin and shaved in the Capitol, dealing with the fallout of her breakdown before the end of the war. This of course, had been a few years ago. Some of her strength had returned to her, made plain by the muscles that adorned her lean frame, and some of the insanity had left her wide set brown eyes - or at least quieted. She wore long dark pants and a flattering black top. She looked... good, healthy. Something else... something truly different from the way she was in 13, and even before that, during the Quarter Quell.

Annie, on the other hand, looked as fragile as ever, except, Gale realized, in her eyes. Her sea green eyes had some lucidity to them. She looked aware, present, and serious. Her long dark hair floated around her head in the breeze, and spilled over her bony shoulders. She was dressed in a flowing summer dress, and took meandering steps down their driveway towards the house.

Johanna wrapped an arm around Annie's back to steady her, catching her elbow with ease, without casting even a glance in her direction. Both women seemed to be completely focused on Gale and Madge. Johanna and Annie, in fact, looked so beautiful, so powerful, and so unforgiving, that Gale couldn't even imagine what it was they wanted from his family, or why they were here. All he knew for certain, as he wrapped an arm protectively around Madge, was that it couldn't be good.