Banner by the magically talented akai-echo.

Day 18: A Gadge Drabble, with references to Everlark

Also written for the 12 Days of Gadge Challenge

Rated: T

Strawberry Sunday

"Pretty dress," he says when Madge opens the door. Katniss fidgets next to him. He's angry and even as he stews, he knows his anger is misdirected. Katniss doesn't approve - he can tell by the way she bristles at his side. But he doesn't care. Reaping Day puts him in such a bad way that he literally stops thinking. He's pissed and somebody has to pay.

"Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?" Madge answers sweetly, and he can't tell if she's being sincere or sarcastic.

"You won't be going to the Capitol," he retorts coolly. His eyes flicker towards the small circular pin with a bird holding an arrow. It's beautiful. And expensive. He narrows his eyes, grey glaring at blue.

"What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old.'

"That's not her fault," Katniss interjects.

"No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is," he answers.

Madge's face closes off, becoming impassive. She turns and gives Katniss the money for the berries. "Good luck, Katniss."

"You too," Katniss answers, the door closing before the words are completely out of her mouth.

They return to the Seam in silence, Katniss brooding in her thoughts, Gale fairly simmering in his. He's so mad, he can spit. He knows, beneath the rage and self-righteousness, that it's not Madge's fault. She doesn't deserve it anymore than anyone else does. In fact, she's been nothing but kind to him, always trying to give him more for his trade than the goods are worth. But the system they live in is designed to drive citizens of each district apart, making enemies by creating some classes that are more privileged than another. She didn't ask to be a Merchant. As for Gale, this is his last reaping year, after which he'll get his mining assignment and work for a pittance under the earth. He didn't ask for that either.

He glances over at Katniss, who's face is like stone. When they reach the edge of the Seam, Gale and Katniss divide their spoils, leaving two fish, a couple of loaves of good bread, greens, a quart of strawberries, salt, paraffin, and a bit of money for each. "See you in the square," she say without looking at him.

"Wear something pretty," he says flatly to her back as she turns away.

Gale trudges back towards his small house, his thoughts still in disarray. He knows Katniss is angry at him and it makes him feel ashamed now of his words and actions. It doesn't change his mind about his basic feelings - he's shouted them enough in the woods to know what he thinks and how he feels about the whole system they live in. But he also knows that he should not have taken it out on Madge and it makes him feel worse the more the afternoon wears on.

As he helps his mother, Hazel, prepare the young ones for the Reaping, he ponders Madge's peculiar situation. Her father is the Mayor, appointed by the Capitol and as such, the most privileged person in the District. Her mother spends most of her time in bed, given to headaches that take her away from the world for days. Her twin sister, Maysilee Donner, was killed in the 50th Hunger Games, a particularly gruesome year in which double the number of tributes were reaped, a reminder by the Capitol that during the Dark Days, for every Capitol citizen who was killed, two rebels were also killed. Haymitch Abernathy, the local drunk, and two other tributes were reaped that year also. Haymitch and Maysilee became allies in the Arena for a time but just minutes after they separated, Maysilee was skewered in the neck by brightly colored birds and Haymitch had no choice but to hold her hand and watch her die.

It was obvious that Mrs. Undersee was hit hard by her sister's death, a condition she still hadn't recovered from. He imagines Mrs. Everdeen, and how much she suffered in the same way over her husband's death and Gale felt guilt descend on him, in addition to his anger.

"Aw, fuck," he mutters to himself as he gives his mom a vague excuse about having forgotten something in the center of town and promising to return in time to walk together to the square.

He makes his way through the streets of the Seam, where everything is more subdued than usual. It is always a solemn mood on Reaping Day, as parents take extra care to wash and dress their children, surreptitiously hugging on to them a little tighter, holding them a bit longer. There aren't any words for the collective breaths that are held by the parents of children of reaping age or the blanket of suspense that hangs heavy over the residents of District 12 at who would be the next tributes. Along with the premature grieving are the hushed tones of those who fear they are already conversing with ghosts.

Gale finds himself at the Mayor's back door. When he knocks, all that greets him is silence as it suddenly occurs to him that maybe the Mayor will have already gone ahead to prepare the festivities. If so, he may already be too late to speak to Madge.

Just as he is ready to abandon all hope that she will answer the door, Madge appears in the same exquisite dress. It is pretty, prettier than any dress he'd ever seen in the Seam, even prettier than the ones Mrs. Everdeen occasionally wears or forces Katniss to wear. Now that he is no longer irrationally angry, he can admire the finely curled golden locks of hair, the peaches and cream complexion and the clear, blue eyes that mark her definitively as Merchant - features that can be considered beautiful.

Madge wrinkles her brow at the sight of him, crossing her arms before her. "Did I short change-you?" she asks, eyeing him with obvious curiosity.

"No...I…" but Gale sputters to a stop. He was a simple personality to understand. He had mostly two modes - angry and annoyed - and didn't deal well with other subtleties of emotion, much less with expressing them.

"I just...I'm going out for more strawberries...after the Reaping," he stutters.

Madge crosses her arms and looked down her nose at him but says nothing. She is going to make him work for it - he can tell by the way she stares at him.

"I really...I was angry and I shouldn't have said what I said," he rushes the last part because sorry was not a word he's used to using and was trying to avoid it now.

Madge still waits, her eyes inscrutable. He knows what for and the thought of saying the words makes his jaws want to lock into place. Still, he has no choice if he is going to do it right.

"I'm sorry. There. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have picked on you like that."

She tilts her head at this and nods. "You're right, you shouldn't have."

"Yeah…" he says weakly, putting his hands on his hips and looking up at her. "Like I said, I'm going out for more strawberries. I'll bring them and you can have them. You know, a peace offering," he sweeps his hand in front of him, as if he is actually handing the ripe fruit to her.

"Right," she says slowly, as if considering whether him a bit longer. "You could do that - if we're both still here when the Reaping's over."

Gale's eyes widen at her words, and the audacity with which she says them. "You can't...Don't even joke like that!"

"Well, you said it yourself, the odds are not in anyone's favor. They never are," she says, her eyes twinkling though her face is serious. "But if, by some crazy stroke of luck, they are in our favor, I'll be waiting for those strawberries."

Gale nods, not sure what to think, certainly not expecting mousy Madge to have any kind of spirit, certainly nothing like the one Katniss has. But she surprises him and he is not altogether displeased by this.

They part after, Madge to her family, Gale to his. He feels a little less horrible on a day that gives horrible a whole new meaning. And the events of the day would only confirm that the odds would never, ever be in his favor.

XXXXX

After, when the train takes his best friend and the baker's son away to almost certain death, Gale goes first to Mrs. Everdeen and Prim and makes sure they know that he is there to take care of them. Mrs. Everdeen looks like she always does, like she is one puff of wind away from being knocked over. And then there's Prim, who wipes her tears away with stoicism, trying as hard as her little heart can to show the strength her sister had always shown.

Then Gale takes to the woods as fast as he can. He races through the trees, trying to outrun his rage but knowing he can't, and hoping only for the relief of mind-numbing exhaustion. When he slows, he is gasping and heaving, searching for air. He has long passed the spots where Katniss hides her bow and he's glad for that. He doesn't know if he can bear to see the part of her that she was forced to leave behind. He is well beyond his snares too, so his excursion is for naught except to force him to deal with Katniss' reaping alone, in the company of the forest.

If he had been furious before, he is murderous now and tears of rage escaped his eyes, which he wipes cruelly away, leaving a path of burnt skin from the rough treatment of his face. He snaps a branch, than several, flinging broken wood and loose stones into the murky depth of the woods, howling in fury as he searches for more things to break, more to destroy. He is not himself anymore but the physical expression of every crime, every loss, every abuse he has endured in his short but painful life, from the death of his father to the near starvation of his younger brothers and sisters, including the unbearable pressure of ensuring that their bellies are somewhat full. If he could have, he would have twisted a man's neck with his bare hands, just to feel the satisfaction of hearing it snap between his fingers.

When he wears himself out, he sits heavily on a boulder, looking out onto the valley. Katniss is out there, beyond the mountains, heading into the mouth of death and there is nothing, nothing he can do about it. He had her all the time by his side and it's only now, that she stands the best chance of never returning home, that he realizes that maybe, just maybe, he loves his hunting partner and best friend. Soon he will have to add her to the list of things that has been taken from him.

He casts a glance to a bird singing in a tree nearby and catches sight of a wild strawberry bush. The fruit is fat, in low clumps close to the ground under jagged, wide green leaves. He thinks of his visit to Madge's house and remembers the conversation as if it has occurred to someone else, in another life, beyond the foul memory of the Reaping ceremony. Katniss had been so angry at him for mistreating Madge and now, when he thinks that that memory will be one of the last ones she will have of them before she goes into that Arena to die for the entertainment of the Capitol, it cramps his stomach and makes him want to cry like a baby.

He pulls out his knife and hunting sack and cuts into the stems, trying not to ruin the roots so the plant might yield its fruit again. He promised Madge strawberries and Madge is Katniss's friend. As much as his soul aches, he hates to break a promise and should probably head back home anyway before it gets dark. With a heavy heart, he hikes back to the fence and, ducking through it, heads with his stash to the Mayor's house again, the third time in one day. He scowls as he knocks, hoping she'll be quick so he can go home and be miserable in peace.

When she opens the door, Gale is taken aback by the look on her face. Her eyes are puffy from crying and even though she still wears the pretty white dress with ribbons, she no longer has her gold pin. He wrinkles his brow, wondering if maybe he shouldn't just come back later.

"Gale," she gasps, then steadies her voice by clearing her throat.

"I..uh..I promised you strawberries," Gale stammers. "But I could come back…"

She shakes her head, sniffling to clear her nose. "No, don't. I'll take them," she says, reaching for her money bag.

"No…" he says, protesting. "These aren't for sale. They're for you."

Madge purses her lips together but clearly, she is in no mood for a fight. She motions for him to come inside, which he refuses with a curt shake of his head.

"Come on. Mom's in bed and Dad is out, visiting folks. It's okay," she says.

He steps inside like a feral cat entering a house for the first time. His quick, grey eyes take in the kitchen, which is larger, shinier and fancier than anything he's seen. The only time he's seen a kitchen like that was when him and his friends broken into one of the empty houses in Victor's Village one time, on a dare. When a similar break-in happened later on and the kids who were caught disappeared, Gale decided never to do that again.

Madge indicates a seat at the kitchen island before turning to the sink and rinsing the berries. With quick hands, she takes a paring knife and expertly cuts out the green stems, leaving the taut, red fruit virtually intact. She rummages in her refrigerator and finds a small bowl that she brings to the counter where she also places two plates and two small forks.

"Whipped cream. I made it this morning. On Reaping Day, dad lets me eat whatever I want so I asked for pancakes and whipped cream. That's terribly decadent, isn't it?" she says, settling into the chair with an air of defeat. "It's no wonder you hate us so much."

Gale stiffens at her words but he has to admit - they could rarely afford a delicacy such as pancakes - baking soda and yeast were simply too dear to purchase. But he can also appreciate the sentiment of wanting to let your children enjoy whatever they can on what might be their last day at home. What he hates is beyond them, what pits everyone against each other, the thing that has taken Katniss away, the monster that will force him to watch her die on television and never have her home again.

He knows better than to speak against the Capitol in the very house of the Mayor - he's sure the house is bugged. Madge places a spoonful of the whipped cream onto his plate. He stares at the confection, not even remembering how long it's been since he's had the soft, white, frothy treat. He tries not to scoop the whole thing and stuff it in his face, instead taking deliberate care to spear his strawberry with the small fork and eat it with the same dainty slowness as Madge.

The first thing he thinks when the cream hit his tongue is, Katniss should be here to try this. It makes his throat close up suddenly and he finds it hard to swallow the bit of strawberry he's now chewing. He's in the clouds over the combined taste of the strawberries and cream but his stomach sours because he remembers again that she's gone. The strawberries turn to ash and the cream shrivels to smoke. He sets the fork down and shakes his head.

Madge watches him, but he dares not look up into her eyes. He is teetering on the edge of insanity again as the reality of Katniss's absence makes itself known. He curls his fist next to his fork, the only weapon he has ever been allowed to carry. This is a mistake and he should leave at once, before he gives in to a terrible urge to break everyone and everything that surrounds him…

As if a bird has landed on his hand, he feels Madge's touch and sees her pale, unlined hand resting over his. Without willing it, the tension drains, like a plant salve that draws poison from a wound. She gives him a squeeze, which forces his eyes finally to her face, now reddened as tears escape her otherwise impassive expression. There are inscrutable things written in her eyes, things he does understand - grief, impotence and a certain longing that is at once familiar, yet more profound than anything he's ever seen in the eyes of other girls in the District, whose eyes that had assessed him and found him desireable. He had certainly never seen it in Katniss's eyes.

Madge is a glass lake with springs and he knows instinctively that there are torrents beneath those waters that he would never, in a hundred years, uncover.

He's never felt skin so soft and the sensation mingles with the smell of strawberries to sear his memory of that moment forever. He would never, ever think of Madge again without remembering the smell of strawberries and the feel of her soft hand on his; not after, when his District lay under a bed of ashes, and her buried with it; not in the middle of the blood and bullet-drenched snow, as he hears the parachutes he'd designed lay waste to the lives of hundreds of innocent children; nor further on, when he's finally in District 2, meditating on his life during the coldest night of year, wondering how he would ever, ever tolerate the sight of himself again, wondering if this girl would have ever forgiven the unspeakable force he had unleashed on the Capitol that day, when a lifetime of fury blew in like a hurricane and broke the last human thing he had left inside of him.

He would never, ever think of Madge again without thinking of this moment, without wondering what would have changed if he had turned around the night fire rained from the sky and found a way to get her out. Would his life have turned out so empty? Would he have had the heart to seal a mountain full of men without once considering that his father had died the very same way? Would he have finally listened to Katniss? Would it have mattered less to his heart that his hunting partner had come to love the son of a baker with the same desperation with which he'd released her that day in the Justice building, the day she left and changed every single life in Panem forever after?

For a moment, he allows Madge to comfort him. And many other moments after, while Katniss battles for her life on the giant screens of the town center and the tiny ones forced into each and every home, even the Seam. And he would always obsess, to the very end of his days, after all was set on fire and burned away, what that day could have meant for them both had the odds been just a little bit more in their favor.