Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.
AN: Again, thanks to Nursekelly for all the help.
And the stars burn out, pt 7
Gale's feet are frozen by the time he comes up on Madge's house.
The wind has picked up and the sleet bites at every inch of exposed skin as he trudges up the increasingly icy path, already thinking of the hot shower that awaits him when he gets to the house.
Squinting into the bitter cold, he sees yellow light glowing in the kitchen windows, a warm welcome in his near future.
Picking up speed, Gale stumbles a little, but finally manages to reach the back steps. He stomps up them, trying to bang the slush and mud from his boots before he gets to the door.
His hand is up, ready to knock, when he sees that Madge has another guest already at the table.
For a moment he just stares. He must be suffering from some cold induced hallucination, there's no way she's there.
Another gust of wind cuts through his coat, shocking him out of his stupor.
Any sluggishness he might've felt melts away in an instant. Madge is having tea with a monster and she doesn't even seem to know it.
He doesn't knock, just barges in, bringing frozen grass and muck in with him.
Madge isn't there, which Gale is grateful for. Maybe she'd fallen asleep and Alameda hadn't gotten to her yet. He hopes anyway. He needs to know what she's doing in Madge's house before she starts her mind games.
"What are you doing here?" He tries to ask as politely as he can, but his jaw is frozen and it comes out as something like a growl.
Alameda's eyebrows rise. "Good to see you again too, Dorothy, and I'm having coffee." She rolls her eyes, lifting the mug for him to see. "Honestly, I don't know what Magdalene sees in you when she has Peeta bringing her little slices of heaven from the bakery."
He ignores her barb.
"What. are. you. doing. here."
Picking up her mug, she takes a sip then sits it down, looking unconcerned.
"You're dripping," she points out, waving a lazy hand toward the puddle forming at his feet. "Oh, Dorothy, you should've known you'd see me again."
When Gale doesn't respond, just glares, she takes another sip and sighs. "I'm here to help her."
Gale snorts. He'll believe that when he sees it.
He doesn't care that she'd said she'd do what she could for Madge, back when they'd all been watching the end of the Games, huddled in the Mayor's office around his television. She's a liar, she's a manipulator, she's dangerous, and he doesn't want her or her so called 'help' around Madge while she's still so vulnerable.
"Believe what you want, but it's the truth."
Sitting back, she crosses her arms over her chest and stares at him, studying him.
It makes him uncomfortable, unnerved. She knows too much about him, about his family, about Madge, and she seems to be able to look right through to his core.
"Now, why are you here?"
Mimicking her, Gale crosses his arms over his own chest, narrowing his eyes at her.
She may scare him, she's got all the cards, all the power in their little battle of wills, but he isn't going to let it show. He's stood up to bullies before, what's one more?
"I'm her friend."
She makes a huffing noise, clearly not believing him.
"No," she snorts, shaking her head, "you aren't."
"I am."
Maybe he wasn't, but he is now, and that's what's important.
Her mouth twitches up, and Gale is sure she's about to say something shitty, or at the very least crude, but stops when a noise draws their glares from one another.
Madge is standing in the entryway, several papers tight in her hands, wide eyes flicking between Alameda and Gale.
"Gale?" She frowns at him. "Do you know Miss Alameda?"
"Dorothy and I are old pals." Alameda grins back at Gale, flicking her awful green hair over her shoulder. "Right?"
Teeth grinding, Gale takes in a long breath before exhaling. He's apparently already missed the opportunity to shield Madge. Now all he can do is make nice and hope she leaves without burning down the house.
"Right. Pals."
Alameda's grin widens.
"I was here during the Games," she adds. "I helped get you home."
For a moment Madge just stares, her fingers flexing on the papers, her mind working through what she's just been told.
Finally, she nods.
"You made my friends and family reels," she says simply. "I was one of your projects."
Gale doesn't understand what she's saying, not really, but Alameda must and she nods.
Jerking her thumb toward Gale, Alameda grins. "He's not even the most hostile bumpkin I've had to deal with over the years."
Still looking wary, Madge takes a step further into the kitchen. Looking down at the papers in her hands, she bites her lip.
"I picked-"
"A sonata?" Alameda cuts her off, looking annoyed. "Magdalene, I never thought I'd say this, but Mr. Haymitch has a point. If you want to survive this, you're going to have to pick some more uplifting pieces."
Madge flinches as Alameda gets up, her chair grating on the tile as she does.
Reaching under the table, Alameda pulls her ratty bag out and plops it down before she begins rifling through it. A minute later she pulls a file from inside and holds it out to Madge.
"Practice these. You'll be expected to demonstrate your talent at the end of your Victory Tour and it'll be better for all of us if the audience doesn't take a nap during it."
Gale watches as Madge's feet scoot uncertainly across the cold floor before she reaches out and takes the file.
She flips through it, her nose wrinkling up, but she finally nods. "Alright."
"Fantastic," Alameda chirps, snatching up her bag and flinging it over her shoulder. "Well, I'll see you in a few weeks. Remember, we won't officially meet until your Tour reaches Ten. Just smile, take your flowers, and don't put a toe out of line."
Madge swallows. "And it'll all be okay?"
Alameda grins, shrugging. "We both know it won't, but it'll be better than the alternative."
She seemingly ignores the ill look that crosses Madge's face as she steps around Gale, the heels of her sharp little shoes clicking obnoxiously, and reaches for the door.
Glad to be rid of her, Gale starts to sigh, but it catches in his throat when Madge calls out.
"Don't you have a coat?"
Damn. Why does she have to be so damn concerned? If Alameda wants to freeze she should let her.
Turning on her heels, she grins wickedly, unnaturally white teeth glistening through her mossy looking lips.
"Oh, Magdalene, there are only two things in this world that can kill me, and neither one of those is Mother Nature."
With that she pulls open the door, letting a blast of cold wind in as she vanishes out.
#######
Madge stares at debris that came in with the cold as it continues to settle on the tile.
There are little dried leaves, bits of dead grass, all coming to a rest in the melting slush and snow Gale had apparently brought in. It's all around his boots anyways, dripping from where it's caked on his pant legs and the hem of his coat, so it must be from him.
It isn't until she sees Gale's boots move, tracking muddy footprints on the bright white of the tile that she shakes off the momentary shock of Miss Alameda's abrupt disappearance from her mind.
"Are you okay?' He asks before he's even halfway to her.
Forcing a smile, Madge nods. "I'm fine."
He stops, looking unconvinced. "Did she do something?"
Turning slightly, he glares out the glass on the door, at the storm, and Madge gets the impression that if she said 'yes' he'd be out chasing Miss Alameda down in a heartbeat. She isn't some nameless, faceless entity, she's flesh and blood, a person, and Gale can fight a person.
It's almost a comfort, but it isn't. Gale needs to be careful. The woman might not look terribly dangerous, she may not even act like it, but she didn't get to be a Victor by being sweet, Madge knows that much.
"She came to help," she finally tells him. "She's going to make sure I don't have to...you know."
The annoyance begins to ease of his face. "How?"
Taking a step, Madge drops into the seat Miss Alameda had occupied only minutes earlier. Opening the file, she takes out several crisp sheets of music and spreads them on the table, eyeing them warily.
"I'm-She's going to teach me to do what she does."
"Be a pain in the ass?" Gale asks, sounding entirely too sincere. "If you need lessons in that I can loan you Rory, he's got it down to a fine art."
Despite herself, Madge snorts. It isn't the time for it. There's no time for laughter anymore, not in her life, but the tension that had been building since Miss Alameda turned up eating Madge's fritter finally bubbles over.
She must look deluded, but Gale gives her a little half grin anyways.
He slumps down, into the seat opposite her, and chuckles.
For a few seconds he stays quiet, letting Madge indulge in what she thinks is the first bit of levity, however dark, she's had since her name was plucked from the Reaping bowl, before he clears his throat.
"So...what exactly did she say?"
Madge can almost hear Miss Alameda's voice laughing. "Just full of questions, aren't you?"
She'd carried her fritter to the table, gesturing for Madge to follow her.
Once they were sitting, Madge had asked again. "How am I supposed to pick if they're both wrong?"
Miss Alameda shrugged. "That's up to you."
"Aren't you supposed to be helping me?" Madge half snapped before thinking better of it. "Because you aren't."
"That all depends on your point of view," she answered back, between bites of fritter. "You want it to mean me pointing you in the right direction."
"And what's your point of view?" Because Madge had been certain it was something truly confounding.
Dropping her fork to the plate, Miss Alameda folded her arms on the table, smiling serenely across at Madge. "To me, helping is giving you all the facts and letting you make the decision. I can't tell you what your soul can tolerate, that's something only you can know."
It sounded a little too much like something Madge's father would've said, and the similarity turned her stomach.
Pushing down that uncomfortable thought, Madge had slumped back in her chair.
What could her soul tolerate?
She'd closed her eyes.
Her whole life she'd lived like a shadow, existing, but purposeless, unnoticed or ignored. In the Games that particular skill had no doubt saved her.
It was always her mind, her silence and her unobtrusiveness that had served her, not her body.
If she'd tolerated it this long, what was the rest of her life?
"Mr. Abernathy thinks I should-he wants me to do what you do," she finally said, her voice just above a whisper.
"That's because he's never done it," Miss Alameda pointed out. "He doesn't know what it's like. He can't."
She took a breath, her expression hardening.
"You'll hurt people-"
"I already do that." By the simple virtue of existing Madge has been hurting people her whole life. She's been a symbol of what they can't have, money, power, status, food, security, even if it's all smoke in mirrors created by the Capitol to further divide the District, fragment it to keep it from ever rising up.
Miss Alameda shook her head. "Not like this." She leveled Madge in an even gaze. "People will hate you."
Madge snorted. People had hated her all her life. What difference would it make now?
"You sound like you're trying to talk me out of this," she finally muttered, pressing her fingers to her eyes.
"I'm just giving you facts. What you decide is no concern of mine."
Taking her hands down, Madge had stared at her.
There was no smile, no hint of dark humor or easy, frivolous taunting, only cold resolve, a soulless disconnect that chilled Madge to her core.
That was her future. A tempest one moment and a void the next, if she so chose.
It was a part she was born to play though. Her whole life seemed to have been in training for this job. There was no point fighting fate.
"Then I'm in."
A second passed, then a minute, with nothing but the sleet on the glass breaking the silence, before Miss Alameda's lips twitched up. Madge isn't sure if it was a happy or a sad smile.
"I knew you would be."
Picking up her plate, she'd headed back to the sink.
"I'll make some coffee and then first things first, your talent."
Whatever was second or third Madge isn't sure. Miss Alameda had spent their short meeting focused on Madge's playing, telling her to volunteer to play at each and every stop she makes and giving her names of people to ask for.
"They're vocalists," she'd explained. "Nothing like multiple Victors on one stage."
Madge didn't recognize many of the names, but outside the Capitol most Victors were shunted from memory if they weren't from the home District or particularly high profile. Madge could only name a handful herself, even though over the years she'd met many of them during their own Victory Tours.
Judging by her age, Madge thinks she must've met Miss Alameda, she doesn't remember her though. For a moment she wondered if she would be so easily forgotten.
Probably.
She'd sent her to pick out pieces after that, just to judge her taste, which Madge now thinks might've been nothing more than an excuse to point out that Madge needed her help more than she even realized.
There was more to what she wanted to discuss with Madge, and more she needed to ask, specifically about Gale and how much danger she'd put him in, but his arrival had put a stop to anymore talk.
"She just wanted to talk to me about the Tour. What I need to do, not do, things like that." She shrugs. "Nothing I couldn't've guessed."
Which isn't exactly the truth, but isn't a lie now either. She's pieced together Mr. Abernathy and Miss Alameda's words to figure out what her new occupation will be.
"I don't like it," he mutters, pulling his hat off and flicking a dead lead from the knit. "I don't like her. I don't trust her."
Madge lets her eyes drop and traces a line on the table, along the grain.
"I need her help, Gale," she half whispers.
And that is the truth.
This is a new Arena, and not one she can navigate on her own, no matter how much she'd like to. If she wants to survive, and keep him and her family safe, she's going to have to make alliances. She needs accomplices, even ones she doesn't entirely trust.
An ally doesn't have to have trust anyways. As long as they share mutual goals, surviving the Capitol and doing their job, that's enough. That's part of the game, and Madge has to play if any of them want to survive.