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: Like always, thanks to Nursekelly for all the help.
And the stars burn out, pt 11
When the train finally comes to a stop in Ten, Madge's stomach is in knots.
It doesn't get easier with each stop, she quickly decides.
The sky is a dreary gray and thunder rumbles ominously over the endless stretches of rolling grasslands as Madge steps out onto the wooden platform, her heels echoing in a hollow sort of way.
Madge sniffles, inhaling the comforting scent of chimney smoke wafting from somewhere in the District's Seat.
"Mayor Stahl," she greets the tall, balding black man with a small smile.
She actually is happy to see him. Her father had told her about Obadiah Stahl. They'd met during government training, before Madge's dad had decided to sign up to go to other districts to see how their local governments ran while acting as a magistrate.
"He's a good man," her father told her when she'd mentioned worry over having to meet mayors of other districts. "You won't have much to worry about when you're with him."
While Madge doubts that, she has plenty to worry about everywhere she goes, it's a comfort to know that someone who knew her father, back when he'd been nothing but a kid in District Ten, is near.
"Magdalene Undersee," he says back, his voice a deep rumble in the air as he smiles. "I'm delighted to see the daughter of one of our own come home."
He makes a sweeping motion toward the steps leading down to the cracked concrete surrounding the train station. "Shall we begin?"
Linking her arm in his, Madge lets him lead her down the steps and to a pair of weather beaten black cars. They're just like the few District Twelve keeps around for official use.
They squeeze in, Madge pinned tightly between Mayor Stahl and Mr. Abernathy while Ms. Trinket and her enormous hat take up the front passenger seat.
"Maybe you should take that off?" Mayor Stahl asks, eyeing the stiff twiggy looking protrusions jutting out from her hat and keeping her tilted at an awkward angle to fit in the car. "It looks uncomfortable."
"Mayor, fashion is pain," Ms. Trinket tells him, looking offended at the very suggestion.
If that's true, Madge thinks Ms. Trinket must be the height of fashion. Everything she's worn in the past few days have been more than painful.
"I think you'll get as warm a welcome as any of our own Victors," the Mayor tells her as they drive past the faded buildings lining their route to the staging area. "Being the daughter of someone from District Ten and all. You're practically one of us."
Mr. Abernathy grumbles something to himself at that, glaring out the window and ignoring Mayor Stahl as he points out interesting sites along the way.
Finally, after nearly ten minutes, they pull up to the staging area.
It's a massive structure; tall, exposed metal beams hold the highest levels up and tapering down toward the innermost part.
Madge has seen it on the inside, on the television during Reapings for years, but the enormity of it never occurred to her until now.
"It used to be a stadium," her father had told her. "They played sports games there."
No one died during those games. They'd been played for fun, a concept so alien that Madge hadn't understood it until she saw a ballgame on the television by accident when she'd been home with the flu once.
Still, the thought that anyone other than the people in the Capitol could or would enjoy something so frivolous seems foreign.
Standing in the shadow of the ancient stadium though, she knows without a doubt that it's true.
They walk over uneven, cracked concrete until they reach the gaping mouth of a tunnel.
Following Mayor Stahl, Madge blocks out the hum of humanity around her as they make their way down the darkened tunnel. It isn't until the bright patch that is the other end is on her that she feels her smile slip a little.
Despite knowing that Miss Alameda isn't the one pulling the strings, Madge still feels like convincing her is the first move for getting President Snow's attentions off her family and Gale. This stop has to go perfectly; anything else might spell doom for everyone she holds dear.
A cool gust of wind ruffles the hem of her bottle green dress and sends a chill up her spine as she steps out of the tunnel and onto the rust colored dirt that covers the ground.
The wind cuts at her as she waves around at the crowd, all yelling her name. They'd probably been told to.
Cloud filtered sunlight mutes everything. The people in the stands, the red dirt on the ground around the stage, even the black backdrop with the golden emblem of the Capitol emblazoned on it seems faded and tired.
Waving as she walks, Madge takes the stage, barely casting a glance at District Ten's Victors before she clears her throat and steps up to the microphone.
It's now or never.
#######
Gale glares at the tv as he eats his cold dinner.
They'd had to work late in the mines, to make up for the hours lost seeing Madge off, and he'd missed out on the warm stew his mom had made.
It's insult to injury, not that anyone cares.
Madge looks beautiful, just like she always does, not a hair out of place as she waves and smiles before beginning another dull speech.
Behind her Gale spots Alameda, her expression closed as she watches the events unfolding in front of her. Probably preparing her critique and thinking up more poisonous things to fill Madge's mind with.
Grinding his teeth, Gale turns his attention back to Madge.
He wonders if she's sleeping enough, eating enough, if she's thinking about him.
It's selfish, he knows that, to hope she's got him on her mind when he knows she needs to be focused. If she's thinking about him though, it'll make convincing her that they can work out easier.
"Gale," he hears his mom call his attention from the tv. "Gale."
Tearing his eyes from the tv, he takes a breath and looks across the table at her.
"Yeah," he grunts, spooning another bite of stew into his mouth.
Her lips press together and a worry line forms between her eyes.
"I'm worried about you," she finally says. "You shouldn't watch the Tour."
Sitting back, Gale licks the last of the stew from his lips. "Why?"
Running a weathered finger over the rough grain of the table, she sighs. "You know why."
Scowling, Gale just turns his head and looks back at the tv.
Madge is getting flowers from a little girl, maybe Posy's age, beaming as she sniffs the undoubtedly artificial blooms and thanks her.
The cameras sweep across the crowd, all packed into some kind of outdoor building and squished onto little metal benches, dressed in varying shades of green, as Madge and the others leave the stage.
"She undoubtedly got a warmer than normal greeting from Ten because her father, the mayor of District Twelve, is originally from there," Templesmith's voice explains.
"A much more genuine welcome than a lot of other Victors have gotten in years past." Flickerman laughs, then adds, "Though not having killed any of their Tributes probably doesn't hurt."
They both laugh at that, as though it's some big joke not to have killed someone, and Gale feels his dinner try to make a reappearance.
"She made her choice, Gale. You've got to move on."
Gale doesn't acknowledge her, just keeps his eyes on the tv.
"She's a danger-"
"The Capitol is dangerous," he half snaps, finally looking at her. "Not Madge."
"Right now they're one and the same," his mom points out, her frown deepening. "She belongs to them."
Much as he wants to snap at her that, no, she doesn't, he can't. It's true.
Looking back at the tv, at Madge in her festive dress, stiff hair, painted smile, he knows she's theirs until she dies.
Madge is the Capitol's plaything, and he's nothing but a miner without a hope of changing a damn thing.
Something grazes his cheek, and when he looks back from the tv his mom is standing in front of him, her eyes soft and her fingers brushing his hair out of his face.
"You're a fixer, Gale, I know that. You've been fixing things since your dad died." A sad smile flickers on her face. "But sweetie, you can't fix this."
Eyes falling to the ground, memorizing the grain of the floor, Gale nods. He can't fix this for Madge. He's helpless and he hates it.
His eyes begin to sting and little droplets begin splattering on the floor. He almost curses that the roof is leaking again before he realizes it isn't raining and the water isn't coming from the roof.
"Gale?"
Before he can stop himself, he's wrapped his arms around her middle and pressed his cheek to the rough material of her dress. Then the tears come harder.
He doesn't remember crying, not since his dad died. Tears were pointless, didn't solve any problems, didn't put food on the table or buy clothes, so they were an indulgence he'd long since given up. It's childish, but he feels childish at the moment.
Warm fingers comb through his hair as his mom shushes him, her voice a soothing hum as he tries to stop.
His gaze catch the tv again, another shot of Madge waving, this time from a car, and he closes eyes.
"I know I can't fix this," he half whispers, his voice thick and distorted. "But I don't want to lose her."
He's lost too much and he doesn't want to give her up.
"I love her."
For half a second her fingers still in his hair, stops shushing, before she sighs.
"Then I guess I should stop trying to put you off her then, huh?"
Sniffling, Gale pulls back, his eyes puffy and raw. He frowns up at her.
A little defeated smile forms on her lips.
"If you're anything like me and your dad, nothing's gonna stop you." She smooths his hair one more time. "You'll go through hell and high water for her, if you love her."
Gale nods. "I do."
Pulling him back to her and wrapping him in a hug, his mom kisses the top of his head.
"I'm still gonna worry, but," she takes a long breath, "if she's who makes you happy...I want you to be happy. More than anything."
Standing up, Gale wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek. He'd do what he wanted as far as Madge is concerned, with or without her approval, but he likes it better with.
"She does," whispers, looking back to the tv, back to Madge. "She does."
#######
Madge is carted around the District, just like in Eleven, to fields of cattle awaiting slaughter, sheep and goats, chickens, ducks, and geese, as well as some strange, exotic animals Madge can't name. To her relief, she isn't taken to any butcheries or slaughterhouses.
She doesn't see Ten's Victors until the evening, when dinner is served, and even then Miss Alameda doesn't show up until halfway through.
It's a bit more lavish than Eleven's had been, the food more meticulously cooked and displayed, but that doesn't make it disappear. Just like in Eleven, more than half of it goes to waste.
After, Madge looks awkwardly around Mayor Stahl's house, searching out a piano, certain every stop she makes will have one waiting for her.
"It's going to be brought out," a little voice tells her.
Mayor Stahl's daughter, Zipporah, who'd given Madge her flowers from the District, smiles up at her.
"The piano," she clarifies. "Malachi and Eden said they saw it in the back hall. Miss Birdy had them put it there."
Madge starts to ask her about Miss Alameda, dig up a little intelligence all her own, but before she can someone comes up behind Zipporah and tugs at one of her braids.
"Making friends, Zip?"
The man, stocky and rough looking with rust colored hair, gives Zipporah a teasing smile as she giggles.
"I'm jus' bein' friendly, Mr. Tommy."
He taps the end of her nose and grins. "Your momma is looking for you."
Scowling, Zipporah stomps off, grumbling to herself and causing 'Mr. Tommy' to laugh.
Turning back from her, he holds out his hand. "Tommy Brandsetter."
Nodding, Madge swallows down a new bubble of fear as she takes his hand.
He's a Victor, and Madge racks her memory for his year. When her memory fails her though, she simply smiles.
"Magdalene Undersee."
He grins, gesturing to the diamond studded headband nestled in her hair. "Everyone knows who you are 'Diamond Girl'."
A warm flush burns across Madge's cheeks. She really hates that moniker.
"You definitely outshine the stars here."
She doesn't want to, but it's part of the game. Like it or not.
Winking, he gives her a gentle smile. "Don't worry, kid. We all gotta do things."
Looking away, Madge nods and tries to focus on the glint of the light off Ms. Trinket's awful hat. She isn't sure what she's supposed to talk about with another Victor who isn't Mr. Abernathy, and she's grateful she avoided it in Eleven.
Their Games? Future trips to the Capitol? Fashion? None of that seems appropriate though.
She's pulled out of her worry by laughter coming from behind Mr. Brandsetter.
"Birdy, you can't micromanage everything," a delicate looking woman, porcelain pale with platinum hair, gently scolds a visibly irritated Miss Alameda.
"I can damn well try," she grumbles back, shooting a dark look over her shoulder at the table of desserts that has been set out.
"I'm sure you can find something more productive to do with your time, child," another woman, warm bronzed skin and dark haired, tells her softly as they put more distance between themselves and the table.
"Why don't you go nag Windy?" Miss Alameda asks, crossing her arms and eyeing a girl across the room with silky black hair and umber skin with annoyance.
"Because Windy doesn't need perspective like you do," the dark haired woman explains.
"It's good for you to have people who don't always listen to you," the blonde adds kindly.
When Miss Alameda rolls her eyes they land on Madge and her sullen expression shifts into something unreadable.
The other two take notice, exchange worried glances and sigh before crossing the small amount of space between themselves and Madge.
The blonde's crimson lips stretch into a well practiced smile that Madge could almost mistake for genuine as she holds out her hand.
"Magdalene Undersee," she greets her. "I'm Mary Jacson."
"Coraline Lons," the dark haired woman quickly introduces herself before cutting Miss Alameda a curious look.
For a second it doesn't seem like Miss Alameda is going to introduce herself, her eyes flick from Madge's diamond studded headband to her bottle green shoes, before her lips twitch up.
"Nice color." She gestures between herself and the others. "Wanted to be one of the cool kids, huh?"
Mr. Brandsetter snorts and reaches out, ruffling Miss Alameda's hair and causing her to swat at him in annoyance.
"And this is our little Bird," he tells her. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"
The air seems to suck from Madge's lungs as his words rattle around in her head.
Should she admit they'd met? Is this a test?
Before she can come to an answer though, Miss Alameda huffs.
"Don't be an ass, Mr. Tommy," she grumbles, rolling her eyes.
Ms. Jacson smooths out her skirt, deep green trimmed in lace, and nods towards Madge's own outfit. "Your stylist is brilliant."
"Most are more eager to make a splash in the Capitol than they are to make you look decent," Ms. Lons adds. "I wish mine had been half as kind."
Madge feels her smile slip a little as she tries to imagine what awful things her fellow Victors had been forced to wear over the years, and quickly decides that Portia deserves a very heartfelt thank you when Madge sees her again.
After that they make small talk. The weather, how much the girls all hate their heels, the dinner, before they begin telling Madge about the Capitol and how they'll keep an eye out for her when they're all there.
"Haymitch is always at the Oyster, it'll be impossible for us to miss each other," Ms. Lons assures her, though it isn't much of a comfort to Madge.
Finally, Miss Alameda, who'd spent the entire conversation making snippy remarks and glancing at the dessert table, gestures for Madge to follow her.
"I want some dessert," she explains before putting a hand in Mr. Bransetter's face to stop him from speaking. "Nope."
He laughs.
Slowly, Madge follows her, fear building up in her middle as she wonders just what she wants to talk about.
"Like cheesecake?" Miss Alameda asks, shoving a slice at Madge. "Here, eat this, it's wonderful."
Madge stands for several seconds with her plate of unwanted cheesecake, uncertain just what's going on, before Miss Alameda turns back to her and mouths the words 'eat already'.
Startled, Madge shovels an overly large bite in her mouth, almost choking as she swallows it.
"Good, right?" Miss Alameda asks, though she doesn't look overly concerned with the answer.
As Madge tries to sputter out a response, the other girl waves her off. "Not important."
Taking a bite, she chews thoughtfully for a moment before sighing, her eyes drifting over to her fellow Victors before settling back on Madge. A wan smile slowly forms on her lips.
"Look, I'm sorry about the-sorry about Hawthorne," she finally whispers. "I know that was hard, but you made the right choice."
Nodding, Madge takes another bite. It tastes much more bitter than the first.
"I'm glad you did it on your own," she adds. "No one would believe it, but I don't really like ruining people's lives."
Tears sting at Madge's eyes and she tries to blink them away. She doesn't want to think about Gale. She doesn't deserve to even have him in her mind. That right had been taken from her when she'd left him on her back porch.
Still, she needs to play her part. Gale's life is still depending on her.
Swallowing down the sob clawing at her throat, Madge forces a smile. It's a skill she needs to perfect, and what better time to practice than when she feels the thread holding her together coming apart?
"I know."
Miss Alameda shakes her head. "You don't, but sweetie, you will."
#######
Gale watches as Madge struts across the stage in Nine.
It's a relief to know she's out of Ten and away from Alameda and her poison, but he can only imagine what she'd said to her, what lies she'd fed her to fester in her mind.
Even through the screen, he can see the cracks growing, in her eyes and in her smile. She's going to shatter into a million pieces and he can't stand that he's stuck digging coal while it's happening.
He shakes the thought away.
Madge won't fall apart. She knows what's depending on her and she's too strong to let anyone down. Even if it takes everything she has, she'll keep fighting.
"Gale?" His mom says his name, her voice thick with sleep as she peers out at him from her bedroom doorway. "I thought you went to bed?"
Shifting on the couch, Gale shakes his head. "Just wanted to watch the recap. It's almost over."
Nodding, she yawns and crosses the room, her pitifully thin socks scraping on the floor as she does, before dropping down onto the couch beside Gale.
Slumping over, she rests her head on his shoulder and stays with him until the review ends.
#######
District Nine makes little impression on Madge other than to note the amber waves of grain that are so often vaunted by the Capitol are more gray than golden.
Eight seems to be heading the same route.
She'd been carted around, shown the enormous machines that created the textiles that eventually would make up the fashions of the Capitol, including Madge's now very popular dresses, before being taken back to the mayor's home for the dinner.
It was rote by now, motions without thought after three districts.
Smile, wave, get flowers, play a song.
It's not easier, but she's getting better at putting on the persona, tucking her true self away for safe keeping. It's a strange kind of numbness, but letting the shell of her body walk around, hollowed out and filled with propaganda and lies, is better than feeling constantly ill.
After Ten, and Miss Alameda's cryptic words, Madge had determined that speaking with the other Victors was not in her best interest. If she was going to be breaking them down, pulling them apart and destroying their lives, she'd rather not get to know them more than necessary.
In Nine she'd stuck close to Mr. Abernathy, only interacting with the Victor, Amaranth, when he'd been asked up to sing while Madge played. It had worked out well, and she'd planned on carrying that method through to the end of the Tour. It was insulation and that was something her mind needed desperately.
Unfortunately, her curiosity puts that ambition to rest.
Madge never knew that any Victors had any children. It's a strange concept to wrap her head around when she sees one of Eight's Victors, she thinks her name is Cecilia Quil, with her three children right before the mandatory speech.
"Not many of us do," Mr. Abernathy half mumbles to her, when she comments on it. "Not exactly an option for most. Not exactly a bright idea for most."
Trying not to dwell on it, Madge focuses on the fabrics she's shown, committing each delicate pattern to memory and wondering which of the battered textile workers created the material for her dresses.
It only makes her more anxious, but she can't stop herself.
As the evening finally settles over them, she finally has something else to dwell on.
When she'd been in the mayor's home in Eleven, she'd noticed he had the same plates as her parents. The information had passed through her preoccupied mind, there wasn't time to wonder at the coincidence.
Then in Ten, as she'd talked with Miss Alameda, she realized Mayor Stahl's home had the exact same layout as the house she'd grown up in. She even noticed as she left that there was a wooden swing on the back porch, just like the one she'd spent so many nights on eating ice cream.
In Nine she spotted the curtains in the front sitting room, the same as the blue speckled ones she'd hidden in as a child to avoid Mrs. Oberst.
Now in Eight, she's studying the artwork.
It's boring, pink roses in a vase, but it's familiar, something she desperately needs in the sea of new she's drowning in.
She thinks she might make it through, another successful stop without speaking more than necessary, but when she hears a little giggle come from behind her she can't help but look.
It's the little girl, the Victor's daughter. She's dark haired like her mother, bright eyed as she pokes her big brother in the shoulder and runs, giggling the entire time.
She's so small, maybe four or five, so fragile that Madge wonders how she herself had ever been so impossibly tiny.
Her eyes follow the girl as she twirls, dancing away from her brother as he half-heartedly tries to chase her, before she feels someone watching her.
"Her name is Heather," a voice tells her, pulling her back into herself.
Turning, Madge finds Heather's mother, the Victor, standing beside her.
"I'm Cecilia," she introduces herself, a warm little smile gracing her face.
Forcing her expression back into the obligatory smile, Madge nods an acknowledgment. She's given up trying to introduce herself. The Diamond Girl is all she'll ever be now.
They stay quiet after that, watching Cecilia's children play their game of tag, as Madge fights off the urge to ask the question itching in her mind.
Finally, worry, for Gale and her parents and Cecilia's happy children, bubbles over and the question escapes.
"Aren't you afraid?"
Because Madge is, and they aren't even her children.
A wry little smile twitches up on Cecilia's lips and she cuts Madge a look. "Guess Birdy's talked to you."
Uncertain how to respond, Madge just stays silent, chewing her tongue and hoping she hadn't misread some critical detail.
Cecilia's fingers rub over the pendant at her neck as she considers something for a moment before she speaks.
"Not having anyone to lose doesn't make you invincible," she finally says, her voice so soft Madge almost can't hear her over the din. "It makes you dangerous."
Madge stares at her for several seconds, rolling her words over in her mind, not understanding.
The Capitol wants control over her, and they'll use the things she holds dearest to do that. If she has no one though, if she refuses to let anyone in-
"They'll find a way," Cecilia cuts into her thoughts, seemingly reading her mind. "And no matter how hard you work to keep people out, they get in. If worse comes to it, all you've done is lose time with them, understand?"
Madge's heart stops as she wonders if Cecilia knows about Gale, about how Madge has put him in danger, but another giggle from the children pushes that thought away.
Even if she knows, Cecilia has a family. She has children and a husband. Surely she wouldn't begrudge Madge her few months of happiness, would she?
No, Madge shakes her head, answering her own question and not Cecilia's, but the other woman doesn't know that. Reaching out, she takes Madge's hand and gives it a squeeze.
"I know what the others think, but we can't let them steal our only happiness along with everything else."
Before Madge can ask her what she means, because it can't possibly be what Madge thinks, one of the little boys trips and skins his knees, drawing his mother's attention.
"Oh, Tailor," she sighs, flashing Madge an apologetic smile. "Good to talk to you, Magdalene."
Then, just as quickly as she'd appeared, Cecilia is gone, leaving Madge with more questions than she's ever had and a strange feeling in her chest.