Oh my Michael Jackson this chapter turned out so long! Your index finger is gonna have a workout right now so be prepared! Hope you guys like and as always, ENJOY :D
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in here except maybe Jude. I think i own Jude. (Jude: "No one owns me i'm a person!" Me: "No one asked you Jude!"
Chapter 13
The sun is shining brightly onto the snow, momentarily blinding me as I step out onto my porch. I have to blink rapidly to clear my vision, and, when the spots do finally clear from my eyes, I see Gale, his hand reaching around to unlock my gate, a vast, loving smile on his face.
He's getting better at this, I think to myself as an equally adoring smile graces my face.
He unlatches the gate, opening it for himself as he begins to walk down my yard to meet me. I quickly step down my porch, walking two or three steps towards him before my feet race the rest of the way. I launch myself at him the moment he's within reach, as if not being in his arms a moment longer is unbearable.
He catches me, of course, his arms wrapping around me as he lifts me up into the air, spinning me around once then twice more.
Just like Jude did, in the meadow, when the snow was first starting to fall. When he surprised me from behind and spun me and spun me till I was dizzy.
My feet are barely back on the ground before his lips are on mine. I kiss him back, grabbing the back of his neck as his hand caresses my face. I can hear my prep team squeal behind me at the sight of both of us clinging to each other, so in love and ever the doting, happy couple.
This kiss feels different, though, from the other ones we shared. Maybe it's because I know of the act, or maybe it's that it's been six months since the last time his lips touched mine. But something tells me it's more the fact that, not more than two hours ago, I was kissing a different pair of lips.
We break away from each other, gasping for air as we gaze lovingly into each other's eyes.
Do you know? I try to ask Gale with my eyes glued to his, Do you know the trouble we are in? The danger ahead of us?
The only answer I receive is another long, deep kiss.
Effie is the one to push us apart, ushering us to the train station. Gale doesn't let go of my hand and, for extra measure, I wrap my free hand around his arm, efficiently making me look like a love-struck school girl clinging to her beloved's arm.
Once we reach the platform I can't help but feel a wave of nostalgia wash of me. Looking into the crowd of waving and smiling faces, my family standing on the raised stage in the middle of the sea of people as Gale's family stands next to him, hugging and kissing him.
It's just like when we came home.
For some reason the thought sits bitterly with me.
Of course there are a few differences. Mainly the fact that now there is more than one smiling face in the thong that genuinely cares about me. In fact, there are now six. Emma and Bristel are both jumping up and down as they wave frantically at me, trying to get my attention. Thom and Greyson are both whistling through their fingers, while Peeta is flanked by both of his brothers, all three of them waving and blowing me kisses.
I smile at my friends, my brave, lovely friends who all took me under their wing despite the danger of being associated with me. My friends who will suffer if I don't succeed.
I find Peeta's face once more as he mouths the words, "Are you okay?"
Knowing the truth would only put him at more risk. No, this shall be my burden and mine alone. I nod once, so short and small that if you weren't paying attention you would have missed it.
My mother is sitting down on a chair on stage, her face pale and her whole body shaking. When I went to the house early this morning, Nora had told me that she was having a bad day- that she had felt weak, and they had to up the morphling to allow her to sleep.
They shouldn't have made her come.
My father, who is holding my mother's hand tightly in his, looks nearly as worn down as she does. He's had to work so many hours lately that he's hardly had the time to come home to sleep.
I can see in his eyes how unreal his smile is, I can see the fear, the anger. He must have known Snow was here; how else would he have known to send over Nora to make sure I was safe? I wonder if he knows why he came here, what he told me. From the look on my father's face it doesn't matter if he knows or not; everyone knows that a visit from President Snow is never a good thing.
It's not until I hear Effie start ushering my prep team into the train that I find Jude's face in the crowd. And when I do, I have to strain to keep the smile on my face. He's one of the few that is not waving, or even smiling for that matter. He's looking at me with eyes full of concern, of worry. I try to make my smile more genuine, but it know it falls flat.
He gives me a small smile, a smile meant to reassure me. It's going to be alright, he seems tells me. I hope he's right.
We finally turn away from the crowd, and it's then that I see the two helmet-clad Peacekeepers standing on both sides of the train door, one with ginger hair sticking out of it. Darius's normal grin is gone, instead replaced by the serious business look all Peacekeepers have to wear while on duty. But, as I pass by him, I feel his fingers pinch my side, an almost ardent, playful smile on his lips as he stares forward.
"Bye to you too," I murmur to him as I continue by him, stepping onto the train.
As always, as soon as the metal door slides shut, the train takes off at its usual intense speed. My feet naturally brace for the impact, but Gale still falters, tripping over his feet as the train takes off.
"Some things never change," he mutters to himself.
As I look around the inside of the train, the carpet clean, the smell of delicious food in the air, and the unmistakable feel of fear in my stomach, I can't help but agree with him.
As soon as we get changed out of our heavy winter clothes, lunch is served. I take a seat right between Haymitch and Cinna, while Gale is flanked by Effie and Portia. I try to pay attention as everyone makes idle chit chat, but, after a while, I give up on trying to join in and instead focus on my plate. The food is wonderful as everyone said it would be, but I can't seem to eat more than three or four forkfuls of each dish.
Haymitch nudges me with his elbow, and I jerk my head up to find everyone looking at me.
"I'm sorry, what?" I say, my cheeks burning as they all look at me.
"I asked if you're feeling alright," Portia clarifies. "You haven't really touched your plate."
"If you want something else, I'm sure the cooks can whip something up," Effie interjects, her orange glitter eyebrows bunched together.
I shake my head, "No, no it's quite alright, Effie. I'm just feeling a little… under the weather."
"Why don't you go lie down, Madge," Cinna advises, "We won't get to District Eleven 'till morning anyways."
Lying down won't fix any of my problems, but I comply nonetheless. I sit cross legged on the bed, staring at the blank space in front of me.
"Maysilee?" I whisper to the air. "Mays, if you can hear me, I really, really need your help here. I don't know what to do. I'm lost." I close my eyes, counting in my head to sixty. But, when my eyes open, the only thing that greets me is the still air.
Tears well in my eyes, and I throw my self face-down on the comforter.
"You liar! You lying, little… deceiver! You told me you'd always be there for me, you told me you'd come when I need you." I clutch onto the comforter tighter, my voice quaking as I murmur, "Please come back, Mays, please. I'm all on my own here. I'm alone, and I need you. Please."
The smell of peppermint is suddenly, overwhelmingly strong around me, and I can almost feel that tingling sensation on my cheek from whenever she touched my bare skin. So, when I lift my head up, I really do expect to find her there, and, when I find nothing, it feels like a punch in the gut.
I lower my head back onto the bed, curling my knees up to my chest. A single tear drips down my face as I bury my head in my knees.
"Liar." I say once more to the empty room. Its silence is the only answer I receive.
Cinna knocks on my door some time later, telling me dinner is ready. I go out because if I don't, Effie will come and check on me, and the last thing I need is more people worrying about me.
I sit down in the first available seat, serving myself a small portion from each bowl. "Can you hand me the potatoes?"
I freeze at the voice next to me, cursing myself for not looking up to see who this seat was next to before I sat down.
Wordlessly, I hand the large platter of roasted potatoes over to Gale, who serves himself heavily before handing it back to me.
"Thank you," he tells me.
I nod once, keeping my eyes on my plate as I feel his eyes on me.
"Are you feeling better?" he asks.
I swallow thickly, taking a drink from the punch in front of me.
No, I'm not feeling better. Because if we don't convince President Snow that we are in love, he's going to murder everyone we care about. But you could just take off into the woods, grab the Everdeens and your little family and survive off in the wild, so why does it matter to you? Why do you even care if I'm feeling better or not? You sure didn't care when we got off this train. What does it matter now?
"Yes, I'm feeling much better, thank you."
I can't sleep. My body aches, and my head pleads for just a moment of peace, but I can't sleep. I'm too antsy, too jittery, too nervous and scared and furious at the idiocracy of it all that I can't sleep.
After hours of tossing and turning, I throw off the heavy comforter, pacing around the room. I wish this thing had a roof like the training center, somewhere to go to clear your head. When the room becomes too small to pace, I go into the hall, roaming the dark train.
A year ago, the dark shadows and slight creaks would have made me jumpy and frightened, but now I walk amongst the quite rooms with not so much as a grimace. Shadows are nothing compared to a deadly forest and determined tributes.
The last door of the train is partially open, and I curiously peek my head inside. It's a glass dome, a window that stretches all the way from the ceiling to the long plush bench that curves around the room. I touch the glass with a finger, leaving a handprint then I remove it. I sink down onto the bench, laying down on my back as I stare up at the night stars through the glass ceiling.
There are more stars in the galaxy than there are grains of sand in the world. The thought makes me feel both small and oddly relieved.
I rest my head on my arm as I watch the stars shimmering above me. I try to relax my body, try to focus on the gentle hum of the train taking me further and further away from my home and closer to the danger I know awaits me.
Just a few months ago, I had to fight for my own life, and now I have to fight for everyone I know and care about. Who would have thought this would happen? Who would have thought that a schoolyard crush would turn into something like this? A little boy stands up for a small girl, walks her home, kisses her forehead and then, years later, is on a train across all the districts in a life or death situation. I had hoped for so much better, so much more. I had hoped to find love, the kind that makes you feel whole rather than leaves you in pieces. I had hoped to marry, to have a family, a pet dog or cat. I had hoped to spend lazy summer afternoons braiding my daughter's hair and watching my boys run in the yard as my husband kissed the top of my head.
I had hoped. I had dreamed of so much more than being tied with someone who pines after another, someone who I am not even a second choice but not even a choice of his at all. I had dreamed of more.
I'm not aware I'm crying until I can feel the wetness around my shirt collar. I wipe my eyes quickly, looking back up at the night sky.
The words come out of my mouth softly, an old song my father had taught me on the piano years ago, one of the few that was actually meant to be sung.
I dreamed a dream of days gone by,
where hope was high and life worth living.
I dreamed that love would never die,
I dreamed that god would be forgiving.
A few lone tears come but I make no move to wipe them away, let them fall down my face, closing my eyes as I allow the music coming from within me to give voice to my pain and grievances. I make sure to keep my voice low, but still the melody fills the still night around me.
Then I was young and unafraid,
And dreams were made and used and wasted
There was no ransom to be paid
no song unsung, no wine untasted.
But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear your hopes apart
As they turn your dreams to shame.
A floorboard creaks, and I jerk up into a sitting position, my head whipping over to see a dark figure standing in the doorway. Even with the dim light and his face hidden by shadows, I know who it is.
My cheeks burn as I try to subtly clean my face, turning my body away from him as I do so. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't." Gale tells me, stepping more into the room. "I couldn't sleep so I was wandering around the train." He pauses for a moment, as if debating whether or not to say something. I pray that for once he remain silent. "That song, it was…nice."
I wince, pulling my knees up to my chest as turn my whole body away from him. "Thanks."
"It was sad, really sad," he continues, ignoring my discomfort at the subject, "but also nice. Beautiful. It reminded of Rue's song."
Rue's song, the song I sang to the dying little girl whose family I will have to face tomorrow. I can see from the corner of my eye how he flinches, realizing his mistake but making no move to fix it.
"I'll leave you alone then," he tells me.
I listen for his footsteps, but I hear none- not that it makes any difference, he can move like the wind when he wants to. I sigh quietly, lying back on my back once more.
"Do you hate me?" The abrupt question startles me as I look back towards the door, where Gale hasn't moved an inch.
"No." I respond naturally, "No, I could never hate you. I never have. I don't think I ever could."
I can see his rigid body relax ever so slightly, and I can't help but smile a little when he says, "Good."
He moves as if to leave, but this time I'm the one to stop him. "Do you remember that first night on the roof? When you said you could never hurt me?" I see him nod his head, and I feel my body begin to shake, already anticipating the answer for the question I have yet to give. "Did you…did you mean that?"
It's quiet for too long, and I curse at myself for being foolish enough to bring up the question that's been plaguing my mind since the beginning of all this. Before I can come to hate myself too much, he speaks up, "Yes. I meant it. I meant everything I ever told you on that roof."
For some reason that brings me a small bit of joy, relaxing at the thought that if nothing else, the kinship was real. I don't respond, and he takes my silence as his cue to exit, but I stop him once more. "Gale?"
He turns back to me, one foot already out the door. "Yeah?"
I bite my lip, a million questions I've been waiting to ask him rushing to my mind. For whatever reason I choose: "What's your favorite color?"
The little light in the room makes it impossible for me to read his face, but I know the randomness of it must take him by surprise because he swiftly answers, " Brown.
"Brown?" I ask surprised at the choice of such an ordinary color.
"Yeah," he says, shrugging his shoulders as he steps closer to me. "Brown, it's I don't know… warm. Comforting."
"Comforting?" I repeat, a teasing smile on my lips.
Before I can make a jest at him, he quickly rebuffs, "What's yours?"
"Blue," I tell him, moving my body to face Gale as he sit down next to me. "Like the early morning sky."
"Like your eyes," he says, looking right into them as he says so.
My cheeks burn at the comparison. My eyes are nowhere near that color, but I let the compliment slide. "Yeah, I guess."
We're both quiet for a moment before he looks up at the clear night sky through the glass ceiling.
"Madge, I know that our situation it's odd and…difficult. I never meant to hurt you, and I think that we both know we are going to be spending a lot of time together. And we need each other on this trip. And we worked well together in the Games as allies. So why don't we give that another shot?"
It takes me a minute to process what he's proposing. "You want us to be allies?"
Allies. The word seems too businesslike, too impassive for the situation we find ourselves in.
"Yes." Gale nods, looking back down at me with that little smirk of his. "Maybe even friends."
Friends, much better.
"I'd like that."
We talk. We tell each other meaningless, trivial things that hold little depth. We cover favorite season, favorite food, favorite animal. I tell him that I have never broken a bone, and he tells me about a time that he dislocated his shoulder and Thom had to pop it back in.
"Thom's great like that," I add when his story is done, "always willing to help out."
He rolls his eyes. "Tell me about it. Without him, I'd be talentless."
"How's that?"
"He came by a few days ago. We haven't seen much of each other, but he wanted to see how I was dealing with the upcoming tour and all. Anyway, I let it slip that I still don't have a talent, and I was a day away from going with Portia's suggestion, which was to pretend I designed the clothes she made. He got a laugh out of that and told me to leave it to him. He said he'd ask around our old Seam friends and see if anyone had a couple wood carvings or even anything really that I could borrow for my talent."
"And did he come through?"
Gale laughs, and the sound makes me feel oddly warm. "Surprisingly enough, he did come through. For once. They're actually really great. Wanna take a look?"
I nod, and he helps to my feet, leading me through the dark train, past the car which holds my baby grand piano and into the dark last car. He flicks on the lights, and I blink a few times to get my eyes to adjust.
And when they finally do, I feel as if I've forgotten how to breathe.
Covering the walls are papers. Some normal-sized drawing papers, others are on long poster sheets, and then there are a few large canvases. And they're all full of drawings. They're all full of buildings.
Buildings as magnificent as the ones I've seen at the Capitol. Buildings and skyscrapers with amazing detail and symmetry, not one angle off, not one line askew. They are beautiful, daring, and magnificent.
And as I look slowly walk around the room, I realize I was wrong. They aren't all buildings. There are a few of scenes anyone in Twelve would recognize.
There's one of the backside, drab school building with children pouring out of it. There's one of little girls on a swing set, one the sign of the jeweler's shop, and one of a thick trees. As beautiful as they are, they are not as stunning as the looming figure of the tall buildings. They don't have the same precision, the angles are too hard or the lines are too rough. They're beautiful, but not as seamless as the others.
And then, right when I'm about to go look at the other wall of the room, I'm proven wrong once more. It's one of the few drawings that are on a canvas instead of plain paper. There's tall grass in the foreground, and every blade, every petal on every wildflower is shown. There are trees for in the background and even further behind them is the vague shape of mountains. And, right in the middle of the drawing, right in the middle of the tall grass and wildflowers is a girl.
Unlike any of the other drawings, she isn't stationary. No, she's twirling. Every inch of her body is in motion, her dress twists right above her knee, her arms are thrown to the side, her hair falls in wavy curls, covering her face completely.
My hand moves on its own accord, hovering over the image, the image that screams of freedom and beauty and happiness and true affection.
"They're good, right?" Gale says, his words startling me, and yet still I'm still unable to look away from the drawing. "I didn't really get a good look at them when he dropped a box of them off this morning. I wonder who he got it from. I don't know anyone in the Seam who can afford to spend money on paper and pencils. I've seen a few sheets at the Hob, but not canvases."
I can feel his hot breath on the back of my neck as he stands by me, his eyes looking at the canvas in front of us. "This looks so expensive. Frivolous. Like it's from the Capitol itself."
I close my eyes as I feel his body tighten as the realization hits him. "You, that day I saw you, you said you ordered more paint supplies for you friend. For Mellark." I hear him scoff from behind me, his voice coming out too smug for my liking. "Of course, good ole Mellark. He's loves to help everyone, doesn't he?"
"It wasn't Peeta." I tell him, gazing around the walls of the room. "Peeta, he's a painter. That's his median. He can draw too, and sketch and frost. But what he's good at, what he's great at is painting. And he paints people. Landscapes and nature. He struggles with arches, with angles and precision needed to create those buildings. This isn't Peeta." I sigh, looking back at the girl twirling in the picture before me. "This is Jude."
"Jude." I can nearly feel the anger seeping through his voice. His figure is looming behind me as he glares at the picture in front of us. "It's you. In the drawing. That's you."
I nod, even though it wasn't a question. I remember the day, it was almost sunset, and Jude and I had been talking for hours. We were swapping secrets like we started doing in those last few days of the summer, and I had confided in him that a secret joy I have is to dance, even when there is no music playing because there is always an abundant of music playing in my head. And he told me to dance. He told to dance right then in the meadow like no one was watching me. And I did.
Gale moves from behind me, and I turn to see him begin to rip off the tacks holding it up. "What are you doing?"
"Well, I can't rip them- can't return the townie's drawing ripped." He practically growls at me.
"Why?"
He whips around to face me, his whole face pulled down in a snarl. "Because this wasn't the deal. Thom said he got these from a friend; I'm not about to take charity from a townie."
"It's not charity." He scoffs and my hands ball into fists as anger builds up inside me. "It's not. You had no problem when you thought it was Peeta. You were annoyed for sure, but you weren't trying to tear them from the wall. Why Jude, what difference does it make if it's from Jude or someone from the Seam?"
"It's charity."
"No!" I irrupt on him, marching over to stand in front of him and the drawing. "It's a favor. It's a favor to Thom who is his friend. And if that's not good enough for you, then it's a favor for me. He wanted this trip to be as easy for me as possible, and he knew that if you didn't have a talent that would only add to my already enormous pile of stress. And he didn't want that for me so he let you borrow his drawings because he is my…friend."
A blush slowly creeps up my neck to my cheeks, and I peering down at my shoes as I continue on. "And if that still doesn't do it for you, then just think that he did this to be selfish."
He scoffs at that, "Selfish? The perfect Townie selfish? How so?"
I shake my head at him, looking back at him. "Because no one is going to see these drawings, anyway. Because what he wants is to build things, he wants to make things, and he can't. It doesn't matter who his father was, that he's from Town or that he has more food in his stomach than others do. It doesn't matter to the Capitol because he's just another no name kid from District Twelve. So without you, no one would have ever seen his ideas, no one would have ever seen the beautiful pieces of art he creates in his mind. At least now people get to see it, even if it is only on a paper, and everyone thinks it's yours. At least they got to see it."
I pause for a second, my eyes wandering back to drawing of me in the meadow. "You know, Gale, the Town and Seam line is so big to us, but to them it doesn't matter. Seam, Town, it doesn't matter to the Capitol. We're all the same. It's kind of sad if you think about it, that even they don't have a prejudice. Leave it be, Gale."
He still hasn't said anything, and I sigh once more, making my way past him to go back to my room. Before I can get out the door though he calls me, "Madge."
"What?" I ask, turning my head to look at him.
He has that look in his eye again, like before when he told me he missed hearing me playing the piano. I don't know what it is, but it makes his face softer, younger, like the face of an eighteen year old boy rather than a middle-aged man. He shifts uncomfortably, and I realize I've been staring at him. I quickly avert my eyes, and I hear him quietly say, "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," I return the sentiment before swiftly exiting the room, walking back to the room, hoping that maybe now sleep will come to me.
My prep team wakes me up before the sun has even risen in the sky. I'm exhausted, having slept very little. The nightmares are back with a vengeance, and I try to take comfort from the fact that at least they were absent for a substantial amount of time.
For what it's worth, my team looks about as happy as I do to be up so early, guzzling down cup after cup of coffee. I'm usually not a fan of coffee,-although I do love the way it smells- but today I make an exception, taking a cup that Octavia graciously offers me. I wince at the bitter taste, but, after a few sips-with lots of added cream and sugar, I gulp down my fair share of the addictive liquid, the caffeine waking me up.
After my prep team practically throws me into the tub of steaming water, scrubbing my skin and hair with much more vigor than usual, I'm given a fluffy robe and taken into the dining hall for breakfast.
Much to my chagrin, only Effie is present. "Where are the boys?"
"Still sleeping," she says, wiping her already perfectly polished mouth with a napkin. Her entire face is already decked out in her usual thick makeup, her gold colored wig on securely around her head.
Does she wake up at two in the morning to get herself ready? She's insane.
"Don't they have to get ready?" I ask her, blowing on the hot bowel of porridge in front of me.
"Yes, but they won't take nearly as much time as you will." I decide not to take offense to that, finishing off the rest of my porridge before being dragged back to my room by my team.
I raise an eyebrow at them as Venia begins to wax my legs. "Why do you have to wax them? It's too cold to show any skin anyways."
"Not in District Eleven it's not," Flavius tells me, plucking my eyebrows even though he just did them yesterday, and it's near impossible that there is any out of place already.
I swallow thickly, my hand instantly tightening around the little star around my neck. The whole concept of the Tour astounds me, parading around other districts who have just lost their children, many at our hand. But to have to start in Eleven, where two of my allies lived… I have to stop my hands from shaking multiple times.
How am I supposed to look at their families? How am I supposed to say anything to them? Rue died because I wasn't fast enough to save her, because I didn't stick the plan. And Thresh, dear, sweet funny Thresh, he died because of me too. He died because he was going to kill me first, because I asked him to kill me first. If he had taken Gale out when he had the chance, I would have been an easy kill, and he would be the one going to our home right now.
"Madge! You're making your lip bleed!" Venia scolds me, taking a napkin to it. "You have to stop that lip biting habit of yours. Now I have to do your lipstick all over again."
I apologize, though I hardly hear her complaints over the images going through my head. Of Rue flying through the trees like she belonged there, of her body covered in flowers, of Thresh giving me his jacket, of him holding my hand as he died with the shadow of his smile still etched on his face.
Cinna arrives, a black garment bag draped over his arm.
"And what masterpiece have you worked up today?" I inquire.
He smiles, unzipping the bag to show me the orange frock and black pants, "What do you think?"
"It'll have to do."
He shakes his head at my quip, helping me into the clothes, before pinning my mockingjay pin to corner of the frock. He wipes off the dark lipstick Venia put on me, instead swiping on a light red.
Octavia had braided my hair into a halo around my head, and Cinna carefully tucks stray hairs into the braid, spraying it with hairspray before coming around to face me. "You ready?"
No. I am without a doubt not ready. But I nod anyway.
He places his arm on my shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. He brings the chain that hangs around my neck to the front of my frock, letting it dangle. I can't decide if it's a good idea or not, putting Rue's star on display like this.
Cinna seems to sense my hesitation, and he lifts my chin up to look at him. "She was your friend too. Both of them were. Neither of them would blame either of you for what happened. Speak from the heart, and you'll do fine."
He wraps me into a hug, and I cling to him, trying to force the tears to stay in my eyes.
Effie comes in, ushering us to the train door. She prattles on and on about how excited we must be, but, when I see Gale emerge from his room, I know he is wearing the same look of disdain as I am.
Gale stands next to me, both of us facing the doors as Effie runs around like a headless chicken.
"How can I face these people, Madge?"
Gale's words are so sudden that I practically jump next to him. If he notices my startlement, he ignores it, continuing to stare at the doors in front of us. "I killed him. I killed him. How can I say what a good ally he was when I killed him?"
"You didn't kill him." He glances over at me, and I pull him into a swift embrace. My lips rest right by his ear, my voice as low as it can go as I whisper to him, "We both know you didn't kill him. And so do they."
As quickly as I pulled him in I let him go, returning to look at the door. I can feel Gale's eyes on my face, but I refuse to look at him, I don't need the distraction right now.
As the train pulls into the station a million things rush through my mind.
This is it. This is the moment I have to face their families, people who loved them. This is the moment I have to prove to Snow how much I love Gale, how much he loves me. This is the moment it all comes crashing down.
Just as the doors begin to open, I snatch Gale's hand in mine, lacing our fingers together, a bright smile plastered on my face. But when the doors open, there are no cameras, no people cheering, no stage, no crowd. There is only one armored vehicle with two peacekeepers standing in front of it, their guns in their hands.
Effie lets out a little shriek of surprise, and her eyes look around in clear shock.
"There must be some mistake," she tells us, her voice higher than usual with alarm. "Perhaps we are early… no that's absurd I checked and double checked the schedule! We are right on time. Perhaps they had thought we would arrive tomorrow and-excuse me!" She cries out as one of the Peacekeepers forcibly grabs her arm, leading her to the car.
The other officer gestures at us all to get in the vehicle, and I can feel Haymitch place his arm protectively around me as we get in the car. We are all quiet, but Effie is still fuming, shaking her head as she rants on. "I have never been treated so harshly in my life! We're not criminals!"
Not all of us, Effie.
The car pulls up to the backside of the Justice Building, and we quickly walk up the steps to the back entrance. It's an old building; clearly worn down with ivy crawling up the tops of some of the pillars, long crack in the wall and sections of the ceiling having considerable water damage.
Still, it looks almost identical to the Justice Building back home, and something gives me comfort knowing that two halls down from the one we are in, there should be a grand old oak desk where the secretary's desk is. And the last door in that hall will be the Mayor's office, with a large plush chair sitting behind an dark brown desk with two chairs in front of it and a bookcase leaning on the other wall.
Effie arranges us in front of the door to the patio of the building, making sure every hair is in place. "You have your note cards?" she asks us.
The victor always has to give a speech at every district, it's a dry piece of propaganda written by the Capitol that we're supposed to recite verbatim. But if a victor had an ally in the Games, it's expected they give a kind of elegy to them in their home district. I never sat down to write something; I'm much like my father in the sense that my best thoughts come to me in the moment. Gale has a few note cards in his hand, and, for a second, I wish I had actually thought of something beforehand because my mind is completely blank.
But then I hear the Mayor announce our names, Effie is shoving us out onto the marble steps and I have no time to regret.
There's loud applause, and the light is too bright and I'm astounded at the sheer number of people in the square. There's thousands, five times the people in Twelve. And there, standing in a special platform at the bottom of the stage, with their children's pictures being projected above them, are my friend's families. Thresh's side has only two people there, a tall women who looks a few years older than me who must be his older sister and an old women with grey hair and a hunched back.
I'm surprised at myself how little I knew about Thresh's family. He never spoke of them, much, unlike Rue and Ronan who spoke of little else.
It must have been too painful to talk to us about people he might never see again.
The older woman, who I take it to have been his grandmother, is staring at me, tears slowly making their way down her face.
I'm sorry, I want to tell her. I'm so so sorry.
And then there's Rue's family. Rue's large, loving family that she told us so much about, and just by glancing at them, I have to force myself not to burst out into sobs. Her parent's faces are pale, their grief still fresh in their eyes as their other children cling to them. Rue's five younger siblings, all of them having her same wild, dark hair and slight build. They form a flock of dark little birds.
From the corner of my eye, I see Haymitch gesturing at me to start talking, but I can't seem to get the words out. Finally Gale steps in, reciting my part of the Capitol speech. By the time he's finished, I am recovered just enough to say the words I memorized weeks ago, grateful that Peeta told me I should memorize both parts just in case.
With the speech done, it's time for our elegies.
Gale goes first, his eyes darting to the cards in his hands before he clears his throat. "Thresh is, I mean, he, he…" Gale swallows, looking back down at the notecards. "Thresh…"
I watch as his eyes glance up at his family, his grandmother still crying as his sister places an arm around her. His back straightens as he lowers the cards, his eyes staying fixed on his family's faces.
"Thresh was my first ally. And he was more than that. He was my friend. Our friend," he says looking down at me. I give a small watery smile and somehow that seems to comfort him enough to look back up at his family. "He found a way to laugh in a place where laughter was unheard of. He saved our lives, he was kind and fair, and…even though it was under the worst circumstances imaginable, he stayed true to who he was."
He swallows thickly, his eyes still on Thresh's family. "I am fortunate to have known him."
Tears begin to roll down Thresh's strong sister's face, and I can see from here how the truth of Gale's words touch her.
Gale's eyes move over to Rue's family, and I can see his whole body stiffen. "And Rue, she was one of the purest souls I have ever encountered. Kind and smart beyond her years. She was a brave little girl and one of the bravest of us all." He stops now, addressing both the families of our lost allies. "They were extraordinary people, and I hope any child I have would grow to be half the person either of them was. Thank you."
There is a small round of applause, and Gale steps back from the microphone.
My turn.
My lips quiver as I take a deep breath to steady myself. What can I say? How can I possibly sum up these two lives in a few words?
I take another breath, looking up into the sky, the hot sun beating down on me. "Light. Thresh and Rue, they were light. They brought kindness, laughter, and friendship with them wherever they went. Rue was the sweetest person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. She saved me when she could have just as easily killed me. And Thresh-" my voice cracks as I look down at his family, both women openly crying now as they look up at me. "Thresh was brave. Smart, and so funny. In only a matter of days I felt as if I had known him all my life. They were amazing souls that kept true to themselves no matter what was thrown at them. Neither of us would be here today if it wasn't for them. They were good and caring, too good to be put on the situation they were."
I look over at Rue's family, her parents and all her little siblings eyes locked on mine as tears continue to fall from their faces. My breath hitches, but I keep looking into their faces, trying to give them a shred of comfort at the incredible loss that has been inflicted on them.
"Now they are in a better place, a place where their light can shine, and they can be free of pain and suffering. They are free." Rue's mother's lips tilt into a tiny smile, and I can see just a small bit of agony leave her face.
"I thank you for your beautiful children." I tell them, looking down at both the families of my fallen friends. "I thank them for sharing with me their light." I look up into the crowd, addressing all of District Eleven. "And I thank you for the bread."
This is the part where they clap. Where they applaud because the speeches are over and they can go back to their daily lives. But not one person moves, not a single soul puts their hands together. And just as I'm sure that I've somehow offended them. I hear it. A simple four note whistle. It takes me a moment to place it, and when I do it hits me like a ton of bricks. The tune, the simple tune that meant Rue was heading back to me, that she was safe.
My eyes search the crowd until I find the man responsible for the sound, standing right in the middle of the square.
The man very deliberately raises his three middle fingers to his lips, kissing the tips of them before raising them above his head. The same salute I gave to Ronan, Rue and Thresh. The symbol that means goodbye, that means respect.
It's a gesture for District Twelve, an old one at that, and there is no doubt in my mind that the man is mimicking the gesture from my time in the arena. But then, in almost perfect unison, every single person in the crowd moves their fingers to their lips, raising their hands up high.
The image cause tears to spring to my eyes and I stand in shock of their obvious display of respect towards us. Even Rue's tiny siblings have their hands raised, but as I look out into the crowd with a watery smile on my face, I feel it begin to happen.
The smell of blood overpowers my senses and Thresh's sister face suddenly transforms into that of her brother's. I see Rue standing clutching her mother's leg, and everywhere in the crowd I see the other's faces. Marina and Cato in the front row, Marvel and Clove standing next to the man that whistled.
The mayor walks briskly to the microphone, thanking us rapidly and presenting us with our small wooden plaques and bouquets of flowers.
My head is twirling, and I have to fit to keep my smile on my face, my hands twitching and my head swimming at the images of their faces in the crowd.
Not real, not real, not real.
A girl in a white dress brings the gifts forward, and, even though my haze ,I can tell by the way she hold herself, the way she stands very close to the mayor as we accept them that she is his daughter. The daughter of the Mayor of District Eleven.
I've never met another child of a mayor before, and she seems quite a few years younger than me. But her mask is just the same as mine, the tight smile, the vacant eyes.
But when she catches me staring at her, her eyes flash with alarm, and her carefully practiced mask falls. She hands me my flowers slowly, and when her hand brushes against mine, she grasps my wrist, her eyes boring into mine. They are steady, unblinking, hard. A warning.
But a warning of what?
My brain is too busy trying to process the memories forcing themselves on me to even begin to comprehend this girl's random warning. Or even if it was a warning at all. She releases me, her mask back on as she steps back in line with her father. I blink rapidly, and my feet are extremely unsteady as I hear the Mayor announce our names once more.
"Gale Hawthorne and Margaret Undersee!"
There is clapping now, loud, booming clapping, and someone is leading me back inside the building. We're completely inside the building half way up the stairs when I hear something, something loud like a car backfiring, and Gale stops in his tracks.
"What was that?" he asks.
Haymitch says something I don't hear as my legs cave in beneath me, and everything goes black.
There's talking, hushed talking, and I hear my name mentioned more than once.
I sit up groggily, rubbing my head. "W-what-"
"You passed out," Gale tells me, his face close to mine as he leans over me, peering down at me in worry.
"Flashback," I explain, closing my eyes to lie back down on the sofa that I somehow ended up on. The room is silent, and I realize Gale must have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about. "They happen, sometimes. There wasn't one for a long time, but then today when I-I was looking into the crowd. Their faces…changed. I saw the other tributes."
I groan, knowing I must sound insane. "They really don't happen that often anymore. I hadn't had one for months until yesterday-"
My eyes flash open as I'm reminded of yesterday morning, of my talk with Snow.
Convince me.
What had I done to do that? One district half-way done, and I did nothing to display any kind of affection towards Gale.
"One district down," I mutter to myself. "One chance gone, and I didn't, we didn't-" I throw my head in my hands, trying to control my rapid breathing. "How does he expect us to pull this off? What, does he want us to do make out while giving out condolences?"
"What the hell are you talking about, Undersee?"
My body tenses, and I curse myself as I slowly peek up from between my fingers to see Gale's clearly befuddled face.
There's a knock on the door, and Haymitch swings it open a moment later. "Oh good, you're up. Effie gave me something that supposed to help, but who the fuc-"
He stops, taking in Gale's angried expression and me curled up on the couch. He throws his head back, closing the door with a groan. "Oh, what the hell did you do now, boy?"
"Me?!" Gale yells out in defense. "I didn't do a damn thing. Undersee is the one talking in tongues."
"So we're back to Undersee again, huh?" I ask him, looking down at my shoes. The room goes quiet, and I sigh, glancing back at Haymitch.
He slowly shakes his head at me. "Go on, spill the beans."
So I do. I tell Gale everything, from finding Nora in my house to every detail of my visit with Snow. I even tell him about my flashback, the only thing I exclude is seeing Maysilee. I'm not sure if I'll ever be ready to open up that can of worms on him.
"And that's everything," I finish, sighing as my eyes slowly move up to meet his.
"And you didn't tell me."
It's not a really question, and I don't bother answering it. Instead I stand my ground as he continues to glare at me.
"But you told Haymitch." The silence is uncomfortable thick as he looks down at me, and I nod my head once.
Gale says nothing for a moment, so long that I think perhaps he'll stay silent when he tells us, "He came to me too. Snow." My eyes widen at the statement, and he looks away from me, moving his head to address Haymitch. "Told me the same things he told her. Threatened to kill my family, my friends if we don't succeed. So failing is not an option for me."
"Me either," Haymitch agrees.
Gale's eyes narrow at our old mentor. "So you will help us?"
He doesn't mean it as a request, a fact Haymitch knows, but he shrugs anyway. "Kept you alive this long didn't I? Might as well keep the trend going."
Haymitch moves forward, handing me the glass cup he has in his hand. "Effie says to drink all of it. I tried some of it; it wouldn't be half bad if it had some white liquor or even a dash of rum in it. Your prep teams will come get you in about a half an hour. In the meantime try to stay out of trouble."
He leaves us then, closing the door behind him.
I bite my lip, and I glance around the room to avoid looking at Gale. The room already has our belongings in it, and the only pieces of furniture in it is the lush couch I'm currently residing on, two chairs and a vanity table.
"You're a hypocrite, you know." Gale glares at me the moment the words have left my mouth, but I don't take them back. "You scowl at me when you learn I didn't tell you about Snow's visit but you don't bother telling me eith-"
"You never tell me anything," he cuts me off, his eyes hard and dark.
"What?"
"You never tell me things. Whenever anything happens, I'm the last person you think about running to. If you hadn't told anyone, if you had kept it to yourself then I'd understand because that is what I do. But you, you tell people, you lean on people for support, and I am always the last person you look to."
He pauses, raising his stormy eyes to look at me. "I understand that's where we stand right now, that this whole thing is beyond complicated. But I'm the one who survived the Games with you. I'm the one in this with you. And the only person I ever considered telling about Snow was you."
"Why didn't you?"
"I didn't want to burden you. I thought you would already be stressed and worried as it is, and I didn't want to add to that."
I'm unable to meet his eyes for a moment, toying with my fingers in my lap. "Gale, we need to stop this. This thing we do, where you keep things from me, and I keep things from you. It has to stop. So from now on, I won't keep things from you. I'm an open book."
All open except for a small little chapter about a ghostly aunt who I still see occasionally. But that might be a figment of my imagination, like the flashbacks. But there is a possibility it is her. And no, I'm not crazy because the town drunk used to see her too.
Gale smiles at me, that genuine smile that I've really missed. "Okay. No secrets." He sticks his hand out, and I shake it. "So does this mean I should tell you that I've known about your flashback since the summer, when you had one at the school and I followed you and Mellark home? And then I threatened Haymitch to tell me if it ever happened again. Which he never did so in all technicality, I ought to be kicking his ass right now."
I laugh lightly, trying to cover up the fact that my entire face is turning crimson red.
I'm going to kill you, Peeta Mellark.
"Yes, thank you for telling me that."
There's another knock on the door, and Portia peeks her head in. "Sorry to interrupt, but I need to steal Gale away for a while."
Gale nods at her, waving the woman away. "I'll be right there, Portia." He grabs me suddenly by the waist, leaning his lips close to my ear as he whispers, "We can do this. We can pull this off."
"We have to," I respond as quietly as I can.
He leaves me then, but, not a moment later, my team arrives, asking me if I'm alright, why I fainted. I tell them I must have been dehydrated. They prattle after that, although it doesn't take nearly as long to get ready for the dinner as it did this morning for the ceremony.
Cinna brings in my dress, a light long shimmery yellow number that reminds me of my interview dress after the Games. My hair is left down in loose flowing waves and small little kitten heels are strapped to my feet.
"You look beautiful," he tells me as I gaze at my reflection.
"All thanks to you," I praise him, although it is true.
He laughs good-naturedly, "I'm afraid I had little to do with that. You shine all on your on."
Once everyone is ready, we head downstairs to where Effie is running around, positioning people here and there. Gale takes his place next to me, taking my hand in his. Effie makes sure everyone is in the right formation. First the prep teams, then her, the stylists, Haymitch, and, finally, Gale and I.
"Count to forty, then go," she instructs us, making sure every hair on every head is perfect once more.
Music begins to play, flowing down the hall to our ears. Our prep teams step walk down, and we move up a step, waiting for our turn to go.
The music gets louder, and my face turn down in a scowl.
Gale nudges me slightly, "What's wrong?"
"The piano is off key, and the violin and the cello are playing at different tempos," I explain to him.
He raises an eyebrow at me, "You can honestly hear that?" I nod once, and he smirks at me shaking his head. "You are something else, Madge."
I don't respond, trying to force myself not to fidget at the awful collision of sounds. Haymitch has just started walking, and I begin to mentally count to forty. "Madge?"
"Yes?"
Gale pauses, his eyes looking straight ahead before he leans down, making it look to anyone else that he kissing my neck.
"Snow, he…he knew about me and Katniss about our kiss in the woods. He knew about it, and I'm not blaming you. I know you wouldn't do something so petty as to…but I need you to tell me. I need you to tell me you didn't tell him."
I give my head a slight shake. "No, I would never. I would never do something to purposely put you in danger, Gale."
I can feel his body relax against mine, his breath tickling my neck. "I know. I know you wouldn't I just, I just… it was the one place where I thought…I thought I could be free."
"I know," I tell him, straightening up as I ready myself to face the crowd.
"It was just once, you know," Gale says, his words almost rapid. "Katniss and I. It was just that one kiss."
"Okay." I shift, suddenly very uncomfortable.
"I just thought you should know," he says. His hand tightens in mine as he gestures down the stairs. "That's over thirty, let's go."
WOW long chapter! I was thinking about splittling this up into two but i figured might as well jam it all into one :D Okay so what do you think of Gale and Madge's reunion? Loved it? Hate it? Please REVIEW! KISSES from Madge/Gale/Cinna/Effie/Portia!
Also, the song in here, for those who might live under a rock or in like Denmark, was from Les Mis and is I Dreamed A Dream. MOst if not all the songs that have been or will be in this fic are from that musical. It's a beautiful heart renching kind of song so please check it out if you dont know it. Anne Hawthaway did an amazing job with it in the movie but there are also a bunch of awesome Broadway singers that have sung it as well so please go YouTube it or something!