Disclaimer: All stories are individuals of themselves and are unrelated to each other.
Gale drops his head into his hands, staring down at the files on the table. He wants them to make sense. He's never been good at figuring out codes like this. He just wants to rush into war blindly. All this thinking makes his head hurt.
Just as he goes to shove himself away from the table Gale feels someone's hands on his shoulders. They knead lightly, ridding his back of knots and the added stress of the entire situation.
"We'll figure it out," Madge murmurs. "We always do." That's why they're in this together.
Gale grunts. He doesn't really want her to touch him, not like this. It's too fake. Too forced. But the feeling of her hands is nice and he can't bring himself to stop her.
"You don't have to do that," Gale grumbles. He wants to sound angry. "Act like this when no one else is around."
"You're my husband," Madge whispers. Her voice is soft in his ear. "Why shouldn't I act like this?"
Gale jerks his head and glances up at her through his bangs. She pulls her hands away, folding them lightly in front of her. His eyes search her figure until they find the ring on her wedding finger.
An urge to call her Undersee bubbles up inside him, but she's right. Madge is now a Hawthorne. At least as far as records go.
"Don't act like that," he snaps. Gale drops his head back into his hands. Forced. Fake.
Madge sighs, dropping down to the seat next to him and scanning her eyes over the file. Something cryptic. Something Gale can't figure out. "It's a bomb," Madge tells him. She points to some words, symbols. "Tomorrow. Eleven thirty two. Tower A, section 45."
He shakes his head. Gale's never understood the hidden messages that Haymitch sends them. He guesses that's why they married him off to Madge. Shipped them to the Capitol together. She wasn't very good at the physical contact, just more of the sneaking.
"So I guess I'm calling in sick tomorrow," Gale grumbles.
"No," Madge shakes her head. "You'll go tomorrow to your office like you always do. I'll call you around 11:20. Emergency. You'll leave. Can't be too obvious, dear." She adds that last part on for emphasis.
"I'm going to bed," Gale tells her.
Before he can push himself away from the table Madge links her foot around the chair leg. Not expecting it, Gale drops back down, his elbow banging on the wooden surface. No, Madge isn't good at physical contact, but she's very good at outsmarting him.
"I know you hate me," Madge whispers. Her eyebrows knit painfully as she searches his face. "I know that you don't want to be sneaking around the Capitol and acting like a doting husband. But we're in this together."
Gale frowns. "I don't hate you." He doesn't. He can't. Not after everything they've been through. Narrow escapes and secret meetings in janitor closets. Attending important events as such a hip young couple.
"Then why…?"
"Because I'm tired of it being a lie," he grunts. One can only keep their emotions repressed for so long. He's tries to keep himself focused on the task at hand, stealing information for the rebel forces, but his thoughts always stray back to her.
Madge smiles, reaching over and grabbing his hand lightly. "I've never lied to you," she says. The two retire to their bedroom together.