Disclaimer: All stories are individuals of themselves and are unrelated to each other.

Madge sits in the rickety chair across from mine, gripping her mug as tightly as she can. Her eyes are just as blue as I remembered them. Just as bright. Hair still dripping sunshine.

"They tell me that District 2 is the base of most military operations," she says. I tip my head into a nod. "Is that why you're here?"

"I'm here for work," I tell her. That, and other things. "The real question is why are you here?"

It would be a lie to admit seeing her isn't a surprise. The knock on my door just a few minutes ago had been unexpected. She looked tired. Confused. Bedraggled. Still does.

Madge shrugs and sips at her tea. I made her favorite. Vanilla and mint. "You should go back to 12, Gale."

"Is that where you've been?"

Madge's eyes meet mine. She doesn't respond, only continues to stare at me. "Your family misses you." Her cup is lowered to the table with an audible thud. "Katniss, too."

"You've talked to Katniss?" Again, she shrugs. I take a big gulp of the tea from my mug, letting it burn my throat on the way down. "Why're you here, Madge?"

"Gale," Madge sighs audibly. She passes her mug to me. "May I have more tea?" I hesitate, reaching forward and grabbing her cup. From behind me I hear her fidget, the sound of her dress rubbing together. "I know that you're making weapons again," her voice is quiet. "And I came to talk you out of it."

I frown, pouring her tea quickly. "That's none of your business."

"You hate it," she says.

"You don't know that." The mug slides toward her, a bit sloshing out over the sides and dripping over the handle. She doesn't seem to notice, grabbing the cup into her hands anyway. "It pays the bills. Makes more money."

"It brings back the nightmares," Madge whispers. "Doesn't it?"

The gaze I hold on her falters, my eyes dropping down to study the grooves on the table. "You don't know that," I repeat, though there's less force behind it. My hands shake as I return to clutching my cup of tea. "They say I'm good at it," I tell her. "A natural. A prodigy." Madge goes quiet instantly but I still can't find it in myself to look at her. "I hate it," I grunt out.

"Then stop." Her voice is soft. "And go home where you belong."

"It's not that easy," I snap. I release my hold on the mug and drop my head into my hands. "My family can't stand to look at me. Neither can Katniss because of Prim and I… I don't think I can do it."

"I do," she breathes.

I lift my head and ask, "You do?"

But the room is empty. The mug across the table steams, white puffs hovering just above the rim of it. And I find myself alone.