Disclaimer: All stories are individuals of themselves and are unrelated to each other.
Madge sits in the Hawthorne living room with Posy on her lap. They're reading some old princess story and Posy is hardly listening, mostly just drooling over the pictures and the elaborate dresses the girls are wearing. Madge tries her hardest not to look up at Gale as he marches in from his shift in the mines (she knows he doesn't like her much) but her eyes follow him anyway.
The crackdown on the mines has been tough ever since Romulus Thread came to town and it means Gale isn't home at his usual hours. There's now a lag in time between when Hazelle has to make her runs and his homecoming (Rory insists he's old enough to watch the kids, but he enjoys Madge's company so he doesn't complain) so Madge has offered to look after Posy and Vick for that short amount of time.
Gale walks right past Madge into the bathroom and lets the door thud shut. Posy sits up straight and bounces on Madge's knee, mumbling something about something she can't understand. The little girl leaps from Madge's lap and into the back bedroom, and Madge hesitantly knows she has to follow. Posy Hawthorne is bound to get into something, she always does, and Madge has to make sure she doesn't.
As she passes the bathroom Madge realizes the door hasn't shut all the way. Through the crack Madge can see Gale spreading some sort of green cream on his back, on his scars from the whipping. She finds herself stuck, unable to press forward, staring at the man on the other side of the door.
When he catches her staring Gale grunts, clicking the door shut all the way and leaving Madge to snap out of her trance.
They end up washing dishes together that night, a ploy by Hazelle Madge is sure to get them to communicate like human beings rather than empty stares.
Madge is scrubbing the old plates with a scrub brush. "I didn't mean stare earlier," she whispers.
"We don't have to talk about it," Gale mutters.
"I just didn't know that you still had to treat them."
"Drop it," he snaps. "Christ, Undersee."
They fall back into their uneasy silence, nothing but the sound of the brush against the dishes. Gale dries what she hands him with an old tattered rag before reaching up to the highest counters and returning them.
"Do they still hurt?" she asks. Gale lets out an angry breath and grips the rag tightly. "Never mind," Madge chokes. She glances over her shoulder to see if Hazelle is within earshot so she can avoid being chewed out by Gale but the woman is all the way across the room. "I didn't mean—I'm sorry."
Gale's jaw is locked and he doesn't glance her way as he accepts the dishes she hands him. "The cream, it's not for the pain," Gale finally answers. His voice is terse, his shoulders tight. "It's for the scars."
Madge tilts her head slightly to look at him but he still isn't glancing in her direction. "What's wrong with them?" she asks.
Gale lets out a pathetic little laugh. "Are you shitting me?" He shakes his head, finally meeting her gaze. "Did you see them?" Madge tips her head into the slightest no. "They're a shit show, Undersee."
"They can't be that bad—" Gale snatches the dish in her hand to dry it and effectively silences her. She feels an apology lingering on her lips but swallows it back. "It's just a few scars," Madge says quietly. "I don't see the big deal."
"Because you haven't seen them," Gale retorts.
Madge fidgets with the scrub brush. "Well then show them to me."
Gale snorts. "No."
"Why—"
"Because," Gale shouts. Even the children in the living room fall silent, and now without even looking Madge can feel Hazelle watching them. Gale exhales and shakes his head. "Because they're awful and I don't need your fucking pity, alright?" He throws the rag down and marches away from the sink, not even looking toward Madge. She finishes the dishes in silence, and Hazelle helps her put them away.
Just like every other night Madge refuses pay from Hazelle.
"Oh, Madge," Hazelle frowns and crosses her arms. "Will you just take it? At least once?"
"I don't need it," Madge refuses politely and holds her hand up. "I don't watch the kids for pay, I do it because I like to spend time with them, and as a favor to you. Besides, I get dinner out of it, right?"
Hazelle's scowl morphs into a tiny smile. "Then take it for Gale being rude to you, okay?"
Again Madge refuses. "He wasn't rude to me."
"Sweetie," Hazelle steps forward and brushes a strand of hair from Madge's forehead. "You don't need to lie to me to protect him. He's my son and I know how he gets." Madge fidgets on her feet and drops her gaze, though Hazelle's fingers linger on her cheek. "He'll warm up eventually." Hesitantly, Madge head tips forward. She feels foolish for feeling like she does to a boy who only bullies her, she just can't help it. "If he knew about the morphling—"
"No," Madge steps away and lifts her gaze. "I don't want him to." Hazelle sighs but nods in understanding. Madge glances over her shoulder to where his room is and chews on her bottom lip. "I'm going to apologize," she says.
Hazelle smiles again. "Be careful."
With a deep breath Madge forces herself over to Gale's room. Hazelle has moved to putting the other children to bed and that sort of makes Madge feel better, like she isn't being watched, but she's still nervous. She knocks with her knuckles on his door. "Gale?"
"Come in," his voice is loud. She fidgets with the handle and the door swings open. Instantly she's frozen in the doorway. Gale is standing at his dresser, digging through it looking for a shirt to wear. His entire back is exposed, the scars that claw across his skin, red and harsh, are in plain sight. He looks over his shoulder and spins around instantly. His voice is cold as he says, "Thought you were Ma."
"Sorry to disappoint," she breathes. Madge enters the room and pulls the door shut behind her.
Gale reaches behind him without looking to get a shirt, keeping his eyes firmly locked with hers. "Got what you wanted after all, hm? Of course the mayor's daughter always gets what she—"
"Don't," she bites. Gale tenses and goes to pull on the shirt he's finally gotten a hold of. "Wait," her voice cracks and he winces. Madge quickly steps forward, the room isn't that big and she's in front of him in seconds. Their eyes are still locked, but eventually she drops them. "Just let me see." Madge lifts her eyes to his again in an attempt to put more force behind her words and finds Gale's eyebrows knit.
Eventually, without any words, Gale turns around.
She tries not to gasp but her breath escapes her anyway. Gale sighs tiredly and rests his hands on the dresses, his knuckles turning white at how tightly he squeezes.
"They're awful," he croaks.
Her chin quivers. "No they're not," she whispers. Her fingers lift hesitantly, but eventually her fingertips graze over a scar that stretches from his shoulder. Gale tenses and grips the dresser even tighter. "They're beautiful."
"You've got a pretty fucked up perception of beauty," Gale rasps. Her fingers continue over the scars, lightly tracing the lashes. Her touch is warm and gentle. "I hate them."
"They're like… constellations," Madge tells him.
Gale squeezes his eyes shut. "No they're not."
"Like… a reminder that after all the things you've endured that you're still alive." Gale grunts. "Proof of the rebel within." At that he spins around so quickly Madge doesn't even have time to remove her hand. When it ends up on his chest she pulls it away as though she's been burned, but doesn't dare to drop her eyes from his.
Gale stares at her for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before he reaches forward with one hand and grabs her cheek. Madge swallows at the interaction and he studies her face frantically, his eyes memorizing the blue of her own, or the curve of her nose, or the freckles dusting over her skin.
"Gale?" He drops his hold instantly, and jerks his head to the side, swallowing back whatever that was. Gale tries to back away but ends up running into the dresser. He drags his hand through his hair as Madge shifts in front of him. "I should go," she finally says. His eyes crawl up to meet hers again, Gale finds her cheeks pink. "Goodnight," Madge nods.
"Undersee," he only speaks when she's got her hand on the doorknob. She doesn't turn around but she does stop. "Thank you," he says. She leaves without another word. He was always thankful that he said that.