Disclaimer: All stories are individuals of themselves and are unrelated to each other.
inspired by: "wouldnt it be fucking scary if you had a clock that counted down until the moment you die. like what if it could be altered too like one day it says 70 years left but then you do something and it says 10 minutes left and youre like what the fuck i fucked up i fucked up i fucked up" / "what if you got on a plane and then as soon as it took off everybodys clock changed to 20 minutes" (a tumblr post)
The whispers that spread throughout the district made Gale nervous but it didn't affect him. Just the other night, after the Quarter Quell was announced, so many people's life clocks dropped. Katniss's had stayed the same so Gale knew in one way or another she was going to make it out. Gale's didn't change either. It had no reason to.
But hundreds of people's in town did.
And now, as he passes a basket of strawberries to the mayor's daughter, he knows that she's among that crowd.
"Your clock dropped," he says, eyeing her wrist which shows a significant amount of time less than his. She has months left. Gale has decades. She shifts her wrist so he can no longer see it. "Why?"
"Why?" she echoes. "I don't know."
Their eyes meet briefly. She's the mayor's daughter. Gale can put two and two together, that something tragic is going to happen to District 12. He doesn't understand why she wouldn't avoid it, however. Her father has money and power and knowledge, enough to avoid these situations.
"That doesn't make sense."
Her cool blue eyes trail down his arm until they find his wrist. She swallows thickly. "Yours didn't change," Madge says. There's no quiver to her voice. So many people in town have been shaking and hiding now that their clocks have dropped. She doesn't seem to be affected. "Of course not."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Madge lifts her shoulders. "You were always a survivor."
Gale fidgets under her steady gaze and clears his throat. "You could get it back," he says. "The time."
Madge's sweet pink lips curl into a soft smile. "You and I both know that we don't gain time. We only lose it." She tightens her hold on the basket in her hands. That doesn't sit easy in Gale's stomach. The mayor's daughter, dead. In just a few months. "I'll die in the next few months like predicted, or sooner. Not later. There's no chance of that."
"You're accepting your fate."
"It's fate," Madge lifts her shoulders gently. "It's going to happen whether I accept it or not." She eyes his number again, slowly ticking down but not anywhere near any time soon. "Thanks for the berries."
After seeing how much her number had dropped Gale was drawn to the mayor's daughter. It was because he knew when those months were over he'd never see her again, and the thought of that made him queasy. She was so soft and innocent, and whatever happened to District 12 in the next few months was not how she deserved to go.
She lets him become a part of her life easily, resigned to the fact that she's going to die and there's nothing that can stop it. She's past the petty fights and stupid debates over things that don't matter. And because he knows that death is soon and permanent, so is he.
One week left. That's all her clock has. One week left and Madge Undersee will be ripped from the world forever. It hasn't changed. It's not going to change.
"We're going to be bombed," Madge tells him. They're lying in the meadow, staring up at the stars that twinkle in the sky. She's savoring the sight of them. "You know that, don't you?" Gale tips his head forward. What else could knock out an entire district?
He doesn't understand. They can plan an escape. He can save her.
"You could still get out," Gale says. She shakes her head. His voice is angry. "Why not? Why won't you even try?"
"Because if the district is bombed and I make it out alive I'll die some other way. Gale," she tilts her head toward him. "It's going to happen."
"I could save you," he growls. The numbers on his wrist spin at his words and they both turn to watch. The numbers don't settle. They just continue to spin. The idea is in the back of his head. Saving her. Running back into the flames to rescue her. The anger in him dissolves. This is fate's way of telling him not to get involved. To let whatever is going to happen, happen.
"Look," Madge gestures to his wrist. "Don't. You'd get yourself killed." Gale hisses in frustration, dropping his head into his hands and tugging at his hair. "You can't save everyone, Gale. That's not how it works."
"I don't care how it works," he mutters. And he doesn't want to save everyone, he wants to save her.
Madge Undersee is the bravest person he's met. People are thrown into the Hunger Games and even in their final moments, despite what their clocks have told them, fear death. They should be prepared and yet they are not. Madge Undersee holds her head high. She refuses to let anyone die for her. She is strong and will welcome death rather than hide from it.
She reaches over and grabs his hand, smiling slightly at him. "Don't be upset," she whispers. "I've accepted it. You should too."
"I don't want to," he admits.
She blinks a few times, her smile flickering. Underneath it all Madge is scared slightly. No one knows what comes after death. The unknown is the scary part.
"Why not?"
Why hasn't he accepted her death? It's more complicated than he can explain. He's so angry at himself that he waited so long to befriend her and instead made an enemy out of her. Madge is beautiful and kind, she is smart and wonderful and he wishes it didn't take a few numbers to get him to realize that. She is going to be taken from him before he can even wonder what could've been if he had taken another route.
Why can't he accept her death?
Gale twists his hands so their fingers interlace and then he tugs her toward him. "Because I don't want you to die," he admits. His voice shakes. Death is so permanent. It is final and absolute. And Madge, she should also be permanent. Her hair may be wispy and her voice soft like the wind but she is not fluid. She can't disappear and return. If she disappears she's gone forever.
Madge opens her mouth to protest again but he leans down, pressing his lips softly to hers.
One week.
He waited until she only has one week left to kiss her and regrets it more than anything. She tastes like a goodbye.
The numbers on his wrist continue to spin. He doesn't even care that his time of death is unknown. Gale knows that they're remaining a mystery because he hasn't made up his mind yet. Should he brave the district and rescue Madge, putting himself at risk? Or should he just stick to the plan and get his own family out?
That one decision will result in how his time changes.
The only problem is Gale doesn't know how much his time will change. It could drop immediately. Minutes, seconds, that would be all he had left because he went in after her. Or maybe it would just change by years. Or maybe it wouldn't change at all. But the numbers continue to spin so Gale hasn't the slightest idea.
And then it happens. He knows Madge's clock will run out in hours. He paces his house thinking about it. He looks toward the sky and wonders when they'll bomb.
He makes his choice and refuses to look at his wrist.
The minute the bombs start falling he makes sure Rory knows what to do, escorting his family from the district like he taught, and then he runs straight for the mayor's house.
The sky is raining fire. He doesn't know how much time is on his wrist or in his life, he doesn't know if he'll make this out alive, but he has to try. He has to try.
Mayor Undersee's mansion is spotted and Gale picks up into a sprint. His body is sweating and waves of heat roll in his direction. Ash is coating the ground. His eardrums shake in time with the ground and his balance is unstable. Faster, faster, he runs until he sees a blonde emerging from the house.
Her eyes are wide. She runs for him. "My clock," Madge croaks.
"Doesn't matter!" Gale shouts. He grabs her and pulls her alongside him as fast as he can. "It doesn't matter!"
They run. They dodge the bombs. They fall into the ground. Her house collapses behind them and she does not cry out. Her parents have accepted their death, but she is alive. She has fought. Her clock must still be ticking. What happens if you outlive your clock? Gale's never heard of it happening before. He doesn't know if that's possible.
It feels like hours before they make it to the meadow. They're both covered in ash and their legs are shaky. They collapse on the ground by Gale's family, panting and staring at the sky. The entire district is still aflame, there are screams heard in the distant, screams of despair and of resignation.
He turns to her, still panting, and finds her staring at him. "You're insane," Madge rasps.
"You're alive," he whispers back. Gale props himself up on his elbows as she extends her wrist to him. Years. Decades. She has decades left. He blinks a few times. "What…?"
"A few minutes before the bombs fell," Madge says, shaking her head. "It went back to how it was." It went back to how it was? She gained her time back. Gale didn't think it was possible. She said it wasn't possible. "When you decided," she continues, her eyes tearing up and wiping away the ash as they drip down her cheeks. "It must've, you must've—"
He lunges toward her, throwing his arms around her waist and holding her as tightly as he can. "I had to try," he says. Gale tilts up his own wrist as her hands snake around him. The number has not changed. They are in control of their own fate. They can change the time. Madge Undersee is a survivor, just as much as he is. "Don't you ever resign to your death again," Gale croaks, pulling away so he can pull up her face. "Okay?"
She cannot give up, not unless she is old and tired and ready to peacefully depart. Madge nods, her chin quivering.
The clocks on their wrists predict when they will die, but it does not predict how they will live. Gale will make the most of it, he decides, pressing his lips to Madge's once again. She no longer tastes like a goodbye. She tastes like a beginning.