Disclaimer: All stories are individuals of themselves and are unrelated to each other.
He found solace in her.
He didn't mean to, not really, it just happened.
Gale was Reaped his very last year in the Games, alongside a little girl who had grown up in town. Her name was Delilah and he tried, dammit he tried as hard as he could to save that little girl's life. It just didn't work out that way. He killed anyone who came at him. He killed mercilessly and violently and in the nights after that he would sit awake and stare at the walls wondering what compelled him to do so.
He returned home. Gale came home from the Games as a Victor with blood on his hands that would never wash away. His friends saw it, his family saw it. Katniss definitely saw it, it was all she could see. His once hunting partner could even look at him, and Gale couldn't blame her. He changed in the arena.
Suddenly his days were lonely but his nights were booked. President Snow made sure of that, whisking him away whenever he found the chance to sleep with some creature from the Capitol. Gale saw his family as often as he could and would spend the rest reading books about foreign places that no longer existed to keep his mind off of what he had to do. Every so often Effie Trinket would call and pester him about some sort of talent. ("Is blacking out from alcohol usage a good enough hobby for you, or should I use my late night escapades instead?") He had an aching feeling in his stomach that often felt as though he'd end up like Finnick Odair, modeling for the Capitol.
"I think you should try photography," Hazelle, his mother, had told him. "Everyone's good at that."
And so he tried to find solace in the camera, the heavy mechanical device that he would carry around wherever he went. He took pictures of his family, he took pictures of his dying district, he took pictures of the sky when it was a beautiful color. Effie said it would work, and that was enough for him.
Before her, there was the bottle. It was his only real escape, his only real way to get away from it all. Drink so much he couldn't see straight or think in any direction or feel his fingers or toes.
Once Haymitch said, "You're worse than me, kid, and way too young for that." And still, he didn't care. It scared his younger siblings, it worried his mother. By the time the Victory Tour rolled around the district knew him as another drunk.
District 11, District 9, District 5, he rolled through all of them before making it home again.
And that, that is when she came into his life.
Gale was at the mayor's house early, Portia priming him to perfection for his celebration. He tried to sneak a swig every now and then but Portia found his flask and took it, scolding him for his behavior. "Now you wait here," she said, "until the party starts. Don't even think about trying to find something to drink, we've already made sure you have no access to the bar tonight."
He growled as she left but Portia blew him a kiss. She was really doing all of that for him anyway. It's not like Gale enjoyed getting shit wasted every day, he just didn't think he had a choice.
Sitting in some fancy room at the mayor's house he grew bored. He paced and the floorboards creaked below him. He stared out the window at all the Capitol reporters walking in through the house and some crowd from the District standing outside to watch.
"Thinking about jumping out?"
Gale spun around so quickly at the sound of the voice he nearly fell over. He partly blamed it on the alcohol. In the doorway stood the mayor's daughter, bright and breathtakingly beautiful. He hadn't seen her that close since the morning he was reaped, selling her a basket of strawberries.
"I wouldn't," she added, slinking into the room. Madge clicked the door shut behind her. "My father would have to fill out so much paperwork and he's always late for dinner as it is."
He tries to think of something smart to say, something that will make her believe jumping out the third story window might be worth it if she doesn't get a dinner with her dear old dad. Instead, he says, "Pretty dress."
She smirked. "Well if I'm going to a Capitol party I have to look nice, don't I?" He smirked, too. And that was the start.
Gale had noticed the mayor's daughter before, she was lovely in every way possible and he couldn't help himself. She had the curves the extra food from town provided, had long flowing blonde hair, and the most beautiful blue eyes. And fuck it, he was a Victor now.
So he asked her to dance. She gave him a look so sarcastic and surprised that it melted him.
It wasn't as though Gale just gave up the bottle, he'd never do that so easily, but she was a nice distraction throughout the party. He eyed the bar a few times and Madge swat his arm, clicking her tongue at him to warn him away.
The next day when the party was over and the Victory Tour had come to a close, Gale went right back to drinking. It helped him sleep. Hell, it was the only way he could sleep.
Early that morning there was a knocking on his door. It was different than Haymitch's pounding which often scared Posy into hiding behind the couch, and definitely not Portia. Gale let his mother answer it and pulled a pillow over his head with a groan.
Not five minutes later his bedroom door was being pushed open. He sat up in a start, rubbing sleep from his eyes and frowning at—Madge?
"Christ, Hawthorne," she frowned. Madge crossed his room and quickly pulled open the thick curtains, allowing light to spill into the room. "It smells like something died in here." Yeah, he thinks. Me. He groaned and pulls another pillow over his head. "No wonder you look like you're pissed off in every photo they take of you, this place is disgusting."
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Gale muttered.
Something landed with a soft thud next to his head. He squinted into the light and peeked out from under the pillow. It was his flask.
"Portia gave it to me," Madge said. He rolled a bit, pushing himself off of the mattress and looking in her direction. She's shaking her head at him, a highly uncharacteristic frown on her pale face. "When's the last time you did something for fun?"
"Since when do you care?" he snapped back. The sharpness to her gaze softened and he felt the bitterness shifting inside his stomach. "Leave me alone, Undersee."
Her eyes soften even more and a quiet sigh escapes her lips. "Fine," she said. "But if you don't want to end up like Haymitch then you know where to find me." She shakes her head again, this time looking more disappointed than before. "Not everyone has given up on you, Gale."
"Fuck off," he grumbled.
With another sigh Madge disappeared from his room, leaving the door cracked open. Gale shoved the flask from his bed and listened as it clattered on the floor. He tried pulling the pillow back over his head and falling back asleep, dulling the throbbing in his head from the alcohol from the previous night.
The sun was too bright, however, and it was getting too warm. He sat up angrily and froze when he rolled over, finding his baby sister in the doorway. Posy stood with a frown on her face, her eyebrows pulled together. Gale let out a quiet breath before jerking his head, and then Posy rushed into the room, propelling herself onto his bed.
"Who was that girl?" Posy asked, hugging Gale's side tightly.
"No one."
"She was pretty." Posy looked up at him, her eyes wide. "A lot prettier than the girls they show you with on the TV!" Gale felt his muscles tighten. She wasn't supposed to be seeing those things. He did it for her, being whisked away to the Capitol. So she was safe. So they didn't hurt her. "You were mean to her."
"She was being nosy. And you know what I say about nosy people, Pose."
Posy nodded sadly, "They should mind their own business." Gale dipped his head and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
It took him three days to go to the Undersee's. He's still not really sure what compelled him. Maybe the words that Madge had said. Not everyone has given up on you. Maybe he was bored. He knocked on the backdoor once, twice, and then waited for an answer. Their maid answered the door with a scowl, something he believed was always there, before calling for Madge.
There was piano music tinkling in the background that came to an abrupt halt when Madge's name was called. Moments later she was in the doorway, eyes wide in surprise.
"I didn't know you'd actually come," she said once the maid had left. "I'd hoped you would, but I didn't think you would."
He scowled like the maid had. "You want to go on a walk?" he grumbled.
Madge paused, "Are you going to grumble the whole time?" He let out a short breath and turned to go when she reached forward and grabbed his arm. "Yes," she said. "Give me a second." He tipped his head, and minutes later the two of them were walking through the district.
He had enough sense to bring his camera. Whenever there was an awkward silence he would fiddle with the device as though he was adjusting settings. She would ask him what he took pictures of and he would show her on the little screen.
"No, tell me," she had said. He frowned at her, not really sure what she meant. "What do you take pictures of, Gale?"
Pressing the button on his camera to flip through his photos, he shrugged. "Whatever I see that would make a good photo."
"Like what?" she pressed.
Madge Undersee was persistent. And annoying. And he wanted to tape her mouth shut sometimes. But not many people spoke to him anymore and he didn't speak to many others, either. "I like sunrises," he told her eventually.
"Why?" she wondered. Still, he scowled. He wasn't ready to tell her his reasoning behind that just yet, that they reminded him of his father, of a time before his world was shit. But as if sensing he wasn't answering just to be a dick, that there was a reason still there somewhere, she let it slide. "I think I would take a lot of pictures of people," Madge said. "Everyone is so unique. Their faces. Their smiles." He looked at her, blinking. "Everyone is a story in themselves."
He'd spent a few of his days with Madge, mostly because his mother insisted he stay out of the house because she didn't like the way his face would get when he became lazy. But over time he realized that he liked listening to her speak. He still brought his camera but he found himself not wanting to use it, wanting to look at her instead. Everyone is a story, she had said. What was hers? Suddenly he craved to know it.
After about a month of sporadic hangouts at the Undersee residence she offered to teach him how to play.
"The piano?" he muttered. "No, thanks."
"It's not so hard," Madge told him. She sat on the bench, letting her fingers hover over the keys. She looked like someone else with her hands poised to play, her eyes lighter than he'd seen in a long time. He stood awkwardly by her, waiting for her to play, and as if she knew this she eased into a song gently. Gale was mesmerized in the music she created, the look on her face as she did so. Before he knew what he was doing his camera was pressed against his face and he was snapping photos. But then the camera was forgotten, he placed it down on a nearby table and just absorbed. When the song came to an end Madge sighed, then looked up at him. "How was it?"
"Beautiful," he admitted. Madge cocked her head, clearly surprised to have received some sort of praise from Gale Hawthorne. "I should get going," he told her quickly. Madge blinked a few times, nodding her head. "I've got to go to the Capitol tonight."
Her face fell slightly. "I understand." After pressing a high note on her piano she looked back at him. "See you when you get back?"
And then he was nodding his head, relieved she'd be waiting for him.
A week after he returned from the Capitol, Gale had yet to see Madge again. He'd yet to see anyone. His trip reminded himself of who he really was, what he had to do and what he'd done to be alive. No matter how long he sat in the shower Gale felt dirty, his skin caked with sweat that didn't belong to him and his hands sticky from blood that should've dried long ago.
How could he pretend like he deserved anyone other than his family, or even that he deserved them? Katniss came by but he couldn't talk to her, and Thom and Bristel stopped over too but Gale had nothing to say to them. He didn't deserve friends, especially the friends he used to have. They meant the world to him. By distancing himself away from them he was protecting them, but also hurting himself. Gale had a perpetual stomach ache. He found himself vomiting into the toilet despite the fact he wasn't drinking as much. He couldn't sleep.
Madge came anyway.
"Don't you know how to take a hint?" he muttered. Her eyebrows lifted, he could feel it, but he wouldn't look at her. "You should go, Undersee."
"I thought you might want to take a walk," she said. Katniss never offered that. Never asked Gale to come into the woods with her. Thom and Bristel, they didn't push for him to go to a classic Seam party. He turned his head to look at her. "I want to show you something." He reached up and rubbed at his eyes. None of the others had been so persistent. "I'm not taking no for an answer, Gale."
Finally, he gave in. Madge grabbed his camera from the side table, asking if it had film. Somewhere in the back of his mind Gale remembered Effie would be coming by to collect the film in the next couple of days, which meant he had to take more photos anyway. Gale called out to his family that he'd be back later and Madge passed him the camera, and away they went.
She filled in the silence by telling him what she'd been doing over the time he'd been gone. It was pointless conversation but Gale liked the sound of her voice. Madge spoke about how she'd learned a new song on the piano, how she passed another useless history exam, how her father was planning to host a new slew of people from the Capitol in the next week or so for some governmental meeting she wasn't supposed to know about. They made a few turns and Gale frowned at her.
"Why're we going to the Seam?" he asked, cutting her off in the middle of another one of her stories.
Madge looked up at him. "It's the quickest way to get to where I want to take you."
Gale studied the sky. "It's getting dark," he muttered.
"That's sort of the point," she told him. They walked for a bit longer, this time mostly in silence, before turning into the meadow. Gale felt his chest go tight. "When's the last time you were here?" Madge asked, talking a few steps ahead of him. He shook his head, not remembering. Just a bit down the fence was where he would sneak into the woods, and past that back into the Seam his old home. "This way," she guided him through the thick grass. It was mid-April, and the winter hadn't been a cold and cold one so it wasn't very chilly out. "They're early this year," Madge told him.
"Who—" he stopped speaking as the field began to light up. Fireflies. When he was younger he'd take his siblings out here to collect them in jars. The fireflies danced around the tall grasses, lighting up the ground and twinkling in the air. The air left his body. Madge stepped forward, holding out her hand to catch them on her fingertips. Temporarily stunned he just watched her, the smile that blossomed on her face, the way she spun to watch the bug as it flew away, the fascination in her eyes. Gale lifted his camera to adjust a few settings and then took a photo, and then another and another.
Madge strode back toward him and grabbed his hand. "Come on," she smiled, pulling him into the field. He lowered his camera and followed her, overwhelmed with how the world still managed to have beautiful things tucked away. How Madge Undersee ended up being one of those things. She spun again, smiling and looking up at the dark sunset, all while Gale watched her.
A laugh rumbled in his chest and it startled him. When was the last time that had happened? He swallowed it back and lifted his camera again, taking photos of Madge dancing amongst the twinkling lights.
The walk back to her home was quiet, but not awkward. Gale felt something inside of him, a sort of peace that he hadn't felt for a long time. When they got to her house he stopped her before she could go inside, needing to say what he'd been thinking for much of this trip.
"You can't fix me," Gale told her.
Madge blinked a few times before lifting her shoulders slightly. "I'm not trying to." He stared at her for a long time before she added, "I just think you feel more broken than you are."
What happened next he had no control over. He stepped forward with his hands stretching out, one to her waist and the other to her cheek, and pulled her close enough to kiss. It was quick and his camera that was hanging from his neck dug into both of their chests but he needed to do it, and then it was over.
Gale pulled away ready to leave when he felt Madge's hand latch onto his shirt. "Gale," she breathed. They swayed a bit but he didn't move. Her eyes found his. "Do it again."
He frowned, confused. "What?"
"Kiss me," she pleaded.
Feeling more emboldened than before Gale swung his camera so it was on his side, out of the way, and dipped down again. They stumbled until Madge's back was pressed against the siding of her home. His lips found hers and she gasped into his mouth, reaching up and tangling her fingers in his thick hair. He groaned and pressed closer, needing to feel her body against his. She was warm and her lips were eager and more than anything it felt right. Minutes passed and they became breathless but neither one could stop. Their teeth collided and Madge arched her body into his and Gale breathed in her air, needing this more than he ever knew.
She was real. He could feel her melting in his hands. Madge's skin was soft, pale. Her heartbeat fast. Her eyes bright. She was real and she was here.
The time came for them to part. Madge dropped her head backwards against the siding and heaved for air, smiling dreamily and letting her eyes drift shut. "So that's what a kiss from Gale Hawthorne is like," she exhaled. He chuckled into her throat, burning more kisses onto her skin. Her hands slid around his hips and tugged him closer yet again. She tilted her head, extending her pale neck to him. "No wonder girls used to throw themselves at you for a trip to the slagheap."
Gale shook his head, his nose brushing her ear. "No," he whispered. "No, those rumors weren't true. I only ever took two, maybe three girls there." He kissed her still, his mouth warm against her skin. Madge looked up, her blue eyes shining. "Swear it," he added, tilting her chin up to kiss her another time. When this one ended he dropped his forehead to hers and held her gaze for a long moment. "Madge," he finally started.
"Don't," she shook her head. Madge anchored herself to him. "Don't start this." His eyebrows pulled together as she pressed herself onto her toes, their noses brushing. "I like you," she whispered. "Not because of your… your title or anything, but because of you."
He couldn't help the tiny smile that formed. "You like me?" he echoed.
"Only a little," Madge responded, her smile soft like his. He chuckled again, but it quickly faded. "Just… don't walk away," she said. "Please." He sighed again and one of her hands lifted to his cheek. "Give yourself a chance to feel something," she pleaded.
Gale knew what he felt. He knew that he wanted this. He knew he liked the way his heart was racing in his chest, how his hands were warm. Gale knew he couldn't walk away from this. So despite the aching in his stomach, the fear of what could happen to her, to him because of this, he leaned down to kiss her again.
Effie came by to collect the photos from Gale's camera and Gale smiled at her, having it feel more genuine than it had in months. She pat him on the cheek and smiled back, telling him it was good to see him to chipper.
He couldn't get Madge from his mind. Gale made sure to be careful about the whole thing, lessening their time in public together due to fear of someone catching them and getting any ideas to send to the Capitol, but other than that she made him happy. She lent him books to read saying she needed someone to talk about them, and she traced patterns on his skin, and she kissed him until he forgot all of the horrifying things he'd done.
The nights before he had to go to the Capitol Madge would sneak over to his home in the Victors Village and climb into his bed. They didn't do anything sexual, he wasn't sure he could handle that or if she was ready, but he pulled her close and got one last good night of sleep before he had to climb into the beds of strangers. Madge didn't ask him about his trips, but he had a feeling she might've known something.
"Whatever you have to do," she told him one night. "I'll be here when you get back."
His family noticed the change in him as well. Hazelle pulled him aside one day and asked him about the blonde hair she found on his pillowcases but he stayed tight lipped. She smiled for him anyway. His mother was smart, she had to have known that Gale was sneaking off to the mayor's house.
With Madge around he felt safer, somehow. New. Like a better person than he'd been. He could forget the people he had to kill, the people he had to sleep with. He could just focus on her and the way she smiled at him when he tickled her sides and the way she laughed and the feel of her lips.
"I've got to go to the Capitol again tomorrow," he told her one afternoon. She turned to look up at him, her eyes full of concern. She smiled, regardless. "I think this trip's going to be longer than the others."
"That's okay," Madge whispered. She grabbed his hand and laced their fingers tightly. "You know I'll be here."
And despite how he felt around Madge there were still some questions he couldn't shake from the back of his head. "How can you do that?" he asked. "Wait for me like you do." Madge furrowed her eyebrows but he spoke again. "How can you like the person that I am, Madge?"
Madge looked away from him for a moment and then squeezed his hand. "The old Gale Hawthorne never would've needed to ask me that," she said quietly. His chest felt tight. "Gale," she scooted closer to him, nuzzling into his side. "You never noticed me before you won the Games. Not in the way I wanted you to. You just saw me as this rich girl who didn't care about anything. But I… I saw you."
He shook his head, "What do you mean?"
"You were determined. Strong. Brave. You knew what you believed in and what you wanted and how to say it." She bit down on her bottom lip and lifted her shoulders. "You were everything I wanted to be but didn't know how. You had a family that you cared immensely about, that cared immensely about you." He was watching her, now, but her eyes were elsewhere. "You were the only person that ever challenged me. I've lived in this house my entire life and was never allowed to raise my voice. You made me feel things. Anger a lot of the time, sure," she laughed a little. "But you inspired me, too."
He moved so he could tilt her chin up, and then he pressed his lips to hers. She smiled against him and he pinned his forehead to hers. "I'm sorry," he exhaled. She shook her head, her eyes suddenly confused. "I was horrible to you," Gale croaked.
Madge's eyes were light. "I think you've made up for it," she teased. Gale kissed her again, wishing he never had to get on the train to the Capitol.
The first night Gale got to the Capitol he was called to the President's Mansion. It wasn't the first time but he always hoped the time previous would be his last. His footsteps were heavy against the floor and he walked straight to Snow's quarters where he was called. After entering the room and taking the seat assigned for him Gale waited for Snow to enter.
Instead of President Snow entering like Gale anticipated, a screen flickered to life in front of him. Photos took shape and Gale felt himself still. Before he could process what he was looking at he heard a door shut. "Margaret Undersee," Snow said simply. The photos were of Madge, the night she took him to the field with the fireflies. Photos Gale had taken himself. Photos that he held near and dear to his heart. "What an interesting development, Mr. Hawthorne."
"She's no one," Gale lied, feeling the man move behind him. Snow took the seat beside him and Gale tore his eyes from the photo.
"She's lovely," Snow said. Gale held his breath. "But we know what lovely things do to people, Gale." Still saying nothing Gale turned to look at the man beside him. "End things with her. Before she gets hurt. And she will get hurt."
Gale felt his stomach turning. "I still do my job," Gale said. "I still do what you want me to do. Why should she matter if it's not affecting anything?" His lungs were getting tight, the air getting harder to breathe. "Please. Don't make me do this."
Snow redirected his gaze to the photo. "She just is so lovely," he hummed. "I'd hate for her to have to meet my peacekeepers."
He went to Madge's the second the train dropped him off in District 12. It was hard for him to breathe and he still felt dirty. He wanted to shower in his own home, not the one on the train. He wanted to wear his own clothes, not what Portia had dressed him in. But he went because his heart was breaking and he couldn't breathe and he needed to do things immediately because she could not get hurt she could not get hurt.
He knocked impatiently on the door and it was opened moment later by the mayor himself. Gale stood straighter and let out a short breath. "Mayor Undersee," he started. "Is Madge home?" he asked. "I'd like—I need to speak with her." The mayor eyed him warily, but in his gaze there was a sort of recognition. "Thank you, sir," Gale nodded as he opened the door for him.
"I'll send her down," he told her, starting up the staircase. "You wait here." The mayor left Gale in the foyer. He should've sat but his nerves were eating him alive and he paced instead.
Soon enough Gale heard quick footsteps and looked up, finding Madge at the staircase. Her smile was incredible and Gale's heart shattered as she sprinted toward him, a quiet squeak in her voice as she hurried. Madge flung herself at him. "I didn't know you were home!" she cheered, pulling back to look in him the eyes. But the second she really looked at him, her own smile vanished. She dropped her arms from him and took a tiny step back. "What's wrong?" she asked.
Gale swallowed, trying to get the foul taste out of his throat. "Madge," he started, but she stopped him.
"Are you ending things?" she whispered. Her voice was distant, her eyes full of ghosts. He couldn't answer her. He opened his mouth to try but it didn't happen, no words came out. "You are, aren't you?"
"I'm sorry," Gale finally forced out. He wanted to explain to her that she could be hurt, could be killed if he didn't do this. This his own heart was falling to pieces just looking at the pain in her eyes. That in the end he was doing this because he loved her.
"Why?" Madge asked, her eyes still stuck on him. "What—what happened on your trip?"
"It doesn't matter," Gale told her. He kept his voice as even as he could. "But this is done." He watched her chin quiver.
"That's not an answer," she croaked. Her finger collided with his chest. "What happened?" Madge demanded. He watched her with wide, sad eyes until her hiccups turned into tears. Madge collected herself and lowered her hand, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. She sniffled and took another step away from him. "My Mama told me that you'd break my heart," she finally said. "I just didn't want to believe her."
"I'm sorry," he said again. He needed her to know that.
"Get out," she responded, pointing toward the door. He opened his mouth to say something but she shook her head. "Get out," Madge said again. Her eyes were colder than he ever remembered seeing them. "I've been here and I've been patient and kind and I loved you," she said. "And you won't even give me an explanation?" Madge shook her head. "Get out. Don't come back."
So he took a deep breath and left, clicking the front door shut as quietly as he could. Gale started back to his house but then stopped, taking a detour to Haymitch's. He didn't bother knocking, instead he went straight to the kitchen where he knew there'd be a stash of white liquor. Haymitch was sitting at the table and gave him a look when he walked in.
"I need a drink," Gale muttered, popping the top to a bottle and drinking greedily, welcoming the burn of the alcohol. He sunk into the chair across from Haymitch and squeezed his eyes shut. Moments later he felt Haymitch's heavy hand on his shoulder. Neither of them spoke.
Even the liquor couldn't take away the pain. There was nothing to find solace in anymore. Gale should have never even tried.