Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine.
Never was a story of more woe (Peeta)
"It isn't fair!"
Gale is pacing back and forth in her garden, trampling a couple of her last cabbages.
He'd shown up, out of the blue, in the middle of the night, absolutely reeking of alcohol and raving. He'd spent months practically ignoring her and now he wanted her as his personal therapist. A small, rather vindictive part of her had half wanted to let him make such a racket that the night watchmen would catch him and take him to the tank to dry out. Then she remembered Thread, the whipping post, Vick, Posy, and Rory, and of course Gale's already poor standing in the community and she couldn't.
"She's s-s'ppos'd t'have a happily ever-ever after." He runs his hand over his face. "She's the s-s-star-cross'd l'ver!"
"Lovers," she holds up two fingers helpfully. "There are two of them. A pair. A couple."
"Shut up, Unders'see," he mutters. "I don't care about Mell'rk."
He trips over his own feet, tumbling into a tomato cage before landing on the carrots. She sighs and takes a seat next to him, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her cheek against them.
"She shouldn't have to go back. They changed the rules once." His voice quivers and he looks to her, "Why can't they do it again?"
Madge forces a small, sad smile. "Because the 'Star-crossed lovers' is a tragedy, Gale. It's meant to come to a bad end."
"It's a love story," her murmurs.
She snorts, "Not even close. Don't you remember freshmen literature?"
Gale glares, "I had bett'r things t'do freshmen year than read some s-stupid play."
Her face flushes and she feels a little cruel. Of course Gale had had better things to do than read a story by some long dead playwright. He didn't have the luxury of a comfortable home and full stomach that she did.
"Romeo and Juliet die. They kill themselves. And they got a lot of people killed along the way to their end." Now she thinks about it, it's actually a pretty fair comparison for Katniss and Peeta, considering how their Game nearly ended…
"Peeta will protect Katniss, Gale. He's going to get her home again. You'll see." She inspects the now ruined cabbage, "Peeta, he's a good guy. I know you don't want to think about it, or admit it, but he is."
With a grunt, Gale flops back and Madge flinches. Her poor cabbages.
"I know he is." He growls. "Goddamnit, I know he is."
The emptiness that follows is hollow. She wishes she had something more than empty hope to offer him. Something like the morphling she'd taken to him after his whipping. A real, physical balm for his aching soul, but there was nothing. Katniss and Peeta were all but condemned, and there was nothing she or Gale could do.
"Would he die for her?"
She almost doesn't hear him; his voice just barely reaches her over the thick blanket of quiet that had settled over them.
Madge stares up at the sky, the moon peeks out at her from behind a cloud, and she nods, "Yeah, he would. He will."
"He loves her?"
It sounds less like a question and more like a child needing affirmation. Madge nearly laughs, not because it's funny, but because it's so painfully sad.
"Yeah, he does."
Gale sits up, turns slightly green, then flops back down.
"You're drunk," she reminds him.
"Yeah, yeah, I remember." He presses his fingers to his eyes.
You're going to have one hell of a hangover come morning. She thinks as she watches him struggle to sit up, slower this time.
Once he's back in the upright position he fixes her in his fuzzy gaze.
"Could you do it?" He asks. She frowns, unsure what he's talking about now. He seems to realize he's lost her and tries to refocus.
"Could you die for someone you loved? I mean, if you didn't know if they loved you too, or at least not-not like you loved them?"
Madge remembers running through the bitter cold, through blinding white sheets of snow and stinging wind. She remembers praying the new peacekeepers didn't catcher her until she'd made her precious delivery. She remembers a dull ache in the center of her chest, wanting to be brave, wanting to ease his pain.
She shrugs.
"Don't know," she gives him a faint smile. "Let's hope I never have to find out."