Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine

A/N: Just wanted to say thank you to everyone that's reading these stories and two thank yous to everyone reviewing, reading them really brightens my day.

Sweet Dreams

Gale, Madge found out, had nightmares.

When they first shared a room she'd noticed them. She would hear him occasionally whimper in his sleep or wake to find him sitting up, staring out the window. Sometimes with a bottle of a strong liquor in hand.

"Can't sleep," had been the only thing she'd ever gotten him to tell her.

She had been too afraid to ask, too uncertain of herself and their relationship to bring whatever demons haunted his mind in the darkest part of the night out to talk.

The more time they spent together, though, the less often she found him awake in the middle of the night.

When they started sharing the bed, he started sleeping with her crushed to him like raft in the sea, they diminished even further. Aside from a soft snore, he barely made a noise. Other than to pull her closer, his wandering hands finding their way under her gown, he wasn't all that restless.

They still occurred, she still caught him up in the middle of the night, having startled himself awake, but instead of getting up and pacing the floor, drinking, he simply stayed in bed, focused on the rhythm of her breathing and the sound of her heartbeat, steady and strong, in his ear.

Slowly, as they spent days, weeks together, she would find them vanish almost completely.

Then they would part, her back to her apartment in Ten, to her job with Katy-Jo Lewes, and Gale back to Two, or on a job for the military, and he would start to regress.

He would call her, in the middle of the night, on the ancient phone, just to hear her voice.

"Please. Talk to me."

Madge could hear the desperation in his voice each time he did it.

"About what?" It scared her, hearing him so terrified, his voice breaking.

"It doesn't matter." His voice was low, she would often worry he'd been drinking. "Please, just talk."

So she did. How her day went, what she and Katy-Jo Lewes had planned, the trivialities of her life…

She told him about making candy with her Poppa, hiding under her father's desk at the Justice Building when she was very small, her mother on her good days, Mr. Abernathy playing tea party with her…

"Haymitch Abernathy had a tea party with you?"

Madge could almost hear the smile in his voice.

"Several times. He's very fond of me."

Gale chuckled weakly, "You're the only one."

It went on for years, Gale using the gentle timbre of Madge's voice to calm his nerves. Different stories each call until she heard his breathing slow on the other end or the phone drop to the floor or the bed.

"Sweet dreams, Gale."

Finally, after they'd gotten together, after years of watching him shudder in his sleep or come back to her with dark circles under his eyes, Madge woke to find Gale, clinging to her. His nails, though short, were digging into the skin of her hips where his arms wrapped around her back to them. His face was taught, eyes clenched shut, tears were forcing themselves out the corners.

"Gale." She whispers harshly. "Please, Gale."

When she couldn't stand it any longer, she pinched his shoulder.

He shot up, panic in his stormy eyes, breathing erratically as he surveyed the room.

"Madge?" He looks down at her. "What happened?"

She pushes her gown down, hiding the red marks from his fingers. "You were having a nightmare."

He nods, runs his hand over his face, giving her an apologetic grimace. "Sorry."

With a grunt, Madge heaves herself up, back against the headboard of the bed. She motions for him to come to her. He crawls up the short distance, she almost laughs. He reminds her of a child joining its parents in bed. Unlike a child, though, he collapses between her legs, his face nuzzling into her breasts. He finally settles, his ear to her heart, eyes closing.

"What was it about?" She'd never seen one this bad.

She feels him shrug against her. "I don't remember."

Her fingers begin working through his hair. "No. Please, Gale, tell me."

Madge pushes him back a little, makes him look her in the eyes. His eyes flicker across the room, out the window. She's losing him.

"Gale," she catches his jaw between her hands, leaning forward and giving him a hard kiss before pressing her forehead to his. "I love you. Please tell me."

She's let him go on like this for too long and she suddenly hates herself for it. If only she'd been a little more certain.

He stares at her, his eyes dark and intense. She's certain he isn't going to tell her, and her heart falters just a little.

Then he sits back, pulls her into his lap, cradling her to his chest.

"This time?" She feels him exhale. His breath ruffles her hair.

"Talk to me," she tilts her head back, looks at his tired expression. "Please."

And, for the first time, he does.

Sometimes they're about the mines and District Twelve. His dad dying in them, Gale being in them, Rory taking out tesserae, starving, Thread, sirens going off…

"It's stupid, I know. The mines are long gone, but those are the old dream and they still hit me sometimes."

Then there was the night of the bombing.

"I see my house go up." He tightens his grip on her, "Your house burn…you die."

She starts to tell him it's okay, she still has nightmares about the bombings, but that isn't true. Since she's had Gale in her life, she doesn't remember any.

"Sometimes it's the Nut. Sometimes it's Prim, those kids."

He takes a deep breath, "And sometimes I'm back in the Capitol with the 'Star Squad', Finnick dies, Peeta goes off, Kat-" He catches himself. Warily he casts his eyes down, uncertain if Madge is ready to hear the name of the girl she'd thought herself so inferior to.

Carefully, Madge pushes his chin up, meeting his eyes, "What happens to Katniss?"

Gale looks back out the window, "You know what happened to Katniss."

Madge feels tears well up in her eyes when it hits her. Gale's nightmares aren't nightmares at all. They're just his memories.

His hand comes to her face, she feels it smear warm tears across her cheek. He murmurs, "Don't cry."

Then he kisses her, again and again. Down her neck, to her chest, before she can stop him he's tugging her gown up, then he stops.

"Madge…"

She looks up at him, he'd put her back on the bed at some point, he's sitting back on his feet a look of disgust on his face. She frowns, not really sure what's the matter. Then his rough fingertips ghost over her hips.

Oh.

It's still reddened where his fingers had pressed into her, the marks from his nails are still painfully visible.

"I'm so sorry." His eyes stay focused on the marks, Madge can see the devastation eating him up.

She pushes herself up, catching him around the neck, and pulling him back down with her.

"I'm fine." She kisses him, her hands running through his hair.

"I hurt you," he whispers against her neck.

"I forgive you."

He buries his face against her neck, shaking his head. She feels moisture roll between his face and her skin, down her back. He's crying.

"I was dreaming about the bombing." She feels his chest shudder against her. "Madge, I didn't come back for you."

Oh, Gale.

She knew that. Madge had run off after making sure the evacuation was going smoothly, she'd gone to try and get the Town people out, get her mother, the housekeeper and her family, get them out. She'd failed, though, watched the first of the bombs hit her home, then collapsed down as the fire fell from the sky.

If she hadn't been swept up on the back of the riders from Ten's horses, she would have died.

"Gale, you did exactly what you were supposed to do." She reassures him softly. "You weren't supposed to come back for me."

If he had, Gale would be dead.

That, Madge, realized, would be her nightmare.

He pulls back, his eyes are bloodshot, "I'm sorry, Madge. I-"

She covers his mouth with her hand, gives him a faint smile, "I'm fine."

Better than fine. She was with Gale.

"You don't need it, but I forgive you."

Maybe he needs to hear it, just to calm his mind, let it know that she doesn't blame him for the course their lives took.

Things had worked out just as they needed to. They were both there, both a little broken, but they fit together. Better than they would have whole, Madge is certain of it.

She cranes her neck, brushes her lips across his jaw, rough with dark stubble, and smiles.

He still looks wary, eyes watery and pink, but a small smile creeps up his lips anyway.

She pulls him down, against her. "Let's get some sleep."

Gale sighs, relaxing a little as Madge runs her hands along his back. He presses a kiss to her chest, "Sweet dreams, Madge."

They can talk in the morning, and she'll make sure he knows she could never blame him for how things had gone. His presence kept her nightmares away, and she would find a way to keep his away, somehow.

For now, she'll just hold him. Madge kisses the top of his head, "Sweet dreams, Gale."