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

Birds and Bread

Gale glared at the little blonde headed girl standing at the edge of the meadow.

She had a plain paper bag in one hand, gripping it tightly between her gloved fingers. Her other hand was reaching in, grabbing handfuls of what looked to be breadcrumbs and flinging them out to the waiting flock of geese that had landed there, honking and squawking.

He squinted, tried to make out her soft features under her scarf and hat. It took him a few seconds, maybe a minute, but he finally recognized her.

Madge Undersee, the Mayor's daughter.

Of course she would have money to waste on bread to feed stupid birds. Normally she was with her mother and grandfather though…

Gale watched her for a few minutes as she tossed handfuls out, a little listlessly, before dropping down cross-legged in the grass. She plucked a few stands up, lifted them and let them blow off in the wind.

She wiped her eyes a few times, rubbed her nose, before covering her face in her hands.

He didn't know how, but he knew, just knew, she was crying.

He'd heard her grandfather, the old candy maker, had died. Gale remembered him, he was always nice, gave his old candy away at a discount, which was better than most the merchants in Town did. Gale would've never tasted any of the sweet treats if not for that small mercy.

Begrudgingly, he stomped over to where she was sitting, plopped down beside her with his legs out in front of him, supported by his arms behind him.

"Uh, sorry about your grandpa."

She sniffled, brushed some loose strands of hair from her face and tucked them up into her hat, then nodded.

For a few minutes they just sit quietly, watching the geese wander around and obnoxiously honk at one another. Then she sighs.

"He used to feed the birds with me and my mother," she wiped her face again. "He said it isn't really good for them, like candy isn't good for people, but that it's a nice treat every now and then for them." Her nose wrinkled up, "I thought my mom might come out and feed them with me, but she didn't want to."

Gale thought it was stupid to think that birds, or any animal really, needed a treat like a human, but decided she probably didn't need to hear that. She was already upset, telling her a clearly long treasured pastime was ridiculous would've probably just made her cry more.

They sit there in silence for a few more minutes before Gale reached over patted her on the back.

The girl glanced over, her eyes puffy and red rimmed, and smiled sadly, "Thanks."

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There are geese down the road from the house. Gale notices them on his drive to work and thinks of Madge.

She'd fed the stupid things back in Twelve, given them bread as 'treats' during the winter when there were more flocks around. He hadn't thought about it much, or ever, really, since the last time he'd seen her doing it, the winter before the 74th Games. Even then he'd only thought about it in annoyance, that he couldn't shoot the loud nuisances while she had them distracted.

He might not have even noticed the noisy, obnoxious things, if she hadn't been pregnant.

She'd mentioned, a bit sadly, the things she'd done with her family when she'd been little, the things she could do with their child when it was older.

"I can teach them the constellations like my father did with me. Make candy like Poppa and I did." Her nose wrinkled up, "Maybe…"

When she didn't mention anything with her mother, Gale felt his stomach drop a little. He knew Madge loved her mother, but he also knew she had precious few truly good memories of her. From what he'd gleaned, Mrs. Undersee had been more of a child to Madge than the other way around.

Madge had talked about baking with her mother, but the stories had always seemed to end in disaster. Her mother had never really played with her, hadn't had the energy to. She'd mentioned making a doll with her once, but that had only come about because a group of boys had destroyed her previous toys.

Most of Madge's memories of her mother were tainted with sadness.

Despite his best efforts, Gale hadn't been able to come up with one good thing for Madge to associate with her departed mother that she could pass on to the baby quickly growing inside her.

Then he'd seen the geese.

So, a bit irritably, he couldn't believe he was spending money on bread for dumb as dirt birds, he went to the bakery.

"I just want a bag of old bread." The staler the better, and he hoped it was at a discount.

The baker, an annoyingly jolly man, blue eyed and bald headed, nodded as he rummaged around in the back of his shop. "What're you doing with it?"

It was none of his business, this was a business transaction and the only thing they needed to discuss was the price. Madge had told Gale he needed to learn to be a bit friendlier, though, less hostile to people, so he grunted, "For my wife to feed the geese."

As he handed Gale the bag he frowned, "You know bread isn't good for them, right?"

It took all Gale's hard fought patience to grit his teeth and nod.

Were all merchants bird feeding experts?

When he walks through the door to the house he can hear her upstairs. He's forbidden her from painting, but she's taken to changing out the curtains and crib sheets almost daily as well as rearranging the closet. She had been pushing the furniture around, but Gale had quickly put a stop to that too.

He takes the stairs quietly, treading silently down the hall to the nursery.

Madge is refolding some of the blankets his mother had bought. They had too many of the silly things, but his mother insists they'll need them, especially when winter hits.

She's moving on to the hat and sock drawer when Gale softly walks across the floor, making sure to only step on the rag rug Madge and Posy had constructed, green and yellow bits of cloth tied and woven together in an oval.

His arms snake around her, just above her ever expanding stomach, and he presses a kiss to the side of her neck, below her ear.

"You'll wear holes in those," he whispers.

A little snort bursts out of her, "Oh, really?"

Gale lets his free hand rub up and down her belly, hoping the baby will kick against him. Madge takes his hand, redirects it, and presses it in a little, "He's right there. Been jumping up and down on my bladder all day."

"What makes you think it's a 'he'?" The baby kicks, just barely, "Maybe it's a 'she'."

Madge's nose wrinkles, "Nope. Boy. Definitely."

Despite the fact that Gale is positive the baby is a girl, he's seen his mother pregnant three times after all, he lets the discussion go. He pulls Madge back against him a little more firmly.

"I brought you something," he hoists the paper bag up.

She eyes it curiously before reaching out and taking it from his hands and opening it.

"Gee, thanks Gale. Is it dessert or supper?"

Eyes rolling, Gale takes the bag back. He turns her, takes her hands in his, the bag between them.

"Back in Twelve, you used to feed the geese, with your mother and grandpa." He gives the bag a little shake, the contents rattle dryly. "Stupid things are down at the pond. Thought you might like to give it a try."

It seems stupid when he says it, and he thinks she might be wondering if he's lost his mind.

Then she smiles.

Her eyes narrow a little, a small smile works its way on her lips, "How do you remember that?"

She hadn't mentioned it during any of their discussions of the past.

Gale can feel his face warming, darkening under her look as he shrugs, "Dunno."

"Liar."

Warm lips press to his jaw, down his neck, then back up, "Gale Hawthorne, you paid attention to me."

As much as he'd hated to admit it when he was younger, when she'd been out of his reach, an impossibility, he had paid attention to her. He hadn't wanted to, had tried not to, but he had.

Dipping down, he catches her lips, drops the bag of bread crumbs to the ground and pulls her as close as her stomach will allow, lifting her up onto her toes.

"Oh, Gale, be careful!" She startles him, drops back to her feet. "You'll hurt your back lifting me."

Before she can protest he catches her under her knees, picks her up and spins her around, "Are you doubting my strength?"

A bright little laugh bubbles out of her as she forces him to put her down, "Never, but I weight a ton and-"

She talks too much, so he kisses her to stop her babbling.

After what he judges to be not long enough, she pulls back, grinning as she leans down, with some considerable effort, and snatches the bread bag back up.

"Come on." She grabs his hand, "Come show me the geese."

Gale groans. He didn't want to feed those stupid things. "Can't you take Vick?"

That would be perfect, Vick likes doing nonsense like feeding birds.

Madge just shakes her head, "Nope. You, me, and baby are going to have some bonding time."

He sighs, "Just remember, it's a treat for them."

She can't make him feed them all the time.