Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine.
One Step Forward
"I still don't see why you can't just buy her some underwear."
Gale groaned, taking his brothers shopping with him for Madge a birthday present had been a colossal mistake. Vick was trying, he'd actually found one or two nice pairs of boots and a very nice blanket.
"She doesn't like the cold, right? Well, these'll keep her feet warm during the winter and she can wrap up in the blanket."
They were very thoughtful, Gale supposed, but they just weren't what he was looking for.
While Vick was moderately helpful, Rory seemed to make it his goal to be as useless as possible. He'd turn up holding various items of lingerie, waving them wildly around and asking Gale if they were Madge's sized.
Rory smirked, examining an especially lurid red bra, "Don't act like you don't know her measurements."
He had a pretty good idea of them, but he'd never admit that to Rory. Gale had spent enough time dancing with her, hugging her, running his hands along her waist, that he could've guessed her size. He was also familiar enough with women's undergarments to have made a reasonable choice, though that had been several years ago, after the Rebellion, after Katniss, after a lot of drinking, and a loss of inhibitions.
He snatched the bra from Rory, tossing it away, before smacking him hard on the back of the head. He should've asked his mother and Posy for advice.
#########################
They finally left the boutiques, on the strip in the Seat of District Two, which he'd been told by several of the men at the military complex he was working at was the best bet for finding a present for his 'yeah-not-your-girlfriend'. Evidently, they were wrong.
Vick directed them to a little café he, Rory, and some of their friends had visited during a school outing for coffee to soothe Gale's frazzled nerves.
"I just want to get her something nice," he grumbled, running his hand over his face. For some reason, Gale didn't get the impression she'd had very many truly happy birthdays in her life, with her sick mother, busy father, and few friends.
"She won't even care what you get her, Gale, she'll probably just be glad you remembered," Vick told him.
Gale narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean 'just be glad you remembered'? I remembered last year, I just wasn't in the District."
He'd called her and wished her a happy birthday, then he'd taken her to dinner the first chance he'd gotten.
Vick raised his hands, "I know, and she loved that. Getting her something will just be gravy to her."
Gale sighed, he shouldn't get upset with Vick. If anyone was going to be a pain about this, it was Rory, and he seemed more interested in flirting with the redhead two tables over.
The little waitress appeared, balancing their lunch on her arms and sitting them all down with a dazzling smile that lingered on Gale. Rory rolled his eyes.
With another sigh Gale picked up his sandwich, part of the guts falling out the back.
"Damn it!" He started reassembling it on the little plate, a chipped looking thing with a blue pattern along the edge. He frowned, mumbling to himself, "Where have I seen these before?"
Rory tore his eyes away from the redhead, "They're the same ones the Mayor use to have."
Gale stared at the plate a little longer, "How do you remember that?"
"Dropped one after a dinner, when we were 'cousins' during the last…you know. Spent an hour picking pieces of it up outta the carpet with mom glaring at me."
Vick taps his own plate, nodding, "And I ate off these plates after school almost every day for a year. I remember them pretty well."
Gale had never paid much attention to the Undersees' plates, other than to note they were probably expensive. He ran a finger around the edge.
"I guess most government officials had their houses stocked by the Capitol. They all had the same plates, same sheets, same wallpaper…the families had very little say in any of it. Madge told me once they could decorate their bedrooms, but that was it. I recognized these last time we were here and apparently this place bought them when one of the local magistrates' house was liquidated. "
Gale thought of the little apartment Madge shared with her friend, how she loved it and was always telling him about changes they'd made to the kitchen and living area; it hadn't really occurred to him, though, that she might've loved it so much because it was hers. Her whole life had been provided, coldly and uniformly, but now she was making her way, slowly, to a kind of independence.
All her nothingness, all the things she'd known as a child, though, had been destroyed during the bombing. She'd escaped with the clothes on her back and nothing else. Gale had his family; Madge had nothing and no one. The Capitol had made sure of that her entire life.
She'd always bore it well. Her kindness hadn't wavered, even toward him. Gale supposes her father, with all his fruitless attempts to improve the condition of the District, had taught her unwavering dedication even to people who didn't seem to appreciate it.
Madge had grown up in a house that wasn't hers, filled with things that weren't hers. As little as he'd had, it was his, he'd earned it. Madge hadn't even had an opportunity to earn her place; no one would've given her one, not even Gale back then.
He picked the plate up and dusted the crumbs of his sandwich off.
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Gale met her at a stand selling iced tea.
"Hello, handsome, wanna swig?" Katy-Jo Lewes offered him a tall glass filled with ice and tea. She jiggled it enticingly.
Madge pulled her smock, advertizing their stand, off and over her head. It caught at the bottom of her dress, hiking it up mid thigh. Gale tried not to look, tried to keep his eyes off the several extra inches of pale skin that became exposed for just a few seconds, but his eyes had a mind of their own. They widened and followed Madge's fingers as they pushed her dress back into place. It wasn't until he heard a couple of boys snickering, that he tore his gaze away to glare at the little pair of bastards.
He made a threatening hand gesture toward them, letting them know he was the only one that got to oogle her.
They'd run off, probably to change their pants, when Madge climbed under the counter and popped up beside him. He pulled her into a hug, pressing her flush to him, and wrapping his arms protectively around her. He'd dare any more of those brats to so much as glance at her.
She pulled back, "How do you like my party?"
Gale looked around at the 'party'.
District Ten had an obsession with having festivals, they felt it encouraged people to mix, prevent 'bad blood' from cropping up, something Gale could only roll his eyes at. He didn't understand it and felt they were just being weird. This year the summer festival, ushering in the horribly humid midyear that afflicted the plains, fell on Madge's birthday.
He nodded, taking in several stands selling 'chicken fried frog legs' and 'chicken fried turtle bits' and a 'rattlesnake fry'.
"Appetizing."
Madge snorted, burying her face in his chest. She hated the variety of meats that often cropped up in her chosen District. Like all the Districts, Ten had been denied the fruits of their labors while under Capitol control. Like Gale, the people had taken to poaching. They'd hunted things he understood, like rabbit, squirrel, and deer, as well as things he could stomach, but didn't feel had much of an appeal.
"I'll buy you," he squinted up at a sign near them, "a 'spicy gator fritter'."
She gagged.
They waved to her friend and headed off. Gale snaked his hand around her waist, rested his thumb at the crest of her hip and splaying his palm and fingers below. He kept pushing his limits, waiting for her to tell him off as she'd laughingly done once, but she seemed to like what she termed his 'handsy' behavior. She also shared the bed with him when he was able to take her on trips. He had to get up early on those days, he always seemed to find himself waking on top of her, face pressed to her neck or chest, hands cupping and holding things they really shouldn't have been cupping or holding. She was aware of his using her as a human body pillow, had laughed about it on more than one occasion, but he was afraid if she woke to find what his less than idle hands were trying to do, she'd be less than understanding.
Still, he took her acceptance as a hopeful sign that she would, maybe, someday, want to move their painfully close relationship a little bit closer.
There was music piping, out and up to the starry night sky, nostalgic but uplifting, a man with a calming voice crooned about a wonderful world. Madge's arm found its way around his waist and her head nestled against his chest as they explored the games, bizarre foods, and watched a group of teenagers dance.
Gale dragged her out to the dirt dance floor and twirled her, mimicking the others, then pulled her against him, swaying with the music.
His fingers traced up the curve of her back, setting between her shoulders. He debated dipping down, kissing her breathless when the music ended, the crush of her body was almost too much. He'd thought about doing it for ages, mulled it over, decided for it, but he was leaving the next morning and didn't want to kiss her and leave her confused. It would have to wait until he had more time.
Then she pulled back, put her hand out to him.
"Walk me home?"
He hadn't even noticed the festival was winding down; several of the vendors had shut up for the night.
His rough hand took her much softer one, tugged her along, and they silently made the short trip back to her apartment.
She was about to bid him goodbye, lips turned up and mouth opened to say the words as she turned to him, when Gale stopped her.
"I, uh, got you something."
"Oh, Gale you shouldn-"
He shook his head and ran back to the truck he'd been given while in the District, opening the passenger door and digging around the floorboard.
He jogged back to her and held out his gift. He'd been told about special paper, used specifically for presents, but when he'd gone to the little specialty shop and found it, he couldn't bring himself to pay for paper that's sole purpose was to be ripped to pieces. He had the money, but it turned his stomach, it was so wasteful.
Instead he'd stolen the pillowcase from the hotel in District One that he'd been staying in when he found it. He paid enough for the room, too much in his mind, he felt that entitled him to take anything from it that wasn't nailed down.
Carefully, she unfolded the end and opened it, reached her arm in and pulled out a small bowl, white with a blue pattern and a few chips on one of the sides.
After he'd tried, and failed, to leave money and take the little plate from the coffee shop, an act that had resulted in his lifetime ban from the place, Gale had started a search for another.
It was a lot harder than he'd expected, to find what must've been a very common item in the homes of so many government officials. Many of the mayors hadn't been quite as benevolent as Mayor Undersee, and during the fighting many of their houses had been destroyed, along with the contents and the occupants. The ones that hadn't been wasted beyond recognition were auctioned off to fund the new government. It had been a small miracle for Gale to find the lone little bowl, exactly like the one he'd eaten blueberry ice cream out of so long ago.
Madge dropped the pillowcase and rested the bowl between her hands, fingers gently gripping it.
He wasn't sure how she would react to it. He'd hoped it didn't trigger painful memories.
"It's not one of our bowls?"
Gale shook his head, "They, the government houses, all had the same plates, right? I found it."
Her lip was puckered, looked to soft and sad, her eyes shone in the pale moon light.
"I understand, if it upsets you, but I thought you might want it, want to actually own it. Maybe as a reminder or maybe to smash. I'd understand that. They took so much from you, isolated you, if you wanted to break it into a million pieces it might be…"
He wasn't sure what it might be until she smiled.
"Cathartic?"
Gale nodded, watched her continue to inspect the little bowl.
"My mother didn't like them, always thought it looked like bugs on them, and Mrs. Oberst hatedthem, said they were too plain for such a high ranking family." Madge smiled fondly at it, "I never thought they were so bad."
Her eyes flicker from it and lock with Gale's, her expression is so soft he almost forgets to breathe.
"I'll keep it as a reminder. My life, my parents, all of it happened. It wasn't another life, not really."
It was a tangible memory.
She stepped forward, up onto her toes. Her face brushed past his and her arms wrapped around his neck, "Thank you. I think it's the best birthday present I've ever gotten."
Gale's arms encase her, press her to him once more. He buries his face in her hair and inhales, soap and honey, her raspberry shampoo, the heat of her skin. It would be easy, too easy, to turn his head, catch her lips with his own as she dropped back to her feet. If only he had more time…
Madge releases his neck, drops back to her heals and beams at him.
He reaches out and brushes a stray hair from her face, running his finger down her jaw after he tucks it behind her ear. "You're welcome."
They stand there, a little awkwardly, both knowing he should go but neither wanting to be the one to say so. Finally, Gale sighs.
"Guess I should head out."
She nods, "Yeah, when will you be back?"
There's a note of eagerness to her words that makes him a little hopeful that when he finally does have the time she'll be just as receptive to his lips as she was to a stupid bowl.
"Next week, the hovercraft port, I called you about it."
She let out a bubble of nervous laughter, "Oh, yeah."
Gale backed up to his truck, waved goodbye, and watched her in his rearview mirror, still clutching her bowl to her chest, as he drove away.
Maybe next time. He thought with a small smile.
His brothers hadn't been so bad at being shopping helpers after all, they'd at least led him to the right decision.