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

Smile

Gale watches as Madge smiles and nods, forces a fake laugh for the graying man chatting with her over by the dessert table.

The man probably thinks she's enjoying herself by the way she encouraged whatever silly story he was telling her, and to be honest, years before Gale would've thought the same thing. Outwardly she's the picture of contented.

Now, years later and far removed from her position as the daughter of a Mayor, after getting to know her, Gale can see she isn't enjoying herself.

Her smile is forced, it doesn't reach her eyes, not like when she's at her job in the coffee shop or, if he's not being too self certain, when she's talking to him. Her laugh is empty, not the warm one, punctuated with a snort, she uses when she's truly amused. The way she's standing, holding herself, fixing all the little nuances of her being scream to Gale that she's playing a part.

He can't believe he had ever thought her stiff posture and glazed smiles were genuine. It seems so blazingly obvious now.

"You thought what you needed to think," Madge told him with a shrug, as though it didn't shock her when he pointed out his mischaracterization.

"I thought the worst of you," Gale muttered.

"In your defense, I'm very good at being the daughter of a politician. If people could read through me it could've put the whole District at risk," she countered.

Gale had rolled his eyes. He'd doubted that one person's actions or words could've harmed an entire District, until several painful images of Katniss pulled forward in his mind.

Her actions and words, as well as Peeta's, had brought about a Revolution, even if that hadn't been their intent. One person had, unwillingly and unwittingly, brought down the Capitol. First though, she's brought down scrutiny on their District. Increased Peacekeepers that were far less forgiving than the old, the changing of the guard from old Cray to that bastard Thread, the overwhelming sense of despair…

One person most definitely could make that kind of impact.

The difference between Madge and Katniss, though, would've been that Madge's impact would've been calculated. Just like her non presence was carefully thought out, her impact would've been planned. Not because she was the spoiled brat he'd believed her to be, but because she wasn't.

Madge, he'd discovered over the time he'd gotten to know her since reconnecting, was anything but spoiled. She was as much a study in sacrifice as himself and Katniss, except instead of food and clothing, Madge had lacked the freedom to be herself.

While he could occasionally escape the District, vanish into the welcoming arms of the forest, Madge had never had such a luxury.

"They were always watching. Waiting for us to step out of line." She'd sighed. "We were lucky though. District Twelve wasn't quite as well watched as the other Districts. At least some of our citizens could get away with things."

She'd meant him, even if she hadn't called him by name. Gale had gotten the relief of breaking the rules, flaunting them really, while Madge had stayed safe in her cage, forcing smiles and laughs for officials to keep the eye of the government off people who thought little of her.

"You should've told someone," he mentioned on more than one occasion.

"Told who?" She'd laughed. "Who would've cared? I wasn't exactly well liked. I didn't have people lining up to hang out with me or listen to my problems. They would've told me to stop whining, that I had it too good to be complaining about little things like not being able to speak my mind or do little things everyone else took for granted. And let's face it, they were probably right."

There was a sense of finality to her last words that made Gale's chest ache.

He would've been one of those people that didn't know her and judged her, told her the problems she was facing were small and insignificant compared to his, and she would've taken his words to heart with one of her fake smiles and vacant looks.

Just like everyone else, Gale hadn't appreciated the significance of her imperceptible sacrifice. Now he does, and his oversight creates one more scar on his already heavily marked soul. Another charge against him for his endless failures in life.

"I'm sorry," he told her when he realized how she'd had to live. That life would've suffocated him and he can't believe he ever thought she'd been happy living that way.

"It's just how it was." She shrugged again. A smile, real and warm, formed on her face. "Gale, the past is in the past. You didn't know how it was-"

"I could've guessed." In fact, it should've been clear to him. He trusted the Capitol less than anyone, but he'd never imagined that they were squeezing an invisible vice around the people Gale had always seen as their own.

"I wouldn't've been playing my part well if you had." She laughed. The smile fell from her lips at Gale's dark look.

"Gale, don't think you could've seen through me, or my family. Hiding was what we did. It kept us alive. It kept you alive. The things I learned to do, to hide and lie and insulate myself, those things kept me alive this far. Those things are the only reason in still standing, the only reason I'm not a puddle on the floor. Don't feel bad about all that. It's behind us."

He felt a cool hand encircle his, give it a squeeze. "It doesn't matter."

Maybe not to her, but it mattered quite a lot to Gale. He'd wronged her, let his anger cloud his judgment, not for the first time and not for the last time. At least with Madge he was getting the opportunity to make amends.

Taking another long drink from his glass, finally emptying it of its contents, Gale gets up from the bar and crosses the room.

He reaches Madge just as the man is trying to wheedle a dance out of her.

"You wouldn't break an old man's heart," Gale hears him say as he takes Madge's hand and gives her a sickeningly sweet smile.

No, but I'd break an old man's face, Gale thinks irritably.

Madge is about to smile and accept, she sees no way out and her manners won't let her simply tell him no, when Gale comes up behind her and tugs the back of her dress, making her hand slip from the man's grasp.

"Sorry, sir," Gale tells the man, who up close Gale recognizes as being a businessman from Six. "She's already promised me the last dance and this is it. We have an early train to catch in the morning."

The man looks Gale up and down, sizing him up, before a look of defeat crosses his face and he nods, clearly knowing he's outranked.

"Of course." He gives Madge another oily smile. "Perhaps next time, my dear?"

Madge's false smile never falters. "Perhaps."

Gale pulls her with him toward the exit, but she stops him with a tug towards the edge of the dance floor.

"You said we were dancing."

Gale scowls. "That was just to get him off you. I want to get out if this hellhole."

Some of the women's perfume is giving him a headache and he doesn't know how much more of the foul smelling cigars from Two he can inhale.

A real smile forms softly on Madge's lips.

"You said we were now you have to, Gale." She jerks him toward the edge of the dance floor and forces him into complying with a sharp look. "It's part of the game, Gale. You have to play it if you ever want to get anything done."

He almost points out that his reputation should be enough to get him where he needs to go, but Madge knows better than he does that there's more to getting things done than just having a name. She's played this game a lot longer than him and has all the moves down flawlessly.

Making sure she sees his look of exasperation, Gale lets her pull him the rest of the way to the dance floor. He's not particularly good at this whole dancing thing, but Madge makes him look halfway decent at it.

His hand settles on her hip, her warmth seeping through his palm, and he takes her chilled fingers in his calloused ones as the band slows the music.

"Just follow my lead," Madge whispers.

As they start to sway, barely turn on their little patch if dance floor, Gale catches a whiff of her raspberry shampoo and honey lotion and lets out a sigh. The throbbing in his head from all the noxious smells eases up a bit.

There aren't many parts of this game he understands, and even fewer he enjoys, and dancing with Madge sometimes falls into the former, but it also definitely qualifies as enjoyable.

He steps on her foot and she winces slightly.

"Sorry," Gale whispers.

Well, for him it's enjoyable anyways.

When he notices the old man watching them enviously, Gale tightens his grip on Madge's waist and presses her a little closer to his body, just to make it clear she's off limits. She may not be with Gale, but she is there with him, and he isn't going to let some smarmy old man paw at her just to build goodwill with him.

Gale may not know much about Madge's games, but he definitely knows how dirty old men's minds work and what puts them off. In the hierarchy of men, Gale knows he outranks an aging businessman, even if he probably shouldn't, and he plans on making that as obvious as he can for Madge's sake.

When the song stops and Madge peers up at him, Gale gives her a small, worried smile. Her feet are probably sore and he had holding her a little tighter than was necessary.

He's relieved, though, when she returns his weak smile with a real one.