Like all things in life, fate had its own irony. Madge found herself back right where she started. In the townsquare of District 12. Fingers traced the faint outline of the crater she had crawled out of. Now patched back with paving stones. It felt warm to her, even in spring. But she told herself it's just her senses acting up. A vestigial part of her brain desperately trying to sort itself between what she was told happened, and what happened-happened. This. The crater. A broken house and water-pipe and burnt corpses, now a soup kitchen which made delicious biscuits and gravy. A school behind her with her name on it. Bookstore and a creche.
Gravestone in the meadow. Here lies Madge Undersee. Polite refusal for Thom to demolish it. Because she did die that day. Died and rebirthed into a new woman. Someone capable of enduring the harshest conditions and still forge a community. To stare down oppression in the face and come out the better of it. In the back of her mind, Madge asked herself whether she'd be able to do these things if hadn't died. Stuck to the comfortable life of a Mayor's daughter and fastidious secretarial work. She didn't need to find out - it was all buried in the Meadow under a rock. Overgrown with weeds while her parents' graves were tended to. Fresh-cut flowers laid during anniversaries. A toothbrush taken to clean engraved names she'd forgotten. A surname that represented the last thread binding her to Panem. Because she didn't need a property in the Capitol to prove her father's legacy anymore. Only the spirit that the Undersee name represented. Standing up for others and making the most of a bad situation, no matter what the cost to herself.
The bookstore that Madge envisioned slowly transitioned into a library. They'd all pass her books around anyway. District 12 was the first in the nation to meet Paylor's lofty literacy rate targets. Madge herself had been the first to set up classes for a generation of children born in the mountains, before other teachers returned from refugee camps and more could be trained. Children were always a joy to her. Pictures of Xavier she found in the mail, Rose having finally found the courage to return to District 8 and find that the world had moved onto a better place. Even Bev had found a partner in the Capitol. Madge liked to imagine that she wound up living in the same plot of land that brought her so much hope in the past. A hope she saw in Cassia and Oaken's newborn boy - pink-faced with a voice that could be heard for miles like his mother. In a few years time, perhaps he would join the other students in her school and find a world which has largely forgotten what Panem used to be like.
A few years.
Madge stood on the steps to the school. Her home. Watched in the far off distance at Katniss Everdeen approaching. Hunting Jacket and bow in hand. Her words had thudded into the empty hollow of her chest a week prior. Please, Madge - don't take this the wrong way. I am with a child.
In fact, Madge didn't know how to take it. Didn't know exactly what this relationship she had with Katniss was. Couldn't bring herself to hate the blonde-haired man with a gentle smile who sold her bread and never said a harsh word despite everything he'd gone through. Was it a bad thing that her heart desperately wanted more of Katniss? That secreted visits over the pretense of tea and stolen moments in her closet of a bedroom just weren't ever going to be enough? She'd found the same panicked grip of loneliness clutch her soul on some mornings. Waking in a cold, empty bed. But she'd clambered out and looked upon the sunshine. Listened to the voice of boarding children thumping down the stairs for breakfast. Felt her gaze drift over the meadow towards memories she'd been content to bury. And allowed the claws of despair to lose their sharp edge.
Replaced by the brightest light in the darkness standing before her. Braid slung over her shoulder. Tilt of the hips. Eyes that wavered between the hunger of wanting her alone with hands roving over naked skin and the indifference of playing the part of just dear friends in public. Nothing further beyond the brush of fingertips or the flicker of a gaze. Swept towards lips. The shape of a mouth that said I love you.
"You're early today," Madge whispered, low voice nearly stolen by the breeze.
"The woods," Katniss sighed, looking over her shoulder, "you mentioned you wanted to go. This week at least. I-I mean today."
"You sure you're alright?" Madge glanced down at her belly, still flat beneath her top, "going into the woods with child."
"I'd give birth in the woods if I could," Katniss sniggered, before her face fell slightly, "if Peeta would let me."
"Are you doing this to get away from him?" Madge frowned.
"I've gotten away with far less," Katniss added. Slight curl of her lips that set Madge's heart aflutter. She kept a granite face and narrowed her eyes at Katniss.
"C'mon," Katniss tugged at her elbow, "come away with me. You've got staff aplenty to run this."
A flicker roared to life in Madge's memory. She'd stood here and asked her to the woods before. But this time, instead of chasing down the memory into the darkness. Instead of feeling around and seeing where this piece connected to, Madge just ignored it. In the space of a year she'd built enough bridges with a new life to turn her back on the shadow of a past.
Madge couldn't resist a smile. Or resting a hand on Katniss's belly when they'd wandered past the Meadow out of eyeshot from the rest of District 12. Here was the fresh scent of pine that lingered on Katniss's neck. The tweet of birdsong that mimicked her voice so closely. Rushing waters and rustling breeze that stilled her soul. Here they could be two girls again, fingers chasing each other as they hopped over the brook. Katniss was visibly slower than usual. Pausing to huff a couple of breaths when they hiked up a slope. A pang of jealousy crested within Madge as she imagined that new life growing within her that she wasn't privy to. At the same time, she couldn't help but brush her fingers against Katniss's belly again. Feeling that rush of heat behind her cheeks when Katniss covered her hand. In a year they'd learned each other's thoughts and emotions through the heady swell of silence. Spaces between sentences that spoke volumes more than any words could. The look in her eyes. Purse of the lips. Right now, a slight inhale that said:
This child is as much yours as it is mine.
"You probably should stop hunting when the baby starts showing," Madge whispered.
A sudden shove robbed Madge's breath. Smirk lit up her face. Katniss's eyes glowed with desire. She suddenly found it hard to breathe as the girl backed her into a tree trunk.
"Who said I'm here to hunt?" Katniss sneered.
Madge smiled. Curl of her lips lasted a fraction of a second before it wordlessly sealed into Katniss's. The sensation arced into her spine. Heady scent of Katniss's hair made her lightheaded. She floated away on a cloud of memory. Drifting into a void. Overwhelmed with the touch that branded every exposed inch of skin on her neck. Burning down her throat and dragging out a terse moan.
"This," Madge gasped. Thirsty for air. For Katniss. Like she'd been nearly drowned and surfaced desperate for more.
"This?" Katniss asked, between hungry kisses, "You remember this moment?"
The cloud of memory Madge sat in drifted away on a lake of reminiscence. She could see the shore on the opposite side. Goading her to reach out and touch its tantalising shore. Remember her past and feel it between her fingertips. But Madge let it go.
"No," Madge met Katniss's eyes, "I only remember you."