Madge watches the Capitol arrive through her window.
She is dressed in a sweet blue dress, her hair held back with ribbons but her reflection is not soft. The face in the glass is hard and grim as the too shiny, too sleek car pulls up before her house. It's wheels kick up ashy clouds of snow behind it and Madge's hands become fists on the chilly glass of her window.
The enemy's here, her war's begun.
She watches with cold eyes as they pour out of the car, all violently colourful and glittering like gems. The prep team clings to each other, little white clouds puffing out of their mouths as they gasp and chatter and look around with wide eyes. Effie strides forward quickly, her tall shoes scarring the snow while Agrippa walks more slowly, his hands in his pockets. Madge has no love for the eerie emptiness of Victor's Village, but this invasion is far more threatening. A ghost town is safer than one ripe with Snow's soldiers.
Agrippa glances up towards her window and Madge stares back. Does he see her? She can't be sure. She stays there until they're all inside and then presses her forehead against the window, her breath fogging up the glass.
Goodbye, she thinks at the girl looking back at her. It's time for Madge Undersee to disappear.
There's a neon rainbow crowding up the hallway as Madge comes down the stairs, her eyes unsure what to focus on. The colours are overwhelming, the laughter too loud and she can barely see her father wedged into the corner by the door, rosy cheeked and drowning in taffeta and sparkles.
"There she is! There she is!" Effie cheers, her voice two pieces of metal dragging against each other. She squeezes through the huddled prep team and though Madge's fingers tighten on the rail, she matches Effie's electric blue smile with one of her own. They meet in a gauzy, shimmering embrace.
"Oh, yes," Effie says as she pulls away. "You look so much better than last time I saw you." Madge doesn't mention that last time they'd seen each other she'd barely survived a death game where she'd killed people. That might make things tense. Instead she just smiles some more at the compliment as Effie pats her cheek.
"Now I'm going to leave you in Agrippa's capable hands while I go check in with your other half," she says, her cheery expression wilting somewhat at the prospect of Gale. Madge's smile warms. But instead of leaving, Effie waits, her hands tight on Madge's and her smiled fixed. No one gives Effie a reason to stay and her shoulders tremble with the effort not to slump.
"Right, yes, off I go!" She does this time, her heavy shoes clomp clomping down the hall. Madge watches her go until six different hands grab onto her shoulders, her arms, her wrists.
"Ooo, let's make you beautiful!" her prep team coos in unison and Madge smiles even though her skin is covered in ants. They steer her to the bathroom, shut the door behind her and push her down onto the toilet lid. They chirp and chitter excitedly like birds at dawn as they fill up the tub with steaming water, but not one of them says anything to Madge. But why would they? She is only a doll ready to be made up.
The whole room steams up and whatever they've poured into the water is dizzying in its sweetness, almost like they've managed to mix every single kind of flower together. Sweat gathers on her forehead and beneath her clothes, tiny beads soon forming into a sticky coat. It's getting harder to breathe, at least for her, but the prep team merely unpacks all their bags and bags of lotions, creams and tools that remind her more of surgery than they do beauty. They're still giggly and gossiping, none of them bothered like Madge is by how small the room feels with all four of them shut inside. She doesn't say anything. She's quiet and wordless as they talk, as they strip away her clothes and push her into the scalding water. It hurts. Madge bites her tongue.
She's only a doll and dolls don't complain.
Just like always, her prep team peels her away and scrubs whatever's left. They wash and wax and pluck and lather until the skin she's in feels like someone else's. Every flaw, every imperfection, every blemish is scraped, carved and rubbed away and when Madge wipes at the foggy mirror, it's not her reflection looking back. The girl looking back is shiny, new and pristine just the way the Capitol likes. It's Madge's face, her body but not quite and she's always felt like an imposter forced into someone else's clothes.
But today, she thinks that might be a good thing. This other face, this unfamiliar skin, it's like a suit of armour hiding her from view.
Snow wants to snap her into pieces but instead, he's had them build her a fortress to wage war from.
Agrippa walks around her with critical eyes, his glittery nailed fingers stroking his lime green beard. Madge stands naked in her living room and it's only skin she reminds herself, and nothing he hasn't seen before. He pinches her hip. Madge closes her eyes.
"Well, you're not quite so bony anymore. That's an improvement."
Madge doesn't answer, but of course, he doesn't really want her to. He takes her chin and lifts her head.
"Still, there's plenty of work to do. It's time to remind the world how talented I really am."
Madge steps out onto her porch to find the night lit up by bright, bright lights. They're pointed directly at her and it's hard to see, but she doesn't let it show. She smiles as brightly as the lights instead. A camera whirs somewhere in the blinding whiteness and Madge walks down the steps carefully, so she doesn't fall and shatter the Capitol's favourite bauble. Agrippa's made her beautiful yet again, sweet, lovely but also a little sexy. Her hair shines gold, tied with a red velvet bow and draped over her shoulder; her dress is white and so tight it feels like another layer of skin, the sweetheart neckline low enough she's a little bit afraid she might fall out of it. The hem is high up on her thighs, sparkly gold netting covers her exposed legs and then comes the boots, furlined and ending just below her knees. Her eyelids are gold, her eyelashes black and her lips so, so red. She has gold earrings with dangling red hearts and a fluffy white coat that falls longer than her dress, though it's been left open.
She might be beautiful now, but she's also cold.
Gale is waiting for her just outside her gate. He looks as handsome as always, though perhaps a little less now the Capitol's remade him. His hair's been combed over to one side and given an unnatural sheen, his eyes are outlined in a way that makes them pop, and he's dressed head to toe in silver and black, a sharp contrast with her gold and white. He looks warmer too. She beams at the sight of him and he grins too, the world's most perfect romantic hero.
She reaches the foot of the stairs and Gale meets her there, Capitol cameras broadcasting them into every home in Panem. It's time to shine. Madge looks up at him and he leans in, his mouth warm as it descends on hers. One of his hands slides through her hair and the other grips her waist, a hot, fluttery feeling growing in her stomach. It's been months since they've kissed and maybe that's why she feels weak in the knees. Her heart beats so, so fast, his lips are eager, passionate and suddenly he dips her. Madge clutches his neck, almost gets lost in the electrifying taste of him, but then she remembers. They haven't kissed in months, but he has kissed Katniss. Katniss, who he actually wanted to kiss. The intoxicating feel of him lessens, the heat between them dims and wanting him, enjoying this, it's selfish.
"Ahem," Caesar says with a delighted giggle and Gale pulls away, setting her back on her feet. Madge tucks into him like she's too bashful to face the camera head on and Gale holds her close, his grin unapologetic.
"Sorry Caesar, but we haven't seen each other in ages. I couldn't help myself."
"Oh? And when was the last time?" Caesar's tinny voice asks from the nearest camera. Madge peers up at Gale adoringly.
"Last night," he says with a grin and Caesar laughs.
"Well there you have it ladies and gentlemen! District Twelve's Star Crossed Lovers, still just as in love as always! Still haven't had enough of each other?" he jokes and Madge shakes her head.
"Never," she says firmly and Gale looks down at her, his expression sweet and swoonworthy. He leans in and kisses her slowly, Caesar's distant voice just reaching her ears.
"Oh my! Why don't we leave them to it, hmm? But we'll be sure to check back in with them soon!"
The cameras shut off, the lights too and Gale's kiss lingers for a moment in the dark. When he breaks it, she has to remind herself how to breathe.
"Alright, in the car! We have a tight schedule to follow!" Effie says as she descends upon them. She chivvies them into the back seat and they're off. Madge takes a deep breath. They've passed the first hurdle, but there's still so many more they'll have to clear.
Gale squeezes her hand. Madge squeezes back.
By the time they board the train, Madge's face already hurts from smiling so much. But she can't drop the charade quite yet. Effie's still here, Snow's eyes and ears are still here. So Madge keeps smiling. Gale doesn't bother.
"Alright!" Effie says and claps her hands. "We're finally off and just on time! We still have a lot of preparation to get through before we arrive in Eleven, but you two can settle in first. Everything should be the same as last time, though there is one new rule," she says with a pointed look at Gale.
"No late night rendezvous!" she declares and wags a stern finger at him. Haymitch rolls his eyes, Madge feels a little warm and Gale snorts.
"Don't worry Effie, I wouldn't be caught dead in your room, night or day," he sneers. Effie flushes, indignation painting her magenta cheeks even darker. Madge does her best to stifle a smile.
"Charming," Haymitch says and grabs Gale by the elbow. "I can see we'll need to start prepping earlier than expected." He marches Gale out of the room and Madge shoots Effie an apologetic look before hurrying after them. Haymitch leads them down long corridors of intricately patterned wall panels and thick carpeting until they reach the final car. He jabs a button on the wall and steps inside as the door slides open, Madge only a step behind.
"Oh," she says softly, maybe too softly for anyone to hear. Like every room on the train, this room has plush carpet that sucks in her shoes, overstuffed chairs and sofas with plump pillows and lamps with crystal shades. But unlike the other rooms, this one has a curved wall of windows that shows the world rushing by. It's actually kind of pretty.
"Shut the door," Haymitch says and she does. He drops Gale's elbow and sinks down onto one of the silk couches. Madge sits across from him while Gale crosses his arms and leans against a side table with golden inlay. Haymitch looks at them for a moment with calculating eyes that always make her bristle.
"Snow is everywhere but right here. This car is the only place you talk freely, understand?" he asks, tone as grave as it is commanding. Gale narrows his eyes and Madge frowns.
"How is that possible?" she asks and Haymitch shrugs.
"Let's just say we have a friend or two in high places."
For a moment, Madge holds her breath. Friends in high places? Friends in the Capitol? Powerful friends in the Capitol. That's a boon she hadn't expected. This rebellion is stronger than she'd thought. Good.
"So, is this when you finally let us in on your grand plan?" Gale asks, perhaps a bit more roughly than strictly necessary. Still, she understands his frustration. She feels it too. Haymitch's gaze is all stone and iron as he answers.
"The parts you need to know."
It's not really the answer either of them wants, but it's something. Anticipation and anxiety fistfight in her gut.
"Effie's going to write speeches for both of you," Haymitch begins and Gale rolls his eyes.
"Doesn't trust us?" he mocks. Madge gives him a look.
"Do you blame her?" she teases, desperately needing something to cut the tension nailed against her ribcage. Haymitch snorts. Gale's eyebrows go up.
"Ouch," he says, but he grins as he says it and Madge smiles, her tension loosening.
"No, she doesn't," Haymitch continues. "She's going to hand you some very nice little speeches that'll make Snow very happy. So of course, you're not going to use them." Gale leans forward, his eyes alight and Madge's tension tightens back up until she's not sure she can breathe.
"So? What do we say instead?" Gale asks and she can see it, the sparks in his eyes, the fire eager to leap from his tongue. He was born to be a revolutionary.
"That's going to vary from District to District. Right now, everyone's angry, but that's not enough. People in Panem have always been angry, you need to inspire them."
"We need to show them what a world without Snow could look like," Madge says, surprised to hear herself talk. Haymitch and Gale both stare at her and she feels heat rush up to swallow her. She wants to shut up, but there's something in the way Haymitch looks at her that tells her to go on.
"We need their anger if we want to change things, but we also need them to have hope. To believe that a better world is possible."
Her mouth feels dry and Haymitch nods. She doesn't look at Gale.
"Exactly. One without the other might start a fire, but it'll never burn hot enough to take down the Capitol. You need to look at each District and stoke their anger, but you also need to give them something to believe in. And you need to be subtle about it. You go in there guns blazing, and Snow will cut off the live feed and kill someone you love as a warning. He wants you to smother this revolution, not water it."
Madge nods at Haymitch's words and feels like she might vomit. Speeches and clever turns of phrase have never been her strong suit. She's quiet, she's always been quiet and now she has to inspire a nation with words. Everything and everyone is riding on them. She can't let them down.
"First up is Eleven..." Gale says and Madge looks over at him. His arms are still folded and there's a crease in his brow as he thinks. "I killed the boy from Eleven. I won't be popular there."
Madge remembers that, of course she does, but even still it's a shock to hear the words out loud. They killed people and now they're going to have to face the people that loved them.
You did it to save me, she wants to say but Haymitch beats her to it.
"So remind them why you did it and who made you do it. Remind them who they should really be angry at. And make sure they know how sorry you are, how much you wished you hadn't needed to. Show them the compassion the Capitol never has."
Gale frowns but nods and Magde looks back at Haymitch. Eleven...thinking about Eleven breaks her heart.
"And you, talk about her. The people of Eleven know you cared about her, that's why they sent you the bread they'd meant to give to her. Don't let them forget that. Snow will never feel empathy for them, but you can. So do."
Madge hadn't realized about the bread, her heart had been too ravaged for that. Tears sting her eyes as Haymitch tells her now. Kindness shouldn't be this awful, and yet it is. She wipes at her cheeks and nods.
"Okay."
Gale puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. Haymitch stands.
"I'll head back and handle Effie, you two should start working out what you're going to say," he says and opens the door. Just before he closes it behind him, he says something else.
"And just so you know, their names were Thresh and Rue."
Madge barely sleeps that night, but for once, it isn't because of her nightmares.
"Alright, here we go! 3, 2, 1!"
Madge takes one last deep breath as the doors of Eleven's Justice Building swing open. White sunlight streams into the hall and Effie gestures them forward, her fingers drawing smiles in the air for them to imitate. Madge hopes hers is cheery and bright as she and Gale step through the open doors. His arm is sturdy beneath her hand and though he's smiling, she can see the darkness in his eyes. They've always given him away.
The speakers on either side of the stage roar to life and Madge almost flinches as Panem's anthem wails into the square's silence. There are no cheers or applause to accompany it; it sounds a little pathetic without the Capitol's adulation to buoy it. Less pathetic and more menacing are the Peacekeepers, white and gleaming and everywhere. They surround the stage, line Madge and Gale's path to the podium and box in Eleven's people. Nerves wiggle in her stomach at this show of Capitol might so Madge looks out at Rue's district instead. There is an ocean of wan faces and miserable eyes looking back.
Twelve is one of the smallest Districts, Madge has always known that. But knowing doesn't prepare her for just how many people live in Eleven. She has to bite her lip to keep from gaping as she takes them all in, people stretching out as far as she can see. Twelve is nothing compared to this.
"Thank you," Gale says as if there'd been cheers and Madge knows she has to focus. The music fades and it's time to kindle a fire. They'd already decided Gale will go first, so Madge squeezes his hand and smiles sweetly at the crowd. Directly across from their stage are two raised platforms and Madge feels her stomach drop out as she takes in the large portraits behind them. One is of Thresh and the other Rue, Madge's eyes beginning to sting. Their families huddle on their respective platforms and there is bile in her throat as she looks at two women that might be Thresh's sister and grandmother. They must hate her. Looking at them, she hates herself.
"I never had the chance to get to know Thresh," Gale begins and though his voice is steady, his fingers shake in hers. "But I respected his strength, his determination, his refusal to play the games any way but his own. He didn't ally with the careers even though he could have and I admired him for that. He was a fierce competitor and more than that, he was a strong person. He stayed true to himself and I think...I don't think there's any greater mark of strength than that."
Gale's voice doesn't waver but when Madge peeks up at him, she can see the sincerity in his eyes. He takes a breath and pushes on. "We ended up enemies in the Games, we couldn't be anything else, but if things had been different, I...I know I would have wanted to get to know him." He looks directly at Thresh's family, the Capitol's veneer wiped away. "I'm sorry things weren't allowed to be different. I'm sorry for the choice I was forced to make. I'm sorry. I really am."
It's the most they can say without going too far, but it's enough. A shudder touches the crowd and Madge feels it too. When was the last time a victor apologized for winning? Because that's what he's saying, they're all smart enough to see that. I'm sorry I killed him. I'm sorry I'm here instead. I'm sorry. So simple, yet so powerful even the peacekeepers feel it. They close in around the crowd even tighter, ready for trouble. They can feel it brewing, the whole square can. And now it's Madge's turn.
"I…" she begins and has to stop when her voice catches. Gale presses against her and she closes her eyes. When she opens them she's looking at Rue's family, parents and siblings that will never see her again. The speech Madge had planned evaporates in their grief stricken gaze and something else spills out instead.
"Rue was so young and clever and bright, she...she was so smart." Tears blur her vision and she keeps going, all those lines she knows she shouldn't cross buried in the bloody snow at her feet. "She was so brave, so brave. And I'm-I'm sorry I couldn't do more. I'm so sorry you lost her. I...I wish I'd allied with her that first day in the arena. I wish I'd done more. I'm so sorry, I-I wish I'd saved her. I-"
Gale pulls her into her chest, his arms solid and her words muffled against his shirt. I wish she'd won. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Rue should've come home. Those are dangerous words, too dangerous to say aloud while Snow is watching but tearfully into Gale's chest, they hurt no one but her. They'd both agreed that as much as they might want to, they can't be direct in what they say. If they want this tour to last, they have to be subtle, have to let the Districts read between the lines. For a moment, she'd forgotten that; for a moment, only Rue and the light leaving her eyes mattered.
Someone whistles.
Madge lifts her wet face and there, in the back of the crowd, is an old man whistling. It's a simple, unfamiliar tune; four simple notes that ring through the silent square. And then another voice joins in, small, young but firm. It's one of Rue's little sisters and though she can't be more than seven, she stands tall and defiant. She and the old man are not alone for long. Someone else takes up the tune and then someone else and someone and someone else. Soon, all of Eleven is whistling those four notes, over and over and over again, but each time louder, stronger. Madge doesn't know why, but her heart might be breaking.
And then all hell breaks loose.
Gale's grip on her tightens as the Peacekeepers surge forward into the crowd, each one brandishing a club. They descend on Eleven's people with violence and "No!" Madge shouts, her voice lost in the unfolding chaos. Unfamiliar hands shove and push at her and Gale, his grip on hers is bruising and "Stop! Stop!" she shrieks. People are yelling, guards drag her into the Justice Building but the whistling doesn't stop.
Four notes.
For sorrow, grief, anger.
For revolution.
"That was a disaster!" Effie moans as they're hustled back into the train. "I don't know what you two were thinking. The peacekeepers having to step in, oh it's humiliating!"
Madge nods along to Effier's lament even as fear for Eleven's people makes her nauseous. She's no idiot, she knows the Capitol will demand blood for their freedom, but knowing doesn't make the reality of it any less horrifying.
Her job is to inspire the people of Panem to fight. She wonders now if she'll be able to bear the cost of her success.
"What am I going to do?" Effie despairs, hands flapping at her flushed cheeks. Madge has no answer but when she looks at Haymitch, his eyes are solemn. He nods once and it's not triumph in her blood, but something a little colder, a little harder.
So that's it then, they're officially revolutionaries.
Gale touches her hand under the table at dinner and leans in close, his breath a cinnamon flavoured kiss against her ear.
"Whatever happens is Snow's fault, not ours."
Madge knows he's right. And she knows he's only saying it because he'd read the guilt in her eyes. She knows too that he's taken his guilt and made it into anger, into fuel.
Hopefully, she'll be able to do the same.
Even as night comes, the day haunts Madge's room.
Eleven's song plays against her ears, faceless voices whistling into the darkness. The train is too quiet to drown it out; Madge's pillow over her head or her hands over her ears can't make it stop. Rue's song, Thresh's song, the song of seventy-four years of dead children. She doesn't want to hear it, can't bear it, but it just goes on and on, four notes that never end. But how could they? Eleven is mourning for hundreds of children that never came home, for hundreds of kids that never grew up.
And under her eyelids the Peacekeepers attack the crowd, their ruthlessness matched only by their cruelty. Her cheeks are wet from her tears she hadn't even noticed, her sheets too and though she is exhausted, miserable too, she knows sleep won't bring any relief.
Awake, asleep, it's all nightmares now.
There are too many ghosts in her room, so Madge tosses back her covers, slides on a pair of velvety soft slippers and wanders into the train's empty hall. The lights are dim and everything is quiet, comfortingly so after the melody trapped in her room. No one else seems to be up and Magde lets her feet lead her through the train, her fingers tracing the designs carved into the paneled walls. It's hard to force her mind away from Eleven, impossible really, but each step in the squishy carpet at least carries her farther away from the phantoms lingering in her room.
Revolution doesn't come cheap, Haymitch had warned six months ago and he was right. And everyone in Panem knows it too and no matter what she says or does, it's up to them whether or not they're willing to pay it. She didn't make Panem this way and she didn't force those people in Eleven to turn on the Capitol. But it doesn't matter; she isn't Snow or the Capitol. Death will always be heavy to carry, the lives of the people of Panem will always matter.
Bitterness wells on her tongue. Maybe she ought to be grateful for the guilt and the horror. At least she has proof now that she's not a monster. Madge closes her eyes and tries not to scream.
When she opens them again, she's reached the door to the last car. It's no surprise her feet brought her here; just like when they bring her to the fence in Twelve, this is the only place on board she can pretend to be safe. The door is silent as it slides open and though the light from the hall is faint, it's enough to illuminate the outline she's long since memorized.
"Hey," Gale says as she slips inside. A press of a button closes the door and though it's not true safety, it's still comforting to have the illusion of it.
"Hi," she replies and sits across from him. She sinks into the silk cushions, goosebumps touching her skin at the coolness of the fabric. The moon through the windows is too slim to shed much light and the dark squeezes at her lungs. She closes her eyes.
"Can't sleep?" he asks and Madge shakes her head.
"No, I...I don't sleep much anymore," she admits.
"No, me neither."
Madge smiles sadly, not that he can see it. Neither one of them mentions that they have new horrors to keep them up tonight. Of course, it sits between them anyway and soon their silence grows edges sharp enough to draw blood. How long it lasts is hard to measure, but the tension seems to stretch the seconds out so thin time might have stopped.
Gale sighs.
"It'd be easier, wouldn't it, if we couldn't feel a thing?"
His voice touches the knot of grief in her chest, nimble fingers loosening it just the slightest, tiniest bit.
"Yes," she whispers.
"But then we'd be just as bad as them," he finishes and she nods, though he can't see her. It seems almost childish to think this isn't fair and Madge bites her tongue to keep from saying it. There's nothing else to say either, no way to make the feelings go away or to make the situation better. Silence fills the space between them again, though it's gentler this time. This maelstrom lives in both of them and though that doesn't make the situation any better, it's still comforting to know.
Of course, the quiet allows those four notes to fill the room and maybe she'll never escape them. Maybe when she dies, it'll be those four notes that lull her into sleep.
"C'mere." Gale's voice is soft like the shadows and Madge doesn't hesitate. She stands and makes her way over slowly and for a moment she could be in the arena, stumbling around with a blind spot. Of course, the blind spot is in both eyes this time. Something sharp like acid touches the inside of her cheeks and she tries to breathe steadily. She can see, she knows she can and it's not like before, she doesn't need to worry that she'll never see again. There's no need to be afraid. But she is. Of course she is. When isn't she?
Her knee bumps against something solid and Madge stops, her breathing shaky. Her eyes work, she can see, she isn't blind. She's too old to be afraid of the dark.
"I got you," Gale says and his fingers find hers. Warm, callused and familiar, they slide through hers like they belong there. She grips him a little too tight and he leads her towards him. Her legs hit the couch and Gale pulls on her hands until she sits down. If only the moon was brighter tonight. If only the stars would shine. If only her feelings would listen to her brain and recognize that her eyes are fine, it's just too dark to see. Gale's arm slides around her shoulders and pulls her close. His heart beats against her cheek.
"Sleep," he murmurs and she digs her fingers into his shirt. "I'll keep you safe."
She nods against his chest and pulls her feet up onto the couch. "What about you? You need to sleep too."
"I'll be okay," he promises. "I always sleep better with you."
She wakes up only once in the night, blood in her eyes and a scream in her throat. But Gale is warm and solid around her and tonight, for the first time in so long, she feels safe enough to fall back asleep.
Madge can't remember the tributes from District Ten, no matter how hard she tries. Faces, interviews, parade costumes, it's all a blank.
"Their names were Arla and Jedd," Haymitch says and those names float around, unconnected to anything or anyone. And yet these names that come with faces she can't remember were alive, were loved, were murdered. They deserve to be remembered and Madge hates that she can't, even though she knows she did it to protect herself. They had to die if she wanted to go home, so she couldn't look at their faces, couldn't get to know them or let any single bit of them in. She had to, but that doesn't make it better.
The Capitol always forgets the fallen. Madge wants to remember them forever.
When she and Gale come out on stage the people of District Ten, Arla and Jedd's friends, families, neighbours, reach into their pockets and come out with handfuls of confetti. They throw them up into the air and each piece flutters down slowly in the windless cold. They drift past her eyes and suddenly Madge realizes they're not confetti.
Feathers, black and white feathers, feathers in Mockingjay colours, fall slowly to her feet and Madge looks back out at the crowd, penned in by a hastily erected fence and a wall of Peacekeepers. They have skinny bodies, pleading eyes and bravery that shouts loud enough to drown out the Capitol's bleating fanfare.
We're with you
And Madge has never felt stronger.
The revolution doesn't come with a roar, it comes with a murmur, a hum, a whisper.
It's not buildings set aflame or Peacekeepers attacked, it's District Eight throwing scraps of lace on stage, each one with a name stitched carefully onto the fabric. And without asking, Madge knows these are the names of the children stolen from them. It's a call to arms.
(Madge sleeps with those names beneath her pillow and promises each one that she'll make the Capitol pay for what they've done)
It's District Seven raising their hands when Madge and Gale finish their speech, showing the world the birds drawn onto their palms. Mockingjays in black and white and Madge presses her palm to the pin on her chest. It's a promise of unity.
(Aunt Maysilee's pin is a rallying cry, because Madge is not the Mockingjay. The people of Panem are the Mockingjays)
It's District Six with words written in bold letters on the sides of buildings "the odds are never in our favour" and "no one ever wins the Hunger Games". The paint underneath is fresh, clearly meant to cover up what was written before but the people of District Six haven't let their anger be erased. It's a refusal to back down.
(Those words are a mantra she whispers to herself when the guilt becomes too sharp, a reminder that there is only one enemy and if the Capitol doesn't fall, the suffering will never end)
It's District Four suddenly stepping aside to reveal a pile of beautiful, sparkling seashells in the middle of the square. Peacekeepers bark orders, shove people back into position but Madge doesn't need to count those shells to know who they represent. These are the fallen. It's the knowledge that they've all suffered at the Capitol's hands.
(And that's the thread the Capitol can't cut, no matter how hard they try. They've pitted the Districts against each other for seventy-four years, and all they've really done is bind them all tighter together)
The revolution doesn't come like a bolt of lightning, loud, destructive and gone in a flash. It comes like the sun, steady, unstoppable and ready to illuminate every corner of the world.
(but even at its brightest, the sun can't fight every shadow)
Peacekeepers smash through the crowd, their batons breaking bones. Madge is frozen solid to the stage, her mouth open but no sound coming out. There is blood on her cheeks, hot, sticky blood and she is watching people die. The people of Panem crumble beneath the Capitol's assault and the boy from One stands beside her and smiles, even as Gale's arrow sticks out of his back.
"You killed them, you know," he says and she shakes her head even as gunshots ring out in the square. One laughs, his eye sockets empty and filled with bugs.
"You might have the highest kill count in the history of the Games," he tells her and now she's covered in blood, her whole body dripping with it. Again she tries to scream, but no one hears her.
One starts to whistle.
Four notes over and over again.
Madge lies on her side in bed and stares at the window, her eyelids heavy but afraid to close. The sky beyond the glass is gray and mottled, growing darker darker darker. And then it opens up, the rain falling in waves against the train. She can imagine the sound of it against her bedroom window, can even remember how it sounds to sit on her porch and listen to rain storms in Twelve. She hears nothing now. The windows must be too thick, maybe the whole train too, built to keep out the world. The people of the Capitol live in an artificial world of luxury; why should their trains be any different?
Lightning cuts across the clouds and Madge curls into herself a little tighter. Their next stop is Two, Cato and Clove's district. Dread is a sea and she is adrift, surrounded on all sides. Clove and Cato are dead because she killed them and she's not sure anything has terrified her more than facing the people that loved them. Lightning flashes again but if there's thunder, Madge can't hear it. Count the seconds between the thunder and lightning. The farther apart they are, the sooner the storm will be over. Her mom had told her that when she was little and scared. She's bigger now and still scared and maybe this silence means the storm will never end.
"Madge?" Gale's voice comes from the other side of her door. She keeps her eyes on the soundless storm but manages a "yes?"
"You ready for breakfast?"
Madge closes her eyes and even though she can't remember a time she had less appetite, she says "yeah." The storm may or may not end, but she has to find a way to weather it.
Adrift she might be, but she isn't going to drown. Somehow, someway, she'll keep her head above the water. There's no other choice.
The rain keeps falling as they eat.
Madge picks at her food and as she can't count the thunder, she counts the seconds between Effie's words. Not that there's many to count.
"District Two is an important stop, I really wish you'd read the speeches I've written. Honestly, some of the things you've said are just awkward. I'm sure I'm not the only one you're making uncomfortable," she says and nibbles on a fluffy pastry. Magde nods complacently but can't help sharing a look with Gale across the table. Making Capitolites uncomfortable is exactly what they want to be doing. Someone needs to wake them up.
"You're right," Haymitch grunts and that's so surprising Effie actually stops talking to stare at him.
"I am?"
"Mmhm. And as soon as we finish breakfast, I'm going to take both of them aside and give them some special training on the subject."
Gale rolls his eyes.
Haymitch leads them to the back of the train after breakfast and his eyes are bloodshot, his coffee mug smelling like brandy. She wonders if he even remembers what it feels like to be sober. She wonders if he even wants to.
"Effie is right about one thing," he says, "Two is an important stop." Madge nods and Gale's arm stretches out along the top of the couch behind her. His fingertips brush her shoulder and she's not sure why she feels that in her stomach, but she does.
"Of all the Districts, Two is the closest to the Capitol. Breaking Snow's hold over them won't be easy. But if we want this revolution to work, you need to."
"How can they support the Capitol?" Gale asks, disgust and bafflement heavy in his voice. It doesn't seem possible than any District could, but then she thinks of the savagery in Clove's smile, of the brutality in Cato's eyes, and it doesn't seem all that shocking after all.
Haymitch shrugs and gulps down his drink, a few drops dribbling down his unshaven chin. "They live better than we do," he offers, "they have the most victors, the Capitol's driven them all insane. It doesn't really matter why. What matters is that they do, at least a serious chunk of them, and you need to open their eyes. You need to show them that the Capitol doesn't care about them any more than it does us. They need to see just how badly they've been abused."
That's daunting and Madge thinks back to every tribute of Two's she's seen in her life, their bloodlust and their eagerness. The Capitol has twisted them up into the most willing tools, how is she supposed to undo seventy five years of brainwashing in one speech?
"And that's not all," Haymitch says and how could there be more? "You don't just need to convince Two the Capitol's the villain, you need to convince the other districts Two isn't."
If Madge's stomach could sink into the earth, it would. She's grown up on hatred directed at District Two, that place filled with tributes delighting in violence and slaughtering Twelve's children with glee. Every year in the Games, Two is the district she knows to fear, to despise. It is easy to look at the other districts and see victims like they are. But Two with their excited volunteers, with their legion of oily victors, and trained careers, they've always been the bad guy. Those roots grow so deep she has no idea how she's supposed to pull them up.
"It'd be easier to grow wings," Gale says and he's not wrong. "They're just like us, except that unlike the rest of us, Two actually looks forward to the Games." He practically spits it and how are they supposed to overcome that? Every year everyone in Panem watches the tributes from Two commit murder and love it. How do you make them see around that?
"This isn't a discussion. We need all the districts and that means Two too. You have to find a way to convince them of the Capitol's evil and you need to find a way to humanize them for the rest of the districts. They are just like us, even if the Capitol's managed to cover it up."
Haymitch's tone leaves no room to argue and suddenly a memory pokes its way into Madge's head. Clove terrified and calling for Cato as she died, Cato driven mad with grief and anguish. Clove and Cato sticking together even as the Games drew so close to their end, Cato's unstoppable rage when Madge taunted him with Clove's death.
"They cared about each other," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Haymitch nods slowly.
"Good, we can use that."
Exploit it, she finds herself correcting and there's something a little unsettling about taking their pain and using it as a weapon.
"Will that be enough though? Just to show that they cared about each other?" Gale asks and Madge can't help but wonder what they would've done if they'd been the final two. A bloody spectacle for the Capitol's enjoyment? Or would they have finally seen just how cruel the Games really were? Would one of them have won? Both? Neither? Would they be preparing to recite speeches about Madge and Gale and how they cared about each other despite their circumstances?
"I don't know," Haymitch admits and throws back the rest of his drink. "Probably not," he amends. "But you don't need the rest of the country to love them, just to understand that they were people too and if the Capitol hadn't poisoned Panem seventy five years ago, maybe Cato and Clove wouldn't have grown up to be monsters. Knowing they were capable of genuine human feeling can't hurt."
It's hard to fathom how different things might have been if there was no Capitol, no Hunger Games, how different they might be. And terrifying to think that maybe nothing would be different at all. How much responsibility does Two bear for the choices it's made, for how it's people have turned out? The Capitol is certainly the root of the problem, but how much absolution does that offer? Madge wishes she knew.
"I know we're asking a lot of you and I know this isn't going to be easy. People are angry at Two and they have a right to be, but there's no easy answer to any of this. Two has been the Capitol's pet project for decades and that's affected them in ways we can't really understand. Is that enough to forgive them? I don't know. But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that as long as we hate Two, the Capitol wins. You can't forget that."
Haymitch is right and Madge tries to forget Cato's hands around her neck, tries to forget the way Clove had laughed at the idea of torturing Gale to death. Instead she reminds herself that they were kids like she is, kids twisted up by a system the Capitol forced on them, kids who never would've had the chance to wreck such havoc and be rewarded for it if the Capitol hadn't given them the opportunity to do so. Maybe they're to blame for choosing to behave the way they did or maybe they never had a choice at all. Maybe they'd have been good people in another life or maybe they wouldn't have. But Haymitch is right, none of that matters right now.
Everything traces back to the Capitol. Without them, the evil never sprouts in the first place.
Like all the other Districts they've visited, District Two is angry. But unlike all the other districts, District Two isn't angry at the Capitol, not at all. All their rage is reserved for Madge and Gale.
They step on stage hand in hand and there are no cheers to greet them. Instead, only furious, hate filled eyes staring up at them from every face. The peacekeepers don't stand guard here, instead they're woven through the crowd like friends. Madge's stomach turns cold. She doesn't look out at Cato and Clove's families, she can't bear to. Gale squeezes her fingers.
"As always, District Two's tributes this year were formidable opponents," he begins and Madge smiles at the crowd. No one smiles back. "They were the fiercest competitors we faced in the Games and they did their district proud."
Gale's job is to turn Two against the Capitol, Madge's will be to soften the rest of Panem to Cato and Clove. Madge wants to pay attention to Gale's speech, she really does, but there's a woman in the front row glaring at the pin on her chest with such viciousness it's hard to focus on anything else. Madge's pin has been a symbol of resistance, a memorial to her aunt and a talisman to protect her against the Capitol throughout the games and even for most of this tour. But it feels less like a talisman now and more like a taunt. The rage in that woman's eyes, the hatred emanating from every member of the crowd; for the first time, Madge wants to rip her pin from her dress.
"Cato and Clove embodied all of what makes this District great. They were brave, talented, resilient, determined, resourceful and loyal. And I know I'll never forget them," Gale finishes, tone solemn. It is Madge's turn now and her throat is dry, too dry to summon words. Gale steps a little closer so their arms brush and Madge swallows. They've been given an impossible task, but she can't buckle under the weight of it. She has to at least try, even as hopelessness starts to flood through her veins.
"So many people have said such lovely things to me about Gale and I, about our relationship and how it's inspired them. I can't put into words how much that means to me, but we shouldn't be given all the credit. Cato and Clove were loyal too, they fought side by side and never once tried to separate or turn on each other. Even we can't say that."
Her voice is shaking even as she tries so hard to make it steady and so far, the people of Two haven't softened in the slightest. Their disgust, their fury, it still radiates off every one of them. She can't help but wonder if she stalks their nightmares the way Cato and Clove haunt hers.
"I…I'll never forget the way Cato mourned for Clove, nor his desire to avenge her. They were truly a team, a partnership and though we were enemies, I'm sorry for being the one to tear them apart. I'm sorry for causing them so much pain and anguish." And Madge can feel Clove's teeth digging into her skin, can feel her throat convulsing against her fingers. For a moment she can't speak, acid and bile pooling under her tongue and between her teeth. It burns all the way down to her stomach when she swallows it, the faces looking up at her just as hard and unforgiving as they've always been. And what about teh people watching across Panem? Is she reaching them?
"The Games celebrate strength and bravery, cunning and ingenuity. But I think love and compassion, caring, those should be celebrated too, maybe more than anything else. Cato and Clove had all of those qualities. If you're touched by Gale and I, by our love story, remember Cato and Clove too. They cared just as much as we did. Only they didn't get a happy ending."
Her voice catches a bit, her heart beats against her throat and then a rock sails just past her head. Madge's eyes widen and then Gale jerks her arm so hard she stumbles. He moves in front of her while the mayor calls for order and though the peacekeepers hustle Madge and Gale back into the Justice Building, they don't; turn on the crowd like they would in any other District. But of course they don't. A district hating them is exactly what the Capitol wants.
Another rock shatters a window and how did they ever think this would work? She stole both of Two's children from them; they were never going to care that she's sorry. Just like they don't care that the Capitol's the one who made the game and the rules, but why would they? The Capitol has had decades, nearly a century, to twist the truth into knots. In Two, the Capitol is an ally, a friend and benefactor. In Two, the Capitol's beaten the people so deep into submission they can't even see their own bruises and broken bones.
All while Madge killed both their tributes, robbed them of victory, of glory, of two lives. Her words could never have made a dent. The Capitol may have loaded the gun, put it in her hands and told her she had to shoot or die, but Madge is still the one that pulled the trigger. In Two, that's all that matters. Standing in the doorway of the Justice Building with the ghosts of her victims, she finds it hard to disagree.
Cato's hands slide around her neck, Clove's nails dig into her side and their district curses her with fiery eyes.
For a moment, Madge wishes she could burn.
Their stop in Two is a disaster. They don't inspire Two to stand against the Capitol and they don't inspire the rest of Panem to see Two as just as much a victim as they are.
In District Two, the Capitol is the only victor.
As soon as the lights go out, Madge wanders to the back of the train. When she stumbles her way to the farthest couch, Gale's arms are there to welcome her. He is warm, solid and she curls into him, so so glad for his steadiness, his comfort, his every breath.
But even with his fingers in her hair and his heartbeat beneath her cheek, she dreams of Cato, of Clove, of knives and poison and lungs without air. Madge dreams of Clove's panicked eyes, of Cato's anguished cries and of hands around her throat. Gale does not keep her nightmares at bay, but for tonight, she is almost glad.
Guilt and horror stalk her sleep, but at least she's not broken the way District Two is broken. The Capitol really has ruined them.
District One may make luxury, but they certainly don't live it.
That's the thought that runs laps in Madge's head as she stands with Gale on stage, their hands joined and bodies brushing. The people ranged out before them are better fed than home, they have nicer clothes but the lines of their faces are still too hard, their eyes still burn and they look healthy and happy only because she is used to the crushing poverty of Twelve. Having been to the Capitol, she can see now that District One is not wealthy, not joyful. District One is miserable, angry and suffering.
"Thank you. It's an honour to be here," Gale begins and Madge wonders now if their system of careers isn't for honour, glory and all those other pretty lies they say in interviews, but to survive, to thrive as much as anyone can in the Capitol's broken system. More victories mean more parcel days, which means less starvation, sickness, sorrow. More volunteers mean less tiny little children slaughtered for sport. More careers mean the children they send will be prepared, will have a higher chance of coming home. Maybe they decided they'd rather be hated than dead.
And that played right into the Capitol's hands, just the same way that every choice in Panem always does. There's no winning a game where the rules are made by the other side. If only they'd been able to open Two's eyes to that.
"I'll never forget him," Gale finishes and suddenly it's Madge's turn to address the crowd. She stares at unhappy faces, looks at the family of a girl she barely recalls and does all she can to avoid looking at the face of the boy she still hates. Marvel is his name and there's a great screen showing him smiling, green eyed, mud haired and alive. The sight of him makes her sick. She doesn't want to hate him, doesn't want to give the Capitol this victory but whenever she tries to be better, she is back in the arena kneeling in scarlet snow. Rue is twelve and terrified and dying and Marvel did that. Whatever the reason, whoever's to blame, she'll never forget that day in the cold.
"Glimmer was beautiful," she says, based on vague memories. "She dazzled me in the parade, in training and in our interviews. I didn't know her, not really, but I admired her confidence, her strength and her determination. She was such a bright light, it's...it's not right she was snuffed out so soon."
And it's strange, because suddenly Madge feels a tightness in her throat, feels something almost like tears sting the back of her eyes. Glimmer was a stranger and yet, Madge is sad she's gone, sad she'll never grow older or blaze through District One like she was surely meant to. Gale squeezes her hand and it's far from the best speech she's given, but District One's eyes soften as they look up at her. They don't love her, she's not sure they ever could, but they're on the same side. As long as they know that, the Capitol doesn't stand a chance.
Madge takes a breath and she has to say something about Marvel now, has to push forward for rebellion and revolution and a new world, but the words stick in her throat. She can't look at his family, can't face their grieving. She wants to be all Haymitch has instructed her to be, kind and compassionate and empathetic, but she's not sure she can be. Not when she still wakes at night to the sound of Rue's screams.
"I...I'm so sorry," she whispers and lying is hard but the truth would be cruel. Was he a monster? Was Glimmer? Are they all? Maybe, but if they are, it's the Capitol that made them that way. It's easy to know that but harder to feel it, but she has to, at least right now. "Marvel was a strong competitor; I'm sorry he didn't come home. I wish you hadn't lost him."
It's the only truth she can offer without wounding those who loved him and hopefully Gale said something better, hopefully Gale inspired them. But then again, Gale killed Marvel to save her and maybe the best they can hope for here is that District One hates the Capitol more than they hate her and Gale.
She looks out at Marvel and Glimmer's District, at the people who knew them, loved them, mourned them and feels a bitter sort of satisfaction. The people of One have smouldering eyes, ones Madge recognizes from her mirror. They are hungry for vengeance, thirsty for change and when the Capitol fanfare plays to signal the end of their speech, the people of District One tug at patches sewn onto the chest of their clothes. The patches come off and there, in yellow thread, is her pin. Peacekeepers flood into the crowd, Madge is hustled back into the Justice Building but she knows what message the people of One are sending.
They don't love her, don't even like her, but they will stand with her against the Capitol.
Madge hopes Snow gets their message too. She hopes he's furious.
She hopes he's terrified.
The avalanche rushes closer, Madge's frozen fingers grip desperately at the rocks above her and there are mutts howling nearby, ready to rip her skin off and gnaw at her bones. It's hard to breathe through her terror, her arms ache but she can't let that stop her. She hauls herself up to safety and then turns back for Gale, reaching down to pull him up. The avalanche is so close, thunderous waves of white and death, and Gale grabs her hands and holds so tight it hurts.
"I've got you!" she shouts to him and suddenly he laughs, an unhinged, demented sound that turns her organs to ice.
"No," he cackles, "I've got you!"
And suddenly he isn't Gale but Snow, laughing hysterically and with blood leaking from his eyes. He tugs with all his strength and she loses her balance, plummeting off the cliff towards the avalanche's eager embrace.
She screams, Snow laughs and Death takes her tonight
Death always takes her.
There's only one stop left and it's the most important one of all.
They're walking into the lion's den with a lit match and if they fail, everything they've worked for could go up in smoke. Every stop on this tour was important, but as always, the Capitol is the one that matters most. If they buckle here, nothing else matters.
"If you thought security in the Districts was tight, it's nothing compared to what the Capitol'll be like," Haymitch tells them and Madge nods, her stomach queasy. "But even still, we need something big. Something that'll placate the Capitol, but inflame the Districts at the same time. Anything you do in Snow's backyard counts for ten times more than what you did in the Districts."
Madge's eyes slide to the window behind Haymitch's head, the world speeding by in a green blur. What should they do? They have to walk the finest of lines, even finer than the one they've already been walking. What should the play be?
"The Capitol will want a grand romantic gesture to cap off this tour," she murmurs more to herself than either of them and her brain connects the dots just as Gale puts it into words.
"An engagement," he says and without knowing why, Madge flinches. "I could propose in front of everyone, the Capitol'll lose their minds."
Haymitch nods, stone grey eyes thoughtful. "Can't go much bigger than that," he agrees. "And the Districts will either see it as the act it is and be furious that the Capitol can control even something like who we love and marry or be pissed that your private life will be turned into a spectacle for Capitolite entertainment. You're their heroes, they'll want better for you. No matter what, we win."
Madge nods even as her gut churns. It's a good plan, a great one, but it lodges in her throat like a shard of glass. Gale puts a hand on her shoulder.
"Don't worry, you don't actually have to marry me," he says and she looks at him in surprise. His grin's a little wry, a little sharp. "The revolution'll happen before we have to make anything legal."
Her mouth feels suddenly like sandpaper and she can't get any words out. But what does she even want to say? This is a really good plan, there's no reason it should make her so uneasy. Sure, she always imagined her engagement would be for real love, but then, she thought that about her first kiss too. This engagement isn't any different than anything else they've done, so why does it feel different?
"You both need to be on board for this," Haymitch says and Madge drags her eyes to him. His face is serious but there's something else in his eyes, something almost like...pity. Madge refuses to think about why.
"I'm in," she says as firmly as she can, each word a rock she has to force up. "It's a great plan." Gale squeezes her shoulder and Haymitch nods.
"Good. You'll need to talk to Effie to set everything up, we want this proposal to make the Capitol swoon," Haymitch says to Gale and she peeks up at him. It's hard to read his expression, but this must be worse for him, right? She's not the girl he wants to marry, that'll always be Katniss. Haymitch stands.
"Come on, super should be ready soon. And you know Effie whines when we're late." He wanders out of the room and they should follow; he's right, Effie does whine when they're late, but Madge can't move. She feels heavy, she feels scared and she doesn't know why. This is just another lie, it's teeth shouldn't be so sharp. Gale doesn't move either and she wonders if he has the same bile in his throat. The silence around them grows oppressive.
"I'm sorry about this," Gale says, shattering the quiet and making her stomach jump. He's fixed his eyes determinedly on the window and clenched his jaw, his lips pressed together. "I know this isn't what you want."
Madge's chest aches and she puts her hand over his on her shoulder. His skin is warm, her fingers tingle from the contact and something swells in her chest, something she doesn't touch.
"No," she admits and the words feel sticky on her tongue, "but I know this isn't what you want either. Neither one of us has much of a choice."
Gale's jaw twitches, his fingers slacken beneath hers and suddenly, potently, fear flares within her. It takes her over and with no control of her mouth, she blurts "But I'm glad it's you. I'm glad I'm in this with you."
Her cheeks are hot and what a pointless, idiotic thing to say. Fear still has wings in her gut but before she can berate herself some more, Gale's eyes flicker to hers. She watches the ice in his gaze melt just the slightest bit and for a moment at least, her nonsensical fear disappears. "Yeah, me too," he says and Madge feels some of the tension in the room dissipate. He doesn't smile and neither does she, but the longer he looks at her, the warmer she feels. He holds her eyes as the seconds tick by and there's something fragile about this moment, something that makes her stomach twist. She needs it to end before something breaks.
"Supper?" she asks in a forcefully light tone and Gale nods.
"Yeah, sure."
His hand slides from her shoulder, but Madge doesn't let go. She should, the uneasy feeling under her skin knows she should, but instead she keeps her fingers wrapped around his as they walk to the dining car.
Gale doesn't let go either.
As far as Effie knows this proposal will be a complete surprise to Madge. So while Gale spends the day planning "in secret" with Effie, Madge sits alone at the back of the train and tries not to think. Every thought she has, whether about the districts, revolution, the Capitol or this engagement make her queasy and unsettled. She doesn't want to dwell on any of it. But that's easier said than done, especially when there's nothing else to do. The TV is full of nothing but her and Gale, the magazines too and there's no one to talk to. Luxurious this train may be, but barren.
Madge folds her arms along the back of the sofa and stares at the world as it speeds by, all it's colours blurring together. How much planning does a Capitol proposal need? Will they be locked up together all day? I wonder who that'll be worse for, Gale or Effie? She manages a smile at that, though it isn't particularly happy. Madge buries her face in a pillow and sighs. I need something to do. Boredom is not my friend. Boredom lets me think.
"Never a thing to do on these damn trains," Haymitch's voice says from behind her. Madge turns to see him standing in the doorway with a bottle tucked under one arm, a cup in one hand and a book in the other. "Why do you think I drink?"
Madge rolls her eyes. Haymitch grunts and comes inside, shutting the door behind him. He sits beside her and slides the cup of what she now sees is tea over to her. There is no saucer and he ignores the stack of coasters Effie always insists they use. She has no doubt he's doing it on purpose.
"Thanks," she says, a little surprised but also touched. Haymitch grunts again and takes a swig from his bottle.
"You ready?" he asks and she's not sure there's a good way to answer that. Their plan is ready. She might never be.
"As ready as I'll ever be," is the best she can offer. Haymitch nods.
"Right, well here." He holds out the book and she takes it. On the cover is a shirtless man with gleaming, oily muscles.
"The Gamemaster's Daughter by Viridana Hopewell," she reads and both her eyebrows go up. Haymitch gulps down a bit more and shrugs.
"I stole it from Effie's room. I thought it might help you pass the time, even if it's just to marvel at how awful it is."
Madge smiles. "Thank you, Haymitch. I'll be sure to keep you updated."
Haymitch snorts. "I can't wait."
She watches him leave and the smile slips from her mouth. My mom raised me to hate you Haymitch.
I wonder how disappointed she'd be that I don't.
The train chugs on into the night and just as Madge is thinking of getting up to go to bed, Effie claps her hands together.
"Home at last!" she says in delight and Madge looks out the window. She can see the Capitol glittering like a web of diamonds in the distance, it's shine so bright she could almost believe it was daytime instead of late at night.
"Oh it's going to be amazing, amazing! Just wait until you see the Presidential Palace!" Effie says even though no one's listening. She keeps talking, entirely oblivious to the mood shift in the room. Haymitch stares into his whisky with forlorn eyes, his hands shaking around the glass and Gale whole body tenses. Effie's voice flutters around like the persistent buzzing of flies. Madge wishes she had a swatter.
She can't seem to pull her eyes away from the city shimmering beyond the window and without really thinking, her hand curls over the fist clenched on Gale's knee. She lifts it gently, turns it over and unfurls his fingers. She runs her own over his palm slowly, soothingly and the stiffness in his body softens slightly.
"It's so good to be back," Effie sighs though Madge barely hears her. There's only her and Gale, her hand and his, his skin beneath her fingertips. It's okay, she thinks as she traces the lines on his palm. We're together, we'll make it through this together. We'll make them pay together. Gale catches her fingers with his and interlocks them, presses his palm to hers. He doesn't say a word but she can hear him anyway, his voice strong and firm.
As long as we're together, they'll never beat us.
The train pulls into the Capitol late at night, late enough there are no cheering throngs or shrill music to welcome them.
"So sad we couldn't have arrived during the day," Effie sighs as they step off the train. "You two deserve a hero's welcome."
Gale glares at her and Madge squeezes his hand, relieved more than she could explain at the cold and the dark and the silence. She is not here to be a hero.
She's here to start a war.
"Up, up, up!" Effie chants, her hands clapping in time with her words. And up, up, up they go, the elevator carrying them up to the penthouse. Madge looks out at the Capitol below them, shrinking as they rise higher and higher. If only it would disappear completely.
"And here we are!" Effie declares as the doors open on their floor. She sweeps out of the elevator and Haymitch rubs his temples.
"I need some air," he mutters, his eyes pointed at Madge and Gale. And then he's gone, striding as quick as he can towards the balcony. Effie sniffs at him and then goes back to spouting out the charms of their rooms. Madge and Gale ignore her, but then, they usually do. Their gazes move together, taking in this place tied to so many terrible memories.
"It's exactly the same as when we left it," Madge murmurs and it's a bit like falling back in time. Gale's voice is hard.
"Yeah."
He grabs her hand then, warm fingers knotting with hers. Madge squeezes back gratefully. Without having to say anything, they follow Haymitch's path to the balcony. Outside, the air is cool and clean, the sky black silk stretched above them and Haymitch is leaning back against the railing, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. Gale shuts the door behind them.
"There'll be more eyes on you now than ever. You need to be perfect, everywhere but out here. Don't forget that," Haymitch says and Madge nods. Gale's fingers tighten around hers and Madge steps closer to him, close enough their arms touch.
"You're ready for tomorrow?" Haymitch asks and though she nods, Madge can't meet his eyes. Gale nods too and Haymitch sighs.
"I know you're scared and I know none of this is easy, but you're tough. You both are." He isn't looking at them when he says it and maybe that's a good thing. Madge blinks quickly and hopes no one notices the tears burning her eyes. She offers Haymitch a faint smile and then he's gone, leaving them alone to contemplate what comes next. The interview with Caesar, the party at the Presidential Palace, their engagement.
Haymitch is right; she is scared and this isn't easy. And things are only going to get harder from here on out. The Capitol interview is more important than anything she's ever done before, Snow is the truest evil she's ever known and–
Madge peeks up at Gale as he looks out at the Capitol and feels her heart crack. This beautiful boy that will never love her is going to ask her to marry him. She is going to say yes. It hurts suddenly, hurts so much more than she ever would've guessed.
"I can't wait to go home," she whispers, dropping her gaze. She looks out at the lights below, unable suddenly to look at him.
"Me too." His voice is soft and Madge closes her eyes. She almost bites her tongue to stop from saying what she does next, but she needs to let these words out, no matter the cost.
"Are you sure about this? About proposing? You don't have to you know, we can find some other way." It's wrong of her, but she wants him to say no. She wants him to change his mind even though she can't explain why, even though it would ruin their carefully laid plans. What's wrong with her?
Gale breathes out beside her and Madge keeps her eyes closed until she feels his fingers on her cheek. He turns her face to his and she stares at him in surprise.
"Yeah, I'm sure. This is the best way."
She nods and Gale shakes his head, a small frown creeping onto his mouth. "You're always so worried about me."
Madge averts her eyes and shrugs. "I can't help it."
His silence sits on her, heavy enough it might crush her and then he asks, "And what about you? Are you sure about this?"
She could say no, she could say that when someone proposes to her she wants it to be because they love her and want to marry her. She could say she doesn't want to steal this from him and Katniss, from herself. But when she looks up into his eyes, she drowns in moonlight. And against her better judgement she says, "Of course."
Gale nods and then does something unexpected. He kisses her forehead. Madge stiffens, her heart loud in her ears. It shouldn't be this hard to breathe.
"Okay," he says against her skin, "let's do this."
"And here they are! Your victors of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games, Madge Undersee and Gale Hawthorne!"
The audience screams as Madge and Gale step on stage, their hands linked and their smiles dazzling. They wave for the adoring masses as they make their way to Caesar, his waiting grin hungry enough to devour them alive. He kisses their cheeks when they reach him, hugs them tightly and still the crowd shrieks itself hoarse.
"I can't tell you how good it is to see you again," Caesar says as they all sit down, his voice amplified by microphones but still barely discernible over the audience's enthusiasm.
"We were just about to say the same thing," Madge says back with her widest smile. Caesar giggles with delight.
"Ooo, what a pair of charmers!"
"We learned from the best," Gale says with a wink and Caesar practically squeals. The audience laughs and cheers right along with him.
"Alright, before we get to all the juicy details of your love life," and he pauses here so the audience can scream, "let's talk a bit about how you've been. It's been so long, I want to know everything!"
Caesar fires off question after question and Madge smiles as she leans into Gale's side. It's easy to parry Ceasar's quips, to laugh at his jokes and spew lies about her life, hobbies, happiness. It's too easy even, kind of disturbingly so, and she almost feels like she's watching this on TV instead of living it. This other her, this awful Capitol-loving her, is someone else.
If only.
Gale is charming beside her and his hand rests on her hip; the only lie she is glad to tell. He is real and he knows who she really is even if no one else can. She needs that. There are cutouts on both sides of her blood red gown and as Gale talks about his wood carving, his fingers move higher and skim her bare skin. Goosebumps flutter to life all over her body and that distraction costs. Gale's hand keeps going up and then his fingertips brush her scar. Just as she guessed, Agrippa designed her clothes to show it off, to make sure everyone can see her token of true love. Gale had taken one look at it and turned away, his eyes black.
He flinches now as his skin makes contact with Clove's mark and Madge freezes. Caesar's chatter stutters as he notices the tension erupting between them.
"Is something wrong?" he asks and Madge looks up at Gale as his hand falls away from her, his jaw locking tight. He doesn't answer, the silence tightens around them and Madge scrambles for a way to make this better.
"Gale," she starts without actually knowing what comes next. For a moment, Gale is Gale, the real Gale, the boy the Capitol will never know and then he isn't. In the time it takes her to blink, Gale, tortured, angry Gale, is gone. The Capitol's Gale sits in his place with a haunted misery on his face that doesn't reach his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he says and Caesar looks between them nervously. Madge feels her stomach toss. The audience holds its breath.
"Your scar...everytime I see it or touch it, it reminds me how close I was to losing you," Gale says and Madge swallows. Are they doing this now? She'd thought she'd have more time to prepare, more inane chatter with Caesar to build up to the moment they tie themselves together in their most official lie yet. "I can barely breathe when I think about that. I can't live without you."
Madge is shaking as she touches his face, her throat dry. "But I'm right here, you didn't lose me." Gale takes her other hand and presses it against his heart, the thump thump thump fast and heavy. He cups her cheek with his other hand, the callus on his thumb rubbing against her cheek. Distantly, she knows the audience is crackling, knows Caesar is rapt as he watches them, but they could be thousands of miles away. Gale and his fingers and his eyes and his heartbeat are the only things that are here, right now.
"I know. You're here and I never thought I'd ever be this happy. I never thought I could love someone this much," he says, serious, sincere, swoonworthy. Madge's neck feels hot. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me. When I think about how close I came to being without you-"
"Then don't think like that. I'm here, you're here. We get to be together forever." Her voice is soft but surprisingly steady. Why am I so scared? What am I so scared of?
"Forever," Gale echoes, "that's what I want. I never want to be without you." His heart pounds beneath her palm and she's so hot, too hot, hot enough she thinks she might erupt in flames. Gale pulls away from her, gets down on one knee and by the way the audience detonates, this must be a traditional part of Capitol proposals. He holds her clammy fingers with one hand and reaches into his pocket with the other, pulling out a small box. The shrieking of the crowd is so loud she can't hear herself think and maybe that's a good thing.
"You saved me, Madge, in every way. And I love you. I love you so much, so so much." He opens his little box and there's a ring nestled there, one with a beautiful red red ruby flanked by two perfect diamonds. "Will you marry me?"
The Capitolites weep, scream, collapse in their chairs and Madge smiles with tears in her eyes. "Yes! Of course, of course I will!"
Gale surges up, his lips crashing into hers and his arms lifting her off their couch and into the air. He spins her and his kiss is hot, ardent, but for once, she barely notices. She can't stop crying. Caesar swoons against his chair, hands over his heart, and Gale slides his ring onto Madge's finger.
"I love you," he says, his eyes dark with things he can't say.
"I love you too," she says, tears on her cheeks that aren't from joy.
But the Capitol loves it and right now, that's all that matters.
"I don't think there's ever been a Victory interview that exciting!" Effie gushes as they ride the elevator back up to their rooms. "The whole audience was swooning!"
That's exactly what they wanted and yet something awful's still happening in Madge's stomach, so awful it takes all her effort to smile. And what did Snow think of it?
"And now a wedding to plan! There's so much to do, we'll have to start right away!" Effie continues and Madge is so sick she presses a hand to her stomach. It's not real, none of it's real and that's a good thing, so why does Effie's enthusiasm make her want to vomit?
The elevator reaches their floor and they all step out, Gale's face hard and stormy. Madge closes her eyes and tries to steady herself.
"It will have to be here of course, we couldn't possibly have it in Twelve. Panem's greatest romance deserves the absolute best of everything! There's so much to decide; how do you feel about-"
"I'm going to bed," Gale interrupts. He turns and starts down the hall before any of them can argue, Effie's mouth pressed into a disapproving line.
"He has the worst manners," she sniffs. Her only answer is a grunt from Haymith. Madge watches Gale go and then looks down at her ring. It's beautiful, stunning really; the perfect ring for their perfect love story.
Madge wishes it was ugly.
That night in her bed Cato tightens his grip around her throat, his eyes wild and deranged. Effie's purple wig with the silver sparkles sits on his head, glittering like a night sky in the sunshine. A tiny Clove perches on one of the twisty curls.
"You won't beat us twice," she says while a wooden bird in mockingjay colours circles overhead. Snow cackles loudly, poison fruit leaking out between his teeth.
He smiles at her. "May the odds be ever in my favour."
Madge is quiet as Agrippa walks around her, inspecting her one last time before he sends her off to the Presidential Palace. Her dress is a dreamy pink and made of the softest silk, so tight it clings to her like skin and long enough it pools against the floor. There is a slit up one leg, all the way to her hip, a heart shaped cut-out to showcase her scar and her shoes are a complicated set of diamond studded straps. Her dress is cut low enough to expose plenty of cleavage and the satin straps hang off her shoulders. She has diamond bracelets, diamond earrings, a diamond necklace that hangs between her breasts and almost begs people to stare and of course her glittering ring, unmistakable on her finger. Her make-up is soft and romantic, her lashes long, her lips a lush pink, her cheeks charmingly rosy. Even her hair is bejewelled, a loose bun pinned with a gorgeous flower of tourmalines and diamonds.
Agrippa squeezes her shoulders and leans in close, his beard scratching her ear. "Tonight, you're my masterpiece."
Madge can't deny it. He has taken her unremarkable, pretty but never beautiful self and made someone new and magnificent. More than that, he has made someone who belongs here in the opulence and glitter of the Capitol.
They're going to love her.
Snow's palace looms before them like something out of a fairytale, so impossibly big she's half certain all of Twelve could easily live inside. Lights in every colour shine against its walls while others paint swirling, sparkling designs against the sky. Music and voices clog the air and Madge holds onto Gale too tightly, but he feels like the only real thing in the world. She's fallen into some sort of distorted dream, a nightmare maybe, and with one wrong step, she might never find her way out.
"Damn," Gale breathes and his voice holds the same shock running through her bones. There's not even room for anger yet, the shock that this is a house, a house for one person, is too immense.
"Magnificent," Effie says in awe and then turns back to them. "Alright, best behaviour," she instructs, her stern gaze focused on Gale. "This is the most important moment of our lives, let's do it justice."
"We will," Madge promises and Effie beams at her. When she turns to Gale for a similar assurance, he glares at her. Effie 'hmpf's.
"It's time," Haymitch says and Madge's every nerve electrifies. The music rises to deafening levels. Effie's eyes widen, her hands fluttering wildly.
"Alright, smiles everyone!"
Peacekeepers unlatch the ornate gate before them and Gale squeezes her hand. Madge squeezes back. They might be walking into the fire, but at least they're not alone. This is it, time for the grand finale. Let's make it an unforgettable one.
A plush purple carpet directs them forward and Effie goes first, Madge and Gale just a few steps behind. Dizzying lights burst into life and focus directly on them, illuminating them for the whole Capitol to see. And it might honestly be the whole Capitol.
There are people everywhere, so many Madge can't absorb them all. Screeching, glittering masses heave on all sides, their roar so loud it drowns out the music bellowing from every corner. Ringed fingers and glitzy nails grope at her and Gale as they pass, so many frenzied faces desperate to drink them in. Her organs recoil in fear, but Madge knows she can't let that show. She smiles as winningly as she can and waves instead while Gale does the same, his face changed into a stranger's as he acknowledges their admirers.
They walk deeper and deeper into Snow's lair until they reach a courtyard filled with servers and tables overflowing with more food than she's seen in all her life. A bit farther in is a dancefloor but everyone stops to cheer as she and Gale make their entrance.
"Welcome to the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games Victory Banquet!" President Snow's voice announces and Madge looks up to see him seated on a massive balcony several floors up. He smiles with scarlet lips as people begin to swarm around them and Madge smiles back.
Game on Snow
"It's so heroic," coos a man with feathers tattooed on his cheeks as he strokes Madge's scar, his hands leaving bumps on her skin. Everyone around them agrees that yes, it's so heroic, and then they reach out to touch her, all of them yearning to run their fingers over this small piece of history. Madge smiles vapidly and focuses instead on the grain of sugar caught beneath her left thumbnail. A remnant of one of the too sweet desserts she'd sampled, it remains irritatingly stuck, just too far in for her to pull out. Frustrating, but so much better than focusing on all the unfamiliar hands sliding over her body.
She really doesn't belong to herself anymore.
"Dance with me."
A whisper in her ear, a shiver down her spine. Madge looks over her shoulder at Gale, his skin glittering with gold. Her smile is small, but sincere for once, and she takes his offered hand. His fingers are warm, and so is she, as he pulls her onto the dance floor. Bright, whirling pairs surround them, but Madge barely notices. She keeps her focus on Gale, her port in the storm. Neither one of them knows the steps to this dance, so Gale merely pulls her close with a hand on her waist (the scarless side). Madge puts her empty hand on his shoulder and they sway together without regard to the beat of the music. He bends his head down towards her and she gazes at him with as much adoration as she can muster. Appearances are everything.
"I feel like I'm suffocating," he murmurs and she nods, her grip tightening on his shoulder.
"I know. The longer we're here, the harder it is to keep from screaming."
Gale spins her and when she twirls back into his arms, his lips brush her temple. "I don't understand how anyone can be this callous. People all over Panem are dying and they don't care. A feast like this could feed Twelve for a week."
Anger tickles her ribs, demands to be acknowledged, but Madge keeps it hidden. Instead she leans in as if to kiss his jaw.
"It's like being in an alternate reality," she tells his skin and his fingers are hot through the thin material of her dress. "It doesn't even feel real."
Gale spins her again and then pulls her in close enough their noses touch. "I don't feel real," he says, "except with you."
"May I cut in?"
The question brings their dance to an abrupt halt and Madge turns her head to see the man who asked it. He smiles brightly at her, hand outstretched and he's not nearly as done up as the rest of the Capitolites, but then, neither is Snow. Appearances mean nothing here.
"Of course," she says brightly and the man beams even brighter. She takes his offered hand and for a moment, Gale's grip on her other hand tightens. She glances back at him but he's not looking at her. His eyes are dark as they bore into the stranger holding her hand.
"That is, if your fiance doesn't mind of course," the man says with a cheeky laugh and Gale's expression flickers before rearranging into something close to a smile.
"Of course not. Save me a dance," he says and this time he does look at her. He holds her eyes with his for a second that might last a century and when he drops both her hand and her gaze, Madge is inexplicably short of breath. The crowd swallows him eagerly, her new partner tugs on her hand and Madge turns back to him with unsteady legs. He leads her through the dance and Madge shakes Gale from her mind, at least for now.
"It's an honour to meet you," her new partner says.
"And you," she replies with a charming smile that curls her own toes. The man laughs and spins her, his lively eyes sparkling in a way that makes her suspicions rise.
"Forgive my lack of introduction; I'm Plutarch Heavensbee, the new Head Gamemaker."
She's almost tempted to ask about his predecessor, but maybe she doesn't want to know what Snow had done to the person who let her and Gale win together.
"Your first Games will be the Quarter Quell? That's...exciting," she says instead and his smile only grows.
"Yes, very. Of course, your love story has stolen some of our spotlight." His tone is light, jokey and yet Madge feels herself grow even more on edge. She shakes her head.
"I'm sure it hasn't. A Quarter Quell is a lot more important than we are."
Heavensbee laughs. "I think a lot of people would disagree. You're a sensation; you have no idea how many people are utterly captivated by the two of you."
Madge smiles like she's enchanted by the compliment and Heavensbee reaches into his pocket, pulling out a watch on a golden chain. He holds it out for her to see, but she has no idea why. It could be any old pocket watch, gold and expensive yes, but not at all remarkable. She looks at Heavensbee in question and he smiles.
"As am I," he says and tilts the pocket watch until suddenly it's smooth surface shows the image of a mockingjay. It's etched ever so lightly into the metal and something about that faint image makes her skin prickle.
"It's lovely."
"Thank you. Mockingjay accessories have become all the rage lately. Everyone wants to look like Madge Undersee, the Games' most romantic heroine."
Heavensbee spins her and what an odd thought that is. She's setting trends. Can you believe it, Aunt Maysilee? Our token is taking the Capitol by storm. Snow must be seething. Before her thoughts can travel any further, Heavensbee pulls her in incredibly close.
"I really am such a fan," he breathes against her ear and Madge stiffens. "I so look forward to working with you."
He pulls back as the music changes, the mockingjay on his pocket watch glinting in the multicoloured lights. There's a promise in his smile, in the twinkle of his eyes and Madge has to act normal lest she give something away. She smiles pleasantly at Plutarch but she hardly sees him. Friends in high places, is Plutarch Heavensbee one of them? Is the next head gamemaker a rebel?
There's a crowd gathered around her, a chorus of tinkling voices asking for the next dance and even though Madge goes through the motions like a marionette, her mind is on revolution. She doesn't know exactly what it means to have Plutarch on their side, but if he is, she knows it's important. Head Gamemaker is a position of power, of privilege, of loyalty. Snow has no idea how deep the rot runs.
Good.
The crowd presses in on every side, every single one of them so eager to touch her. There are strangers' fingers stroking her arms, tangling in her hair, groping at her dress. Maggots squirm beneath her skin but Madge does nothing but smile, because tonight she belongs to the Capitol.
One day they'll hear her scream, but not today.
Gale nurses a drink by the far wall, cornered by simpering Capitolites in iridescent outfits. His expression is flat, determinedly so, and Madge lets herself be drawn into his orbit. She moves through grabbing hands and excited voices, her smile firm and excuses falling from her tongue, but her eyes stay on Gale. People paw at her but she doesn't let it stop her; Gale's pull is stronger.
He notices her coming and his gaze locks with hers, the rest of the world fuzzing into a blur. He is her anchor in the storm; she hopes she's the same for him.
"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!" she says and his admirers turn to her with delight.
"Ooo, you look so pretty!" "You two are my favourite victors ever!" "Ooo, look at her scar!" "Can I touch it?" "Does it hurt?" "How romantic!"
Their voices are loud, grating and Gale's jaw clenches as they fawn over her scar, his expression darkening. None of them seem to notice. Madge inches to his side, even as a woman with purple hair sculpted into a butterfly pinches her scar between pointed nails.
"What a testament to your love," she simpers and tugs at Madge's skin. The others gathered around her swoon while Gale's hands curl into angry fists. Madge reaches for one of those fists as a server walks by and offers them his platter full of colourful, multi-tiered cakes.
"Oh, you have to try these, they're amazing!" one of the men says and Madge laughs.
"I couldn't, I'm stuffed."
The purple haired woman, who still hasn't let go of Madge's scar, giggles. "Oh don't worry, that's what this is for!" she says and plucks a tiny glass of pink liquid off another passing server's tray.
"What is it?" Madge asks, too wary to take it even as the woman tries to force it into her hands.
"It'll make you throw up, so you have room for more!"
Madge is stunned almost speechless, the sheer ignorance and depravity and extravagance overwhelming. She stares at the Capitolites before her while Gale's eyes flash with fury, and she can see the angry words building on his tongue. He can't say them, she can't let him (even though she very much wants to) and without thinking, Madge stands up on her toes and kisses him. Her hands come up to hold his face, his skin warm under her palms. He doesn't move, just stands there stiff and still as a statue. Her cheeks heat up and she should stop, should pull away and hope she's stopped him from lashing out at those awful Capitolites. She never gets the chance. Because suddenly Gale does move, his hands finding her hips and curling into her dress, the blood in her whole body suddenly burning. He tugs her closer until their chests press together and he kisses her back, hungry and meltingly, a sort of electricity passing through her from his tongue to hers. Her fingers move from his face to his silk-soft hair and she tilts his head down, desperate for more more more.
"Oh my! Really, this is hardly the time!" Effie's voice pops the balloon around her and Madge turns red, her fingers slipping from Gale's hair. His hands stay on her hips.
"Do you need something?" Gale asks, not even trying to hide his disdain. Madge winces and Effie flushes, but she makes no comment of his rudeness. Instead, she smiles and reaches for them with long, painted nails.
"I've been looking everywhere for you! Come along, it's time for the President's speech!"
Gale backs out of reach and Effie's smile twitches in the corner. She grabs hold of Madge, her voice forcefully cheerful.
"Come on, we can't keep President Snow waiting!"
She's right and Madge reaches back for Gale, her fingers locking with his. He squeezes and lets her pull him through the crowd as Effie tugs her along. The crowd parts for them and soon they have the perfect view of Snow up on his balcony. He looms over them with his viper's smile, his champagne glass resting on the railing. Madge looks up at him and there is ice where her stomach should be. Gale wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her in close as the Capitol fanfare plays, an excited hush falling over the crowd. Snow lifts his glass as the music fades, his too-red lips pulling up into an even wider smile.
"Tonight we gather together to celebrate Panem's newest victors," he begins, his voice amplified and pushing down on all of them. "Two extraordinary young people united in their love for each other and for you, people of the Capitol!"
The assembled masses cheer and squeal and clap and Madge smiles sweetly. Can Snow see her like she can see him? He is a demon wearing a mask of human skin, she is a rebel painted up like a pretty little doll.
"Congratulations to the victors of the Seventy Fourth Hunger Games! May their love last as long as Panem." People scream in agreement, Snow drinks his champagne, fireworks burst in the sky and Madge recognizes the threat in his words.
If Panem is to fall, Snow will make sure they fall first.
"Oh, what a night," Effie sighs dreamily as they ride the elevator up to their rooms. "Guests of honour at the Presidential Palace!" She swoons against the wall and Gale shoots her a disgusted look. She doesn't notice.
"I've dreamed of this moment for so long and now, because of you two, I've finally gotten to live it!" Her smile is wide and she reaches for both of them, but Gale is too quick. He steps out of reach and Effie's expression flutters for only the briefest moment before she turns all her attention on Madge. She squeezes her in a tight embrace, smelling like roses and lilacs and daisies.
"My brave, beautiful victors. I'm so very proud of you," Effie says and her smile is warm and genuine. Madge doesn't know what to say to that and thankfully, she doesn't have to figure it out. The elevator stops on their floor and Gale is the first out, before the doors have even finished opening. Quick, long strides take him away to his room and Madge has to resist the urge to run back to hers.
"I'm so tired," she says softly to forestall any attempts of Effie's to continue interacting. Effie nods and pats her arm.
"Of course, it's been such an exciting day! Sleep well."
Haymitch snorts from the vicinity of the kitchen and Madge smiles before walking down the hall. She keeps her pace sedate and Effie's exasperated voice floats back to her "Out of the bottle? We do have glasses, Haymitch".
Safe (or at least alone) in her room, Madge peels off her costume, shoes, dress, precious jewels. She leaves them in a pile by the bed and unpins her pretty, romantic hair in the bathroom mirror. A stranger's face watches her every move. She runs the bath water hot and fills the tub with vanilla scented bubbles, sweet enough to eat. Is Gale doing the same in his room? Stripping away the Capitol's uniform and washing away all the lies and lies and lies? Warmth flutters under her ribs and Madge climbs into the tub, the heat making sweat gather at the back of her neck.
The water burns and Madge sinks in gratefully, her head falling back against the wall. Tonight was brutal, more than she'd imagined it would be. So much excess, so much ignorance, so much selfish, cruel oppression out on display, it was dizzying and staggering and sickening. It's one thing to know about the Capitol's wickedness, another to be surrounded by it. Madge closes her eyes and thinks of Gale's furious face, of the rage she'd felt in her own gut and how desperately she wishes they'd been able to let all that anger out. But not tonight. Someday though, right? That's what all her lies are building towards, a better Panem. A better life.
But have they done enough? Have all their speeches and smiles and kisses made a difference? I guess we'll find out soon, won't we? Madge hugs her knees to her chest. Please, let us be the symbols they need us to be. Let us be enough.
Please, Aunt Maysilee, let us be your mockingjay.
Madge sits down on the edge of her bed, her wet hair dripping onto the velvet covers. It has been a long day and she should go to sleep. She should, but everytime she plans to lift the sheets, her hands don't move. There's a pull in her, she can feel it under her skin. An insistent tug at her bones and she should sleep, she should rest, she should curl up under all her blankets.
She doesn't.
Madge slips from her room as quietly as she can and tiptoes down the hall. Most of the lights are off and it seems Effie and Haymitch have thankfully already gone to bed. Her bare feet take her to the balcony and she stops in the doorway. Gale's out there leaning against the railing, damp hair, pensive expression and she doesn't bother to lie to herself. He's why she's come out here. She wants to talk to him about tonight and about what comes next, but, maybe, she also just wants to talk to him. Everything's so complicated, but when she's with Gale, everything seems so much simpler. Well, almost everything.
Gale is lit up by the Capitol's bright lights and she can't help but remember the way he'd kissed her tonight. Her face is warm at the memory and there's no point in denying that she's physically attracted to him, her body's been pretty clear on that front. Every one of his kisses sets her aflame and has her craving more. It's embarrassing, ridiculous and selfish, but there's always been a part of her that never wants him to stop kissing her, touching her, holding her. But she also knows that wanting is one-sided. Gale's a good actor, but he doesn't want her. He wants Katniss, loves Katniss. He'd said he didn't hate kissing her, but that's a far cry from the desire that always flares up within her. But tonight...tonight hadn't felt like an act. It was, she knows it was, but…
"Hey."
Gale's voice cuts through her muddled thoughts and he's looking at her. He doesn't look happy.
"Hey," she says back and steps up beside him cautiously. His knuckles are tense around the railing, his expression tight and the Capitol's vulgarity must still be eating him alive. Madge covers one of his hands with her own.
"Tonight was hard," she murmurs. It's an understatement, but she's not sure the words exist to accurately describe how tonight felt. Gale's hand shakes beneath hers. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He snaps it shut and maybe he can't think of any words either. They stand together in silence, the Capitol's glittering web stretching out as far as the eye can see.
"I'm sorry," he says. Madge looks up at him with a frown.
"For what?"
"For tonight. I nearly lost it and if you hadn't stopped me, I would have. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," she starts but Gale is already shaking his head.
"No," he interrupts, as stubborn and frustrating as always, "I nearly ruined everything. You shouldn't have to cover my ass. I shouldn't be struggling this much to keep my cool."
His self-directed anger is unfortunately familiar and rather than argue, Madge tightens her hand around his. If she pushes, he'll only push back even harder.
"Why are you?" she asks instead and just as she'd hoped, his rage turns outwards.
"It's...everything," he spits and she nods. "Being here, in this fucking place with all these stupid, ignorant assholes; having to smile at them as they laugh about wasting food while everyone we know is starving; acting like everything's amazing when all I want to do is burn this hellhole to the ground. And having everyone swoon over your scar, shoving it in my face and cooing at it like it's some sort of fucking miracle. I hate it. You nearly died for me. I got caught, I nearly got you killed and-"
"Gale," she says but he keeps talking, her heart squeezing in her chest.
"If you'd died, it would've been my fault. I can't bear that and I remember how close you were, how I-"
"Stop," she whispers and this time he does, his words dammed behind clenched teeth.
Her heart beats a slow, heavy rhythm in her chest as she touches his cheek, the air around them delicate like spun glass. Softly she turns his face to hers, but his eyes are downcast. Tension lingers in every inch of him and Madge rubs her thumb against his chin, smooth but starting to stubble.
"Gale, look at me."
It takes him a long moment, but he finally does, his eyes lightning in the fiercest storm. She moves her other hand up to his face too and holds him there, won't let him hide or run away into his guilt.
"I'm not sorry and I don't want you to be either," she starts and though her voice is quiet, it's firm. "I don't hate this scar and I don't wish it was gone. Everytime I see it, it reminds me that I'm not doing this alone, that you're alive and that when I had the chance to run away, to save myself, I didn't. I chose to stay, to fight, to save you. I knew the consequences, I knew the odds. And I made my choice. I chose you. I chose me. No matter what else happens, no matter if we win or lose, I'll always have that. No matter how hard they tried, the Capitol couldn't break me. This is my proof that I'm stronger than they are. I never want to lose who I am. And I never want to lose you."
So many words and they're all true. She still has nightmares about that day in the snow, about Clove and her and him, about terror and sorrow and pain, but she'd do it again. The Capitol never gave them many options, but she's proud of the choice she made. Her heart is saying something else too, but she can't hear it. In this moment, the world is only Gale and her and the sky so close she feels she could reach up and touch it. His eyes never leave hers and one of his hands comes up to wrap around her wrist, his thumb rubbing against her skin. Lights sparkle all around them and she's sure they're sparkling inside her too, flowing out from his touch.
"You'll never lose me," he says and she's shivering but not from cold or fear. His face is serious, but soft, and he gently pulls her hand away from his face. He kisses her palm and she almost hears what her heart is saying, almost registers the words beating desperately against her ribs to get out.
"Am I interrupting?" Haymitch drawls from behind her and Madge actually jumps in surprise. She hadn't even heard the door open. Gale doesn't let go of her wrist, though he does lower their hands to his side.
"What do you want?" he asks and Haymitch rolls his eyes. He steps out onto the balcony and closes the door behind him.
"You need to work on your manners," he says and moves to the railing. He leans against it and finishes the glass of brown, strong smelling liquor in his hand, his eyes fixed on the city spilling out below them. Gale's hand tightens around her wrist.
"So?" he prompts as Haymitch continues to look down at the Capitol with luminous, pensieve eyes.
"You've done good," he says and Gale scoffs.
"We've barely done anything."
Haymitch sighs, maybe at Gale, maybe at his empty glass and drums his fingers on the railing. "You've done more than you know." He turns to face them then, his fingers still tapping on the rail. "Revolutions don't happen overnight. They take a lot of planning and a lot of preparation. We need more than just righteous anger if we want to overthrow the Capitol. By keeping everyone's eyes on you, you've given us the time we need. Snow's so afraid of what the two of you might do that he's forgotten the rest of us. And maybe even more importantly, you've kept the rebellion alive. No revolution can happen if the people of Panem aren't with us. You've made sure their anger's still burning."
It's surreal that people she's never met see her as a symbol to rally around, as something to inspire them. They've filled her up with all their hopes and she owes it to them all to see this through.
"So what's our next move?" she asks and Haymitch smiles faintly.
"We go home."
Home.
She's not sure any word's ever been so beautiful.
Panem slides by the train's windows in a smudge of greens as Madge examines her ring, the lights making it shine. It really is beautiful; who would have guessed Gale would have such good taste in jewellery?
"As disappointed in my choice of rings as Effie is?"
"What?" Madge asks and turns to see Gale leaning against the door frame. He rolls his eyes and steps deeper into the room.
"Effie hasn't stopped lecturing me about my failure since I gave it to you. It should be bigger, it should have more stones, it should have more colour, more, more, more. It's a miracle you said yes."
Madge looks down at her ring with a frown. She can't imagine any of Effie's suggestions making her ring better; in fact, all of her suggestions would probably make it worse. Any bigger and it would be unwieldy, any more stones and it would look overcrowded, any more colour and it would look confused. Gale chose perfectly.
"Why did you pick this one?" she asks as Gale sits down beside her, close enough their knees bump. He shrugs.
"I was trying to find a ring like Effie suggested, but when I saw this one it... it made me think of you."
Gale drops his eyes to his hands and Madge looks at him in confusion, but also something more, her heart inching up her throat as it pounds.
"Of me?" she echoes. He nods but doesn't look up.
"The red, it's the exact shade of a strawberry. And that's how we met, properly at least. I always think of you when I see a strawberry. But I guess that's pretty stupid," he says with a strange little laugh. Mocking maybe, derisive almost. Madge shakes her head.
"No! I love it," she says and means it. The ring is beautiful, but it's more than that. It's sweet and meaningful, romantic. She doesn't even think before more words spill out. "And I think...I think that's the most romantic thing I've ever heard."
Gale stiffens and Madge's eyes widen, her breath caught in her throat. Had she really just said that? Why would she say that? They're partners, friends, a team, but they're not romantic. Their romance is an act, she knows that, so why had she said it? Gale probably thinks she's gotten the lines crossed, is probably afraid she's blurred his acting into something real. But she hasn't. She knows that no matter what he says, or does, or how he looks at her or kisses her, it doesn't mean anything. He's in love with Katniss; Magde knows she could never touch that.
"I mean, we should say that in an interview. The Capitol will love it." Her voice is too high as she tries to correct her mistake, but it's too late. Gale won't look at her, his posture still tense and on edge. Madge wishes she could suck the words back into her mouth and swallow them.
"You know, I think I need to stretch my legs," Gale says and stands. There's a part of her that wants to stop him, but she doesn't.
"Okay," she mumbles and then he's out the door. Madge closes her eyes. She's made a mess of things with one stupid slip of the tongue. I didn't mean it, she wants to tell him, I know you'd never do something genuinely romantic for me. I'm not Katniss. No matter how much you care about me, I know it will never come close to what you feel for her.
And for the first time, she admits to herself just how much that hurts. Because it does, it really does and she's been running away from why for so long now. But there's no point anymore. As much as she's ignored it, avoided it, denied it, it's all over now. The words slipped out, her stupid heart let hope control it for a minute and what's the point in continuing to lie to herself? She'd said it because it was true, but more importantly, because of how much she wanted it to be true. She wanted him to have done something romantic for her, just as she wanted that kiss at Snow's palace to be real. But it wasn't, it never will be.
Madge has done the stupidest, most foolish thing she ever could've. She's fallen for him.
And she's fallen alone.
They step off the train in Twelve but the show's not over. Even at home, the show goes on and on and on.
"And here they are! Your victors, Gale Hawthorne and Madge Undersee!" Effie trills in a voice that seems to reverberate around the square. Madge and Gale walk up on stage hand in hand, smiling and waving for the cameras and the Capitol. Madge can see her father just beside Effie, his smile warm and his forehead dotted with sweat. Effie smiles a shiny, orange smile and beckons them forward, the stack of bracelets on her arm jangling together. Gale reaches the microphone first and Madge looks out at the crowd. The thin faces of District Twelve look back.
She's wearing cream stockings, fur lined boots, a floaty lilac dress with many, many layers of skirt and a jacket of the softest material she's ever touched, but she feels naked under their eyes. She's lied this whole tour and it's been easy, scarily so, but here, in a district that's never quite been home, she feels like a traitor. The jewels the Capitol's draped her in, the warm clothes they've dressed her in, even the smile on her painted lips, they all feel like a betrayal. She's doing this for them, but worn clothes and hollow cheeks still make her feel guilty. It's ridiculous, her victory's won them a year of food and she's fighting to free them from Snow, but guilt doesn't have to be rational, does it?
"Thank you, each and every one of you. I never would have made it home without you," Gale finishes in his insincere, carefully rehearsed voice and Madge snaps back into the moment. He's given a whole speech without her noticing and Effie claps heartily. The crowd's response is more tepid. Gale pulls Madge into his side, tucking her into his warmth, and she smiles out at Twelve's people.
"From the moment I was reaped, all I could think about was coming home," she says and imagines Snow watching her right now in the Capitol. The thought of him so smug and vicious forces the next words from her mouth. "So much has changed since then, but not everything. District Twelve is our home and we are your children. We always will be. We fought in your name and we'll never stop."
This time, no one claps. Instead the people of Twelve lift up their hands, three fingers raised to the sky. It's a salute.
And a promise.