Gale overslept.

Before, in what seemed like a lifetime ago in 12, he had little choice in when he had to wake up. He was forced to rise early, whether it was for school, hunting, and then later, the mines. Then the world ended and life restarted in 13, where once again, the rigid schedules etched onto his arms dictated which minute he slept, and which he rose.

When he had first moved to 2, he never slept. His nights were long, endless stretches of dark torment, as his mind replayed the bombs falling, over and over again. It's why he can never be in a quiet room: there's nothing to silence the screaming of children burning alive.

Children he burnt alive.

But then, he was prescribed a drug that carefully regulated his sleep. He would pop one in before he went to bed, and the next day, without fail, he would rise at 4 a.m., his required 8 hours complete.

Today, however, he had no idea what had crept into his body that made him rise at 11, a full seven hours later than his normal wake up time.

It was nearing noon when he finally reached City Hall. He wasn't a civilian, but after years of active-duty, Gale had decided since his life was meaningless now, he might as well take an easier job. So he was located from 2's Army Base (it had been relocated from The Nut, thankfully), and to City Hall.

The Hall itself was rather beautiful. Gale didn't care, but it was apparently styled after Ancient Roman architecture, with its columns and engravings. It was loud and always busy, but as long as it wasn't underground, Gale could handle it.

He rushes into the Hall, in a hurry to make it to his noon meeting. He knows that he won't be reprimanded for being late, hell, there aren't many people that outrank him that can, but Gale needs his life to be perfectly scheduled. There can't be moments of idlery or leisure. There can't.

He's not a person, just a body waiting to die and receive his punishment since he got off in this life. The waiting seems shorter when he's busy.

He's just about made it to glass-door elevators that'll carry him to the top floor when he suddenly has to stop since a young girl in front of him drops her toy.

"Excuse me," he says, looking down at the girl as he side-steps her.

He looks back up, and is close enough to the elevator that he can make out some of the occupants.

Gale stops walking as if his mind can no longer send signals to his legs.

There, just a few feet from him stands a ghost.

She stares back, a cold expression on her face. She looks older, which makes no sense since dead people don't age- yet there she is, her hair tied back in a neat bun, a plain blue t-shirt on top of her jeans and a brown purse slung over her shoulder.

Before his mind is able to regain the ability to function normally again, the glass-doors slide close, sealing her off from him, but still in his sight. He watches as she rises above him, like a departing angel, her blue eyes never leaving his once.

The moment is gone once the elevator is too high up for him to see who's in it, jarring him back to his senses. Immediately, he turns around and sprints towards the security room.

"General Hawthorne!" one of the guards squeaks when he slams the door open. One of the only perks of being famous is that you don't have to explain yourself. You just arrive and have people at your ready. "What can we do for you?"

"I need to see the CCTV feeds in front of every elevator entrance now," Gale instructs in a tight voice. It can't be her. He just needs to see her again to confirm that it can't be her.

"Uh, well about that," another one of the guards begins nervously, scratching his balding head. "Couple of teenage punks all the way over in 3 have been hacking our feeds for fun lately and we-"

"Do you or do you not have the feeds?" Gale barks, interrupting his long-winded explanation.

"N-no sir," the first guard stutters, face bright red.

"Useless," Gale mutters as he hastily exits the office and runs to his office. He finds that he can't take the elevator, not when she had been standing there just moments ago. So he takes the stairs, two at a time, until he's finally at the tenth floor, where he barges through the hallways, ignoring every greeting and question until he finally reaches his unnecessarily large office.

He hates computers and uses them only when he's forced to, but today he's thankful for the sleek and shiny one that sits atop its desk, with its access to some of Panem's most classified documents.

It takes several minutes of logins and security questions, but he finally accesses Panem's civilian database. His fingers, for some reason, shake, as he types in a name he hasn't thought of in seven years.

Immediately, a box pops up:

No results found

Gale curses as he remembers that Madge wasn't her real name. Katniss, oh God, when was the last time he had allowed himself to use her name? She had once told him in passing when he had mocked Madge's name, that it was a nickname

But a nickname for what? Gale presses a hand against his forehead and shuts his eyes tightly as he tries desperately to remember. Miranda? Megan? Matilda? Margaret?

Margaret! That had been her name. He closes the popup and deletes Madge and replaces it with Margaret, and impatiently hits search.

The screen loads for several moments before it finally retrieves the requested data.

A sepia-tinted photo of 16 years old Madge Undersee smiles sweetly at him from his glaring screen.

She looks so 12 it actually makes his chest ache-from the low-quality photo due to the shitty cameras they had, to the ribbon Merchant girls used to wear tying their hair back, and the conservative schoolgirl outfit on her thin frame.

Her face is open and her eyes are bright, nothing at all like the woman he had just seen, who had looked colder than ice.

The screaming is replaced with a loud buzzing as if cotton has been stuffed into his ears and his head shoved underwater, as he hesitantly scrolls down. He doesn't know why, but he's almost afraid to see what's written in her file.

Name: Margaret Undersee

District: 12

Status: Deceased

Notes: Daughter of Mayor David Undersee. Friend of Katniss Everdeen. Was original gifter of Mockingjay Pin. Killed in the Great 12 Bombings.

Gale barely has time to reach the wastebasket before he violently vomits.

For a week, Gale stalks the entrance of the City Hall at 11 a.m sharp, and waits and waits and waits for her to return. Having never taken a single sick day or vacation in the past seven years, he figures he has enough time off for him to pace around like a madman as he hunts a phantom, and sure enough, no one bothers him, though, once he does return to his office, defeated and more than a little closer to punching a hole into a wall, his co-workers stare at him as if he's unhinged.

Maybe he is. After all, it isn't often when you see the face of a girl you let die. Not while you're awake, at least.

He finally gives in and accepts that she probably won't come back anyway, and tries out a new tactic.

"What date did the person in question go missing?" the police force had sent out two young cops, both were probably around Rory's age. The boy was thin and sickly looking, and the girl had bright blue hair that matched the bubblegum she was very loudly chewing. God help the people of Panem if this was what supposed to be protecting them.

"Seven years ago," Gale answers the boy, feeling a bit self-conscious at their incredulous looks. "The night 12 was bombed."

The two share a look that Gale does not appreciate one bit.

"Listen, General," the girl begins, as if she's talking to some decrepit old man. "The chances of someone making it out that night that didn't go to 13, are very slim."

"I know that!" Gale snaps, livid that they're explaining a fact he knows all too well. "But I saw her last Monday, almost 12 pm, here in the lobby. She must be going by another name."

"And you're sure it just wasn't a look-alike?" the boy asks thoughtfully. "There are a lot of those."

"No," Gale shakes his head. "She was glaring at me."

At their confused looks, Gale knows he has to explain.

"We….had a history," Gale admits, not looking at either of them. "We didn't really get along in the past."

"So why the sudden need to know where she is?" the girl almost demands. "If she was glaring at you, it sounds like she doesn't want to be found!"

"Because….because she's from home," Gale sighs, closing his eyes. How can he make these two kids understand? "I just need to know if she's ok."

Neither cop says anything for a while, and when he looks up, the boy is doing something on his tablet, and the girl is watching him carefully.

"So she was 16 seven years ago, right?" the boy asks, looking up from his tablet. When Gale nods, he continues. "Got it. Mind if I use your printer?"

Gale nods once more, and after a few minutes, the machine makes a loud whirring noise, and a single sheet of paper comes out. Since he's closest, he pulls it out of its tray, the paper still warm.

Have you seen me?

call 1-800-1234

Below the title and header it the only picture in Madge's file, but edited to look older. Gale has to admit, it looks fairly accurate, considering how low quality the picture was.

"We'll post these around the District," the boy tells them. "And have the force familiarized with it so they can be on lookout during patrols."

"Thank you," Gale says honestly. He knows the only reason why they're agreeing to this is because of his rank, but he's grateful nevertheless.

"Respect her boundaries," the girl cuts in sharply. "I meant it when I said she might not want to be found."

"I know," Gale growls, not appreciating being told to do by someone so much younger than him. "You two are dismissed."

The boy gives a tight smile and the girl a poorly concealed sneer, but they leave.

Now, to wait.

Dead or alive, if there's one thing Madge is good at, it's getting under his skin.

The pills don't work anymore. He's up again all night, except instead of his bomb, it's the one Snow sent in: the ones that had destroyed 12. If he's not thinking about that night, he's thinking about Madge, how untouchable she had been right up until the moment when she had died, like china glass that would shatter if his filthy fingers skimmed her skin. .

He also starts up an old and very destructive habit:

Drinking.

He can't help it. He feels as if his bones are going to crawl out of his skin if he doesn't find her soon. It's different than the pain of the bomb. At least with that, he knows what he's done, and that hellfire awaits him. But with Madge, it's just question after fucking question mark, and all the waiting sometimes makes it hard to even breathe properly.

Did she resent him for not saving her? Did she know that he tried? That he had wanted to save every fucking Merchant there was? Did she know a bomb nearly killed him when he went back? Did she know after the bomb that killed Prim, that night was his greatest failure?

The hard liquor burns as it goes down his throat and the questions only intensify, as do the violent images behind his eyes.

He's technically working. A better definition would be him staring at the paperwork in front of him while his mind detaches itself from his body.

"General?"

Gale looks up to see the pretty face of his secretary. Back when Gale still had a soul, he would have taken her for a trip to the Slag Heap, but since the war ended, the only sleep he gets is the solo kind-if he's lucky.

"I have a call waiting for you on line three," she tells him, tucking a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear. "She wouldn't say who she was, but demanded to speak to you."

Gale doesn't allow himself to hope anymore, but something light still fits his chest.

"Thank you," Gale tells her quickly. "I'll take it."

The secretary (he doesn't even know her name) takes the hint and nods, closing the door behind her.

Gale takes a deep breath before lifting the phone from its receiver and putting it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Where do you get off? You had no right to put up posters with my picture on them!"

"Madge," Gale chokes, unable to believe he's actually talking to her. She's alive. She's alive! Her voice is almost the same as it was when she was 16, airy and light, though at the moment it's shrill with anger.

"Leave me alone. I have a nice life here, and I don't need you messing it up."

"I won't!" Gale quickly assures her. "I just wanted to make sure you were ok….I- I thought you were dead."

The line is silent for a moment, and he can barely make out the sound of streetcars in the background.

"Well, I'm not. Now tell the police to call off their manhunt and stop bothering me."

"Wait!" Gale exclaims. "I'll do all of that, promise, but can we meet up? Just once? I swear I won't ask to meet again."

"No."

The line goes dead.

It takes only a phone call for the line to be traced, and Gale is there about 20 minutes later. He isn't optimistic that Madge is still hanging around, but it's the only lead he has on her, and he can't let her slip through his fingers.

He realizes that he's acting like a stalker creep, but it was when she had hung up on him and he had been able to think about their short conversation more in-depth did he realize how...hollow Madge had sounded. She was lying to him when she said she was ok. And Gale couldn't be ok with that.

2's Southside is definitely on the poorer side, which is evident by the more cramped, poorly maintained buildings, trash overflowing every corner, and the hateful looks people loitering around give him.

He realizes with a start that he's now the Merchant boy, wandering into Seam.

He walks aimlessly, trying to wonder what Madge would be doing in a place like this. Surely she wouldn't live somewhere so dangerous- she had just gone there to throw him off her trail. She had, after all, deduced it was him looking for her without even talking to him.

Unconsciously, his feet have led him to a nearby park, and he walks with his hands deep in his pockets, growing more and more uncomfortable as he nears a playground.

He can't do children. That's why he hasn't seen his own siblings in seven years. How can he look into the smiling face of an innocent child without being reminded that he killed hundreds of kids? Not that he isn't constantly remembering.

But something propels him forward, so he doesn't turn around.

A group of boys are playing soccer in the field across from the playground, and one of them misses his kick, and the ball ends up soaring in the wrong direction, landing just a few feet away from him and rolling to a stop right in front of him.

Gale just stares at the ball. Does he kick it back? Throw it back? Continue walking? Go home and down a bottle of vodka because fuck if he can look at a kid in the face.

He isn't able to make a decision in time, because a young boy, no older than seven runs up and grabs the ball, though not before looking up at Gale.

He's a handsome boy, with dark hair and blue eyes. He has a sharp nose and chin, but lips that are almost girly in how full they are. Instead of the typical smile he was expecting, the boy's hooded eyes, which naturally make him look angry, looks downright furious as his thin eyebrows dip down in a frown.

"Excuse me mister, but if you don't watch where you're going you'll get hit in the head," the boy informs him exasperatedly, as if he's the adult, and Gale's the child.

"Thanks for the tip," Gale mutters, not yet freaking out since the kid in front of him hardly reminds him of a kid, just a shrunk down adult.

"Glen?"

Both Gale and Glen turn at the sound of the voice, Glen in familiarity, and Gale in surprise.

Standing just a little aways from them is Madge, her lips pressed into a thin line as she watches them both with a closed expression.

"Don't worry Mommy," Glen assures her sweetly. "I know I'm not s'pposed to talk to strangers. I was just helping him."

"This is your son ?" Gale nearly shouts in surprise. Madge Undersee has a son?

"You know him, Mommy?" Glen asks with large eyes.

"Throwback the stinking ball!" one of the boys that had been playing soccer with Glen yells.

"Yes," Madge answers stiffly as Glen runs to return the ball. "He is. Now get the hell away from me and my family."

Gale looks around wildly but finds that there isn't a man in sight, just a bunch of mom's with their kids.

"Where's your husband?" Gale asks confusedly.

"Who are you, Mister?" Glen asks, having returned from giving the ball back. "Huh, Mommy?"

"He went to school with Mommy," Madge answers patiently, though her voice is strained. Technically, she's telling the truth. "Now come on Glen, it's almost dinnertime."

Madge reaches forward to grab his hand, but Glen ducks and runs over to Gale, clinging to his leg.

"Wait!" Glen practically wails. "So you knew my Mommy from when The Spider with 75 Legs and Queen Bee was still alive?"

"What?" Gale asks, growing more and more confused by the minute. It suddenly registered that Glen, if he really was seven, he had been conceived in 12.

"Glen, we are leaving now," Madge says sternly, forcibly extracting her son from Gale's leg and picking him up, much to the child's distress.

"No!" Glen cries, reaching out and trying to grab Gale. Gale can't remember the last time a child had wanted to be near him. It must have been Posy, over seven years ago. "You can help Mommy!"

"Help with what?" Gale asks immediately, taking a step forward, only to be met by a vicious glare by Madge.

"Glen that is enough !" Mage yells, startling both of them. If the way Glen's teary eyes widen is any indication, it's clear that Madge doesn't raise her voice often.

Gale doesn't follow, but Glen watches him with a sad expression over his Mom's shoulder until they're both too far away.

Gale wonders why there's no relief in knowing there's no way Glen could be his son.

There are over 156 seven years old boys in District 2 with the first name Glen, and none of them is the one he's looking for.

As he clicks on the last Glen, 7, he wonders irritatedly if Madge had also named her son something, but called him by another name.

With a sigh, he goes back and changes the 7 to a 6, and begins the process all over again. He's reached about the 40th Glen, when a name makes him pause.

Glen Donner

Could it be Donner...as in Donner Sweets? The only way he even remembers the name is from all the times Posy would beg him to take her to the small sweet shop, and how awful he would feel each time he would have to say no.

Skipping the other names, Gale clicks on Glen Donner if only because that's the only 12 name he's seen so far.

Sure enough, Madge's son pops up. So the kid was made during the rebellion. Gale doesn't know how to feel about that. He scrolls down past his picture.

Name: Glen Donner

Status: Alive

DOB: February. Date, Unknown. Year, 76.

Parents: Father, unknown. Mother, Margaret Donner.

School: Public School 231

Notes: Margaret Donner's dependant, and recipient of Families of Tomorrow Welfare

Something had to be seriously wrong here. Madge Undersee was not the kind of girl to get knocked up by a stranger, and not even know the day her kid was born. He had hardly talked to her when they were teenagers, but even he knew this much.

His arms felt heavy with dread when he typed in Margaret Donner. Only one result showed up. He clicked it. It was an older picture of Madge. She still looked older than her 12 photo, but that was hardly what he could focus on.

She looked like a corpse.

Her cheeks were gaunt and colorless, her lip split and a bruise coloring her right temple. Her hair was mangled and uncombed. But it was her eyes that made Gale's skin crawl. Her blue eyes almost looked colorless as she stared into the camera with an expression that could only be described as one word:

Dead.

Gale bit down on his tongue as he scrolled down.

Name: Margaret Donner

Status: Alive

DOB: Undisclosed. 23 years old.

Occupation: Teacher

Parents: Unknown

Spouse: None

Children: Glen Donner

Notes: Suspected to have been captured and brought to 2 unwillingly, Donner refused to comply with authorities after the Capitol's fall, and was granted amnesty because her newborn son was born in 2. Recorded to have initially spoken with a distinct 12 accent, but when this was pointed out, Donner immediately executed a perfect 2 accent. There are no records of a Miss. Margaret Donner in 12, or any other District, before or after the Great Revolution. Recipient of Families of Tomorrow Welfare.

Gale goes to another database where he retrieved her address. He drives there in a haze, and sits outside her crumbling apartment complex all night, wondering who had killed Madge Undersee, and how she had survived.

"Call on line 3," Lina (he had finally learned her name) tells him. "It's from a Miss. Donner."

"Thank you," Gale says, unable to conceal his shock. "Anything else?"

"No sir," Lina shakes her head and closes the door, though not before giving him a strange look.

There's no hesitation when he picks up the phone this time; he's been aching to speak with Madge, and is glad she reached out to him before he did something rash, like knock on her door.

"I take it that you know all there is about my son and I."

"I don't Madge," Gale tells her honestly. "If anything, I'm even more perplexed, if you could just tell me-"

"Who destroyed 2's army base, the one in the mountain, during the rebellion?"

Gale blinks. He had been expecting a lot of things, but not to be cut off to be asked that.

"13 did," Gale answered slowly.

"Obviously. What I'm asking- who's idea was it?"

Gale swallows tightly, his palms suddenly damp.

"Gale?"

He closes his eyes. The sound of her voice saying his name as an unnamable effect on him

"It was mine."

"I thought so."

"Why did y-"

"So if this is all about the morphling, consider your debt repaid. You saved my life when you blew up the base, so we're even now."

"Morphling?" Gale repeats, totally at a loss.

"Yes, morphling. Now that we've established this, I had better not see you again, and I mean that Gale. I just want a normal life for my son, and I can't have that if you keep barging in."

"Just one meeting," Gale begs. "That's all I ask. I need to know what happened to you."

"Hell, Gale. I went to Hell. But I came back, and that's what matters."

He's been pacing the length of his apartment hallway for the past 20 minutes, trying to summon courage.

It was pathetic, he knew, for a grown man to find it difficult to pick up the phone and call his own mom, but that's where he is, and Gale's pride dissipated a long time ago. He knows what he is.

Frustrated, he yanks the phone off the wall and holds it in his hand for a few moments. He only talks to his mom once a year, on his birthday, when she calls him. He talks to Vick and Posy too, though Posy always goes last since she just melts into tears after a few minutes. Rory never comes to the phone. Gale never asks for Rory.

Taking a deep breath, he dials in the number and waits anxiously as the dial tone goes through.

"Hello?"

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

"Hi, Ma."

"Gale! Is everything alright? You never call!"

"I'm fine Ma, promise," Gale chuckles weakly. "I called to ask you a question."

"Well, I...what is it sweetheart?"

"What does Madge Undersee have to do with the morphling?"

"Where is this coming from Gale? You've never brought...her, up before."

"I just need to know, ok?" Gale nearly snaps. He doesn't need his Ma to know that he's been obsessing over Madge Undersee for the past few months.

"Come home. Come home and I'll answer your question."

"Seriously Ma?" Gale says angrily. "What's so secretive that you can't tell me without blackmailing me?

"She made me promise not to tell you. I think I deserve a visit for breaking a promise."

Gale knows he's already lost the battle. Seam folk value their honor above all else, and to break a promise is one of the biggest sins one can commit.

"Ok," Gale gives in, wondering if he's lost his mind. He hasn't been back to 12 since he had to shot a propo for 13. He couldn't go back. She was there.

"Really?" Ma asks excitedly. "Gale, do you mean it?"

"I mean it," Gale promises in a hollow voice. A part of him wants to strangle Madge, for making him go to such lengths to find out something she could very easily tell him herself.

"The kids will be so happy!" Ma cheers. "When do you think you'll come?"

"Can you answer my question now?" Gale asks, exasperatedly. It's been a long time since he's felt like a bratty teenager, but he can't help but sound like one at the moment.

He hears his Ma sigh.

"She saved your life."

"...What ?!"

"That night, after you were whipped, she ran through the blizzard storm to give you her Mother's morphling. It saved your life."

"Why?" Gale asks tightly as the world lurches violently.

"She never said. Just made me promise not to tell you it was from her, and ran back home."

Gale doesn't say anything. How can he? Madge had saved his life, when they had just been strangers, and he hadn't been able to get her out in time, and something terrible happened to her.

"What brought this up sweetheart?"

"She's alive," Gale answers distractedly, mind still reeling from what he's just learned.

"Ma, are you alright?" Gale asks in alarm as he hears his Ma begin to sob loudly.

"She's alive?" Ma sobs into the phone.

"Yes," is all Gale can answer.

"I should tell Katniss! She misses her so much, she'll be so happy-"

"No!" Gale quickly cuts his Ma off. "I don't think Madge would want that. She changed her name and everything. She doesn't want to be found."

"But she talks to you?"

"No," Gale admits, feeling stupidly embarrassed. "Well, not a lot."

"Madge lost everything in one night," Ma reminds him gently. "I'm sure she'd appreciate a friend."

"I'm trying," Gale growls. "She's just really stubborn."

"Don't push her, Gale," Ma chides, as if he's a young boy again. "Prove that you care. Actually, care. If you don't, leave her alone."

"I do," Gale says in a small voice. "I care. She's a good person."

"She's an angel."

Madge works at the same school Glen goes to, so every morning, mother and son set out together and walk the two blocks to the underfunded public school. The same is done at the end of the day, and that's all he see's of the two on weekdays. The first half of the weekend is always filled with errands: groceries, laundry, the works. Sunday, from what Gale observes from a creepy distance, is dedicated to Glen.

There's also a woman that shares the apartment with the two. Nancy Wheeler. She's older than Madge, and works at a clothing store down the street. What's peculiar, though, is that some days, it's Nancy that walks Glen to and from school, with Madge never to be seen.

This Tuesday is one of those days, and Gale decides that this is the best opportunity of any to finally talk to Madge.

He takes the steps two at a time until he's standing outside of 514. The door is covered in scratches and the paint is peeling. The entire building smells of mold, and he hasn't seen a single properly working light fixture yet.

He knocks twice and then waits. And waits.

He's about to give up and just go home and pretend none of this ever happened, when the door opens, revealing a very ragged Madge.

She's in a large t-shirt and pajama pants, and her hair is in a messy ponytail, but it's the circles under her eyes that give away her exhaustion.

"Finally decided to swoop in?" Madge grumbles annoyedly, going back into her apartment, leaving a perturbed Gale at the door.

She hadn't shut the door in his face, so he takes that as an invitation to enter.

There are two beds, neither very large, a ratty couch in front of a small tv, a rickety table next to an outdated kitchen, and a small playmat with a few toys in a corner. There's also a bookshelf, brimmed with various texts, that stands out sharply against the general poverty of the apartment.

"It's rude to stare," Madge says acidly. Gale looks back at her and is surprised to find her back in bed, her covers pulled up to her chin, eyes shut.

"Are you alright?" Gale asks worriedly, wondering what's the proper protocol for a situation like this.

"Migraine."

"Oh," Gale says awkwardly. "Anything I can do?"

"Get out," Madge says, but not with any malice. She just sounds resigned.

Gale doesn't respond and instead moves to the table, where he lifts a wooden chair and sets it down by the foot of her bed, so he can sit near her. He discovers that all four legs of the chair are wobbly once he sits.

He waits for Madge to say something, but she doesn't, so he figures she's giving him his time to speak.

"I didn't know about the morphling," Gale tells her. Her expression doesn't change, but he notices that the covers on her body don't rise from her breath for a moment. "At least, not until you mentioned it. I had to ask my Ma."

"You said we're even, but that's not true," Gale continues. "I understand I don't know what you were doing in The Nut, but you risked your life to save mine when we were nothing but strangers. I blew up the place because it was wartime and I had an insatiable bloodlust. The two don't compare."

"If you still think I'm here just to repay a debt, I'll leave," Gale tells her honestly. "But it really isn't like that. I don't know why, but I just can't….accept that you're not happy and walk away."

"Are you happy?"

"What?" Gale asks, surprised at her sudden question.

"I said," Madge says slowly. "Are you happy?"

"Trust me," Gale says bitterly. "How I feel is exactly what I deserve."

Madge opens one eye at this, watching him closely. The blue is surrounded by swollen red blood vessels, and for a moment in the dim lighting of the apartment, it looks as if she's crying tears of blood.

"I can't talk right now," Madge tells him, closing her eye.

"But you can later?" Gale asks hopefully. Madge doesn't respond, which Gale assumes is an answer in itself. "That's fine, I'll go get you some soup-"

"No!" Madge suddenly shuts, sitting straight up and glaring at me. "I don't want anything from you! Get out of my apartment before I change my mind!"

"Ok, ok!" Gale quickly gets up and holds out his hands in mock-surrender. "I'll go then."

Once the door is closed behind him and he's back in the rancid smelling hallway, Gale pushes down his concern for Madge's headaches and the childish excitement at the prospect of meeting her again.

"A pipe in the building burst," Madge says as a way of explanation for her tardiness as she takes a seat on the bench next to him. "I had to stay behind and make sure the repairman actually fixed it, since Nancy is no good at those things."

Madge had more or less told him to come to the park where he had met Glen, and to wait for her at the bench under "tree on the hill". He had surprisingly been able to find the bench without much trouble.

"Ah," Gale says, unsure if he should tell her he was worried out of his skin over her tardiness and had had half a mind to storm into her apartment and see that everything was alright.

The months have begun to dip into spring, and the days are growing both warmer and longer. As they sit side by side, the sun begins to make its descent, leaving the sky a warm red, and the sound of laughing children melts into the warm air.

"I don't have all day," Madge says snappishly, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She's wearing jeans again, but this time she's wearing a decent blouse. Her hair is down too, gently curling. "I've never left Glen alone at home with Nancy before, and I have work tomorrow."

He has so many questions for her, he doesn't know where to start. So he settles for the most mysterious one.

"How did you escape 12?"

Madge's face goes from impatient to unconcealable sorrow, which makes Gale very nearly apologize for asking.

Before he can, however, the sorrow is hidden, and replaced by fury.

"Why?" she spits, face growing red in indignation. "Why do you care at all? I've seen you, these past months, following me and Glen. Is this some sick game, getting off to how 'the mighty have fallen'? Huh? I bet you're reaal pleased to see the Mayor's brat slumming it up. That's what this all is about, isn't it?"

Gale can only gape at her for a few moments, watching as her chest rises and falls quickly as she grows angrier and angrier.

"Shit, Madge, no!" Gale exclaims, shaking his head incredulously. "You want to know the truth? It's because...because I thought I had let you die. You were part of the miserable truth that I have to carry for the rest of my life. That I let thousands of innocent people die that night. I've made so many mistakes in my life Madge, huge ones, with terrible consequences, but if I can make things right with you then maybe….maybe my existence isn't a complete worthless shitstain."

It's Madge's turn to look shocked. She looks away from him and stares down the grassy hill, where a couple strolls by hand-in-hand.

"Maybe it's better for you to think I'm dead," Madge says finally, still not looking at him. "You may like that lie better than my miserable truth."

"Never," Gale says vehemently, surprising himself in how quickly he had responded to her claim. "I don't want to think about you as dead ever again."

Madge sighs, and looks back at him with sad eyes. "Are you sure?"

Gale nods vigorously, unconsciously leaning towards her.

"Well," Madge says in an exhale. "I suppose it's best to go back to the start."

She leans back into the bench and crosses her legs, arms still around her chest as if she's shielding herself from the world. A gentle breeze brushes past them, blowing past them and revealing her neck to him from where he sat.

"I had just delivered your morphling," Madge begins, staring into the distance as if she is looking into the snow-covered streets of 12, not 2's park. "It had been so cold. For a while, I thought I was going to die. But then I was able to make out my house in the near distance, so I sped up, relieved that the journey was nearly done."

"But then out of nowhere, peacekeepers showed up," Madge recounts, and Gale feels his heart plummet to his feet. She had been out there for him. "It was too stormy to see clearly, so they grabbed me and hauled me back to the Justice Building."

Madge closes her eyes before she says the next part.

"That was when I met Romulus Thread," she whispers so quietly Gale can hardly hear her. The rush of his blood in his ears certainly don't help. It's been years, but even now, the sound of Thread's name elicits a sharp reaction within him: pain, anger, and fear all competing within his veins to be the dominant emotion.

"I told him I had heard someone shouting for help, and that's why I had been outside," Madge continues, arms tightening their hold around her. "He had let me off easy, just a warning. I was confused, but so relieved. At the time, I had no idea he'd had an ulterior motive."

"What?" Gale croaks, barely able to speak. His entire body is shaking, that's how badly he's terrified of hearing what's coming next.

"The night the bombs fell, Thread came to my house and shot my Mother, Father, and housekeeper," Madge tells him, tears filling up her eyes but not falling. "Three shots, and the only family I had ever known was gone forever."

"Madge…" Gale whispers, opening and closing his mouth as he tries to think of what to say. He can't.

"He took me with him," Madge's voice hardens as the tears begin to dry. "The evil... bastard dragged me into his armored car, and took me with him."

"Stop," Gale says louder than he meant. He can barely breathe, that's how angry and disgusted he is. "Thread brought you to 2?"

Madge just nods, watching him carefully.

"Madge," Gale says desperately. Please please please don't be what he's thinking. "Who's Glen's father?"

This time the tears do fall over Madge's eyes, down her cheeks, and that's the only answer Gale needs.

"Why?" Gale shouts, leaping up. "Why didn't get rid of it?"

"Glen is not an 'it'!" Madge says angrily, eyes still glistening with tears. "He is my son and I love him more than my life. If you want to hear the whole truth, you'll sit down and say not another ill word against Glen!"

Gale can't sit, not when he's just found out that Madge Undersee had been...defiled by the devil himself enough times to conceive his child, and said child was still alive.

How, how can there be so much evil in their small world? Why, why had Gale not been quick enough to save her from the bombs, to save her from him. He feels as if his head is about to burst open as the screaming reaches new levels in loudness, and he sways dangerously on his feet.

He falls to his knees and heaves once, then twice, but only some spittle mixed with bile comes out: he hadn't eaten anything all day, and nothing will come up. He's such a miserable fucking failure, he can't even throw up properly.

Once he's done heaving, Madge retrieves a water bottle from her purse and hands it to him. He just shakes his head. Nothing will take away the taste of bile from his mouth. It feels as if a hole has been blown into his chest, and his body has lost all its ability to feel any sensation besides pain. Robotically, he sits back on his haunches and just looks at Madge, not saying a word. She takes this as a cue that he'll stay quiet and listen to her.

"Everything you're thinking happened," Madge says in a quiet, shaking voice. "He was posted at the military base within the mountain, and made me live in the quarters he was assigned to with his wife."

"Nancy," Gale breathes, the pieces of the puzzle coming together.

"Yes," Madge affirms, nodding her head. "Nancy was who saved me every time I tried to kill myself. Even when the mountain was blown up and we were able to escape, Nancy took us to her Father's house, where we were able to hide out for the rest of the war."

"If she's such a nice person, why would she ever marry a piece of shit like Thread?" Gale demands.

"Her Mother died when she was very young," Madge explains. "It was just her and her Father, who was a terrible man. Thread had been her neighbor. She said he had been charming, and friendly, and promised to save her from the hell that was her life. It was too late when she realized that he was the devil himself."

"Did her Father do anything to you?" Gale asks tightly, as the horror of her story only grows.

"Not initially," Madge says bitterly. "We lied and told him I was Nancy and Thread's daughter, and that he wanted us to hide with him till the war was done. He was too afraid of Thread to do anything."

"And when the war ended?" Gale hedged.

Madge reaches a hand up to touch her cheekbone, right beneath her eye.

"He tried to kill Nancy," Madge whispered. "He was choking her. She was practically purple. I grabbed the nearest lamp and smashed it over his head, but it wasn't enough. He would have killed me too, but there had been a knitting needle just by my hand."

Madge looks him right in the eyes. "I stabbed him in the neck. Some of his blood got into my mouth."

Gale opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. Madge, sweet, untouchable Madge, was a killer. Maybe the war tore them all apart, and what was left when it was over just small patches of themselves, stitched back together by crude survival, unidentifiable to people they used to know.

"A few hours later, the official ceasefire was announced," Madge continues bitterly. "Some District officials went around, trying desperately to restore some order. They never asked for Nancy's Father, and we never told them. Just asked a few questions, took my picture, and left."

"The only thing that brought me peace in those following days was staring at the rubble that was once the base," Madge tells him with a humorless chuckle. "I would just stand, and stare at it for hours, wishing I could dig up Thread's body, just to beat him to death once again."

He's only ever heard of such bitter, all-consuming anger in one other person: himself.

"But then," Madge's lips tip upwards in the smallest of smiles. "I found out I was pregnant. Despite not eating, sleeping, or taking care of myself in any caliber, my body had managed to protect my baby. My gift for surviving hell."

Gale looks at his hands shamefully. As much as it filled him with uncut, unadulterated fury that Thread had dared to do such a despicable act to such an innocent girl, Gale understood why Madge loved her son. The only family Madge had, he had advocated for its abortion. As if he couldn't have sunk any lower.

"So do you see now?" Madge whispers wetly. "Why I kept Glen? Why I love him so much? He's all I have Gale, in this whole world. He keeps me grounded- if he weren't in my life, I would have taken my life years ago."

"I understand," Gale whispers back, finally bringing his eyes up back to hers. They're wet as they watch him, and his throat is so dry, he nearly chokes. "I'm sorry about what I said….what I did. What I didn't do."

Madge just shakes her head.

"I forgave Thread," Madge says softly, taking Gale by complete surprise. Surely he had misheard her. That monster deserved many things, but forgiveness was not one of them. "If I didn't, the hate, the anger, it would have poisoned me from the inside out. You must do the same thing with yourself, though there is far less to forgive in your case."

"I can't," Gale chokes, wildly shaking his head. He tries to, almost childishly, scoot backward from her, but she leans down and captures his hands, anchoring him.

"You can," Madge says firmly but kindly. Her face is close, and all Gale can think is that she really is an angel, to have been through the very flames of hell, but still come out soft. "You were a 19 years old boy, and you knocked yourself down in your own warpath. You always had a good heart Gale, it's time you reclaim it."

His hands shake in her hold, but for the first time, in a very long time, Gale feels something light flutter in his chest. It means more than he can admit, to have Madge still believe in who he was. Who he can be.

"Ok," Gale's voice cracks embarrassingly, but at that moment, he doesn't find himself caring. "But I can't do that if you disappear again."

Madge pulls away from him and frowns lightly. Another soft breeze blows, momentarily obscuring her face from his view as her hair flies, but once they settle again, she's smiling softly at him.

"Let's reclaim our hearts then," Madge says in that silvery voice of hers, her eyes shining not with tears, but with hope. "Together."

The screams finally- finally grow silent.

A/N:

Being brought over from the archive since I finally retrieved my login. Bi-weekly update until everything is brought over, since this story is done.