What's Left Here

Part Ten

The Aftermath

"You coming back to me is against all odds, it's the chance I've got to take." - Against All Odds (Take a Look at Me Now), Phil Collins

"You wanted to see me?"

Katniss turns to face Madge, but it's as though she's not really there. Her eyes are lifeless, gaze distant. Like Annie, she's in her own little world.

Madge places her hand on Katniss's. "I'm so sorry for your loss," she tells her, though she knows the words don't mean much. She tries the gesture, anyway. "I know what Prim means to you."

Grey eyes flash at her in anger before retreating abruptly. She looks at Madge with wonder, almost, as if she's seeing her anew, but she doesn't say anything. Perhaps she's remembering Madge lost her entire family in the bombing of District 12, that her words are rooted in understanding and empathy. But she's forgotten that everyone else has suffered loss as well. Madge grants Katniss this selfishness—Prim was everything to her. And Katniss has been used unfairly, over and over. It's still not over. As the Mockingjay, she'll be the one, in full regalia, to kill Snow.

Over the next few days, Madge acts as a silent companion to Katniss, who had requested her presence to Haymitch through a written note. Madge wonders why Katniss wants her—they haven't been particularly close since before Katniss left for the Quarter Quell, but perhaps it's because, now that she's not speaking, she wanted someone who was used to her silence. It reminds Madge of their school days. And now, at least, the silence is almost comfortable, if not comforting, instead of tense and awkward. Romantic entanglements have no place in the face of grief.

They flew her in from District 13, and though she wanted to see Peeta and Gale, too, her orders are to see to Katniss first. Gale is in District 2, anyway, and Peeta is recovering from burns as well. So her days are spent looking over the broken Victor, making she sure eats and bathes, combing her hair and singing lullabies to her. She trails behind her as Katniss roams Snow's mansion unabashedly, peeking into doors and rooms. Madge shivers as she leaves Katniss's bedroom and goes exploring. She hates it here. It's a tainted place.

One day, guards try and stop them from entering a room at the end of the hall. Madge grows impatient with them. "I think that, of anyone, she deserves unconditional clearance," she says, frowning.

The guards are apologetic, but firm, until a voice permits them to enter.

Madge and Katniss turn. It's Paylor, a commander from District 8. Madge likes her heaps better than Coin. She's met her before, through her parents and then again in District 13.

"Soldier Everdeen," Paylor inclines her head. "Miss Undersee."

"Commander Paylor," Madge says. "Thank you."

Paylor's lips quirk, but then straighten again. "Soldier Everdeen and Miss Undersee have a right to anything behind that door," she says.

Katniss, of course, doesn't bother to say anything, but instead pushes her way through, and Madge, after a polite nod to Paylor, follows.

Roses are everywhere, and the stench nearly makes Madge gag, but that doesn't compare to the man sitting in the middle of them.

"Katniss Everdeen. And—Margaret Undersee. This is a surprise. Nevertheless, Miss Everdeen, I was hoping you would find your way to my quarters."

Snow. Though he looks well taken care of, bathed and clean, with freshly pressed clothing, Madge can tell he's dying, though it doesn't take a genius to see that, with his green tinged skin and freshly bloodied handkerchief. He's closer than ever, though—she gives him a month, tops. If the Rebels want a public execution, they'll have to act quickly.

Snow is talking to Katniss about her sister and Madge wants to execute him on the spot for his words. He's trying to get out of this, really? But why is he trying to save his own skin now? But she can't stop listening to his words about the parachutes, about Plutarch. And Madge sees the cogs churning in Katniss's mind and she knows they're both hearing Gale, about his bombs and his plans with Beetee.

Oh, Gale.

Katniss's hands bunch into fists as Snow talks about them both being taken for fools by Coin and to Madge's shock Katniss utters her first words, "I don't believe you."

Snow sighs. "Oh, my dear Miss Everdeen. I thought we had agreed not to lie to each other."

Katniss whirls to face Madge, her eyes boring into Madge's. "Well?" She demands. "Is he telling the truth?"

This is it, Madge thinks. This is why I told her. This is the moment she needs me for.

"What is it, then?" Katniss crossed her arms in front of her, leaning against the towel rack of the puny bathroom in District 13. "What ability do you have that you don't want people here to know about?"

"I know it's hard to believe," she said, "but I can tell when someone is lying."

Katniss stared. "What?"

Madge sighed. "When someone's telling the truth, it's like—they glow. Kind of. Blue."

"They… Glow."

"Yeah. Like—an electrical energy. Did you know we have electricity in our bodies? It's what keeps our heart pumping in a steady rhythm. It's like I can see that energy outside of a person's body, and it takes on a bluish tinge."

"And when someone is lying?"

"The energy is red."

Katniss shook her head. It was almost too fantastical to believe. "Prove it."

"What?"

"Prove it."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"I'll tell you things, and you're going to tell me if I'm telling the truth or lying."

Madge was impressed, actually, that Katniss kept going as long as she did. For nearly two hours she quizzed Madge in that bathroom, telling her truths and lies about her own life, her sister's, her parents', Peeta, Gale, even Haymitch. Things that Madge would never have known. Intricate things. And after all that, even Katniss admitted that Madge's ability was legitimate.

"But why not tell anyone else?"

Madge shook her head. "I don't trust anyone here, really," she said. "I don't like how they're treating you. I don't trust Plutarch and I sure as hell don't trust Coin. Johanna and Annie and Peeta—I love them, but they're too unstable. I don't want them to throw it back in someone's face. I don't want Annie telling Finnick, since I'm not quite sure where his loyalties lie. But you… I want to be able to help you. Your motives are pure, transparent—that's why I trust you. Maybe if they slip up around me, I can warn you."

Katniss considered her for a moment, nodded. "Thank you," she said. "I appreciate it."

"Of course."

After a moment, Katniss cocked her head at Madge. "I have a question for you."

"Okay."

"When you gave me the Mockingjay pin—what was your reason for doing it?"

Madge frowned at the implications there. "I didn't know the rebellious implications at the time—I promise. I didn't know until after, when my parents pulled me aside after the opening ceremonies and told me. I guess I did it because it was my aunt's token, and even though she didn't win that year, someone from our District did. I hoped it would bring you luck."

Katniss sighed. She didn't waste her time thinking on what might have been, but this did give her food for thought. "Well, it brought me something, all right."

The two girls are silent for a long time before they both wordlessly leave.

Madge squares her jaw and looks at the former president, who stares steadily back at her with a raised eyebrow. Even the people at the Capitol didn't know about this ability, and Madge found out after being lied to one too many times about what was happening to her and her friends.

She hates this man. She hates him as a citizen of this country, as an orphan, as a soldier, as a spy, as a human being. She wants to tell Katniss that this evil man is lying to her again, weird understanding between them be damned. She wants to tell her that Gale and Beetee and Coin and Plutarch and all the people who she trusted haven't had a hand in her little sister's death, whether purposefully or otherwise.

But Snow glows blue.

"He's telling the truth," Madge's voice cracks as she says it, as she thinks about Gale and Prim and as her blood boils at the mere thought of President Coin. "He didn't do it. Coin did."

A distressed sound makes its way through Katniss's clenched lips and she turns on her heels and leaves.

Madge finds herself staring at the president a moment longer. "Are you Miss Everdeen's new guard dog now?" He asks, almost pleasantly. She hates the amused glint in his eyes. "Since Misters Hawthorne and Mellark are otherwise indisposed?"

Madge ignores his question. Coin isn't here, so she turns her ire on this pathetic excuse of a man. It isn't right, but she can't control it, anymore. She doesn't want to. She's tired of being reasonable and strong and kind. This man, she thinks, deserves cruelty.

"All of this," she says instead, keeping her voice soft and controlled. She understands this man, in a way—raving and shouting won't get his attention. But this? This calm will unnerve him. "After all the horrific acts you've committed—they've all lead to this. Has it been worth it for you, I wonder? Have you gotten what you wanted? The power and the wealth are something, to be sure, but to live this half-life—coughing up blood, drowning your stench in roses—a flower I'm fairly certain you don't even like. Was it worth it? Constantly having to evade torture, assassination, and insubordination. So many games, Snow—it's a pity you were never in the Hunger Games. You're a natural at them."

"I would've won," Snow says calmly, his snakelike eyes glinting with confidence.

"You probably would've," Madge nods, "but don't you know? No one ever wins the Hunger Games. Not really. You've made sure of that."

He sneers at her, his façade bored. "What's your point, Miss Undersee? Looking to blame the bombing of District 12 on Coin, too? Don't worry, my dear, I take complete responsibility for the bombs that killed your parents."

She doesn't flinch because she stopped hurting for them a long time ago. She thinks of her mother. No more headaches, no more morphling. She's with May, now, and that's where she's wanted to be for years. She thinks of her father. He deserved better, too, yet she can't honestly imagine him in this new government. He's with her mother. They're free of this mess, free of people like Snow and Coin and Plutarch. Because there will always be cruel, evil people, no matter what flag they wave.

They're better off where they are, as is she. "I don't expect remorse from you," she says, "although I do wonder if there's anything—or anyone—you really care about." She looks him in the eyes and wills herself to speak in the same bored tone as him. "Your sons are dead. There was going to be a trial for them, too, but the rebels got too enthusiastic, I'm afraid, and Coin could care less. How many of them were there? Four? Last I heard they were decapitated and their heads are up on stakes, each one facing a different direction outside the city." He flinches. She marvels that no one told him. Probably were saving that tidbit for his execution. A final kicker. Oh, well. She finds that she's relishing being the one to tell him "Your granddaughter is alive, in custody, but I highly doubt Coin will be kind to her, either. Rumor has it she's gunning for a new Hunger Games—this time with only children from Capitol officials. A Games to end all Games. And your granddaughter—she's thirteen, now? Well, not that it matters. She could be five years old for all Coin cares and she still will be hunted down like prey. Perhaps she'll go like Rue did, with a spear to her stomach. Or like my aunt, with a pink bird slashing at her neck."

Madge feels sick as she says these words, repeats these vile rumors she heard, and she in no way condones these barbaric ideas of Coin's, but she likes the slick feeling of power she has over this twisted man, likes seeing the way he pales under the green pallor of his skin. She likes hurting him, and being raised as a politician's daughter, understands that verbal violence can be just as effective as physical, and since she's not prone to the latter, must settle for the former. Each sentence she delivers is a blow to this man—one for her parents, one for Prim, one for Gale, one for Katniss and Peeta and Annie and Finnick—and finally, one for her.

Snow coughs up blood again, and he looks like he wants to strangle her. "It's almost poetic, isn't it, Snow? Full circle, almost."

Madge cocks her head as he begins to cough harder. "Aren't you pleased? Long after your rotting corpse of a body finally ceases to breathe, your Games will live on. You wanted the Games to be a mark of your immortality, and in a way, they will live on after your death. It's just a shame you won't be around to witness the last spectacle." Madge pauses. "I'm surprised at you, Snow," she says, mimicking his signature amused tone, "Isn't this what you've always wanted? This is your legacy."

And she leaves him, then, sputtering and hacking in rage, red blood flecking the white roses.

000

He won't look at her.

He won't look at her and it's breaking her heart.

"Gale."

She walks over to him, takes his hand in hers. His grip is limp.

"It's not your fault."

"I had one thing going for me," he says, and he whets his lips with his tongue. They're cracked and dry. Everyone and everything is brittle these days, Madge thinks. Broken and bleeding at the seams. "Taking care of her family. Being a good friend to her."

Madge wants to cry. "You've done all those things," she tells him fiercely. "You've always done those things. You had no idea Coin would use your weapons like that. You never planned on hurting children."

It's the day of Snow's execution. Coin was displeased when she heard that Madge told Snow of the fate of his children and grandchildren, but took pleasure in showing Snow herself the pictures of his children's corpses and the haunted eyes of his grandchild. Madge felt, much later, ashamed for her actions, yet couldn't find it in herself to regret them. She felt like a hypocrite, but at least she knew she was hurting no one but Snow. She almost felt better. Almost.

Gale barks out a bitter laugh. "Children? No. But innocent people? I knew what she was like. I knew because I had that same cruelty in myself. The tactics are the same. She used the same way we had planned—just, perhaps, on different people."

"You were like that once, but not anymore," Madge says desperately. "You aren't evil, Gale. You never would've hurt Prim."

"It doesn't matter," Gale says sharply, pulling his hand out her grasp. "She'll always be thinking about it. She'll never be able to separate me from her sister's death, no matter what my role was—or wasn't." He looks at Madge and she's never seen him more broken. His eyes are shuttered, resigned. There are purple circles under his eyes and he looks gaunt and pale under his dark skin. "And you won't be able to, either."

"No," Madge says firmly, throat clogged with tears. "That's not true—"

"I'm sorry I couldn't be the man you wanted," he says, and his voice breaks. "I wanted to be. I tried."

"Gale," she says, "Don't do this again. You need to trust me. I know what I want. I've always know what I've wanted."

His face is pained, but resolute. "I'm sorry," he says again. "I know you believe in me. I trust you. But I also know you deserve better. I love you," he says, and his voice cracks again. "I love you, so I'm letting you go. I could never make you happy. You would never be happy with someone like me."

She's crying now, tears streaming, and he takes a deep breath, composing himself. He's on the verge of tears as well. "Gale—"

"I have to go," Gale mutters, holding up a bow in his hand. "I have to give this to her before she goes on stage."

She watches him leave helplessly.

000

They almost implicate her in Coin's murder as well. There's suspicion from Paylor and the guards that something was planned between Madge, Katniss, and Snow in regards to Coin's assassination, but Doctor Aurelius and Haymitch quickly intervene and state that Katniss acted on her own, that she was suffering from temporary insanity. Tapes were played that showed the scene between them in the rose garden (Of course everything was monitored, Madge thinks.) Although there is some speculation about Madge telling Katniss that what Snow told her was 'true', her own cruel words to Snow actually help her. There's no motive for Madge to want Coin dead, argued Haymitch, as opposed to wanting Snow dead, the man who tortured her.

Her declared innocence doesn't make her feel any better.

Gale refuses to see her, taking off for District 2 with his family almost immediately. Madge doesn't push it. She stays where she is.

They won't let her see Katniss, either, and after the trial—conducted without her—Haymitch whisks her back away to District 12. Madge wishes she could've seen her one more time, telling her about Gale and reasoning with her not to discard his friendship, but Madge knows everything's still too raw, now. She'll bide her time, as she always does. She can wait. She's used to it.

She and the ragged Mentor were never close, though she saw him often enough as a child, but when he leaves Haymitch puts a hand on her shoulder and says gruffly, "Don't be a stranger, sweetheart. There's always room for you back at home."

Madge smiles at him gratefully but doesn't promise anything—she's not sure what home is, anymore.

Instead, she stays with Peeta. He's nearly back to his normal self, though he has episodes where his fingers clench and his eyes go wild. Madge coaxes him back, with the help of Doctor Aurelius, but Madge can see his heart isn't in it. He's improving, but she knows he'll never fully heal here. He doesn't belong in the concrete jungle of the sterile, ruined Capitol. She knows he thinks about Katniss. She doesn't know if he loves her again, but they'll always be connected to each other, Madge thinks. Tethered. It's only a matter of time before he finds his way back to her.

She's right. A few weeks after Katniss leaves, Peeta does as well, finally being granted leave by Aurelius. He begs her to come with him, but she refuses.

"Maybe in time," she tells him, "but I just can't." She thinks of the night of the bombings, her parents' house going up in flames as she was carted away by Peacekeepers, thrown on a train, and tranquilized, waking up in the dungeons of the Capitol. She keeps quiet about it, but she has nightmares, too.

Peeta nods understandingly. "Come see me?" He asks quietly.

Though it would terrify her, Madge knows she can't deny her selfless friend anything. She hugs him good-bye. "I love you," she murmurs to him, because she knows he's never been told that enough, that he needs it, that she wants him to know that even if she's not with him, she'll always be there for him. "Call me if you need anything."

She feels her shoulder dampen under his tears. He understands; he always has. Two merchant children who had everything they could need—except the one thing they really wanted. "I love you, too," he says. "Thank you for being there for me."

"Of course," she sniffs, waving as he gets on the train.

Then soon, Finnick, and Annie leave as well, going to District 4 to rebuild and start their family. Johanna goes with them. District 7 ceased to be her home a long time ago, and Madge knows that Finnick and Annie are two of the only people she trusts.

Johanna scowls at her when she finds out Madge isn't coming with them. "You're really going to leave me with these two lovebirds? Who else is going to go out drinking with me when I'm sexiled by these fish heads?"

Annie and Finnick ignore her. "Please come visit soon," Annie begs her, hugging her tightly, "especially—closer to when the baby comes?"

Finnick hugs her as well, lifting her off her feet. "You always have a place to stay," he tells her seriously, and in his eyes Madge sees gratitude and respect. How odd, she thinks, that the gorgeous Finnick Odair has become something of an older brother to her. "You're family, remember?"

He had been in awe of Madge ever since he found out about the fate of the Star Squad. So many of them dead after a mission gone horribly wrong. "That could've been me," he said, in a daze for a few days after it all. "I would've been dead for sure."

He definitely would've gone if it hadn't been for the baby. And because Annie wasn't very far along when they found out, he mightn't have ever known about it if it hadn't been for Madge.

"No one knows what could've been," Madge had told him, but even she wasn't so sure. She's glad for him, though. Beyond relieved that he chose Annie, as he always did, that he was safe. He and Annie deserve nothing but the best and happiest of lives.

Now, she nods at him, eyes shining. Home, perhaps, wasn't a place, she thought, but where the people she loved were.

But where was that? In District 12, with Haymitch and Katniss and Peeta? In District 4, with Johanna and Finnick and Annie? Or neither of those places?

Home is where the people you love are.

She knew where she was going.

000

He goes to District 2 because, outside of the Capitol, it's where his creations did the most damage. It's a symbol of when he began to shift his mindset, when he was at his darkest, angriest, most bitter—about Madge, about Katniss, about the war, about everything. It almost doesn't matter that he saw the errors of his ways because they still came back to haunt him, anyway. It was too late. The damage was already done.

His penance will be here, he thinks. He can't stand the Capitol, reclaimed or not, otherwise he would be there, where the worst of it happened, where Prim died…

He almost wishes he hadn't brought his family here. They tiptoe around him when he is in the spacious apartment Paylor secured for him. Rory won't look at him. Posy asks why he's so sad. Vick grows even quieter than usual, and he can tell his mother is restless. His new job, helping to train and instill a new military and police force, pays very well and they are finally, finally financially secure, but they're not happy here.

He wonders if they'd be happier back in 12, with people they know. He knows Thom and Bristel went back, along with Greasy Sae and her family. People are trickling back ever so slowly, tired of being stifled by life in District 13. Gale doesn't think he could ever go back, especially not with Katniss there, but that doesn't mean his family wouldn't want to. He would be willing to visit, he thinks. Maybe.

It's one night when Gale is pondering if he should let his family go back to District 12, if he's being selfish in keeping them there, when he hears a knock on the door.

His mom took the kids out to something called a movie theater—apparently it's like a big TV, similar to the size of the ones in the square they would put up for the Hunger Games—so he's alone. It couldn't have been them, since they left barely an hour before.

He opens the door and his breath catches.

"Hi," says Madge, tucking a piece of hair nervously behind her ear.

"Hi," he breathes, wondering if she's really there, or is a figment of his imagination. He's thought about her a lot since moving to District 2. He thinks about her heartbroken face as she called his name when he literally ran away from her at the Capitol. He knows he did the right thing for her, but he wishes it didn't hurt so much. "What are you—what are you doing here?"

"I came here to tell you something," she says, and she takes a deep breath. "You don't really love me."

Out of all the things to say, he wasn't expecting this. He reels back on his heels. "What?"

"You don't really love me," she says again, more firmly. "You can't."

"Are you serious?" Gale is beginning to get angry. She came all this way just to insult him and belittle his feelings for her? "And why the hell not, Undersee?"

"Because you didn't fight for me," she says, scowling just as fiercely as he and Katniss ever did. "You stopped fighting for me. You let me go when you should have been holding onto me. I was giving you a second chance and you blew it."

"Wait just a second," Gale snaps, leaning into her. "I did what was best for you. I told you—you could've never been happy with me. I'm—I'm a monster, Madge. I did terrible, horrible things during that War and no one should have to live with that except me."

"There you go again!" Madge throws up her hands. "You're making my decisions for me. You're not letting me into this relationship, not letting me have a say. You're Gale Hawthorne and you Know Best! Better protect the mayor's daughter, she's too stupid to understand what's going on!"

Gale takes a step back, shocked. "Madge, I—"

"You know what real love is, Gale?" Madge demands. "Real love is me choosing you over a life of luxury and security in District 12. Real love is you risking your life for me in the Capitol and me risking my life for you with the Morphling. Real love is you and me, in a relationship, where we both make the decisions and we talk about things. No one else is involved—not your mother, not the Capitol or Katniss or Peeta, but just you and me. Real love is a partnership, a friendship. Real love is you continuing to fight to be the man that you want to be and the man that I know you can be. Real love is me being by your side, supporting and encouraging you; real love is you holding me at night when the nightmares get too bad." Madge stops and she breathes heavily, face flushed. "Real love isn't you deciding what's best and then walking away. Real love isn't what you've been doing. I deserve better."

Gale's face crumbles. "Madge." He reaches for her and she goes into his arms, sliding around his waist and his around her back, fisting into her dress. He buries his face into her hair. They stumble into his apartment and he slams the door. He half carries her to the couch where he sits and she straddles his waist, her arms around his shoulders now and his face buried into the side of her neck. Despite the flurry of movement they sit quietly on the couch, content to hold each other, feeling their chests move with each breath. "You deserve more."

Madge pulls back, tilts his chin up so he can look her in the eyes. "Then give me more," she says softly. "Because as mad as I am, I only want it from you. Only you can give me what I want," she smiles, a bit shyly, as she boldly states, "and I think I'm the same for you."

"Yeah," Gale admits hoarsely, nodding his head. Giving in. "You are." It's been over a year, nearly two, but he hasn't forgotten. They fit together so well. He needs her. She opens his eyes to new perspectives and calms him down when he gets too angry. He knows he doesn't deserve her, but he's tired of fighting, of pretending that he can go through life without her. He's not being fair to himself, or to her, by sentencing them to lives without each other.

I was trying to protect myself, he thinks. Reject us before she could reject me.

But she wouldn't let him run. She knows him too well, and he won't deny her anything, not anymore.

"Gale," she whispers, tracing his lips with her fingers. "Let me in." Trust me. I'm not running away.

"I will," he vows, gently moving her hand aside, "I promise."

He kisses her, then, and she lets him, and it's just as easy as before, him cradling her cheek and her winding her fingers through his hair. He sucks on her bottom lip and when she sighs he laps at her mouth with his tongue. She runs her nails lightly at the back of his neck and smiles when he shivers, pulls her closer.

"I'm sorry," he says over and over as he breaks their kiss, peppering her face and jaw with more. "I'm sorry I was so stupid." He thought she was dead and when she came back to him, what did he do? He threw that chance away.

"I know," she says quietly, pulling back from him. Her smile is slight, but her eyes are bright with happiness. "You're not very good at this." He snorts in mock-anger and she smiles, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead. "This is all new to me, too. But we can learn together?"

"I wouldn't want to learn with anyone else," he says, twirling a gold lock between his fingers. "Hey, Madge?"

"Hmm?"

"I really do love you."

"I know," she says, resting her forehead on his, lips brushing against his as she speaks. "I love you, too."

000

Five Years Later

One Sunday at a quarter 'til three in the afternoon, Gale Hawthorne finds himself standing at the mirror in his bedroom, examining himself.

His dark hair is combed nicely, Finnick having found some old Capitol-grade hair gel and helping him apply it. Gale made a face at the beauty ritual, but Finnick laughed and told him he'd thank him later.

His dark face is flushed—it's a bit warm today—but his grey eyes are as cool as they ever were.

Clothing is easy. One well-fitted dark grey suit—a dark charcoal grey, because Madge likes the way it brings out his eyes—and a crisp white shirt. It doesn't matter what he wears, anyway—everyone will just be looking at her.

He doesn't normally care about what he looks like, but today he needs to look presentable, at least comparable to her.

Mentally, he goes through his checklist in his head if he has everything, if there's anything he's forgotten. He pats his pockets. The boxes are there, ready to hand off to little Noah Odair.

After checking himself one more time in the mirror, Gale pauses at the bedroom door. He hears—music?

Going downstairs, Gale makes his way to the back room. It's not terribly big but well-furnished and comfortable, with warmly painted walls and comfortable furniture. Madge is sitting at a piano—a smaller one of dark wood that he bought for her a couple years before—playing a light song, the same one she played for him years before in her old mansion of a house in District 12. She doesn't see him, and so he slips, as quiet of a hunter as he ever was, into a chair nearby, a large, comfortable one. Next to the chair is a side table with a book he was reading the night before—one that Madge got him on his birthday the year before, an old one that used to be illegal under old Panem: it's a history book about the American Revolution. He doesn't touch it, though, because he can't take his eyes away from Madge.

She is always lovely, but today she shines. Her hair is silky curls, pulled from her face in a waterfall braid that encircles her head like a crown. Her dress is long and white and he thinks perhaps it's her prettiest yet. Her cheeks are flushed pink with happiness and her long eyelashes glint in the afternoon sun. She ends the song and is startled when she looks up and sees him sitting there.

"Gale," she says happily. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long," he says. "I'm glad I didn't get to miss this, though." He looks around him, remembers when a scene like this was nothing but a farfetched dream. "I could get used to this."

They had just moved all their things in the night before, although they spent weeks getting the house ready—painting and renovating it and buying enough furniture to fill it. It was exhausting, but now that it was done, very rewarding.

"Are you ready to go?" She says, standing from the piano bench and smoothing her dress. "Everyone's waiting, I bet."

Everyone. They're in District 4, now. They stayed a couple more years in District 2, Gale finishing up his contract with the military before deciding to pursue other endeavors. He's in District 4 to help put in place environmental measures, to ensure that the oceans and marine life are being fished and farmed responsibly, unlike during the days of Old Panem, where the Capitol's greed nearly ruined the District's prosperity and lifeblood.

Madge can do her work, anywhere, although he knows Paylor would prefer her in the Capitol full-time, though she travels there frequently. She's re-structuring the educational system of Panem, looking at the different curriculums of each district and merging them to create something cohesive and consistent. It's a daunting task, and she networks with people from all of the other districts. She's hoping in a couple years to implement the improved program on a small scale in District 4. Gale believes that she will; he knows Madge and whatever she puts her mind to ends up happening.

Since moving to 4, he and Madge have become even better friends with Johanna, who is still prickly outwardly, but Gale thinks she's one of the bravest persons he's ever known, choosing to live by water, her greatest fear. She's come a long way since the War, emotionally and mentally, and, to everyone's shock, is even "shacking up" with an ex-pilot.

Perhaps his best friend now, besides Madge, of course, is Finnick Odair, who he also works with. Most people wouldn't think that the two war heroes—one charismatic, the other surly—would have much in common, but they too are good for each other. Gale calls Finnick out on his bullshit and Finnick gets Gale to lighten up. Finnick is a good friend, and he adores Madge, who he affectionately calls "Little Sister".

Finnick and Annie have two children now—Noah and Mara. Gale, missing his own siblings, loves playing with them and he admitted to Madge that he couldn't wait to have children of his own.

He likes District 4, likes the ocean. He misses his forests, but he figures in time he'll travel enough where he'll probably be seeing them more than he'd even like. Though Gale wants to settle in 4, he's resigned to the fact that once things are put in place here, he'll probably be in big demand to help set-up similar environmental measures in Districts 7, 10, 11, and 12—especially 12.

It would give him an excuse to visit his family, though—the other Hawthorne's moved back to District 12 shortly after Madge moved to District 2. Madge blushed with pride and embarrassment when Hazelle brusquely said that Gale was in good hands and now it was time to go back and rebuild her home district. Gale knew his mother—she would get it done, too, and look after Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch.

They're all in District 4 today, though, even Katniss. Madge visits 12 every so often, checking up on the three Victors, particularly Peeta, and rumor has it last time she went she ripped into Katniss for her continued ignorance of Gale's letters and calls that Madge encouraged him to send. Since then, he and Katniss have talked on the phone a couple times, and though it was awkward, and their friendship would never be what it was, he found himself calling her "Catnip" with ease and she even admitted that she missed hunting with him.

"Come visit, and I'll teach you how to fish," he told her, and lo and behold, she came.

Things aren't perfect. Prim's death still haunts him—every anniversary he gets rip-roaring drunk and locks himself in a room. Madge understands. She has nightmares of the bombing and of the Capitol torture, still, and her anxieties are triggered by fire. Sometimes he's tempted to push her away, wants to tell her to get out while she still can, is afraid that his sins will destroy them both.

But he's learned over the years to talk things through with her, even if it takes him all night in halting sentences while he gets frustrated over how to articulate things to her. She's patient. She waits all night if she has to.

And he holds her through her nightmares and helps her choose a therapist for her to work things through with. She wants him to come desperately, but he doesn't think he's there yet. Maybe someday, though.

Can't change the past, Gale tells himself, standing from his chair. We can only look forward. He goes to stand in front of Madge, who looks up at him with adoring eyes. It's a sight he'll never tire of.

"Come on," he says simply, holding out his hand to her. "Let's go get married."

"Finally," she says teasingly, and with a smile, she takes it.

000

Notes: It only took ten months to finish what was supposed to be just a series of little drabble-ish scenes to jumpstart my muse into writing more Spoils of the Victor, and as per usual with me, it quickly snowballed, though even I didn't expect it would turn into this "What if Madge was in Mockingjay?" usual spiel. Even I tend to stay away from these kinds of stories because they're usually so horribly written, so mad love to you guys who could do what I could not and who stuck with me this near-year. I love and appreciate you all more than I can say.

I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am definitely really, really proud of this piece, actually, and I think I've discovered a lot in regards to my own interpretations of Gale and Madge's characters.

Again, thank you, I love you, etc. I wouldn't be half as motivated to write if it weren't for you guys.