An Escape-A Katniss/Madge Oneshot

Yaaaay for Madniss!



“Hello, Katniss.”

At one point in time, Peeta’s cold, hollow tone would have surprised me. But now, standing here in the doorway of his luxury Victor’s Village home, two months after we returned from the arena, I am used to it. The way he used to talk to me seems like a distant dream. I remember those two hellish weeks, when the only thing that could comfort me was his warm touch, the loving way he spoke as he caressed my hair. Now, since that day on the train home when he found out my love was more or less an act, that adoration in his voice is replaced with hurt. Now it’s interlaced with sadness, with loneliness. Peeta shouldn’t be lonely. He has his family, his friends. He doesn’t need me. So why does he continuously make it seem like he does?

I realize he’s looking at me questioningly. “Why are you here, Katniss?” he asks. Of course, I’m standing in his doorway, at his unannounced, obviously he wants to know what I want.

But why am I here?

I don’t think I even know. I guess I just want to catch a glimpse of the Peeta I knew in the arena, the one whose face seemed to light up when I was around. Because I’m selfish in that respect, horribly selfish. I yearn for the affection of others, even if I’m not prepared to return it. “Peeta, I—”

My voice falters as he shakes his head slowly, his once shimmering blue eyes now dull with pain. He utters two words, just two simple words. “Don’t pretend.”

“But—”

“Sorry. I’m busy.” With that he gets up and disappears through the door to the kitchen. It swings shut behind him and I find myself staring at the empty chair that Peeta Mellark had been sitting in just moments before.

There’s nothing left do but leave.

As soon as I emerge into the warm late summer air, I want to scream. Why can’t Peeta see that none of this is my fault? Why do I have to be held to anything that happened in the arena? Was it so wrong for me to do whatever I could to survive? Wasn’t that the point of the Games?

But no matter how exasperated I am with him for hating me, I still want things to be like they were.

Maybe this would be easier to handle if I had Gale. But no, things haven’t been the same between Gale and I since I came home, either. I think he knows that, deep down, I want him and Peeta both. Gale and I used to be inseparable, now I see him once a week, tops. Stupid Games. The Capitol has ruined my life in more ways than they intended to.

I don’t realize where I’m going until I’m halfway there. I find myself crossing the District Square, heading straight for the street that led to the mayor’s house. Madge. I suppose since the Games she is the only person I can truly consider my best friend. This friendship is the only one that has strengthened since I’ve come home.

I knock on the door, and the mayor answers. “Hello, Katniss. Looking for Madge?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Well, she’s where she always is.” He gestures up the staircase towards the door that I know leads to my friend’s room. I thank him and climb the stairs as I have so many times before and knock on Madge’s door.

“Come in.”

I twist the doorknob and push the door open. Madge is sitting on her bed reading a book, but she puts it down and looks up as I come in. I catch a flash of some emotion in her eyes, but I can’t quite pinpoint what it is because it disappears in a second.

“Hi, Madge,” I greet her with a small smile.

“Hi, Katniss,” she responds, patting her bed as an invitation for me to sit beside her. She can clearly see I am troubled, for she adds, “What’s wrong?”

I sit down on the pretty embroidered comforter. “I…well, I guess…I just need to…” Before I know it, I am crying. I hardly ever cry. I’m the type of person to hide my sorrows and deal with them internally. The only person I’ve ever cried for who’s not family is Gale. So why am I letting Madge see me in tears?

I half expect her to back away and sit there awkwardly, waiting for me to end my hysterics. But she doesn’t. I’m slightly shocked when I feel her arm around me, her hand rubbing my back comfortingly. When she speaks, it is soothing. “What is it? Is it Peeta? Gale?”

“Both, I guess,” I manage to get out between sobs. Oh, how incredibly vain I must seem right now, crying because I can’t have the two men who once adored me. It’s a wonder Madge is putting up with me.

She doesn’t ask me to specify until I calm down. Instead she continues to rub my back and stroke my hair and squeeze my hand until my sniveling quiets. Even after I stop crying I take a minute to compose myself before I look up. I am slightly confused when I see that flash of something in her eyes again, but again it’s only there for a second before she transforms into sympathetic, caring friend once more. “What did they do, Katniss?” she asks.

“Well, they didn’t do anything new,” I sniff. “But it’s just…things are so different…since I came back…those damn Games! They ruined everything.” I sound like a whining five year old.

Madge is silent for a minute, just looking at me. Eventually I raise a questioning eyebrow, and suddenly she blurts out, “Oh Katniss, is that really what you think?”

There’s hurt in her expression now, and I am so utterly befuddled, so confused that I can’t say more than “What?”

“Do you really think the Games ruined everything?” She prompts.

This is such a preposterous thing to ask that I give a short, loud laugh. “Madge, I’m stuck in a love triangle with two guys who hate me for things I didn’t even mean to do! If I hadn’t gone to that arena I’d probably be hunting with Gale, the boy with the bread the farthest thing from my mind. Things would be normal.”

“But where would we be, if the Games hadn’t happened?”

Now I’m even more perplexed. “I was friends with you before the Games…”

“Yes, but not really.” She sighs. “Don’t you see? If the Games hadn’t happened we wouldn’t be close. Don’t you like that we’re close? Because I love being close to you, Katniss.”

What? “M…Madge, you’re my friend…we’re friends…” I stutter, unsure of where she was going with this. But whatever reluctance and hurt Madge had had before was gone now, and I find my jaw dropping at the words she says next.

“I love you, Katniss Everdeen.”

She pushes her lips against mine rather forcefully, but the aggression evaporates immediately and there is nothing but tenderness in her kiss. At first I’m so surprised that I don’t do anything, but then I realize that pulling away hasn’t even crossed my mind. This feels different than any of my numerous kisses with Peeta, or even that one kiss with Gale. There’s a different sort of…spark.

She pulls away, looking at me expectantly, as if wanting to know how I felt about what she just did. It’s only then that I realize I didn’t want it to stop…it was unlike any kiss I’ve ever had. It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t because we didn’t have any other choice, it wasn’t stemmed from a relationship made for the cameras. It was just…real.

“Madge…” I begin, but she silences me with a squeeze of my hand.

“If you don’t feel the same way, I understand…but please…” There is desperation in her eyes, but there is also that other emotion, and this time it’s not disappearing. And I finally pinpoint what it is. Lust.

“No.” My voice is firm. “No, Madge, I liked it…” And this time I’m the one who kisses her. It doesn’t last as long as the first one but it’s more intense, and we find ourselves falling backwards onto the bed. For some reason we’re both laughing, laying there, my dark hair mingling with her perfect blonde ringlets. And I realize that I love Madge too, but in a different way than I could ever love Peeta or Gale. This love is mine, all mine, and no one can tell me how to feel it. I can ease myself into it. I don’t have to respond to it all at once, and I know Madge well enough to know that she won’t expect me to.

“Madge?” I say softly. She makes a small sound in her throat to let me know that she’s listening, all the while twirling a lock of my hair around her finger. “You’re right.”

“About what?” She asks, her voice about as contented as anyone’s can possibly get.

“The Games. Maybe they didn’t ruin everything.”

I turn my gaze from the ceiling to her, and I see that she’s smiling. “Good,” she says simply. As she continues to play with my hair I come to the conclusion that even though I will never be able to let go of the issues of both Peeta and Gale, I’ll always have an escape.

I’ll always have Madge.