This scene takes place after Chapter 37 and before the victory tour.

Prompt by Vyrazhi: confrontation between Mags and Dylana.


Date: Year 9, December. A hundred and sixteen days after Mags' victory.

"Dylana, the peacekeepers' new uniforms have vanished. They're quite annoyed. You wouldn't know by any chance who is responsible?"

Mags had trudged through the snow for half an hour to get to town, and was now quite annoyed herself. Marquise's anger over the phone hadn't been exaggerated. Mags knew she owed the peacekeeper from One for giving her twenty-four hours to get the uniforms back, because she could perfectly picture Patrol Leader Ajax pacing with his weapon in hand, itching to crack some skulls.

"Why ask me?" Dylana replied testily, affecting a bored and distant expression.

Mags forced herself to stay calm. They hadn't even started talking. She shouldn't lose her head over Dylana's refusal to meet her eyes.

"I thought it would have been cowardly to ask Marlin to ask you, and because I know you're smart enough to recognize this is stupid. I don't want anyone to come to harm," she said, her arms crossed over her thick coat.

"You never do…" Dylana muttered. The redness of her face was not solely due to the biting cold anymore. "It's the middle of winter and the shops are empty," she said, her voice rising, "We should have received a train load of coats and blankets a week ago. People are getting sick, the villages are the worst. How can we buy the Capitol's overpriced junk if they don't even send it over?"

Mags stared, taken by surprise. Snow had started falling, thick and sticky, and earlier in the year than usual, but she hadn't paused to think too much about the repercussions. If the trains were blocked, she needed to do something about it.

"Dylana, give back the uniforms and I'll try to speed things up," she said, searching for an easy solution.

"Don't you work miracles, Mags," the brunette replied sarcastically, interrupting Mags' musings, "with all that hard earned money..."

"There's snow on the tracks," Mags painstakingly explained, trying not to let the stinging comment get to her. She knew justifying herself was pointless. "Peacekeeper patrols are struggling to keep it off. The amount of ground to cover is huge."

"Is snow some kind of new cataclysm?" Dylana said, her sarcasm growing more pronounced. "We go through the same shit every few years. Can't they send the stuffed blankets over from Eight in Autumn? No they can't," she continued, rage lacing her voice, "because they're too busy making dresses and fancy suits for Capitolites who own already a frigging hundred."

"And angering the town's peacekeepers will get us warm because…?" Mags interrupted, sensing her own temper flare.

It wasn't the accusations she disapproved of but the useless action people took, and Dylana knew that better than anyone.

"I don't see why we should be the only ones to shiver all day long. Surely you remember how it feels," Dylana said. Her lips formed into a thin smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Why don't you call Madam President. Tell her we start biting when we're pissed."

Mags shut her eyes. "Yarrow took the uniforms, didn't he?"

Dylana painfully grabbed Mags' arm. "I swear if any peacekeeper gets within fifty feet of him, I'll kill you," she said, her voice raw with threat.

Mags shook her off without much effort. "What does he expect to gain, Dee? We should collect salt and clear the path to Lycorias. The sailors can do it since the weather makes the seas too dangerous to sail. We can use the train since it's stuck here. At least we'll get Lycorias' supply of extra blankets. We can get the stuff to the villages by hovercraft."

"Oh now you have a bright idea," Dylana said, throwing her hands in the air. "But before we started annoying peacekeepers, we could all have died frozen for all you cared."

Something snapped in Mags. White-hot fury born of indignation and helplessness surged through her. She did her best. She wasn't their nanny.

"I hadn't thought about it, Dee! I don't pay attention to the amount of blankets sold! I do my best, and sometimes I feel like people are happy to let it happen but utterly unwilling to make it easier on me, unless I pay them of course."

"Boo hoo, Mags," Dylana said, her face devoid of compassion. "Pay them then. Those poor contemptuous souls that dare ask for bare necessities to someone who is showered by gold every month by the Capitol. It won't ruin you, oh Victor."

"Quit the sarcasm," Mags said, struggling to keep her voice level. "If everyone is paid double then prices will double. We need the amount of fish to double, that's why I pay people to work. Stop behaving like a child and start being constructive."

"That's what you told yourself when you stood there and let those kids from District Six be murdered? How constructive of me? Did you congratulate yourself when Lila got killed by a peacekeeper, happy your hands would stay pretty and clean?"

Mags darkened. It took all her self-control not to strike the girl before her.

"You know nothing of the Games or of Lila. You saw what the Capitol showed you and wanted you to see. Don't become stupid when it suits you."

"The Capitol showed me you got lucky. You're right, the recaps made very little sense. What did you do to Constantine Aquila that convinced him to die so stupidly? Fife really didn't look happy at all. Do you think she hated you in the end?"

Mags physically recoiled, as if a phantom hand had grabbed her throat. She furiously blinked tears out of her eyes, feeling the icy wind already soak up the moisture. Wounds that had no place in this conversation were slashed open, and Mags willed her emotions away and her very being hidden behind plates of gray armor. She wouldn't let Dylana's hurtful words reach her. That girl's opinion couldn't matter to her anymore. Her turmoil faded enough for her to turn hard eyes on the person that had once been her closest friend.

"Convincing yourself that giving a peacekeeper pneumonia will help the town won't make it less stupid. Go on making them hate us more, that'll improve our lives," Mags said, with a coldness that made the winter seem mild, "you're miserable so you want everybody miserable. What kind of ambition is that? Try to make things better instead of ruining the comfort of the few people who have it!"

She respected that Dylana cared enough to try and make things change, but when good intentions were mixed with blatantly counter-productive methods, threatening to tear apart the tenuous working truce Mags had with the peacekeepers and President Achlys, Mags had little indulgence to spare. This wasn't on the same level as Esperanza's kidnapping, but it remained a prime example of dangerous stupidity.

Wariness entered Dylana's brown eyes as she took in Mags' merciless expression. "They're-"

"I don't care," Mags snapped, "Funnily enough, when I talk to them, they talk back politely. They have their pride, and yes, they're arrogant and felt quite superior at first, they probably still do," she granted, "but they've been doing their job without a single incident ever since I started working with them, Dylana."

An angry breath left her lips. "You're upset because I'm succeeding and because I'm showing it's possible to make things better and that makes you pseudo rebels feel bad. You give the Capitol excuses to keep us poor and punish us."

"What does it matter that we're slightly better off if we're still enslaved?" Dylana retorted hotly, her anger seeming less focused on Mags than directed at life itself. "Why should people work so hard when everything goes to the Capitol? We'll always have to work hard and be grateful for what we're given. What if I want paint to make my house look prettier? There's no paint on sale. What's the point of money if you can't spend it? If it's just for food, then I want a world without money where my fish is my own. I'd be richer for sure. We can't shut up and bow our backs, Mags. People who stop acting soon stop believing."

"Stop acting?" Mags exclaimed in dismay. "What do you think I do all day long? Those people who work, you think they have forgotten the war?"

"No, Mags," Dylana said, her voice now level and serious, "but they're more comfortable, they're paid, they're eating, it's easier now, so they'll convince themselves they're doing the right thing. They care for the present and have no global view. They're like Kyle. You think he changed because of your touching speeches? No, he thinks you're hot and admires how powerful you seem. He's thrilled to be alive and loved back and he'll be your puppy as long as your kisses make his blood rush away from his head. He's selfish, they all are. Give him power, you'll see what happens."

How dare she bring up Kyle. The coolness that had invaded Mags at the callous mention of Fife and Constantine crystallized into hard ice.

"You've proven to me to trust people, to love people, who don't think. Had I trusted you, I would be dead by now. Esperanza and Mama would be dead, Dee," Mags said, her voice hardening with every word. "We talked of doing things that were bigger than ourselves when we were kids. We thought we'd do it together, we were naive," she said bitterly. "Your hate might make you feel independent and alive, but don't go thinking you're doing any good. I want the blankets tomorrow in the post office."

Dylana crossed her arms and straightened at the challenge. "Or what? They'll round us up?"

Having Ajax drag Dylana out of her bed at six o'clock was so ludicrous that she couldn't help herself. Mags laughed. She would protect people from the Capitol, even if they were stupid.

"Stop convincing yourself I changed, Dee. Destroy the uniforms, then. Make sure no shred of them is ever found. I'll get new ones shipped by hovercraft to them. They'll get pissed but I'll control it. No one gets hurt."

"And next time?" Dylana challenged, looking uncertain.

"I'll cover for you again and try to limit the damage," Mags said calmly as she tried to keep in a long-suffering sigh. "You'll waste my time and energy, and you'll one day wonder why you're taking such stupid risks even if it makes Yarrow happy. I'm not so sure I am the one being used here."

"Used?" Dylana croaked, her indignation stealing her voice away. She huffed. "At least I'm getting some. Achlys doesn't seem one for hugs."

Mags stared at her in shock. She wasn't dreaming: Dylana had just decided to end the argument with a joke.

"So, destroyed or in the post office?" Dylana said with fake cheer. "But don't think it'll change much, Mags. Some of us need an outlet. I don't care if it's childish, but it's the truth. The Capitol wipes its shoes on our backs. We grow white hair with every reaping. Fear. That's how the Capitol keeps us subdued. Even if it's an illusion, we need to do things that have an immediate impact. We need to feel in control or we break apart. Maybe not you, Mags," she granted after a slight pause, "but many, many people."

Mags growled in frustration. "Why are you dating Yarrow instead of working with me to have people express their anger in ways that suits us all?" She exclaimed, grasping Dylana's wrist, "You understand them so much better than I do."

"Uh, don't you have Kyle for that?" Dylana chuckled sardonically. "He wants to impress you so badly he pretends not to want to blow up cops? There's no way he changed that much."

Maybe. Mags didn't want to let Dylana make her doubt Kyle. "You know me better."

The brunette stared at her with her lips pursed. "Mags, whenever I look at you I see you volunteer, and whenever my mind goes on the Games, I think 'was she lucky? or did she honestly deserve to win?' I don't know which is scarier. We'd be fighting all the time. Face it, we understand each other, but we never agreed about how to handle these things, even before, it's just we both lacked the power to do anything. Now we do." She grimaced. "You more than me…"

"Don't let Yarrow destroy your family," Mags warned. She was afraid Dylana was right. Some differences in opinion mattered little in childhood, but they had grown up.

"He's a good person," Dylana shot back, her chin tilted up defensively. "You've never even spoken to him."

Mags sighed. "Panem is flawed, the well-adapted aren't necessarily moral people, Dee. Just don't blind yourself because he makes your heart beat faster. Decent people can be dangerous too."

"Take your own advice and leave my love life alone," Dylana snapped.

Mags bristled. She woke up every day aware she could never share everything with Kyle. She didn't need a reminder.

"Stop stealing peacekeeper uniforms," she said stiffly.

"Get me blankets."

Mags rolled her eyes. "Don't stick your tongue out at me."

The brunette frowned in dismay. "I did not."

"Sorry, I felt this was the way the argument was going."

"Honestly, Mother, I'm too old for such juvenile displays," Dylana said in an affected voice, a small smirk on her lips.

Mags cracked a smile. Dylana had called her 'Mother' a thousand times over the years. Inwardly, the victor mourned, because Dylana hadn't changed. She was still her best friend, they argued but patched things up, like they'd always done, and right then, she could almost imagine things would be like before.

They wouldn't. Too much had changed.

So Mags didn't answer. She just nodded, her eyes lost in the distance. A free, fair Panem, it was her duty to make it real, even if it cost her.

"Post-office in three hours if you can manage it," she said, "since they won't see you, or destroyed elsewise."

"I'm mentally preparing myself for a fight with Yarrow," Dylana said glumly, "Please get those blankets fast. Sleeping alone would suck when it's so bloody cold."

Mags smiled. "I'll get them. And we'll hoard better for next winter," she promised.


I don't know what you had in mind, Vyrazhi, but that's what my muse came up with^^.

Dear readers, don't hesitate to submit more outtakes ideas (on Mags' Games or on the post Games part). I'll try to fit anything feasible in.

Please review.