A/N: Biglebowski asked if I would be including any more of Snow's biography. I couldn't fit it in this chapter, but there will be more on his backstory eventually. Also, I only have three weeks of school left so I will finally have time to sit down and finish this story. Feel free to leave some feedback! Pretty please with a cherry on top :D

I had never considered the importance of a surname. For the most part, I always thought of them as only a means of identification. Last names are necessary to differentiate between the dozens of Corals and Tritons that live in District Four. I see now that they are much more significant than that.

Surnames build connections. They keep distant family trees tied together at the roots. A name alone can give you common ground with a complete stranger.

I was born a Brine. Getting married all those years ago placed me on the Calder family tree. I had never explored it enough to know that it was closely connected to another family.

The Odairs.

The branches are spread a little too far apart to overlap, but it is a connection nonetheless.

I'm not really sure if I have any good reason to be here, in a car with Hallie and her kids, travelling to the other end of District Four. There's nothing to be accomplished. I just feel like it's something I have to do before I can move on with my life.

We hit a bump in the road that makes us all jump in our seats. Hallie is quick to come with an apology. "Sorry about that. I've only driven one time before. I wish my husband would've come because he knows how to work these rental vehicles better."

Her hands are trembling on the wheel and she looks scared out of her mind. Even now that she's in her forties, I can still see traces of the frail little girl I knew when we were young. "It's just the roads, Hal. They're going to be bumpy no matter what, unless someone decides to pave them," I reassure her.

I glance out the side and watch the pieces of gravel fly up against the sides. I'm so used to the sleek roads of the Capitol that I forgot what it's like to travel by car in the districts. The car we are in has open spaces where doors normally are and only a thin plastic covering for a roof. The sides are painted a faded color that may have resembled an olive green when the vehicle was in its prime. It isn't much, but it's a better alternative than walking.

"Are you guys okay back there?" Hallie calls to Kai and Berimilla, who are cramped in the back seat. They both mumble some form of assent without turning their eyes away from the passing scenery.

Hallie sighs. "Trying to get them to talk to me is like prying teeth," she tells me.

"I'm sure they will come around one day," I smile. I turn in my seat to look at the two teenagers behind me. My cousins and I were so close growing up that I guess I assumed we would all remain close after we had kids. I wish Kai and Berri were a bigger part of my life, but that's just not how it worked out. Related or not, we will always be passing side characters in each other's lives.

That makes me sad for a second, and my heart stirs with something I can only describe as loneliness. This is ridiculous. How long have I been on my own now? I'll get along just fine, like always. It's what I do.

I turn my attention back to the passing scenery and let it distract my thoughts. The rocky path we are on hugs the coastline, and to our right is an endless procession of grass-covered dunes. The left side stretches out into the distance, filled with overgrown, untamed weeds. A few billowy clouds of smoke are the only indication that somewhere out there, there are factories preparing goods to be shipped to the Capitol. We live in a large district, but the little towns and villages do not cover its entire area.

I must fall asleep somewhere along the way, because when I open my eyes, the sun is sinking into the sky and we are pulling into the front yard of a small but well-kept house. I end up staying the night and I make plans to go visit the Odairs first thing in the morning. Then I will be driving back home, where everything will return to normal.

Hallie and the kids follow me outside as I climb into the old car in the early morning air. I twist the key in the ignition and it comes to life with a series of sputtering coughs.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Hallie asks hesitantly. "I don't want you to get in any kind of trouble for using the car. And I hate that you have to travel all that way alone."

I brush off her concern. "No one's going to tell me anything. I'll pay for someone to bring it back to the shop and I can't get lost following the coast. I just need to figure out where the Odairs live."

"Fisk lives on Conch Road, in the house with the green shutters. You just head that way until you see houses," Berri answers from behind her mother, pointing a finger in the general direction.

"Stalker," Kai says in between coughs. His sister elbows him in response.

"Thanks. I hope I'll see you all sometime soon!" I call out to them.

"Watch out for my sister for me!" Hallie calls back. I nod and look down at the two pedals below me. I've never actually driven, but I've rode in enough vehicles to have a basic understanding of what goes on. I press a foot to the smaller pedal and the car jerks forward. With a push to the brake, it stops and my head swings back. I don't need anyone doubting my capabilities to do this on my own. Smoother, I tell myself. This time I press down gently and the car moves along.

Enough grass grows between the rocks that it makes it difficult to tell whether I am on a road at all. But, within a few minutes, I see another row of wooden houses in the distance. Conch Road.

I steer the wheel to the side and pull onto the street. Sure enough, there is a house with dusty green shutters on a corner. I pull beside the yard and brake with another jerky motion. I feel soreness radiating up my neck already, but that is not the major concern. It's been a while since I've felt so apprehensive.

How am I supposed to explain why I'm here? What am I supposed to say?

I reluctantly release my grip on the steering wheel and begin the walk toward the door. My breaths are shallow and fast-paced. With one last attempt to pull myself together, I straighten my back and work up the courage to knock.

Footsteps come a moment later, and after a considerably long pause, the door opens. A man of about forty stands before me, his green eyes baffled.

He looks like him.

That's my first thought. There is no question in my mind that this is Thomas Odair; the adult version of the little boy in the picture that has been in my house for ages. I know because I can see the resemblance between him and Alec. It's subtle enough to where most people wouldn't notice, but my husband's face was one I knew as well as my own. The man in the doorway has lighter hair and a bulkier build, but that jawline is Alec's. So is his nose. Even the confused expression on his face is one I remember seeing before.

The sight of him throws me through a loop, and I am left without words. "I'm Mags…and I'm here…because…," I begin, unable to articulate.

The man in the doorway sees that I'm not going to finish my thought. "I think I know why you're here. I just don't understand why now, of all times," he says, sounding neither harsh nor warm. He holds open the door as an invitation to come in.

"It was kind of a spur of the moment decision," I say as I follow him in. I'm at least grateful that I seem to have found my voice.

He nods. "I'm Tom, but I guess you knew that already. In case you were wondering, I know my lineage," he says, eyeing me carefully at the last part.

The rustic house is similar to the one I grew up in: wooden floors that creak ever so slightly, a square living area that leads to a small kitchenette. We stall in the living room. By the TV, I see a fish mounted to the wall and a picture of who must be his wife and son.

"If you don't mind me asking, how long have you known? Until very recently, I've been under the impression that you didn't," I finally respond.

"Hmm, it's been a few decades I suppose."

A few decades. I wonder if he put it together after the incident, when everything was on the news. Those months were my own personal dark days. Thinking about it makes me wince. "You were never supposed to know," I say.

Tom shifts his weight and presses his side against the wall. "I know. There were a lot of things kept from me when I was growing up."

It's not really my fault, but somehow I feel guilty for that. "I'm sorry for all you've been through. And for just showing up at your door. If there's any questions you still have, I can try my best to answer them before I go."

"I think she should both know each other's story. I'm curious though, what made you realize I knew about my brother? Someone must have told you."

"Not exactly," I say, relaxing the slightest bit. "My cousin was visiting and her kids were saying there was a boy at their school whose uncle was a victor. Then they said the last name was Odair, and I realized I knew that name."

Tom surprises me with a good natured laugh. "I should've known Fisk would have something to do with it. I told him to keep our connection to Alec Calder on the down low, but the boy can't keep his mouth shut to save his life. Can't blame him, though. He tells me kids these days are only popular if they are in the career school. I guess he feels like he needs something to hold above the rest of them since I don't let him train."

"From what the kids told me, it sounds like he's pretty popular. Is he here now?" I ask.

Tom smiles, and two little creases form around his mouth. That belonged to Alec, too. I almost don't hear him when he answers. "Nah, he's out with his girlfriend. They've been off and on for a few years, but I think he really cares about her. They're always making these huge plans to move across the district after graduation and build their own house."

"I think my cousin's daughter would be disappointed to hear that," I think out loud. "Wow, they're almost all grown up. You know how old that makes me feel?"

"I know," Tom agrees, even though he is several years younger than me.

"You had a son too, didn't you?" he asks.

I stiffen reflexively but make my best effort to answer causally. "Yes, I did. His name was Destan. Destan Kyle Calder. He would have made twenty-five this year."

I'm a little concerned about what path this conversation might take next, though I should have anticipated this the second I decided to come here. I'm glad that his next comment isn't too emotionally laden.

"He and Fisk would have been cousins," he says.

I think back to when I was a child. My cousins were my best friends. Would Destan and Fisk have been like that if they had gotten the chance to know each other? "It would have been nice if we could've been a family," I decide.

"Yeah, but I think that ship sailed a long time ago…" his voice fades out. It comes back a second later. "Well what are we doing standing around here? Come on, have a seat and I'll get you something to drink. We have a lot to catch up on in a short amount of time!"

I request a water and he comes back with a glass a minute later, along with some sort of diluted alcohol for himself. We talk about light things at first, but eventually I have to know what made him find out about his relation to Alec.

Tom leans back in his chair and his eyes seem far away. "When I was young, my father was always extremely against anything having to do with the Capitol or the Hunger Games. He was always strict about never letting me train or volunteer, and looking back, I'm glad he was.

"I was more concerned with finding out what had happened to my mother. My father- I called him Pop- had remarried when I was around seven. I liked my stepmom. She treated me just as well as her biological daughter, but I always wished that I had known my real mom instead."

"Did your father ever mention her?" I ask.

"Only in passing. Never around his wife. I thought I had a memory of her, but I think it was just something I made up based off of her description. But anyway, I never connected any of that to the Hunger Games until years later. One day I checked the mail and we had gotten something from Alec Calder. I had no idea why, but I was pretty excited about it. There were only three victors back then, you included, and everyone looked up to them.

"Pop snatched the letter away, so l I never found out why we were getting mail from a victor, but I never forgot about it. Years later, I was going through my dad's closet, looking for a certain fishing pole. I found his old wedding picture. I didn't have to be told that it was my biological mother standing next to him. The thing was, there was a third person in the picture. There was a boy standing next to my mother, and he looked an awful lot like someone I had seen on TV.

"I didn't want to believe it. It meant accepting that my own brother abandoned me, when I could have been living the coolest life a kid could imagine. It would have meant Pop was in on it, too. I knew it had to be the reason he was so against the Hunger Games, but I just didn't get it. Then after everything happened…and it was too late to ever hear Alec's side of the story…Pop told me everything. I can't say I mourned him like you did because I never even knew him. We were family but we weren't. It was harder for me to hear about how my mom really died. Then there came the realization that what happened to Alec wouldn't have been an accident, either."

The last words ring with finality. It takes me a while to think of a response. "I know you don't remember him, but he cared about you a lot. It would have been very dangerous for you to be part of that life. He was only protecting you."

"I understand now," he says. "Everything Pop ever told me about the Capitol was true."

"You look like your brother. Some of your features are alike," I blurt out even though it's out of place in the conversation. It's hard to see him, but at the same time, it's kind of comforting. It's as if the world is saying that the people who are gone never disappear completely.

"Huh. Must come from our mother's side." He suddenly leans and peers around the table, as if he sees something behind me. I turn in the same direction and, out the dusty window, I can just make out the shape of two people approaching the house hand-in-hand.

"Here comes Fisk," Tom says.

The figures reach the front door. Even after they come inside, they are fuzzy until they get close enough for my vision to be able to discern smaller details. I can see the reason for Berri's girlish crush on Fisk. He's a handsome young man with the same striking eyes and athletic build that must run in the family. His shock of hair is sandy brown in color and looks messy from being tossed around by the wind. The girl beside him has equally windblown reddish hair that almost looks blonde when she stands in the sunlight that streams from the window.

I pay more attention to how they interact.

The two are still holding hands, but Fisk spins the girl around in a way that makes her arms tangle around him. She starts a cry of protest before being overtaken by a laugh. I can't help but smile as I watch them. Young love and the emotions that come with it is the most pure and magnificent thing.

"Fisk, over here! We have company," Tom calls. Both teenagers look up and join us. Fisk's face takes an expression of scrutiny. I suspect he's heard my name and seen a picture of the younger version of me. I doubt he recognizes the aged version.

"I know you remember our talk about our relation to a victor. This is Mags. She's also a victor and she happened to be married to Alec Calder. We're almost family in a way," Tom announces.

The younger Odair's face glows with recognition. "Oh, yeah! You were the third victor of District Four. It's nice to meet you. My name's Fisk," he says, extending his hand.

I shake his hand, noting how firm and youthful his is compared to mine. "It's very nice to meet you, too. Do you know a brother and sister named Kai and Berrimilla?"

Fisk nods. "Yeah, I know Kai from the athletic team. I think his sister is a few years younger, but I've seen her around," he says. Then he uses his arm to move his girlfriend to the forefront. "Well come on, aren't you going to introduce yourself? I'm not doing it for you."

The girl shoots him a look. Then she pushes back her hair and looks over to me. "I'm Meredith. It's such an honor to be able to meet a real victor," she says.

I laugh and shake my head. She makes it sound like I'm some mythical god. "I'm just a person like the rest of us, but thank you."

"You must live out there in Victor's Village then!" Fisk says excitedly. He pulls Meredith even closer to him. "Meredith used to live on that side of the district. We only have a two years of school left before we can move out there! There's just so many more opportunities on that side. It's so boring out here in the middle of nowhere." Meredith nods in agreement.

"It's also safer 'out here in the middle of nowhere'," Tom reminds him sternly.

"Dad, we'll be eighteen. The reaping won't matter after that year."

Meredith speaks next. "Fisk, I think it's time for me to go home."

"Okay. I'll walk you over there," Fisk replies.

When they are gone, Tom grimaces. "I worry about them. I really do. They have no idea how hard it is to just pack up and make a living for yourself somewhere else."

I think about that as I sip my water. "If they do decide to move, they could always ask for help if they need anything. I'm not going anywhere."

Tom nods. "Fisk doesn't like asking for help, but it would make me feel better if he had someone to look out for him. The Capitol doesn't pay much attention to the more rural side of Four, so you could understand why I want him to stay here."

"We're almost family, remember? If you can't stop them, at least let them know to come find me if they need help," I tell him.

"I might just take you up on that offer," he says.

As nice as it was to finally meet Alec's family, I stay true to my word and go back to my normal life as soon as I return home. There's still so much to do before any rebellion can take place, and I know it's my job to lay as many foundations as I can while I'm still able.

Two, four, six years pass. We finally begin making bits of progress after the second quarter quell. That year, forty-eight tributes are thrown into a candy-colored, beautiful landscape that proves to be deadly. A boy from Twelve claims victory with a hatchet and a force field, but the underdog district's second victory is not enough to distract from the other forty-seven lives lost. Twice the death. Twice the outrage. Some other victors begin to speak rebelliously, and I make a mental note to recruit them when the time is right.

Our major success involves being able to place a few hidden sound recorders in a coffee shop that serves as a gamemaker meeting location. I've been working very hard to get Plutarch a gamemaker position, but it hasn't happened yet. Still, small progress is better than nothing.

In reality, most of my free time is spent in leisure. I come to appreciate the slow pace of my life. It is much more relaxing than being in the Capitol, where life moves so fast that it isn't really living at all. Here, I'm able take my time whether I'm having tea with Marilla or tending to the garden outside.

Today I'm outside, filling a bucket with ripe plums from the tree in my yard. The sea breeze blows free a few strands of my hair, which is slowly beginning to dull into a gray. When I push it out of my face, I can see someone walking along the sidewalk that runs in front of all the houses. It looks like one of the young male victors, but I can't see well enough to know for sure.

I go back to picking the plums, humming quietly to myself in the process. I don't look up again until I see the man turn to walk into my yard. Instinctively, I back up and look out cautiously. Then I get a better look at the muscular build and sandy brown hair, and I recognize him. It's Fisk. I had almost forgotten about my promise to help him if he ever needed anything in the future. After four or so years had passed, I had just assumed he decided not to move.

My guarded expression changes to a warm one. I raise my hand to wave, and then I see that Fisk isn't alone. He's holding a little baby, probably only a year or so old.

"Is this your son?" I ask when he finally meets me by the tree. My attention is focused on the baby squirming in his arms. His hair has a subtle touch of red that could only be from Meredith. He looks up at me, and his eyes are the signature Odair sea-green. No, not Odair. Not really. That gene traces back to Alec's mother's lineage. It was reflected in the eyes of my own son.

"Yeah, this is Finnick," Fisk says, and his tone catches me off guard. I look up and see that he doesn't look excited or even happy. His voice subdued and his dark circles suggest that he has been through many sleepless nights.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

"It's just been hard. I think you met Meredith before. She hasn't been doing well since she had the baby. I know she had some health problems before, but we didn't know- no one ever told us- that it would be bad for her to have kids."

"Is she going to be okay?" I ask. I don't have to feign my concern.

"We hope so," Fisk says as he sets down Finnick. "She can't really watch the baby, and I work long hours, so I wanted to ask if you could possibly babysit Finnick for a few hours. I'm really sorry. I know we barely know each other; I just don't know what else to do."

"Of course. Of course I can. It's no trouble, really," I assure him, keeping my eyes on the child as I speak. He walks unsteadily, with legs so tiny I'm surprised he can balance on them.

Fisk starts talking again, but I notice with a panic that baby Finnick is trying to walk up the brick steps. "Fisk, the baby!" I interrupt.

He jumps up at once and runs to grab his little son. "I told you not to run off!" he exclaims as he grips the baby's arm. Finnick, not understanding what he did wrong but upset by his father's shout, begins to whimper.

"Oh not again," Fisk frowns, and he tries hard to comfort the child.

I lean forward and take the infant into my own arms. "I'll take it from here. Go on, I know you have a lot to do today."

"Thank you," he says hesitantly and hands me the baby's bag before rushing back down the path.

I really hope that all goes well for Fisk and Meredith. The overwhelming responsibility that comes along with being new parents is hard enough without sickness in the family. Little Finnick needs his mother in his life.

Finnick's eyes dart around the room when I set him down, and the whimpers are quickly replaced by a need to explore. He toddles off while I dig through his bag. It's been such a long time since a baby has been in this house. I remember enough to know that he's going to need something to occupy him enough to keep him in one place. I pull a turtle stuffed animal out the bag and crouch down to hand it to him.

"Tur…ullll!" he squeals. He swings the toy in front of him and tosses it across the room.

"Oh no! What happened to Mr. Turtle?!" I gasp, surprising myself at how easily I fall back into the familiar pattern of baby talk. I go retrieve the toy and pretend to make it talk. Finnick laughs and claps his hands in delight. When I hand back the turtle his throws it again and again, amused despite the repetition.

It's difficult for me to bend down to his level to play, a reminder to me that I'm not in the same physical condition I was in my twenties. It should make me feel old, but instead, playing with little Finn makes me feel like I am young again. Being around a little person with so much energy gives me energy, too.

It isn't until after his snack in the late afternoon that he begins to slow down. His eyes droop and a little yawn escapes his mouth. I pick him up and sit with him on the sofa until he drifts to sleep. Then I lay him down and place a blanket over him. I sit there for at least an hour as he rests. I'm perfectly content to stay right here.

Though I can feel the achiness in my bones already, I have no complaints. Today has been the best day I've had in a very long time. I want to be there to watch as little Finn grows up. With Kai and Berri, I was only a stranger relative; never an important person in their lives. Maybe this time will be different. Fisk and Meredith are going to need help.

I know it's not safe for anyone to be close to me as long as I'm involved in planning a rebellion. Sometimes I have to wonder, though. Snow has to know about some of the stuff I've done. He's always known everything before. Perhaps he sees me as already broken; someone incapable of inspiring a nation or posing a threat.

I don't know. Tom's son has been shielded from all the mess associated with the Hunger Games, but it hasn't stopped bad lings from happening. Sometimes life is a struggle no matter the circumstances.

But it is also precious, I remind myself as I look at the sleeping child. Every rise and fall of his chest reminds me how perfect life can be.

The doorbell rings and Finnick awakes with a cry. I pick him up, blanket still wrapped around him, and go to answer the door. "He just woke up from his nap. He's been doing great," I explain when I open the door to see a concerned Fisk.

"That's fine. Thanks so much. Come on Finnick, let's go home," he says, reaching out to his son.

Still disoriented from sleep, Finnick resists at first. "Go to Daddy, Finn," I coo.

"Daddy," he finally whimpers and holds his arms out to his father.

"I'm sorry I asked you-" Fisk begins, but I cut him off.

"No, don't be sorry. I don't want an apology. It was great having him. It gets lonely here sometimes," I finally admit. I look back up to meet his eyes. "I would be happy to watch him again if you need."

Fisk echoes something his father told me a few years ago. "I might just take you up on that offer."