Winter seemed relentless and unending that year. The snowfall was heavier and more frequent than any but the oldest residents of 7 could ever remember it being, and great plastic sheets had to be hoisted up and spread above the treetops in order for the lumberjacks to go about their work, else they simply wouldn't have been able to see anything. It was bitterly cold, too, so cold that Willow took to keeping all her charges in one room for the better part of the day, wedging the door firmly shut and stoking the fire to raging temperatures just to keep them warm.
With so many children in one relatively small space, she quickly had to start getting creative with her entertainment ideas. They made dens out of chairs and tables and blankets, they hopped from pillow to pillow across the room as though they were playing stepping stones at a river, they wrote and acted out plays after making props and costumes themselves, giving everyone in the Victor's Village several delightful evenings of fun and laughter with their performances, and all the children adored the days when Willow announced they would be baking treats for as many people in the district as they could. There were lots of nights where the children didn't even go back to their respective homes, so appalling was the weather, and there was more than one occasion on which Jemima and Arthur's mother, Rebecca, walked back to the Village with Vinnie and the four elder Jones's, and spent the night at Willow's with her children.
The widow was several years older than Willow, but once she got over her initial shyness and the awkwardness of admitting she really did need help since the death of her husband, Rebecca and the mentor became firm friends over evening cups of tea and hot chocolate and bowls of thick soups and stews once the children had been put to bed.
"What's the Capitol like?" Rebecca asked one night. "It looks so bright and strange on the television - is it really like that? Vinnie doesn't ever talk about it."
Willow thought about her new companion's question for a while before replying. She guessed the Capitol meant decidedly different things to Vinnie than it did to herself. The Capitol to her was Juno, and Catia and Cassia, and Antonio and his preps. It was the place she could truly embrace her love of beautiful clothes and all the accessories that went with them. It was Chilton Meadows, and his buoyant kindness. It was Franklin Hertz and his brilliance. It was Julius and Theodora and Guyis, the family that she would never have. And above all, it was Caesar. Everything about the Capitol reminded her of him. The brightness, the energy, the buildings she visited, even the people. She couldn't think about the Capitol without remembering the fact that it might have ended up being her home had circumstances been different.
"It's nothing like it looks on the screen," Willow answered truthfully. "It's far lusher, so much more vibrant... The buildings are taller... I can't even really explain it... It's amazing, it truly is. But it's not a safe place to be."
"Why?" Rebecca questioned, her eyes widening a little in surprise.
"You can't be yourself. Not really. Not even the people who live there. You have to watch what you're saying almost all the time..."
Willow recalled her last conversation with Haymitch with a shudder that she struggled to keep hidden. How had she been so stupid as to tell him her story? There, in the apartment, of all places! Even after all these weeks, she was still expecting the President to walk unannounced through her front door and inform her that her presence was required at Caesar's execution. And the very idea terrified her.
It hadn't taken long for Willow to start regretting her actions at the Victory Ball. She was still unbelievably angry with Caesar, of course, that hadn't abated in the slightest, but time had told her that it was more because of the risk he had taken in getting drunk, the fear that someone could have so easily found out about them, about Acacia, than his alleged infidelity. He'd seemed so genuinely confused and unsure about what had actually happened that night in the mansion, that she didn't really know what to believe. One part of her mind told her to be thankful that he had respected her enough to tell her, regardless of the fact he knew he could lose everything by doing so. He could have simply kept quiet and she'd have never been any the wiser about any of it. The other half of her questioned his motives for telling her. Was it likely that he felt so guilty about it all that he just had to tell her, or had he really wanted to be rid of her and that was the easiest course to ensure she didn't try to rekindle anything?
Haymitch's words still hit her from time to time, and even in her most doubtful moments, Willow could recognise them as logical and, more importantly, impartial thoughts: Caesar had not gone looking to be unfaithful. He'd not even gone to the Presidential Mansion willingly. So perhaps, if something had happened between him and the other girl, he really had believed it was her...
It went in swings and roundabouts, though. Some days she was ready to telephone Juno or Franklin Hertz and beg them to find him so she could talk to him, and some weeks she did her very best to not even think about him - which took some doing, because everytime she looked into her daughter's eyes, she could see him there gazing right back at her.
Delta hadn't been much help over the matter either. Willow had gone straight to the Jones's when she'd arrived back in the Victor's Village, and before she'd even seen Acacia, Delta had grabbed her protégé's arm, swept her into the study, banged the door closed and demanded: "Something I should know?"
"About what?"
"Haymitch."
"Haymitch?"
"I can't imagine Caesar would think much of some other man sharing your room all night."
News had clearly travelled fast, Willow thought, silently cursing her stylist's insatiable need to gossip.
At that point, the whole situation had been so raw that Willow had tried to resist explaining, even to her closest friend. Everything that had happened, coupled with all the unspoken accusations from Juno before she had left the Capitol, and the implication from Delta immediately upon her return, had left her with little time to think things over for herself, and so eventually she had ended up blurting out the truth about Caesar, and why Haymitch had been in 7's apartment that night, and Delta had plunked herself into the chair behind the desk in shock.
"So I don't think Caesar really has much room to comment," Willow snapped, her arms folded across her chest defensively. "Not that anything did happen," she clarified once more, trying not to sound like a child having a temper tantrum.
"Does he still love you?"
"He says he does, but how true that is, I really don't know."
"Do you still love him?"
"Yes. But what's love without trust?"
Ever since then, the mentor had been insistent that Willow needed to decide for herself what she believed had happened that night in the presidential mansion, and indeed, whether the victor could live with the knowledge that she may never truly know what had occurred between Caesar and the lookalike. And that, Willow knew, really was the ultimate question. The one to which she didn't know the answer.

The 52nd Reaping came around at an alarming speed, and with their mentoring duties over almost before they'd even begun, (their tributes having died on the first and third day's), the three victors spent their remaining weeks in the Capitol in very different ways. Delta scarcely left the Training Tower, Vinnie disappeared off with Chilton for days at a time, and Willow shopped with Juno, and visited bars with Haymitch. She had several discreet lunches with Theodora, who didn't mention Caesar even once, and coffee with Franklin Hertz, who did. She spent a very informative afternoon in the back office of Davenport & Bellamy with jeweller Garrick Bellamy III, and left with a new pair of earrings and more knowledge about diamonds than the average person would learn in a lifetime. In short, she ensured her peacekeeper escorts were kept very busy for her entire stay.
As usual, a beautifully plump and pure rose had appeared on the morning of Willow's birthday, and though she'd just managed to resist snatching it up, her friends could all see the familiar thankfulness in her sad eyes that she'd still received one. She left it beside her plate as she slowly ate her breakfast, unable to concentrate on anything but it, and as soon as she'd finished eating, she picked the white bud up carefully by the stem, and headed for the roof, considering that perhaps she should hurl it over the edge down onto the sidewalk below. Even as she climbed the stairs and pushed through the door though, she knew she would never be able to do such a thing. Whether she wanted to care or not, she very obviously still did, and so the gift was precious to her.
"He still loves you," Juno said softly, when Willow finally reappeared. Nobody had made a single reference to Caesar up until that point, and the mentor felt her heart begin to pound the moment her stylist opened her mouth to speak. "Vee says he tries not to talk about you but sometimes your name still slips out during conversation..."
Willow hadn't stayed to hear anymore. The desire to beg to be allowed to see him was too strong, and she avoided Juno for the rest of the day, just in case.
As May turned into June, Willow, Delta and Vinnie arrived back in 7 once again to a silent, grey, empty station, and this year Willow went straight home and locked herself in her house with Acacia and Winston. She wasn't ready to see anyone, she wasn't ready to make small talk. She spent an entire week with just her daughter and their cat, trying to forget the horrors she had seen, but the nightmares continued to come, and Caesar was always at the centre of them, alone and terrified in the midst of a vast, colourful city, trying to get to her who was locked in the Training Tower. And up in a control room somewhere, Coriolanus Snow sat with a smirk on his face. Watching. Waiting for a single mistake. Ready to destroy everything Caesar loved.