AN: Felt nostalgic and started to re-read these stories. It drove me bonkers that I had to dig for this scene in And So We Run Redux part 1. So just going to place this here for future lazy!medea. ;)

Repaid

And in the end, I'd do it all again. I think you're my best friend. Don't you know that the kids aren't al-, kids aren't alright? - Fall Out Boy

Oh…boy.

She stares at me expectantly, so I take a step backward and gesture for her to come in. Still, I gape while she wipes off her boots on the mat.

"What a lovely kitchen," she says conversationally, rubbing warmth back into her bare hands.

Think, Madge, think. She's only his mother.

"Uh, thank you. Would you like some tea? I just ..." I catch Mrs. Hawthorne giving me a penetrating look, her mouth forming itself into a question… "boiled some water."

"It's late…." She continues to study me, standing off to the side of the room, and I think she's about to refuse, when the confused expression on her face turns to one of understanding. "But, I think maybe I will have some tea, yes. Thank you."

I gesture for her to take a seat at the table while I scoop several heaping teaspoons of loose Earl Grey into a filter and pour the water into my favorite yellow rosebud pot. It's a bit chipped, but that just lends it character. It belonged to my grandmother Undersee. Bergamot scented steam curls up through the spout, and I figure it's not too late for more snacking.

I turn back to Mrs. Hawthorne with a tin of shortbread in my hands. "Do you like…" I stop, because she's still staring at me, and close observation tends to make me squirm. "Um."

"Forgive me for staring, but I didn't realize you were…I don't really get to town much…I thought you were…"

"What?" I ask nervously, backing up into the counter, afraid to hear what she thinks about me.

"Well…" and she looks a little sheepish. "I thought you were a little girl. Closer to Prim's age."

I blink. "Oh." Then my nose wrinkles. "Oh?" What does she mean by little girl? And that I'm not one?

She smiles a little. "That's silly of me, of course. I suppose part of it comes from not really accepting that my children are growing up, or that Gale's friends are growing into women."

"I'm friends with Katniss," I instantly reply, and then blush deeply. With my fair coloring, I know it shows like a beacon. I put the biscuit tin down in front of her and then rummage for mugs. I pull out one that has the District 12 logo of a canary and a headlamp, an election gift from Old Cray to my dad years ago. Nice. I put it back, deciding it isn't in good taste, and then pull out two yellow ceramic tea cups.

"Oh. Friends with Katniss," she replies absentmindedly, helping herself to the shortbread. "But then why…? You did bring the painkillers for my son?"

With my back to her, I reply, "Well, yes."

"I see." But she doesn't sound like she does.

I bring the tea over and mugs, pouring her a generous amount.

"Thank you," she says, accepting the cup. "Feels good on my hands." I look at them, chapped and cracked. Red from the cold. I know that she's a washerwoman who works out of her home. Once, about four years ago, Gale came to our back door asking if we had any laundry that needed washing. It's the first time I remember seeing him. I eavesdropped in the pantry and overheard the conversation. Our housekeeper, Hanna, does most of our cleaning, so she sent him away empty handed. I remember he just looked stiff and, I don't know, empty, as she closed the door on him. Lots of kids have that look at school, so why did it stand out to me? I suppose because in that moment I knew our family could have done something to help him, but we didn't.

"They're not very pretty, are they?" she says about her hands.

I snap out of my reverie. "Sorry. I shouldn't be staring."

She smiles at me, and it makes her whole face warm and friendly. Mrs. Hawthorne is a lot more smiley than her son, that's for certain. She takes a sip of her tea. "Mmm. We usually only drink herbal tea at home. This is quite nice."

"Mrs. Hawthorne?" The suspense is starting to kill me.

She smiles again, and the skin around her eyes crinkles. "You can call me Hazelle. Everyone does."

My dad raised me to call adults by their last names unless they give me permission. Sometimes it sticks, though. Haymitch still gets cross with me when I call him Mr. Abernathy.

"Hazelle, um, is there something you needed from me tonight?"

She puts her mug down. "I just noticed that your light…"

"You kind of came out of your way to notice that my light was on."

Hazelle laughs at me. "You're right. I did come out of my way with a purpose. I should've gotten back to my family, but…" She wraps her hands around the still-steaming mug and leans toward me, her face very grave now. "I overheard Katniss and the others talking about the painkiller while I sat with Gale. They said you brought it for my son."

I swallow air, then take a mouthful of tea so that I can hide behind my mug.

"That is true, isn't it?" she's asking gently.

"I brought it," I murmur. "But it's my mom who gave it to him, really. It's hers."

Hazelle's eyes flicker toward the hallway, then back to me. They look watery. "I don't suppose…"

"No. She's not feeling well," I say.

"I see. Well. Then you'll have to convey my thanks. I…I can't tell you what it means to us. Gale is…was…in so much pain. And nothing helped." Hazelle covers her mouth with her hand for a moment. "He kept passing out only to wake up again in pain."

I think she really is crying, or very near to it. I'm not sure what to do, so I just sit there stupidly.

Hazelle takes a deep breath, collecting herself. "I wanted to come by and thank you for bringing the morphling. He never mentions any other friends but Katniss." My heart crunches a little. Of course he doesn't. To Gale, there is only Katniss. "I guess what I'm saying is, I don't know why you helped us. Your family isn't obligated to us in any way, but I'm so grateful that you did. And I don't know how I'll be able to repay you for the medicine. But I can try. Sometimes I have extra from the laundry I take in…"

Something in me snaps. Do the Hawthornes really think, in their pride, that they can afford a box of morphling? And what sort of people do they think the Undersees are, that we'd take money from a family that doesn't have any, when we have so much? "My mother gave him the morphling, Mrs…Hazelle." I say as earnestly as I can, "and she didn't mention anything about repayment. Don't even think about it. The medicine is a gift from her."

Hazelle blinks at me. "But why? Madge, we don't live in a world that gives gifts. And I think I know my son well enough to say that he will want to pay back as much of the cost of the morphling as he can."

I'll bet. "Does Gale know?"

She hesitates. "No. He kept slipping in and out of consciousness at the time, and probably didn't even know I held his hand."

"Okay then, don't tell him."

"Madge," she gasps.

I hold up a hand, asking her to wait a minute. "How will Gale be able to pay for the morphling, Hazelle? Who knows when he'll be able to get back to the mines," I reason, even though she's more than aware of the pinch her family will be in for the weeks to come. I smile, though. "And no amount of free strawberries will make up for the cost. Don't worry. It's already taken care of."

"What do you mean it's taken care of?" she frowns.

Now I hesitate. I don't want Gale to know I brought the morphling, because I don't want him beholden to me. The idea makes my skin crawl. I also don't want to reveal to Hazelle my personal reasons for delivering the morphling. But it might be the only way to make her accept that she isn't going to repay my family for this.

I study my fingers. "Um, I owed him. He helped me once, and so this pretty much clears my debt to him. My mom doesn't know that, but it doesn't really matter."

Hazelle sits back in her chair. "He helped you?"

"Yes."

"In what way?"

I blush. "It doesn't really matter."

"It must matter if it's equal to six vials of morphling," she says gravely.

"Well," I mumble. "It does to me, but it's private."

Hazelle lifts an inquisitive brow. "And if he hadn't helped you?"

"No amount of morphling would have made it better."

She relents. "I see. Sort of."

"So, we're even."

She nods. "The two of you are even."

While my slow, exhausted brain tries to figure out the hidden qualification, I press on, "and you won't mention this to Gale, right?"

"Don't you think he'd want to know that you helped him?" Hazelle asks, both eyebrows raised.

I wrinkle my nose. "Not really.

Hazelle purses her lips, like she's thinking. And the way she's looking at me feels like I'm a puzzle she's putting together.

"Maybe he'll just think the Everdeens had it?" I continue in order to fill the silence.

"Maybe." She chuckles a little. "Truth to tell, he's not very imaginative when it comes to this sort of thing. So, yes, he'll probably assume the Everdeens had it. Unless someone else mentions it."

"You won't—"

"I won't."

"Thank you."

"Well, my children are probably frantic, so I should go." Hazelle swallows the last of her tea and gets up. "Thank you, for the tea and for the medicine. If there's ever anything that you or your mother need, just ask."

"All right," I reply, although I can't imagine when I'll need to take her up on it.

Continued in And So We Run Redux Part 1