Chapter 19

Celebration

Multiple

Clint

Kat pulls me outside of the room, and I'm still steaming mad. About the kiss, about the ambush, about everything … I can tell she is too. "They could have told us – do they really think Spruce wouldn't have gone running in to save them if he knew? Or that we'd let him go alone?" I realize that's the common thread – we all love Spruce, we all love Stephen. Whatever our other differences are, we'd all die for those two in a heartbeat, because they're the best of us. Even Tony would – that revelation comes as a bit of a shock to me, but I remember how his main concern after the battle in 7 was making sure Spruce was okay … it was the reason I didn't shoot while I had the chance. I start turning over stupid theories in my head … maybe it's Howard that molested Brandy, and Tony's just trying to protect her by letting her sleep with him … And the Capitol just made it look bad on his part … I know even as I think it how stupid that is, but that's me these days. "They should have … They should have told me they were sending you out," she says with a shaking voice, and turns to face me, putting shaking hands on my shoulders. We can hear the sounds of people partying very nearby, and it shouldn't be hard to find them even in this maze. But she stops cold, and I know she wants to be alone. Duke takes his cue and leaves us by ourselves. "You don't know … you don't know how scared I was when I saw …" I hold her tight.
"Couldn't let you fight this war alone, could I Kat?"
"I'm not alone. I have all the others. I want you safe."

"Safe doesn't sit well with me."
"Obviously," she says sharply.

"I couldn't sit here while you were out there … while Stephen and Spruce were out there … Do you understand how much I owe Spruce? If it weren't for him I would have died in that cell without eyes or bow fingers …" That gets her. She understands about owing people, what an awful feeling it is.

"I'll take care of him," she promises me softly.

"Stop thinking I'll break, Kat, I'm not … I'm not glass."

"But …" she starts to protest.
"I'm not."

"It's not that … I just … I can't lose you again. I still have nightmares about when you let go. You jackass." The heat in her voice is real, like she's forgotten to be angry about it all this time but now I reminded her.

"I was weighing you down …"

"Coulson wasn't letting go." She checks herself at the mention of his name, and my stomach tightens up. I had managed to forget it was Coulson who saved her and tried to save me – I owed him a lot too. More than I could have ever repaid if I lived a hundred lifetimes. And what did I do instead? She sees me start to fall and catches me with her lips – only the kiss only makes me angry this time. I push her away. "No cameras around here, Kat," I say and start to walk away but she catches my hand and I stop – like a little dog on her leash, but what else is new?

"Clint … I still don't know about forever, but I know what I want right now." My heart beats fast – I like the sound of that. We embrace each other for a long time, with no more words to be said.

That is, until the party finds us. The usually serious District 13 soldiers cheer our names and are really acting like goofballs – they've managed to make party hats from something and are making noise with whatever random contraptions they've made. We know what they want and we kiss while they cheer – it doesn't bother me so much anymore now that I know she loves me, that it isn't just an act. "I love you," she says softly when we break apart, just to reassure me I think – I couldn't have heard her over the crowd even if she shouted but I read her lips. She's never told me before.

Katniss Everdeen loves me and the rest of the world doesn't even matter.

Stephen

I control my temper as Spruce and I leave the general's office – he turns to go to his quarters and I don't follow. I know who's waiting for me – if she's not already out looking for me.

I'm just a chess piece – just like I was in the Games. And I … I didn't even have to kill anyone in the Games …

I turn into a corridor occupied by a dozen or so giddy rebels – they ask where I'm going and why I look so serious, since I'm still angry at Fury and also fighting not to cry because I don't feel like a hero at all. I force myself to smile because I know they have to see me be strong … even though I'm only fourteen and they're grown … "I'm … I'm going to see my friend Prim …" I say and turn red because I already know how they'll interpret my words.

"Someone go get Rogers' girl!" someone shouts down the corridor and I could die. They keep me there, clapping hands over my shoulder and offering me some of the liquor rations they've saved for special occasions. I politely decline over and over again and try to edge away, thinking that I need to find Prim, but they don't let me move.

"Stephen!" I turn on my heel and see Prim running towards me – the crowd parts for us, and I run and meet her without thinking, my heart soaring like it wants to just fly right out of my body. I catch her in my arms and pick her up under the arms and swing her around, and when I set her down I almost kiss her but everyone is cheering and watching and I lose my courage at the last minute, which ends up not mattering because she kisses me instead. I can't help but grin even though I know it's a goofy expression and I feel my cheeks and ears burning.

At that moment the sound of a harmonica and incredibly skilled clapping (I didn't know that was something that existed) comes over the PA system, and Prim takes me by both hands. "Come on – I never did finish teaching you how to dance," she says and leads me away, presumably towards a room more conducive to dancing, and the 13 soldiers noticeably don't follow.

I think of the last time we danced – was it really just eight weeks ago? That seemed like such a better time, even though the future was so uncertain then … is something wrong with me? I knew what war meant … I knew what it would take to win …

"Stephen?" Prim asks softly, worried.

"I'm … I'm fine. Where's Katniss?"
"Oh – she and Clint wanted to be alone," she says and rolls her eyes.

"But we still have a war to fight!"
"So?"
"Well …" I started to say something about how I don't think they should be off making love and risking getting pregnant but I'm too embarrassed to say it. Besides I know there are ways to prevent it or else Stark would be a father a hundred times over and I don't want to sound naïve by revealing how little I know about such things. She probably knows more than me – being a healer and all. "I'm sorry. They should be happy. I'm glad they're happy."
"But … you're not."

I hesitate for a long time. "No," I say finally, and I start to choke up.

"Stephen?" I can't bring myself to explain what happened – I don't want her to know – so I just try to wipe away the tears that have started to fall. But she doesn't need an explanation – she hugs me and stands on tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek. "Stephen … this is either the worst time or the best time to ask … will you be my boyfriend?" I smile and laugh a little – caught off guard. It was definitely the best time.

"Only if you'll be my girlfriend," I say awkwardly, not knowing how to just say yes without sounding curt.

"That's … kind of implied in the question," she says and laughs a little.

"Yeah I know. That was dumb. I'm sorry. But yes. I will be your boyfriend."

"It wasn't dumb. It was cute." And then … even though I'm so happy, the sadness hits again.

"Prim … I'm sorry … I …"
"Stephen – what happened?" she asks looking me in the eye. "Don't be stupid and think you can't tell me because I'm a girl."

"That's not why … it's because …"
"Stephen Rogers, you are going to tell me why you're crying," she orders. I see her sister in her all of a sudden and the thought amuses me for a little bit.

"It will be a long night."
"I don't mind," she says. So I tell her – about how I had to kill someone for the first time ever in the refinery, and then who knows how many more outside Muleshoe. I tell her how images of Peacekeepers falling to the ground from bullets I fired and being smushed or struck by Spruce's monster form have been playing in my mind on and on for hours, and I can't control the tears anymore even though I never stop trying, and she doesn't interrupt me, only hugs me and gives me a handkerchief to wipe my face and looks sympathetic. She starts to cry too and I almost stop but she insists I go on, until the whole gory story is finished.

"I'm so sorry, Stephen – I'm sorry you have to do this. Thank you." She … She's thanking me? "Thank you for braving everything to make it better for everyone. It's something we can never pay you back for." That makes me remember why we're doing it … and I feel better. I know this awful feeling won't go away for a long time, if ever, but if I can just remember why we're doing it, it'll get me through.

"Thank you for listening," I say softly.

"Of course. You're my boyfriend." That sounds so weird. But I like it.

"Do you still want to teach me to dance?"
"You bet I do," she says and takes my hands.

Tony

I'm careful to take a way to my parents' quarters where I won't run into people – I don't feel like partying just yet. I'm still really damn mad about the trap – mad at Fury, mad at Dad, mad at myself for not seeing it coming … mad at everyone. Except my teammates – we did great. Except for Katniss setting the forest on fire – that was kind of a big screw-up, and I plan to never let her live it down. But she did great otherwise – the way she took out that sniper without really looking at her, the way she dove right in to save Spruce while there still could have been danger, the way she switched right from warrior to friend to look after Spruce … I see why they're all crazy about her now.

Not that she's the girl who's on my mind right now.

I'm really surprised to find Mom drinking some of my booze – she never drinks. "Anthony! Baby boy!" she squeals when I open the door and immediately slams the door behind me and smothers me in a hug and kisses me all over the face like she hasn't since I was probably six-years-old. The hug hurts like hell on my ribs but I don't complain.

"Mom! Mom! It's okay – I'm not dead," I protest.

"When your father told me what they were doing I just … I almost had a heart attack. I watched it live. What were you thinking going after that monster by yourself? Why didn't you defend yourself to the Barton boy? You could have told him sorry or hello or literally anything but just stared at him! Didn't you listen to Jarvis?! That's the only way I sleep at night is because I know you have him but now …"

"Mom … I'm sorry I scared you …"
She takes a few deep breaths. "It's okay. You're safe now." But she doesn't let go. She's shaking – physically shaking – so I don't push her off.

"Mom, you know why I'm doing this …"
"That's why … that's why I'm so happy. For the first time I believe it's going to happen … The little twins and Cale are safe and I can bug you for grandkids without worrying about them going to the Games, and you might even have siblings …"
"What?" I ask with a laugh about the last bit. "You're like, forty, and Dad's like … fifty." She swats me playfully.

"I assure you, I'm still capable of having a baby. And your father would only have to do one thing, and he's still fully capable of that. Good at it too." She really has been drinking.

"Mom! I can't know that!" I squeal, trying really hard not to give that any more thought.

"Well sweetie how do you think you got here?"

I take a moment to answer – my snark needs time to recover after that. I settle for willful ignorance. "Dad built me in the garage. Just like you told me when I was four."
"Well … it was in the garage." EW! Ew, just … ew.

"Mom! That is not information I require!" I built stuff in there! Actual building not … whatever drunk euphemism she just invented.

"Sorry sweetie," she says insincerely and stands on tiptoes to kiss me on top of the head. "But I mean it – if it weren't for the Games I would have had four or five children."
"I wasn't enough?" I ask, pretending to be wounded. As long as we're not talking about her sex life anymore.

"You were so wonderful – I want to have at least one more and do it all again, only with a new little person wonderful in their own way … if that's what your father wants too." I can honestly say I have no idea how he'll feel about it. I can't imagine he'll be thrilled … but then again with the threat of the Arena gone … He'll like the baby-making part at least … ugh … WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!

"Mom, geez. We win two battles and you're already talking about victory baby-making? I can't handle this pressure." But I hug her because I know she was worried, and … I don't know, maybe that will be fun, having a sibling. I can show them how to get in so much trouble. And she wants it so much. I will just have to pretend Dad built it in the garage and try really hard to mentally block how it got here.
"It was three, and I don't know why you'd feel the pressure – it seems to be your friend from District 7 who was largely responsible for the turnaround."
"That's cold, Mom," I say and pretend to be angry, but she doesn't let go and the smile falls off my face. "Mom?"
"I'm so glad … I'm so glad you have him … Maybe this way …"
"Maybe what?"
"Maybe you'll be safe. Maybe …"
"Mom … it's okay," I say as she starts to cry again. "I can't … I can't promise you I won't …"
"I know. I wouldn't ask. Just, promise me that if you do … if something does happen to you, it will mean something. I don't think I could stand it anyway … even less so if you died because you did something stupid."
"I'll try to make it count," I say flippantly, then realizing that now isn't the time for that, I add, "But I'll try to stick around long enough to see my little brother or sister."

"Thank you, sweetheart," she tells me before she finally lets go. "I'm sorry – you just came to check in so I'd know you were okay … You probably want to go and have fun with …"

"Nah … not on this leg," I say with a shrug. "Right now I just want to sleep." I'd ask about Pepper, but she's still so shaken I keep it to myself for now. She'd probably get excited thinking she's getting grandkids and I don't want to kill her with mood whiplash. "I think Dad is … you know what I have no idea where he is. But you should go have fun."

"Are you sure you don't need me?"
"I'm sure," I say and try not to laugh. She thinks I'm still four-years-old.

"Okay," she says reluctantly and kisses me on the cheek one more time.

"Fix your make-up first," I suggest as I start to hobble to my bedroom on my crutches. I just want to be asleep before she and Dad start up on a practice run for my baby sibling, which I know they will. Ick.

Spruce

I make my way through the crowd and ignore all the cheering, all though I try to keep a smile on my face until I get to my room.

Betty is waiting for me, with the hem of her dress pinned up like she does when she is trying desperately to forget she only has one non-uniform outfit here and wants to look sexy – not that she needs the two more inches of exposed leg for that. She's got make-up on – too much, I think, since she's beautiful without a dab of it, but I don't comment on it. I wish I felt like celebrating with her. "Spruce?" she asks, as soon as she sees my face.

"I'm just tired, love, why don't you go without me?"

"Why would I go without you?" she asks, genuinely confused. "What's wrong?" I've tried to hold it together but I can't anymore – I sit down on the bed and bury my face in my hands, wishing I could just sleep for the next week until they need me again, and then maybe forever after that. "Spruce?"
"I hate it. I hate him. He's a monster," I say, and I don't have to elaborate.

"He can't be that bad, he …"
"I came back soaked in blood. Soaked. I was in the lake and there was just … a halo of blood in the water. There was blood in my mouth, Betty. They're not some inhuman monsters, they're people and he just … tears through them like … Like animals. And they want to celebrate me and make me a hero for …" My heart rate monitor starts to beep which only makes me more anxious, and I desperately try the breathing exercises Samson has shown me, but the effort only seems to be making it worse.

"Spruce, Spruce, it's okay, I'm right here," Betty says and sits beside me, which is the opposite of what I want her to do. "I'm staying right here," she says, as though she read my mind. "Breathe, breathe …" I get my rhythm right and I can feel my heart slowing. The monitor beeps less aggressively.

"I was also naked. And I know it's going to be on camera and I hate that," I add, wondering if the least hurtful part will actually make her laugh – I don't think anyone in the Capitol is body shy, not even her. She didn't mind seeing me naked or mostly naked when I was a test subject and she changes in front of me – but maybe that's because the least pressing issue was that I was naked and now we're engaged … Instead, she just makes a sympathetic cooing sound and tells me,

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart … I'll talk to Cressida. Maybe she can … use strategic angles, or pixilate it …"
"What's that?"
"It's when they blur something out to censor it – usually sensitive locations on maps and addresses and things, but I could see it used for … other purposes." Right. "Anyway – I can do that tomorrow. I'm staying with you all night."

"But Colonel Hill says …"
"Oh screw her. She doesn't know you – she's not your doctor. Samson would probably say it's okay – even if the Hulk makes an appearance he won't hurt me."

"How do you know?" I ask, and I have to work hard to stay calm enough not to set off the monitor again just at the mention of the Other Guy.

"Because he's afraid of me when I'm angry. I boss him around like a little boy. I think he is a little boy." I lay there for a minute, stunned, but she says it so sincerely, that I can only believe her full-heartedly. And then, very much to my surprise, I laugh.

The Other Guy gets bossed around by my fiancée. I'm not sure if I should be more afraid of her or less afraid of him with that revelation.

Thresh

I wasn't happy at first – I wanted to be with my people. But there's something liberating about being with strangers tonight – I can bring the moves that put most of the people around me to shame (except of course the District 12 survivors) and for once I'm not weighed down by any reminders of the hollowness that's everywhere in District 11 – everyone, at least on the borders, has lost at least one person, and even the happiest celebrations are always a little tainted by the loss. Here, they hand me liquor rations and I drink them in one gulp – to the apparent delight of the crowd. By the end of the night, I won't be feeling anything.

Sometime around the fifth or sixth drink, I end up dancing with Morgan Stark. How, why? Hell if I know. She dances real close to me and repositions my hands lower, and when I dip her low, she steals a quick kiss that makes everyone laugh – I think about her husband kissing on the girls, and I guess turnabout is fair play.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. I just about jump out of my skin when I turn around and see Howard – but he's not mad at me. "Can I borrow my wife for a second?" he asks and I step back fast.

"Don't scare the boy Howard," Morgan snaps.

"Thresh isn't scared of me," he says with a laugh, like I'm not there. "He could break me between his fingers." He has a point.

"You're so jealous," she says, ignoring him, but she doesn't say it like she's mad.

"I know, I'm terrible," he says back. I have a feeling if there weren't people around the next line would be something about needing to be punished for his jealousy. Despite how she was dancing up on me, I think she'd rather be with him anyway. She practically falls in his arms and when he says he's terrible she agrees and kisses him the way I've never seen married people kiss each other. I can practically hear Tony groaning about how they embarrass him – at least he has parents. He has no idea how lucky he is.

It's a good thing he doesn't know – the world needs all it's beautiful ladies. I don't know how anyone in the Capitol could look at Morgan or Annie or Katniss or Johanna or any number of the fine ladies from District 11 and then still think their painted clowns are beautiful. For that matter, Spruce's girl is fine and I've never seen her painted up like that. Makeup can't add what nature never did – no matter how much they pile on.

By the eighth or tenth drink, though, absolutely everyone is beautiful.

Johanna

Duke is every bit as pissed as I am about letting us walk into the trap at Muleshoe – maybe I should give him another chance.

Then I remember the way he reacted to me dancing with Gale at the wedding, and not only do I forget that notion, but I put my arm around Gale and lead him out to join the party. Duke is waiting outside the door – waiting for me I'm sure. I kiss Gale on the lips as I lead him forward, then shoot Duke a look, daring him to do something about it. He just glares and storms off in the other direction, but doesn't get very far before Haymitch calls him back for moonshine.

I take Gale to my room for some private celebrations even though he's bafflingly unaffected by the revelation about the trap. He's the strong silent type anyway – I think I like that. Less whining that way. I've heard rumors he's all hung up on Katniss, but she's taken and he doesn't object when I slam the door behind him and begin tearing off his shirt. He kisses back and liberates me from my clothes in record time – he's no virgin.

Tall, dark headed, strong, silent, and gorgeous. Yep, that's my type. I've decided.

Duke

I can't believe I just saw that tramp go off with Gale Hawthorne.

Whatever. The important news is my little man is safe for another week – and he did all right. More than all right – he's a hero. Boy, if Katniss wasn't in love with him before …

She was, wasn't she? I mean … that wasn't just for show? Nah, I've seen them kissing and holding hands when there's no cameras around – she wouldn't be playing him like that. I don't think.

If she is just playing him I'll … I'll make her wish I just hurt her as bad as she hurt him.

What am I thinking? I love her, she's just like the little sister I never had, she's the best thing that ever happened to him …

"Hey Duke, come get some real liquor!" Haymitch calls, and I turn to follow. Why not? Kat and Clint probably want to be alone tonight anyway.

Katniss

We stay in the crowd for most of the night – showing up the District 13 soldiers at dancing once again – because he needs to be around people and really, I could probably use it too.

We've been dancing and drinking for several hours when he asks, "Can you take me to your sister's goat?" It's such a weird request – but what can I tell him? I take his hand and lead him to the little area where they keep some of the animals that have made their way here – goats and chickens brought in the arms of people escaping District 12, mostly, who are kept alive instead of being slaughtered for meat because they give us milk and eggs. Lady is here – she came with Prim and our mother. Buttercup – still his usual loveable self – stays in our quarters. Clint is good with him – that ugly cat rubs his head on Clint's legs and then Clint bends down to scratch his ears and talks to him like a baby, and I swear that cat leers at me the whole time, daring me to ask why he likes him better. At least Clint acknowledges Buttercup is ugly. "You're ugly as sin aren't you fella?" he asked Buttercup the first time he saw him, as though expecting an answer. "Oh well, you're a sweetheart." I didn't bother to say, "Only for you and Prim."

I use my ID card to get us in, and then we go to the stall that houses Lady. "Hi sweetheart," Clint says as he undoes the latch on the stall door. She steps outside and nuzzles him, like she always does – I was much less shocked by the fact she likes him than the fact Buttercup does. She reminds him of his pet goat that died while he was prisoner. He strokes her coat, and I see that there are tears in his eyes.

"Clint? What's wrong?"
"Duke didn't warn any of our hands what was coming … they could have been killed. As it was, it was just our animals. The Peacekeepers took some of them down to slaughter, but the others they just … wasted. They shot them and scattered some of them around our house and let them rot … They could have fed dozens of people. Instead they just … died for nothing." I go and sit by him, putting an arm around him. "The hands could have had the animals penned up for people to come get and they could have taken some of them with them … as it was they barely got out in time. If they had waited even five more minutes before they fled …" I'm surprised and almost as upset as him.

"Well … he couldn't have known the exact day, the rebels kept them in the dark …"
"He could have warned them to keep their eyes open … so they had a plan at least. He just … it wasn't even on his radar. I confronted him about it and … He couldn't even defend himself."

"He was … Clint he was in really bad shape. He thought you were dead and I think it shattered his whole world. He couldn't even see anything else." He nods, but doesn't look up at me – he just keeps petting Lady and brooding. I can't stand to see him like that, so I lean forward and kiss him on the cheek. That makes him smile – that smile still melts my heart a little bit, when I allow it to.

"I was so proud of you, in District 7." I hadn't told him before because I was too busy being angry or upset about something.
"Why?"

"Because you …" I stumble over how to put it. "You made peace with Tony."

"Not sure I'd go that far. But I didn't kill him," Clint says roughly. I can tell he still hates him – as long as it's not murderous hatred, it'll work.

"We've got a week before we go to District 2," I say after another silence.

"What do you think is waiting for us there?"
"A lot of fighting." Neither of us like that subject, so we change the subject again.

"What are we going to do until then?" he asks. I know what he's asking, and I turn him down.

"I don't know … you can pet Prim's animals and we can go hunting."
"Sounds like a plan," he says, and only sounds a little disappointed.

"I'm teaching all of you to swim too," I say, suddenly remembering how Spruce almost drowned and Blonski was out in the open, out of our control, and most of my allies were sidelined, useless – Tony because of his injury, and the others because they didn't know how to swim.

"Is … there a pool on board?" Clint asks slowly.

"I don't know," I admit. I wouldn't have gone looking for it – but I can't imagine that District 13 would let their soldiers go through life not knowing how to swim, considering everything else they prepped them for. Then again, this isn't 13.

I suddenly miss Phillip more than ever – we finally won. We finally did something right – I know he'd be proud of us. I almost say something, but stop myself just in time.

I feel hatred for the Capitol surge one more time. They took Phillip away from us – and they used my Clint to do it. The hatred lasts for just a second until I remember the Peacekeepers who died by my hand yesterday … and then I don't know what to feel anymore.

One little tear escapes my eye, and I hate myself for it since Clint shouldn't have to see me cry, and I try to wipe it away before he sees. He puts his arm around me and puts his face against my neck. "It's okay …" he says, without asking what I'm crying about. I guess he doesn't have to. "One day, honey, I'll get my head back on right … then you can cry in front of me all you need to. Only if I have my way you won't ever have any reason to cry." He hesitates a moment. "That was corny." I laugh a little then.

"I'm fine with corny," I say.

I wonder if the goats find our prolonged presence confusing – but neither of us wants to face the crowd again, so we just stay here a while.

Danvers

I'm so drunk right now. I have no idea how many of the little bottles I've drunk but it's a lot …

Peeta and Phillip … they don't look anything alike but I see Peeta in Phillip … or is it the other way …

I don't know.

Peeta's cute, you know. Blond curls and the bluest eyes I've ever seen … beautiful on the inside too, that's the important part. Katniss doesn't know what she's missing. Beautiful on the inside the way Phillip was – I never stop thinking about Phillip when I'm drunk. Not sure if I keep drinking because I'm trying to stop or because I want to …

"Carol, you're going to his quarters again …" Peeta says gently, heading off my mistake. I curse out loud at myself, he politely ignores it and helps me course correct to my own quarters – by now Phillip's have been reappropriated for another officer.

I stumble and Peeta catches me every time – he hasn't had anything all night. "You should have more fun, Peeta," I slur.

"I do have a good time when I'm with you," he says with a smile – maybe I'm just drunk but it seems genuine. "You drink enough for both of us." Sounds more like it.

He drops me off at my room and I collapse into bed with my clothes on – I'm going to be so hung over in the morning but it doesn't matter.

Howard

We barely make it back to the room before we start undressing – if I was a younger man I'd put Morgan against the wall like when we were young. Because I am not a younger man, I can't even manage to carry her to the bed. Besides, Tony is in the next room. Otherwise, we forget we're married and middle-aged and go after it like teenagers who just survived their last Reaping. I don't even think we shut the bedroom door – if Tony isn't asleep yet he can get embarrassed one more time tonight. Thankfully he doesn't make a sound so I assume he's out.

We're laying there together after and my mind goes to a weird place. I was such an ass when she was pregnant with Tony – all I could think about was him getting drawn and I was so angry I accused her of getting pregnant on purpose and went off in my own little world. I'd like another chance. But I wouldn't have to do any of the heavy work … I guess it's up to her.

There are better times to bring it up, so I just let myself nod off while she's telling me about the things she hopes haven't been looted from the house yet or something. She'll go to her bed when she's done talking – we have separate beds so I can't hurt her if I wake up in a panic but it's nice to be in the same room, at least. I wonder why we didn't think of it before.

"Are you listening?"
"Yes dear."
"No you're not – I was just saying …" I cut her off with a kiss.

"Howard Stark – you know I hate it when you do that," she protests after. She always tells me she hates it but she always kisses back. I ignore her complaint and kiss her neck – that always makes her laugh. "Stop that!" she says, but pulls my face back to hers and kisses me hungrily.

"I'm confused. You're sending mixed messages," I say when I pull away.

There's a thud on the wall – Tony just threw something at the wall. "For the love of all that is good in this world, will you two just go to sleep?!" Tony calls from his room. I'll be glad when we're back in the house.

Haymitch

Duke is a mean drunk. I pull him away from starting a fight and lock him in his own room – in hindsight I should have seen this coming.

The boy scares me.

He scares me enough I feel the need to take a drink. Not that that's a rare occasion.

Can't wait for the next opportunity to show the Capitol the power of Meow-Meow – the more I can do with that, the less we have to put the kids in danger.

And the sooner this thing is over the sooner I get to go home and live in peace.

Mrs. Everdeen

Prim comes home past midnight and I could just spank her – worrying me like that. The boy walks her home and says an awkward, "Good night Mrs. Everdeen," to me – he's a gentleman, I'll give him that. But they're too young for this carrying on with kissing and "I love you"s and all that. I've heard stories of what wars do, how people lose their minds and pair off. I don't want to see Prim go skipping off to District 5 to be barefoot and pregnant in whatever postwar system we'll set up afterwards – it's bad enough Katniss is going to go off with that boy from 10 to run his ranch. I know this because she's been gone for a while – I can't see her going back to District 12 when this is over. She'll be good at helping him shoot coyotes … he'll have to teach her everything else.

Katniss and Clint … they haven't been home yet. I hope they haven't found an empty bed or a closet somewhere … I almost laugh remembering Tom and me … they're probably happy with the straw in the place where they keep the goats. Hopefully they're at least being careful. I like him – or at least I like who he was before the Games. Maybe he'll be that man again some day. I found my way back – maybe he will. I think he's starting to find his way – I can't see the wreck of the boy who came to us singing for little girls and making quips for the camera while responding to crises coolly.

Maybe some day it will be all right. Never the same, but all right.

Fury

Well, that could have gone better.

I don't think I'll ever get any of them to trust me again – maybe that's for the best. I don't need them to trust me, I just need them to follow orders and trust each other. I don't see much hope for the former considering Clint minding about as well as one of the wild dogs that serves as "beef." It does raise concerns about sending him to District 2 – but it'll raise suspicions to pull him now. It's too bad he didn't get a convenient injury that could lead to us pulling him. Maybe we can concoct one.

Three victories in a row – not bad for a bunch of underfed rebels. But I can't be as excited as my men – probably because I know what's coming. Taking District 2 will be long and bloody. To say nothing of taking the Capitol – that will be relatively short, but brutal. No matter how careful we are, civilians will surely die in the process. I can always hope the Capitol will surrender when 2 falls, since at that point our victory will be all but inevitable … but if I know Snow, we can raze it to the ground and he'll never give up. I can already see the cracks starting to form in Stephen's armor – I hope he lasts long enough for morale to reach enough of a tipping point I can pull him back to base with no complications. The others seem to be holding up pretty well except for Spruce … but he was never meant to be a warrior. May whatever gods there are forgive us for turning him into a weapon, the very thing for which we chastise the Capitol in all the propos based on him.

Let's hope Haymitch lasts the war – apparently no one else can lift that hammer. Which is very unfortunate considering Haymitch's drinking habits almost insure he won't.

The TV system is on for background noise as Hill and I drink alone in my office. Hill doesn't look any more excited than me, probably because she's thinking over the same things. She's downed three glasses of champagne and it hasn't made a dent in her dour mood. "I don't think they're going to hold up," she says softly.

"The group as a whole or specific individuals?" I ask, trying to sound as though I don't care.

"Well the group would crumble with the individuals. Both Bartons are loose cannons, waiting to go off on our own people, Katniss and Tony will probably mind you about as well as they ever did, Haymitch … don't even get me started on Haymitch. And Spruce … it's a huge gamble every time he transforms. We have nothing to match him if he turns on our people. I say pull it now – publicly reward them for their contributions by letting them sit the rest out." I raise an eyebrow.

"Converted to Phillip's way of thinking?" I ask.

"I'm not thinking of this for their good," she says, and I'm not sure if she's lying. "I'm thinking for the good of Panem here …" At that moment, a hastily put together propo of the victorious aftermath in District 7 is playing, intercut with their relief work in various districts. Hawkeye sings for a little girl with only one arm. The Mockingjay holds hands with sick and wounded children and comforts them, promising to protect them. Iron Man lets a badly burned little girl play with his busted helmet despite being known for being … less than a master of speaking with children. She gives him a kiss on the cheek, and he just smiles and reassures her, teasing her that she's not old enough for him yet. Captain America comforts and rallies people twice his age with an unwavering voice, displaying more spine than most of the adults in this nation, especially his district. And even a monstrous Hulk leads the fighting away from his people – showing he's not such a monster after all. Thresh happily carries five or six children all at once, and they're delighted with his strength. Peeta is kind and also efficient – he helps reorganize the medical tent and reach out to survivors with gentle words and steady hands. Even the otherwise ruthless Gale Hawthorne is a gracious comforter of old women and little children.

"We need our Avengers," I say flatly, and that ends the discussion.

Author's Note

At last, the dreaded multiple POV chapter. Don't worry, we're nowhere in the end this time, I just thought this one needed one long chapter with tons of different view points instead of tons of short chapters happening almost simultaneously from different viewpoints.

Fairly certain reappropriated is not in fact an actual word but yay drunk prose.