Thanks for your feedback on the previous chapters. You people make me see things I hadn't noticed. It's brilliant.

Date: Year 9, August. Three days after Mags' victory.

As the train doors opened, Mags felt like a prisoner set free. Salt and the tonic tang of algae invaded her lungs. The crisp sticky sea-breeze swooped in around her, enveloping her in a comforting and familiar mantle. Strident gull calls filled the skies, almost covering the rhythmic crashing of the waves, almost, but not quite.

A large smile split the seventeen-year-old's lips.

Her eyes glittering, Mags turned towards the tumultuous blue infinity stretching beyond the horizon. She bowed her head as one would greet a mentor, paying her respects to the relentless entity which had once held her captive and later released her, bereft yet strengthened, strong enough to build the world she wanted.

Surprised by the lack of human activity, she looked around her. There was no one at the station, no one waiting for her. The peacekeepers assigned to the gates followed her with their eyes but didn't leave their posts.

A thousand bubbles of mirth filled Mags' insides and overrode every other feeling. She spun on her feet, laughing like a child, until her balance failed her and her head spun. She let herself fall to the ground and kicked off her shoes. Cross-legged on the edge of the path and basking in the sunlight, she simply gazed at the rolling waves, savoring the scent of home, the thrill of being alive.

'The Captain has informed your mother of the time of your arrival,' she'd been told. It seemed only her mother had been told.

And she'd told no one. Even after seventeen years, the woman never failed to surprise her. Apprehension had weighted down Mags' stomach at the thought of having to walk past the assembled district, meeting the eyes of neighbors, acquaintances and friends as she made her way home, but instead, she was blessedly alone.

A shadow run up Mags' spine when a shadow blocked the sun.

A white-clad Angelites Abalone let herself fall on the sandy ground next to her daughter. Mags was momentarily stunned, unable to tear her eyes away from the ocean, afraid this was a dream, that she was still stuck in the sewers and that her mother would vanish as soon as Mags tried to touch her. Mama, sitting next to her, nothing threatening them, it was too beautiful to be real. Mags realized her vision had blurred and her fingers were trembling.

"You never were one for crowds, Mags," Angelites said in soft tones. "Esperanza is waiting for you at six, everyone else at eight, but you don't have to turn up," Angelites' voice cracked, and Mags could hear how hard her mother was trying to say what she had to say without losing her fragile composure.

Mags had to struggle not to close the last inches between the two of them, not until her mother had stopped speaking, for Mags knew that then, they would be unable to do anything other than weep. She slowly turned her bright eyes on the woman. The familiar tanned face, soulful dark eyes and tumbling black curls half hidden beneath a wide-rimmed hat was the most wonderful sight Mags could ever remember seeing. She felt like she was nine again, standing on the reef and about to be rescued after those terrible months spend stranded.

"Anyone who didn't talk to you before the Games can do us the pleasure of sending a letter if they want to start being chummy with you now that you're all rich and famous," Mama finished, outrage at the mere idea anyone would want to take advantage of her vulnerable daughter etched on her tanned face.

A helpless grin blooming on Mags' cheeks and she couldn't hold back that hug anymore, burying her face in the crook of Mama's neck. Tears spilled from her eyes when her ribs threatened to break under the force of her mother's hug. Mags wanted to stay there forever, nestled in that cocooning embrace, and forget about the world, about her responsibilities, about what she had done. She so desperately wished never to cause the brave woman holding her any more pain and her shoulders began to shake in earnest, because she knew she would fail. Her mother was proud of her, that Mags knew, but she didn't want Mama simply proud, she wanted her happy. Mama had lost and sacrificed so much, and now had to live with her daughter facing the greatest dangers Panem had bred. Mags needed a successful rebellion. She wanted to see Mama glow again, like she had glowed when she and Dad had thought the districts were winning and decided to name the new baby Esperanza, hope.

"And you didn't even have to kill another tribute," Mama whispered after an age had passed, rubbing Mags' back with one hand. "You missed half the fun, daughter of mine."

Mags squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, feeling like something was unraveling inside her. She knew Mama had killed people during the rebellion. They'd talked about it at length when Mags had first spoken of volunteering; about the nightmares, about the difference between shooting a stranger who'd just burst into your hideout and executing the traveling companion that had been about to betray you. Mags wondered if she'd ever be able to be sarcastic about murder, or if she even wanted to, but she knew Mama understood. And because Mama understood, Mags couldn't begin to fathom just how much letting her volunteer for the Games had cost her.

Mags pulled away slightly, tears still pouring down her face. "Why lie to Esperanza?"

Any trace of flippancy fled Mama's face. The dark-haired woman lifted her hand and cradled her daughter's cheek. Her own eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"Many things cross our minds in times of grief and terrible choices. I have two children to protect. Esperanza will notice your pain but is too young not to take it personally if you push her away. I needed to see you first," Mama's voice dropped to a husky whisper, "to see how you are, Mags." Her warm hand didn't leave Mags' cheek, as if some force threatened to snatch her daughter away were she to let go.

I will protect her. I will protect both of you. The unspoken promise sent new strength sizzling up Mags' veins. She wasn't alone. The Games were over. She'd never be alone anymore

Mags wiped her tears awkwardly as she climbed to her feet and grinned as she helped her mother up.

"You're still allowed to cuff me if you think I'm out of bounds, Mama. No one wants to hear me whining here anyway."

Mama's kiss on her cheek was loud and wet. "As long as we're clear on that."Mama's grip on her arm was bruising. She held her close, as if she wanted to hide Mags under her clothes and never let her out again.

Despite the risk of them stepping on each other's feet, Mags was careful not to pull away. Angelites would not voice her fears, not until Mags was better, because the woman retained in unworthy of a mother to inflict her sorrows on her own vulnerable child, but Mags was not blind to them.

You'll always be my mother, I won't ever push you away, I'll always let you help me.

Mags hoped her whole being conveyed her feelings.

They walked in silence, arm in arm and Mags warily began to count the seconds until her mother would crack and say what was on her mind. She was now glad Esperanza wasn't there. Esperanza was much too young.

Mags missed a step, suddenly feeling criminally selfish for taking comfort in the silence. Angelites had only had news of Mags through the recaps, those flawed packs of propaganda. She had to be desperate for the truth.

"I didn't have nightmares because I was on drugs in the Capitol," Mags began, the words tumbling out of her mouth like a school of fish fleeing a ripped net, "I... I feel so terrible about Constantine and especially Fife, because Fife wanted to live so badly and I feel like I betrayed her even if I never pretended I would put her first, ever. Constantine... He thought I deserved a chance."

Mama tightened her grasp but did not interrupt. Mags didn't dare look away from her feet, because she knew she would not be able to talk further if she saw her mother's expression.

"And I agree with that," Mags added pointedly, "but I hadn't imagined the pressure not to screw up would be so bad. I feel like I knew them but also like I didn't truly, and it's ... it hurts, Mama. I met so many people, brilliant people, and I'll never see them again and they're probably dead and if they're not, they probably hate me," Mags said, the words tumbling out in a gasp and her fists clenching painfully. But perhaps she deserved it, for not having found a way to help the next rebellion that wasn't rooted in lies and hypocrisy. "I told Achlys they were cowardly hypocrites who had brainwashed each other!" She spat, disgusted. "Achlys thinks I'm genuine and she doesn't seem to want to make my life difficult, but I can't have anyone except you know the truth, except I'm terrified that I'll fail to do any of the things I won for if everyone hates me."

Mags took a deep breath, afraid she was turning blue from lack of oxygen. So many things to say that she didn't know how to say properly. She felt furious and weary, betrayed and guilty, but also relieved, and the mix was such a tangle that she feared her words came out as clipped and cold despite every sentence concealing a string of memories that stuck to her soul like shells to a hull.

"The people I k..." Mags inhaled again, willing the terrible words out, "I killed were hijacked," she said, "the scavengers really ate people, they were completely out of their minds, and I'm glad I shot Wickers before they got to him. I couldn't let them have him!" She clenched her fists again, rage turning her ragged breathing into a muted growl. "Lila was a good person. I don't care what they said."

Mags struggled to put the jumbled memories crushing her chest into words. "I blew up people. And I threw a trident at Jay during training because he called me a Career but he was right and I am a Career, even if I wasn't nasty about it," she said, feeling dirty just at the thought, yet it was nothing compared to the guilt she felt for what she was about to reveal, "I tried to convince Constantine to die for Teal because it made me feel better, because it distracted me from the fact I had decided I deserved to win more than anyone else. It's my fault Keane had his eyes open and the Capitol found out about the bombs." Mags closed her eyes, her lips forming a tight line. "That part was edited, don't ask me about it, Achlys explicitly told me to shut up about that. "

Mags clicked her mouth shut when her brain caught up with her words. She repressed the urge to slam her head against the nearest lamp-post, feeling stupider by the second. She was going to put everyone in danger by blabbing like a child.

Except this was Mama.

After a tight pause, Mags forced a smile, desperately wanting to say something that would heighten her mother's spirits instead of dumping a load of suffering on her. "Esperanza won't get reaped," she said, her smile slowly blooming into something genuine, "Vicuña swore family was taken out of the reaping bowl."

A relieved chuckle escaped Mama's lips, but her eyes were hard. She was no fool and could see the subtext as clearly as Mags. "Our esteemed President knows how to negotiate, doesn't she?"

Mags grimaced at the understatement, helpless rage filling her at the thought that her every rebellious thought put her little sister, her whole family, in mortal danger.

"Yes. She wants me happy and loyal. Like Vicuña."

Mags then finally locked eyes with the all too quiet woman listening to her ramblings. "Mama, I blew up some people. I threw dynamite on kids. Falcon was a Scavenger, but he was like ten. Maybe he could have been free with the group Styx interviewed," she said, wanting her mother to shout at her. She certainly felt like shouting at herself.

Angelites caressed Mags' hair again, her lips set in a tight and awkward smile. "I know, I saw it, and I agree it's a big deal. I also have heard they were either hijacked or sick in the head, that your life was in danger, and that the Capitol would have killed the ones they had no more use for, so I forgive you Mags," she said, her fingers trembling as badly as her voice, but Mags saw absolute conviction in her beautiful dark eyes.

"I'm sorry I took drugs," Mags blurted. Everything she said seemed to be an apology. She didn't understand why she felt the need to say it. The sleeping pills were ridiculous compared to everything else and yet it clawed at her, as if she was a coward for taking the easy way out.

This time her mother scoffed in earnest. "Should a lame man be sorry for having crutches? Should people refuse an anesthetic at the dentist's to feel tough? You are hurt Mags, medicine is not only excusable, it is necessary. You must rest if you wish to have the strength to cope, take those pills."

Mags was ashamed to be so relieved by her mother's words. It wasn't fair to get away with it so easily. "I could have eaten Fife and you'd still forgive me," she said in weak tones, wondering why the thought upset her. She should be thrilled to be forgiven, but a part of her felt forgiveness also had to be earned.

Mama rolled her eyes, a loving smile on her lips. "Had you been starving, yes, I'd still forgive you. You are my daughter and I raised you well enough to know you would never do such a thing lightly. Life doesn't always offer you easy ways out, Mags." Angelites pulled her back into a tight hug, keeping Mags' hair out of her eyes with a hand. "I will never stop taking care of you," she said thickly. "You'll have enough condemnation from other people. If the idea of having some fool insult you soothes your guilt, you are being absurd."

A flush crept up Mags' cheeks. She had been thinking exactly that.

"How can you be like that?" She said, shaking her head in awe as a little smile escaped her lips. It was unbelievable. "Okay with everything and…"

"I had days to play this conversation over, Mags. Trust me, I was much less calm during the recaps." An innocent grin lit Angelites' face, erasing the previous tightness. "I polished my perfect mother angle before you arrived."

"So you're faking?" Mags teased. Her voice was such a pitiful croak and her smile was so hopeful that Mags felt pathetic.

"Faking?"

Mags winced as her mother's hand lightly collided with the back of her head.

"I will never let you grow complacent," Angelites seriously said, switching to Spanish as she grasped her daughter's shoulders. "We are rebels, we do what we must. You remain more innocent than a fair few of the people I call friends. You're a good person, Mags, you deserve to be happy."

Mags smiled, afraid she was going to cry again. "What have people been saying?" She asked.

"Mostly that you were a tool and that you did what you had to do. You are only seventeen. They will not hate you for not having spat on Achlys' face. Every eye was on the rebels, not on you. You did well not to have anything to do with Delphin Vega's death. People will not come to speak of rebellion with you, not for years at least, but, Mags," Angelites said, pain mixed with understanding swirling in her eyes, "does that truly matter?"

Years.

"No, it doesn't…" Mags sighed, feeling weary to the bone. "You knew," she said, "you knew there wouldn't be a rebellion for ages."

Anger flushed Angelites' face. "I waited thirty years for the first rebellion, querida," she said, her voice thick with anguish. "thirty!" Angelites dropped her gaze and forced a smile when she turned back to Mags. Mags swallowed, almost wishing her mother would let her bear some of her pain. Yet Mags was humble enough to know that she didn't have enough emotional strength left. The Games had sucked her dry.

"We will start from scratch if we must," Angelites said, determination ringing in her every word. "Have some faith, nothing is ever easy. We are more patient than the Capitol."

"Cestodae," Mags whispered heatedly. "It's Cestodae."

She wished her mother could have met Chickaree and Sylvan. The two would have had a thousand tales to share. A part of her even regretted that the Games had been so quick. She wished she could have spent more time with the rebels, to safeguard some of their knowledge and memories.

Mags turned towards the houses facing the path and wondered if any of the rebels she had met had come to District Four to hide. Or had been sent back by the Capitol.

Someone was staring at them.

The shirtless gray-haired man, which Mags only knew by sight, dropped his gardening tools. He rushed towards them, having at least the discretion not to shout. "Mags? We were told eight PM!"

"My bad," Angelites said tersely, wrapping an arm around her daughter's shoulders. The fiercely protective glint in her dark eyes made the man step back and raise his hands in apology.

"Well, I guess we'll have a hundred occasions to catch a glimpse of you around here," he said, wiping sweat out of his eyes.

"You know where I live now," Mags said, her smile awkward. She flinched. Yeah, she'd be living in one of those beautiful unused houses off there, while some people still slept sleep under tents.

The 'Victors' Village' sat on one of the cliffs above the sea. Five houses, obsenely large, empty, beautiful, mysterious. It had always been guarded by peacekeepers

The man's cracked lips split into a wry smile. "I hear it comes with a private beach. Just how rich are you, now?"

Mags frowned, her mind suddenly blank. "I… I don't know," she admitted.

Was there enough to hasten the eradication of the post-war slums and offer everyone a house within a couple of years? Prefabricated homes were sent over from District Seven, but maybe Mags could at least get the materials sent to Four and teach people how to build homes. Everyone was pretty much decent at fixing up their own houses already anyway. They had to be.

Mags' frown grew more pronounced as she had an idea. People who knew woodworking had picked it up during the war, because it wasn't a district trade, but the Capitol could not punish a man for fixing his roof as long as he didn't get paid for it. If people could learn to be self-sufficient…

"Word will get around when we find out, Mr. Sandler," Mama said.

Luckily, most people were still either at work or at school, so the two women managed to avoid encountering anyone else. They passed the shoddy warehouse, Mama's step barely faltered. Mags realized she was smiling once she'd passed it. It was... it had been... convenient. Better than being homeless. Families with little kids got houses, but they'd been kicked out the day Esperanza had turned eight to allow another family to move in. Peacekeepers hadn't caught them saying or doing anything, but they were still suspicious. Thankfully Marlin was a wonderful friend with a wonderful family who didn't mind them using their shower.

Mags swallowed. Marlin. She'd have to see him. She'd told him nothing about volunteering.

There were still about two hundred people on the waiting lists, lists which had reached the thousands after the war. Maybe she could do something about it.

The path to Victor's Village sloped upwards, and Mags' heart began to race. Home. This would be home now.

It felt disgusting. Blood money. She'd done nothing great. Nothing heroic.

"I picked that house over there," Mama said, pointing at the first one past the gate. "It has the best sea-view. We have a tool shack and everything now."

"Don't come inside," Mama said with a small smile. What? "Esperanza has prepared a surprise. Wait in the tool shack. I'll make sure your sister doesn't alert the whole district with one of her high-powered squeals when she sees you."

Mags' eyebrows shot up in dismay. "The tool shack?" It was one fancy tool shack, but it wasn't any place to stay.

"Yes. Now," Angelites ordered with a rueful grin. "You'll just have to hide for ten minutes of so, it's already past five."

Waiting crouched in the dark cramped space, a net-hook almost brushing her nose and a harpoon threatening to skewer her in half, the new victor pondered the meaning of irony. She then muffled a giggle with her hand.

If it made Esperanza happy...

Author's note.

Poor Mags, having to hide in a shack...^^ I will skip over her reunion with her sister and friends (I mentioned Dylana and Marlin a few times by name before, but nothing was really revealed), they'll appear later anyway and I don't want to write generic *awkward + hugs + it'll never be truly the same again but we'll try to keep close* reunion scenes. Better the later meaningful conversations.