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

Mags doesn't indulge, she's always making herself useful, always working so hard, acquaintances and even Mags' friends often said.

They had really no idea. They were wrong to imply that Mags was a better person for not doing the minimum in a world where most of the surplus was stolen away to feed their gluttonous masters. It was always there, the swirling gaping void, the feeling of uselessness that stole her sleep and peace of mind if she failed to build something, whether tangible or inter-personal on any given day. Angelites' greatest combat had not been the war, but showing her stubborn eldest to let her be a mother and accept to be taken care of.

This unquenchable thirst to be useful was the dark product of the rebellion. No matter how one could try to excuse it, Mags had been a load during the rebellion. Plans had had to be changed, compromises accepted, because the young child could not have kept up, and every single one of those sacrifices had buried itself in Mags' soul like a poisoned blade. Not once had her father or her uncle's family said a cross word to her about it, but she had seen the look in their eyes, the frustration at having to hold back, their bitterness when plans fit for adults but impossible with a child in tow were suggested. She had overheard more than any had suspected and had lost count of the times they had whispered, we can't, not with Mags. And worse, she had begun hating that they would not ask her to try harder and had been filled with an anger she had been too young to explain whenever her father expressed his pride. Pride meant that even her best was not good enough, that she was condemned to be a load.

Reason told Mags that Lazuli had been merely four years older than her and objectively less reliable, reason reminded her that Ebony had used the phrase 'No, Mags can't.' like an excuse. Ebony had hated the day to day realities of the rebellion even more than the Capitol itself. Yet reason failed to free Mags of that feeling of debt that made her analyze her every action. She had been a liability, but her father, her whole family, had believed her worth it.

She had to prove them right.

Day after day she had to. Ebony and Freya were dead, her aunt was dead, her father was dead, her uncle and Lazuli where who knows where, and now… Constantine and Fife had joined the list. Mags had even less time to waste on unfruitful pastimes. Indulgence was criminal when there was a better world to build, equivalent to desecrating the graves of all those who had lost their lives.

Esperanza knew her older sister better than anyone alive save Angelites. So instead of asking Mags to take a walk on the beach, it was barely dawn when Esperanza shook the slumbering victor awake.

Mags woke up to her sister's large smile, strained by the awkwardness that had been produced by the Games, but genuine and joyful enough to make Mags grin right back.

Mags pushed the sheets back and brought her knees to her chin. Her mind was suddenly confused as she failed to recognize the room she was in. Sunlit and spacious, with seashells decorated lintels and the breeze of air conditioning made the heat comfortable. There was no moss on the walls, no cracks in the ceiling, no piles of ropes or rigging. Hardwood instead of squeaky half-rotten beams lined the floors, and for a terrible second Mags thought to be in the Capitol.

"Mags, stop driving yourself nuts, you're home." Esperanza said, grabbing the older girl's chin and forcing Mags' head to turn so their eyes would meet.

Such huge dark eyes, so alike their mother's yet brighter, lighter, more innocent. Eyes that sung of safety and protection and that were quite treacherous on her little sister's face. Mags didn't want to stifle Esperanza and prevent her from blooming into an independent person, but she remained the one who had to do the protecting, no matter how much Esperanza looked like the fierce woman who had given birth to them and fought day after day to raise them with strong values in a country which favored the meek and selfish.

Esperanza grasped Mags' nightdress. "So you're building a school right?"

Mags gazed at her, unfocused. Esperanza had always overestimated Mags' mental agility in the morning, and the sleeping pills hardly helped Mags' wits. She was still lost in thoughts, remembering how they'd moved their few valued possessions to their mother's chosen victor house with Marlin the day before.

Marlin, short and stout, and the most constant and solid person Mags knew, had barely said a word during those five hours and simply lugged furniture around stared a lot. He'd hugged Mags whenever she had failed to mask how nervous the staring made her, but the awkward silence had endured. The rope-seller's boy had never been one to chat, so Mags had not been surprised by his sudden distance. She reckoned he was helping out to show they were still friends but he hadn't yet figured out how he really felt about her now. Dylana's widowed grandfather had fallen dangerously ill during the Games, so Mags didn't hold her other friend's absence against her. Their reunion had been loaded but too short to warrant the name of conversation. Dylana had apologized profusely for not being able to stay, eyes misty from emotion and stress, and Mags had sent her home within five minutes with enough money to get medicine.

Mags reminded herself to visit later in the day.

"Big Sis, wake up!"

Mags blinked as the frustrated order pierced through her musings.

"Sorry, I'm back on Earth," Mags said, swinging her legs into a seated position and grabbing her sister's hand. She kissed Esperanza's cheek. "What did you ask me?"

"You're building a school," the twelve-year old repeated, "and you want both us and Capitol people to approve of it." Esperanza bit her lower lip, a telltale sign she had questions but was unhappy by the way they were formulated in her head. "You never were a liar. What's all this helping both the people and the Capitol thing? If we suddenly make double the food, they'll take everything we don't need for survival."

Mags winced. She'd known that she'd have had answers to provide after the euphoria of having her back had faded a bit.

"We have more than we need for strict survival," she began, aware the Capitol could do much worse to them if it wanted them truly oppressed.

Mags remembered the horrible pictures they had been shown of concentration camps at school. The President had wanted them to learn what a real uncaring and cruel government was, to prove the Capitol's goodwill. The dead-eyed skeletal men, the gas chambers and common graves, the teachers and children killed for having no useful skill… All of it had given Mags' nightmares.

"We aren't allowed to keep as much as we'd deserve but we're a fit people," she continued, "we -"

"Because fit people produce more, so it's good for the Capitol too," Esperanza interrupted, worry and confusion entering her eyes.

Mags' lips twisted as she realized that she did sound as if she was making excuses for the Capitol. She paused, trying to remember how mature she'd been at twelve and how much she could tell Esperanza without putting her in a terrible position.

"People were speaking during the Games. They called you collaborator," Esperanza added, staring at the floor in anger.

Mags tensed. She hadn't had the courage to turn up at Mayor Bream's house two days before and now dreaded public appearances even more. Her mother had gone in her place, to remind people that Mags had been through a lot and needed some privacy, but Mags knew she'd soon have to publicly give a solid reason for having volunteered.

"What did you tell them?" Mags whispered, hugging Esperanza tighter as if it would guarantee her sister would always be on her side. She couldn't even bear to think about a falling out between them.

An angry flush crept up Esperanza's cheeks. "Nothing," she sullenly said, "because Mama said that breaking your angle would be like murdering you."

Mags' eyebrows flew up to her hairline in dismay. Listening to people insult your sister without defending her was bad enough, seeing her kill people and turned into a Capitol tool was worse, but being told you were moreover responsible for her survival? Mags suddenly understood what Mama had meant when she'd said she had been much less calm during the recaps. Guilt oozed up Mags' throat. She'd dragged Esperanza into this. She was the reason Mama had been harsh with Esperanza.

Esperanza's grip on Mags' arm was as tight as a clamped oyster. "Is it true?" the girl asked, her voice trembling. "They'd kill a victor?"

Mags pulled her sister on her knees and her throat constricted when Esperanza didn't protest that she was too big for such treatment. There seemed to always be someone holding on to Mags since her return to Four, as if she'd vanish into thin air were they to let go. Not that she minded. But it showed how terrified they still were to lose her and it broke Mags' heart to know Esperanza lived in with that crushing, strength-sapping fear. This was not how things were supposed to be.

Hate burned bright in Mags' veins as she imagined the Capitol, that towering fortress city, breathing in deeply like a vampire of marble and ivory, thriving on the fear and mistrust infecting the Districts, and feasting on suffering and death.

"They're not watching me too closely right now," Mags whispered, her face a mask of stone. "President Achlys wants the two of us to work hand in hand, but, should I give them one reason to doubt me, I could become a prisoner. I'd be rich but they would forbid me to spend my money like I'd want to, they'd monitor my every words and action. They'd have no qualms about harming people I care about."

Mags forced the anger out of her tone, made uneasy by Esperanza's anguished expression. The victor was desperate to prove that her family still meant the word to her, that she would always be there for them. And that she would keep them safe without betraying everything she lived for.

"I haven't changed that much Esperanza," she said, kissing her sister's hair in a silently plea to be heard, "but Peacekeepers will be paying attention to what I do, to what is said about me."

Esperanza stood up, disentangling herself from Mags' hold. Mags' face fell at the loss of contact but her sister was staring at the window, the same mix of anger and anguish creasing her too-young face.

"So we can't trust people anymore? Even those we knew are like us?" She said, her voice thick from the injustice of it all. "We must let them think you're some dog for the Capitol or they'll kill Marlin?" Esperanza's voice fell to a squeak as she turned back to Mags and grasped her hand once more. "Or me?"

Mags silently ground her teeth together, her green eyes planted into her sister's. No one would touch Esperanza.

"I don't need to be liked, or even respected by people I hardly know to do what I must now do," she said with a quiet confidence that seemed to lessen Esperanza's agitation. "And, Esperanza, if they kill you, their hopes of even the slightest collaboration on my part will be turned to ash." Mags' face darkened further, her voice raw with menace, as she stood up to put her arms around her sister, daring anyone to step between them. "Not killing me at that point, would be extremely foolish. Achlys, curse her, is much too clever to threaten you or Mama."

Esperanza nodded, a ghost of a smile on her ashen face. "So I'll let people talk and just tell them to stop waiting for others to do the job for them if they want something to be done about Panem?"

Mags winced again, aware she'd be unable to stop Esperanza from seeking confrontations. "Don't get into too many fights. You'd really help me by convincing them they've more to gain than the Capitol by letting me build an academy."

Mags loathed the idea of having peacekeepers guard the old desalinizing factory she wanted to convert into her still nameless academy, the message would be all wrong, but not having guards would mean having the building at the mercy of any hothead with a torch. There were too many people who now believed her to be the enemy.

Esperanza nodded, her distaste still obvious. "I'll try not to let it get to me." Her tone turned eager. "So what exactly will this academy be about?"

The desalinizing factory had not survived the war and was only a carcass of what it once had been, but the main building was still erect and far enough from the beach to be practical. They would salvage the useless material and have the building ready by the end of spring if all went well. Nine months seemed eons away, but despite her outrageous new wealth, she couldn't work miracles.

Mags, accompanied by Esperanza, was walking around the former factory, explaining her plans to Mayor Bream and his serious-looking young assistant who committed everything in her notebook.

The postmaster had come to see the victor in the early morning. People usually had to go retrieve their mail in the post office, but he looked very curious to have a glimpse at her house. The single letter was from Achlys, listing the Capitol contacts she would need to begin the construction works or to buy some goods, clothes, medicine, luxuries, she would want. She had sent back a carefully worded thank you note, feeling torn. Such a list would save her time, but also force her to go through people favored by the President.

At least she would know who was in Achlys' good graces.

"Deep diving, whaling, deep-sea fishing…" Major Bream was saying. He paused, his voice dropping. "You have not mentioned any meteorological study."

Mags' eyes flew open. She hadn't even thought about it.

"He's right," Esperanza exclaimed, "weren't all the labs destroyed because we used the radars as weapons against the Capitol's 'crafts?"

A calculating glint entered Mags' eyes. Meteorology, the perfect opportunity to finally learn physics and be less at the mercy of Capitol technology, how could she have overlooked that? Her face darkened, how could she, considering how often deadly storms, and even tornadoes left a trail of bodies on their paths?

"I'll negotiate it with President Achlys," she answered, "I don't know how sensitive of a subject it is."

"Don't bother if she doesn't want to," the mayor quickly said. The sharp-eyed authoritative man before her had turned into a nervous boy at the mere mention of the President's name.

Mags stiffened, now afraid he'd sell her out were she to hint that the academy would also be training grounds. The mayor would not have stayed mayor so long were he not sufficiently sympathetic to the Capitol.

Mayor Bream cleared his throat. "Why do you need so much space for deep-sea sailing, Mags? We already have planned out space dedicated to rope-work, hull maintenance, building flares, operating machinery and all types of food conservation. Most people can learn this from the sailors. We should expand all types of recycling to have artisans that don't have to buy new material from other districts, like you said."

Don't advertise that detail too much! Mags inwardly snapped, feeling the urge to scowl. They had to look docile to the Capitol, not sound like they wanted to topple the district separation of skills system.

"They won't learn it as well. There isn't a single sailor who's a specialist in it all," Mags said, readjusting Esperanza's tight grip on her arm. "Storms kill dozens of sailors every year, even those who own solid deep-sea vessels. I want people to be prepared for extreme weather, and at sea, that means being able to work a full night in the dark on a rocking boat without getting almost any sleep. I also want Four to build more schooners, or we'll have none left in ten years, and that means teaching people to work in a team of twenty on a cramped space for weeks at a time."

"Circe, you'd be teaching psychology too?" Bream said, arching a bushy eyebrow. "Some tough people that'll come out of your school," he said with a chuckle.

The man looked quite pleased with the whole project. Mags felt assessed like a valued tool whenever the mayor's dark eyes rested on her and it made her unable to like the man, but she preferred this to suspicion, or even the pity and disgust she had glimpsed on some people's faces as they'd walked through town.

"What about harpoons and tridents?" Esperanza asked, looking at the steel rods lying in a heap.

Mags threw her a stern glance, unamused by her 'subtle' reference to training. She wanted people to become strong and self-reliant, not to volunteer, but pretending this was all for the glory of the Games as well as the prosperity of the District - and therefore the Capitol - was what would keep the academy open in the years to come, and Mags had no illusions that every generation would have its share of desperate or foolish teenagers eager for a chance to train and volunteer.

"That's fishing games for kids," the mayor replied, "they give you muscles but learning to swim clothed toughens you up just as well and will doubtless save more lives, even rope climbing is more useful."

"But it's fun, and a little competition is always a great motivator," Mags said, thinking she would have to see who in Marlin's family would be the best at imparting their knowledge on ropes and nets.

"You're going to pit a mutt-shark against naked lads holding harpoons to teach them all about keeping their cool?" The mayor said with a half-smile.

"I was thinking more along the lines of teaching people to break free quickly out of nets," Mags seriously said, "People died, trapped underwater, when everyone was trying to catch the migrating stingrays."

The memory of the accident cast a shadow on Bream's face. "Gladiator fights with nets and tridents?" He suggested after a pause.

Mags frowned, made uneasy by the slight bite in his tone, was he testing her? Had he received instructions from Achlys?

"Four's industry is the sea but we are using only a fraction of what resources we have," she said.

Everyone worked full days, but qualified jobs were rare and most people scrounged a living despite having the potential to do so much better.

"How long has it been since a ship has sailed in deep seas or a diver harvested the pearl oysters of the Trench? Our boats are old and unsafe, the repairs are poorly done and we waste good wood to patch rotten ships that will sink soon," Mags pursued, her voice rising in distress, "Master shipwrights are ageing, and ageing too fast because they must do the jobs of younger men to sustain themselves and the younger men must fix their boats themselves because the shipwrights are too busy fishing. So the boats are badly fixed and there is less fish for everyone."

Mags' lips twitched at the end of her tirade: Esperanza was looking at her as if she'd just invented fire. She wrapped an arm around her and pointed at the sun lit entrance. "I'll be putting a statue of myself right there," she joked in low tones, tearing a snort from the younger girl.

"And you can now invest what we needed to break out from this downwards spiral. Good work, young lady," Bream said, a broad smile making him look ten years younger. "So if it's shipwrights you want to help, why all this talk about educating youngsters?"

Mags frowned, realizing all this talking had made her review her plans. Bream was right.

"We'll have adult courses first. We need teachers anyway and it's more urgent, but we should give a chance to the gifted teenagers who have no other opportunities, recruit by interview for the first class. I think we can handle fifty adults and twenty teenagers in total at first, to experiment, but while we're building the locales, I'll need to find my first specialists in the different branches."

"You'll be doing a lot of walking and talking, few people live inland but the coast in one long trek."

Mags shrugged. "I had no job before I volunteered, just errands."

Almost everyone older than fourteen who wasn't apprenticed had a full-time job, but qualified jobs were rare. Her mother had been in charges of sales back in One, organizing auctions for their tapestries and negotiating the best prices. She was also a skilled weaver, but in Four, she had only found an accountant and administrative job in the bio-fuel farm that sent their algae to Five's factories, and only because she had proven to be three times as efficient as any of the farm owner's cousins.

"I'll find people to help me with the recruiting," Mags said, eyeing the old building confidently.

A disheveled Dylana opened the door and sighed, her exhaustion deepening when she recognized Mags.

"I'm sorry, Mags. The timing of everything is just ugh," Dylana said, beating her fist against the door. "We really need to talk but Grandpa is raving and he's such a pain when he's ill. I'm the only person he allows to touch him, something about Dad being too rough." Dylana sighed, rubbing her tired eyes with one hand. "And if Dad tries to help anyway, Grandpa spouts all the nasty things he can think of about dad, and I don't mean embarrassing, I mean hurtful stuff. I never expected anyone to be so stupidly proud when pushing a fever hot enough to boil eggs."

Mags nodded briskly, hiding her disappointment behind a compassionate smile. She placed a hand on the taller girl's arm, aching to hug her friend, to tell her how glad she was to have her. "I can come back, Dee. Family's always the priority."

"Yup, family… They're all getting so old around me. Where's a sib' when you need one?" Dylana said with a yawn. Her brown eyes narrowed and her tone grew reproachful. "I'm kinda glad you didn't tell your sister you were going to volunteer, I'd have taken it even worse," she said, crossing her arms.

"Dee," Mags began, afraid of the anger darkening her friend's round face.

Mags wasn't surprised by it at all. Dylana had always been a dormant volcano, deceptively brittle with her willowy frame and frail health but prone to lashing out with great passion against anything she found unjust. She had been a serious child, uninterested in playing make believe with the other children but keen to change the real world into something nicer. Mags and Dylana had understood each other without words, but where Mags was a careful planner, Dylana was loud and honest. Mags had kept her from crossing the line that would have her branded for insolence, but because of Dylana's utter disdain for deceit, Mags knew the other girl would never see through the web of lies Mags had now to live by without it being explicitly pointed out to her.

Mags was afraid, for she knew that every day she delayed, Dylana's frantic thinking would lead her towards conspiracy theories on how Mags had volunteered as a result of having been hijacked during the spring. Dylana was quite capable of thinking that Mags had been literally reprogrammed. Her imagination knew no bounds, and she blamed the Capitol for bad weather and scraped knees. It wasn't a big deal when Mags was there to be the reasonable one, to drive Dylana to act rather than trap herself in a web of unproductive hate, but now Mags feared the poisonous seeds of doubt sowed by the recaps in Dylana's mind.

A wheezing call from the inside turned into a wet, dangerous-sounding cough. A cough which wasn't stopping.

Mags' voice trailed off, her face blanching as she suddenly realized Dylana could very well be about to lose her grandfather. She'd spent the last days on a little cloud, but death was a reality of life, not just of the Games.

"I can't stay with you right now," Dylana mouthed, worry creasing her face. She suddenly grabbed Mags by the shoulders. "Mags, can't you get Capitol meds brought over? It's pneumonia but it's like headache for them."

Dylana's frantic gaze was inches from hers and Mags dropped her gaze to the floor. Could she? Mags didn't want to become the new District Four wishing well. She needed to spend her money wisely, to invest, or it would just be sucked up by the misery, a bit of food here, some medicine there, and nothing would change for good.

"You can't?" Dylana said, as her lips began to tremble. Her voice was steadily rising to a shout. "They give you money but you can only spend it on stupid stuff?"

Mags lifted her eyes back up, her guilty indecision giving way to furious certainty. This was Dylana. There was no way Mags' first decision would be to let her best friend's grandfather die.

"No, I can," she said, "I'll be as quick as I can. I promise."

"Good," Dylana said, flashing her a weak smile. She shut the door and raced back to her grandfather's side.

Mags stood rooted for a few seconds, her arms falling limp by her side, as if waiting for goodbyes that would not come. She suddenly wished she were bundled in her new feather bed and hadn't insisted that Esperanza go out with her friends like every Saturday afternoon. Being alone under the scorching sun was suddenly unbearable.

Mags knew she was reading too much into Dylana's briskness. Dee hadn't slept in days, her grandfather was dying and Mags hadn't helped by volunteering, yet the guilt and worry gnawing at Mags were screaming for attention and overrode any rational argument. Of course Dylana was cold. Mags had planned out her whole future without piping a word. Dylana had thought Mags had been improving her snares and using harpoons for the same reason she had, because it was fun to get away with handling weapons while pretending they were spearing tuna, and because the exercise toughened their bodies and cleared their minds.

Mags was reaping what she had sowed.

Feeling dejected, and more depressed at every quick glance –or unabashed stare- thrown her way by passersby, Mags dragged her feet towards victor's village. She instinctively came to a stop in front of a very familiar lichen-covered house. Her spirits lifted slightly upon hearing the laughter coming from the garden. Marlin and his older siblings were fooling around on the hanging ropes they'd tied to every asperity they could find like they had no care in the world.

Marlin stopped as he saw her, and while his smile fell, he was quick to reach her side.

"Are you alright?" He said, extending his hand but not quite touching her arm. His brown eyes were wide in concern but his whole body held back. He nervously brushed rope fragments out of his sandy curls with his fingers as Mags hesitated to answer.

She inhaled, wishing she had the social skills to break the ice. "Walk me home, please? I don't want to be alone," Mags said, feeling more like a child with each passing second.

Marlin smiled, even if the awkward tightness in his face didn't disappear. "Of course, Mags."

A rush of affection made her smile back, and she realized that a part of her had expected a no.

When after a few silent minutes Marlin handed Mags his arm, like he had always done before, Mags almost burst into tears in relief. She straightened, ordering herself to stop doubting Marlin and to get over herself. Why one could have called the silence was almost comfortable.

It was her fault, Mags cynically thought. She'd only let herself grow close to moral, serious people who couldn't easily dismiss what she had done. Who was comfortable around a liar and a murderer, no matter their reasons?

A whirlpool of loss sucked the air out of her lungs as she realized both Fife and Constantine, short-time friends of necessity as they had been, would have been barely phased.

But Fife and Constantine never were your friends, she scolded herself, holding tighter onto Marlin. Friends choose each other, there was no real choice but to get along in the Games. The three of them had learned to respect each other and the affection had been real, but friends shared your core values. Still, Mags mourned them just as much as she knew she would mourn Dylana.

Mags' look was one of sincere apology when Marlin squeezed her hand back.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Marlin finally said.

Mags forced herself to meet his eyes, now knowing the decisions she had made in the last months would have greater consequences than she had prepared herself for. "I didn't want to put you in the position of thinking you'd killed me if I failed. I didn't want to take any risks and you'd have either told your brother or felt in a horrible position for withholding something from him. Dylana can't keep a secret that big."

Marlin nodded in slow acceptance, a lost expression on his youthful face.

Mags looked down.

What had the Games done to her friendships? What had she done?

Author's note: I've read many fics that separate pre-Games friends into two groups: extremely loyal who know the right thing to say and are wholly supportive (I'm guilty of that too in Showdown), and those who turn their back on the tribute and are usually painted in a negative light. I'd like to think it's more complicated than that.