Author's note.

Thanks for the reviews. I'm answering a couple of questions below:

To Well of Wishes: "How can Snow not have the resources to control Four?" It's not just a matter of money. Snow would need the time and the people to do the work. Four is one of the Districts that gives the Capitol the least problems (little crime, no rebellious uprisings) and Snow had 11 other Districts + the Capitol to handle. Snow could technically order a full rotation bringing 100% new peacekeepers in Four and have them oversee things in a very strict fashion, but it would cause a lot of unrest and maybe even a collapse of the economy. To do it efficiently, Snow would need to have a much bigger government than he does now (to have specialists on every district for example).

To Supernova: "incriminating data in Rivers' office". No single paper would be incriminating, but study the notes on student behavior long enough (to see what the instructors are looking out for), piece that together with the content of the various lessons, with how Mags makes sure peacekeepers stay out of things (or how it's always the same 5 peacekeepers that oversee sensitive things) and you can start building a solid case against Mags. And unfortunately, Merrill was clever enough to do this.

Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games: Reaping Day.

Mags waited outside the small austere room in which Finnick would say his farewells. She had no strength left to stand and so she sat, on the long bench in the white Justice building corridor, regulating her breathing so she would not faint.

Tyna and Angelo met her shining eyes, but they said no word as they hurried to their waiting son.

"Why, Finnick?" Angelo's voice was hard and firm, but Mags had seen the cry for help painted in his handsome features.

"They were all looking at me… I felt like I'd be the worst of cowards if I stepped down. I'll listen to Mags, and I'll get out of there, Da, I promise."

"At least you picked up a few tricks from Shale and Delfina," Tyna said, her feelings squeezed tight in a trickle of voice. "Finnick, my child, you decided you'd rather be extraordinary than normal the day you stepped in FLASH. Now you have to live it, completely." Mags could hear movement, and she imagined them hugging. "I love you, Finn."

"Love you too, Mama."

Tears fell down Mags' cheeks. No argument, no screams or tears, no accusations. She was so proud of Tyna today. Mags could never have been so brave, had it been her children in that room.

Mags wrapped her trembling arms around her stomach. Finnick, of her grandchildren and nephews, he was the one who always looked up to her, who trusted her and let her shape him. He wasn't hers, but he was close enough.

She raised her head when the figure sitting next to her lacked the expected white uniform.

Esperanza wrapped her arms around her. "You've never fought for them," she whispered. "Not really. Not compared to what you can really do. Mags, if you truly want to, you will bring him home."

The former was true, the latter could be true, and the fear tore at Mags' very soul. Could she really? How far would she be prepared to go? Cocooned in her sister's warm embrace, Mags silently sobbed.

Slowly, the shock and horror of the reaping ceremony washed away until Mags gently disentangled herself from Esperanza, her distress overpowered by the need to take control of the situation.

Mags stood up. "How do I look?"

"Like someone who is wearing very expensive waterproof makeup," Esperanza said, pinching Mags' cheeks firmly. "There, color, you don't look a day over sixty."

"What do you mean she's older than sixty? I want a refund," the tone was too kind, too strained, for the teasing words, and Mags' lips twitched.

She smiled when Cereus was finally close enough to grasp her outstretched arm.

Cereus kissed her tenderly. "Trust yourself, my love. And trust the boy. There are plenty of wonderful people who will handle the rest."

Mags sagged, warmth and relief blossoming in her chest as she lost herself in those warm brown eyes. Cereus tightened his hold on her hands.

"Ma'am," a peacekeeper called, ill at ease at interrupting such an intimate moment. "There are five teenagers waiting for the goodbyes. A girl with three boys and the young man who tried to volunteer."

Mags' chest constricted. "No, don't let Shale see Finnick," she said. One wrong word could shatter his spirit. "You can tell Shale I said no, but that he has permission to visit Delfina, and I think he should."

Delfina had no one else, Careers seldom did. None had wept at Merrill's death

"Let the others four in, Gunnar," Cereus said.

The man saluted. "Yes, Sir."

The sun was too bright, the air too pure for such a horrible day.

They marched in silence, until a bossy alto voice decided they had moped long enough.

"You're old, Lady, go slow, the rest of us will get those lazy avoxes working," Donna said with a wink. "Delfina, let's run it away."

The escort grasped Delfina's hand and broke into a run, her vibrant red hair falling like candy-floss around her back. Finnick stared, to the point Mags felt that she had to elbow him.

Donna had a gorgeous figure hugged by a long burgundy dress that couldn't be more at odds with the current androgynous over-accessorized fashion that were all the rage in the Capitol.

"She's your mom's age," Mags said with an eyeroll causing Finnick to blush furiously.

It wasn't that Donna didn't care, it had always been regarded as edgy and posh to pick a style and stick to it, but Donna was also a woman in her forties, daughter of a taxi driver, who knew exactly what world she lived in and how to claw her way to power.

When Lullaby had slammed the door, putting an end to eight years of shrill complaints about victors being no fun and pathetic wrecks, and Mags really not putting enough effort in it, Mags had been wary of her replacement. But then Donna had come with a box of chocolates and tissues after Dillian had died, cracking awful jokes about Gloss' training regime, and Mags had taken to her, even before Donna 'casually' mentioned her good friend Rhapsody, Glynn's daughter.

"I have to impress her for sponsors right?" Finnick said, his face creased in concentration.

"We'll get to that." Mags grabbed Finnick's arm, forcing him to walk slower. "Finnick, from the moment you step into that train, there will always be a camera pointed at you," she said. "All our words will be heard by the Capitol. I will grab your wrist tightly when I want you to understand that I am talking for the cameras just as much as I am talking to you. There will be lies and secrets and you will have to play along."

Finnick stared at her, his seriousness heartbreaking. "Not get confused if you say something odd and watch my words, I get it."

"Good," Mags said, hiding her emotions behind her mentor's facade. She took a sharp breath. "When the time comes, trust Glynn and Plutarch, but don't tell a soul that I told you that."

Finnick paused. "Glynn and Plutarch," he finally said. "Got it."

"Don't eat too much, it's the best way to get sick," Donna said, giving Finnick's arm a sharp slap as he reached for more buns. "You don't need emergency fattening and you don't have the excuse of having lacked good food growing up."

Finnick blinked, color flooding his cheeks once more. He hadn't been staring at the flame-haired for the reason Mags thought before. It was the creamy skin, the softness to her face, the flowery perfume that hung around her. He'd never been so close to a Capitolite before and they were so alien he just couldn't help himself.

"Delfina, go shout at Finnick now," Donna said, pointing imperiously at the side room, "while Mags, Nori and I have coffee."

Shout? Finnick's head snapped to Delfina.

Delfina gave the escort and extra bright smile and jumped out of her chair.

"But-"

Finnick's complaints died in his throat at Delfina's glare. Of course she was angry. He straightened and followed her. The least he could do was face her.

Delfina shut the door and slammed Finnick against the train wall before he thought to react. "Shale, he was like my brother," she said. "He was the second. I thought it'd never be him. We let ourselves get too close. Then Merrill…" She shut her eyes briefly and every trace of tremble was gone from her voice. "You're her nephew Finnick. I… I never thought I'd have to accept that I'd be dead before we'd even reached the Capitol."

There was no air left in Finnick's lungs.

Suddenly there was that smile on Delfina's face, and the brightness in her eyes looked like cheer instead of pain and Finnick realized just how outclassed he was, because he sure as hell couldn't muster a smile right now.

"Finnick, in One and Two, district partners aren't even acquaintances," Delfina said, letting go of him. "They barely interact before the Games. But you, you're a Four, which means we're together, until you win."

Finnick swallowed back his shock. He wanted to say he'd let her win. He wanted to be brave, but the sting of Mags' slap hadn't faded and there was nothing brave about dying like this. He wanted to live, he just didn't want Delfina to die. Shale would hate him.

"Shale won't hate you. I won't be hurting when I'm dead," Delfina said with a shrug, the words twisting straight at Finnick's heart. How could she -? "No one will be hurting for me, not as much as if you go anyway."

Delfina was so carefree, and her smile was so pretty, that Finnick wanted to believe her. He also wanted to run out of the room and scream, because Delfina shouldn't be smiling.

"Finnick, I can't teach you much in three days, but I can teach you the signs, how to coordinate our plans without any of our 'allies' noticing. I'm on your side," she said tightly, "because you're a Four, and because you're Mags', but don't fall into ally syndrome with the others. In the arena, we've only got each other."

Ally syndrome? "I believe that," he managed to say. "I'll still do my part."

Delfina laughed, her eyes shimmering with tears. "Oh, you'd better, Finn. No one else will do it for you."

Finnick forced an airy smile. It was tight and painful and looked some someone had planted hooks under his lips and forced them upwards, but it was a start. Fours were happy go lucky types, sometimes mean, sometimes deep, but they all could smile.

Sixty-fifth Hunger Games: Chariot Rides

Finnick spluttered when he saw the prep team. Delfina hid her shock behind a wide grin.

A gentle smile graced Mags' lips. The district born never measured how different the Capitol was before they stepped inside the city's walls.

Rose, Cadmus and Delphi wore matching tailored suits of swirling reds, blacks and grays, their large square earrings glittered golden and silver, mirroring their eyes. Their hair was short but just as elaborate, styled in curls and waves.

"Oh wow, Mags, he tore some whistles from the crowds during the reaping Ceremony, but he's really something up close," Rose said with a saucy grin. "You're a pretty bird, Delfina, but with a few adjustments, young Finnick could model here."

Mags smiled, aware of the advantage that would give them, but her stomach churned at seeing Finnick already the target of covetous glares.

Uniformly thin, with thick make up around their eyes, Mags knew that neither Delfina nor Finnick could tell if the Capitolites were male or female.

"Rose, Delphi and the very gay Cadmus," Mags said, granting each of them a bow of the head.

"Always so blunt, Mags," Cadmus said with a wink at the stunned Finnick.

Mags chuckled. Cadmus was used to her familiarity, but what he didn't know was that by Four's Capitol-enforced standards his attitude was weird, and dangerously so. Giving no forewarning had led to very awkward situations in the past.

"We have a wide array of clothes which we must adjust," Rose began. She circled Delfina and Finnick, her fingers occasionally touching their skin or hair as she hungrily inspected them. "We'll take measurements and clean you, it should be done before midday. Strip to your underwear," she said. "No objection at being in the same room?"

"No," Delfina said. "Try not to squeal when they rip your hair off, Finnick."

Finnick rolled his eyes. "I'll do my best to spare your ears," he promised.

Rose chuckled. "Fours..."

When their stylist, Lawrence, came in, his imposing black and white crest falling down his back like a mane, Finnick and Delfina didn't even blink. Mags was very proud.

"Fit, but he lacks the strength of a Career… It's a very handsome lad you've brought us this year," Lawrence told Mags, his voice too low for Finnick to hear. "Is he to be Career or something else entirely?"

"Make him one of you," Mags whispered.

Lawrence stared, all trace of levity gone from his face. Tributes were turned into artistic creations, it was a show business and no one would think to dress like them, even for a party. Even polished, even styled, they remained tributes of the Districts. Two different races that would never be on equal footing, it was shocking to think otherwise, it was… rebellious.

"He's my nephew," Mags said tightly. "I want them to see a human being."

After a moment's hesitation, Lawrence put his hand on Mags' shoulder and nodded. "I will try."

Two hours later, Finnick walked out of the prep room, his step unsure. Mags' breath caught.

He shone like a statue of bronze, radiant and powerful, immortal. Mags smiled, warmth flushing her cheeks. The leather sandals, the fancy loin cloth and a midnight blue cloak… even his hair had been curled and arranged like the Ancient Greek statues adorning the Capitol's gardens. Yes, he would look familiar to them.

"There was this victor," Finnick said, "Daphne, the one who does circus shows for talent. Her sixteenth birthday was on reaping day, wasn't it?"

Mags frowned, torn from her thoughts. She shook her head. "She was a little older. She lied during the interviews to be memorable." And it had paid off. Mags sat down. "A little over a handful won at sixteen: Daphne, Haymitch, Aster, Larix from the third Games…." Tang, and what a pathetic mentor Mags had been after his victor. "Only one person won at fifteen: Fustel, also from District Six, he won the 36th, right after Beetee."

Not that the name Beetee meant much to Finnick, but he was listening in rapt attention.

"What's he like?"

"Fustel was very quiet when he mentored, he didn't shout, he didn't smoke, he waited for the Games to pass. He married in his late twenties and had two daughters and a son. The eldest, Carrie, was reaped during the 61st, she made it to the final two. Columbus tries to mentor in his stead now, as much as his health permits."

A shadow crossed Finnick's features. "Columbus is old, he's a morphling."

"He used to be a nice man, until…"

Until Bianca, sometimes his mistress, always his mentor, had died... Mags reached out, pulling Finnick into a tight hug, her eyes stinging from the scented oil they had rubbed on his body. He was so healthy, so young and happy.

"What was he like, Fustel, when he was a tribute?" Finnick said, his green eyes pleading.

Mags wished they could steal a hovercraft and fly cross the ocean, away from evil and death. "Level-headed and sensible, he knew when to avoid problems and when to fight. He kept his head longer than some Careers and didn't try any trick he didn't master."

"No one younger then," Finnick whispered.

Mags smiled, startling him. "Finnick," she said, "you're special and it's not just looks and charm. You come more prepared than all the reaped eighteens and you know what is important. If you don't grow complacent, the odds are in your favor."

"Thank you," Finnick said. He straightened importantly, putting his hands on his naked hips. "So, how should I stand during the rides if I want to awe our illustrious audience?"

Mags drank in his shy trusting smile as if it would vanish forever. She needed to be clever.

She called for the stylist. "Lawrence, please give Finnick a trident, I want a warrior, not a playboy."

"The trident we have, I had considered-" Lawrence pinched his lips, looking apologetic. "It's ruby, Mags. It doesn't fit."

"Then give Delfina a red dress."

Lawrence paled. "A red…" He groaned, lifting his arms skywards "Very well, what is life without a challenge. Give me a minute," he said rushing back in to where Delfina was being prepared. He snapped his fingers as inspiration struck him. "Coral, coral will have to do."

Pandemonium erupted when Lawrence announced a change of dress, but Mags knew they would have it ready in time.

"Finnick, the trident is important." Mags grasped his wrist. "Finnick, I know it's a difficult weapon and you're not as comfortable with it as with a lance, but it is the symbol of District Four. I cannot insist enough."

The listening Gamemakers had to give him a trident.

Finnick frowned, almost offended for a second, before catching on. "I'll resist the urge to boast about skills I don't have. But it is a damn fine weapon," he said, dimples digging his skin as he bit back a grin.

Mags gestured him closer with a finger and planted a noisy cheek on his cheek.

The chariot had to be sprayed last minute to look like coral, but crowd rose to cheer when Finnick and Delfina rode into the coliseum. He was Poseidon, handsome and fearsome with his blood-red trident, and she, elegant and fair in her coral-red dress, had quite her place at his side.

Sixty-fifth Hunger Games: Training day 1.

Finnick's brain was running on clockwork. Wake up, wash, dress up, breakfast in silence and now training.

He knew the rules. Stress makes a man stupid, a little fear is healthy, too much kills your mind. Pain is the enemy, pain, hunger and thirst will lead the smartest man to suicide.

Delfina's long raven hair was tied into a tight bun and her uniform hugged her womanly figure. She wore makeup, which she never did at FLASH. Finnick's eyes were glued to her full ruby lips. Everything was different now.

He knew the rules, but he didn't know how to avoid it. Stress… Stress was Nixie and the other girls, wedging their way between him and his friends, binding his hands and turning him into someone he wasn't, in something they wanted. Stress was the chill in the air when he spoke of FLASH at home, the anger Mags' name sparked in his mother's eyes, their judgmental stares when he brought up Shale.

Finnick had never feared for his life, he'd never been cornered with no way out. There had always been his parents, his family, his friends, and Mags. Mags, who was a rebel, who had killed Merrill.

She had killed, but she was still Mags. It wasn't the same, when it was to defend what was right. Finnick breathed in deeply. He could do it, he didn't have to become a monster.

Finnick listened in rapt attention to Trainer Atala's speech, but he knew the rules. Weapons, survival, he knew the theory: he'd helped Shale study often enough.

He could see the tributes on the sidelines, no matter how much he wished to avoid them. They were almost all shorter than him, with wiry limbs, crooked teeth and bags under their eyes. They weren't enemies, they were innocents.

How could he be so sure no one deserved to live as much as he did?

Finnick vanished to the ropes station without a word. He hated ropes, chafing and stubborn, fighting you all the way, but he'd practiced, for Shale's token, and now he could knot a yard into ten without making his fingers bleed.

He'd spent so many hours tying knots, getting it right for his friends' sake. The repetitive motions cleared his mind, he could almost forget where he was.

"You should be making your case among the Careers."

"I'm afraid to get to know them, Delfina," Finnick admitted without standing up or turning to face her. He had to be honest, they had so little time. "The Careers, but especially the others."

Delfina leant on his shoulders, her breath warm on his ears. "They're not evil or cruel, maybe there's an exception in there, but they are normal. The effect killing anyone will have on you is unpredictable, Finn. You could be okay or fall apart, but I suggest you store all those feelings, all those questions for later, when they'll fix you."

Finnick felt some of the tension melt away. She chased the doubts away, almost making it sound alright.

Delfina grasped his hand and dragged him to the weights station. Large stuffed bags hung from the ceiling. She took a few strong punches at those around them, making chains creak.

She turned back to Finnick. "Finn, it doesn't matter if one of them is exceptional. They're nothing in their districts, no matter how wonderful, they'll be puppets in big houses. Seeder is Mags' friend and in Eleven she's stuck. Peacekeepers guard the village to protect her as much as to stop her from going out. Four is the only District where victors are involved."

Finnick desperately latched onto those words, but a spike a fear had him hush her. "Cameras?" He mouthed.

Delfina grinned. "Blindspot, between bags nine and thirteen, and the chains' creak is loud."

Finnick mirrored her smile. He vowed to do the best by her in the arena. It would have been so easy, for her to withhold help without Mags ever knowing.

"Any victor would live for themselves, maybe a few relatives, but those tend to die mysteriously, in Four, you live for the District. You are so much more than just one person. You'll make up for any crime a thousand times over."

And not just for the District, Finnick allowed himself to think. For Panem. But it still wasn't alright, because Delfina was a Four too.

"Thank you," he said. He'd never felt more like a kid.

Delfina smiled. "I'll go see the Careers and figure out how to introduce you tomorrow. Don't get in trouble. We'll go over codes in the afternoon and tomorrow I'll show you weapon tricks."

"I'll go practice with tridents," Finnick decided.

When he sparred, he put his left hand on top, so that he would not look too good at it.

Finnick disentangled himself from the instructor, sweat trickling down his neck and back. He tightened his grip on his trident. He was being stared at.

"I'm Colt. If you're not joining them, would you be joining me?"

Colt was a blonde and short, but stout with a worker's tan. He had a man's beard, and Finnick found himself thinking of the sailors at home.

He almost introduced himself but the huge 10 on the man's uniform stopped him. This wasn't FLASH. This man would be dead in days.

"My aunt was a peacekeeper in Ten for a long time," he said instead, "she loved the place, the space, and riding too."

Lorelei had spoken with admiration, of those people, large families, working on land owned by the Capitol, forced to give up eggs, meat and wool to the central markets and go home with meager salaries. She'd said there was respect in Ten, of animals and family values, and that while none of the beasts belonged to them on paper, there was no doubt to who really owned Ten.

Colt eyed Finnick warily. "I know six ways to tie up beasts. I'll trade for an hour of sparring."

Finnick groaned. Why did it always come back to stupid ropes? A quick glance on the clock told him there were still two hours until lunch.

"Deal," he said. He almost handed out his hand but he didn't. Ally syndrome. He'd be polite, but nothing more. Colt from District Ten. Not only did Finnick feel rude, but the curiosity was killing him.

Sixty-fifth Hunger Games: Training day two

Mags had known it would happen.

"There's Colt… He's well off you know, he said his family –and it's a huge family, he's got eight brothers and sisters- oversees workers on a million acres of land, with tens of thousands of grazing animals. Instead of living in the settlements, he actually has a proper big house directly on the lands. He said the rains were bad, mud washed some parts away. Two hundred people work there but they need to make repairs and won't meet the quotas until the soil dries out, and when the quotas are not met, people are sacked. These people can't afford to go jobless for a year. He'd help them, if he won."

"Colt could help many farms, many jobs. He'd not even have to leave his house, just give money." Finnick began to pace. "And… if he says during interviews, won't people expect to see the farm saved? Or you know, get free beef for a year or something if they sponsored him?"

"I'm your nephew, but Four has you, Mags. Maybe there's more to do in Ten, maybe Ten deserves Colt more."

There had been enough words said. Mags would have to show Finnick and finally dispel his doubts. His skills were more than adequate, but only if he wanted to win.

The room was stifling, the stench of morphling clung to her skin and clothes. Columbus blew rings into the air, his patchy white hair sticking in every direction. There was little left of the shy handsome lad that had won the twenty-third Games.

Wiress sat next to Mags, oblivious of what to come, and Mags was so sorry to make her part of this but she had to, because for the first time in her life, she would really do her damnedest to bring her boy back home. Haymitch sat to Mags' right, sipping from a large bottle of liquor.

She checked the clock. Four fifty-six. They should soon be here.

"Columbus, Daphne, you're penalizing Six with your attitude," she said. "Can't you try?"

Mags knew what buttons to push. She knew it all too well.

Daphne's laugh was grating and hollow. The clown of the 54th Games… back then it had been a show, a desperate girl clever enough to make something grand of her rare sense of humor. Daphne was short and squat but could've been cute had she not worked so hard at looking grotesque: blackened teeth, crooked hair and overlarge clothes of clashing colors.

"I'm what they want me to be," Daphne said, blowing smoke towards the ceiling.

"You're their circus freak and just a touch less drowned in morphling than Columbus. They're blaming the Hovercraft crash on you. You must make an appearance."

The hovercraft gone rogue had crashed at Eastend, alarmingly close to Plutarch's house. There had been few casualties, but from the outrage the accident had sparked in the Capitol, you'd have thought it had been a declaration of war.

"He'll kill us all. Kids get addicted in the womb," Daphne said with a helpless, ugly smile. "If morphling gets too expensive, Six will die."

Mags met her eyes squarely, fighting back the urge to be sick. "There are donations. Peacekeepers in the Capitol will spend to keep the factories working. They know the use of good material. A word from you, a speech to raise awareness and you'll shut up the mob."

A loud snort blew smoke out of Daphne's nose. "You think they'll listen?"

"I know they'll boycott sponsoring on your kids if you don't say a word. You've given up. You're all but leaving them with their escorts. All of you, Scythia, Blight, Haymitch. You can hide all year long, is doing the right thing by an innocent one week a year that much to ask?"

She was pushing, and pushing hard. Blight looked about to strike her. They all swore he was different in Seven, not jolly or generous, but someone you didn't mind living with, and Mags was glad, but she only saw the haze of drugs that hid the brunt of his hate and pain from the rest of the world.

Columbus groaned. "Mags, you used to be nice…"

"Nice? She's only nice with screw ups when she's lost all hope," Haymitch said, liquor dribbling all over his coat. Effie would be devastated. "What's this, meeting with the failures day, Mags? Missed us much?"

"Don't shout," Wiress whispered, cringing at the hostility in the air.

Mags swallowed back her scruples. It was for Finnick, he was family, and he could be so much more than the walking corpses that smoked their days away.

Four fifty-nine. The door wasn't shut and neither Finnick nor Donna would ever be late on a day like this.

"Daphne's right. You meet the standards the Capitol expects of you," Mags said, her face a mask of stone as her words slapped them in the face. "I fought once."

"Oh we fought," Daphne spat, her hands menacingly over the table. "Like Hell we did! and you know that well."

"Yes, and you're still here," Mags replied. "If you're going to do something it must as well be fight. Aren't you tired of being pitiable?"

Plutarch was now glowering at her in her mind, but Mags wasn't here to be accurate in her assessment of depression of PTSD. No, today Mags made a show, a pathetic but necessary show.

Five oh one. They should be there, listening in.

"They can't make it without you," Mags said.

"How can you want anyone to win?" Scythia suddenly cried, her voice scratchy and rough from disuse. She cringed back against the wall, as if desperate to catch the words back, to let nothing out and have nothing come in.

Scythia from Nine, Fife's district and yet the two girls couldn't be more different. Scythia had been pretty and loud, blurting whatever went through her mind. She couldn't lie to her buyers, even when the truth brought death in District Nine. The Capitol hadn't wanted Scythia, they'd wanted Cassie, the victor's daughter, they'd have been happy with Eir, the beautiful and honorable Career, but Scythia had forced herself upon them. They'd soon cast her away, but not soon enough. Scythia stood hidden under a long black veil, hiding her face and body from the world.

Mags' voice was soft. "I know you think you're so disgusting you'd taint even the light touching your skin. If you start being a little active instead of dressing up like a ghost, you'll change your mind about yourself, Scythia, because you'll see the good around you instead of being trapped in the bad."

Scythia was twenty, only twenty. It had been just three years, not a lifetime of drugs or alcohol, it wasn't too late, and Mags could very well shatter the girl's only chance at healing by smashing it with a hammer.

"Yeah," Blight said, sarcasm thick in his tone. "You wouldn't want your last notable action to be a murder, Scythia."

Scythia grabbed the nearest glass and threw it at him with deadly aim.

It shattered against Blight's arm, digging lines of blood on his skin. The man cried out.

"Ha, saw your finger," Blight snarled. "You got chubby."

Blight was violent when angered, and the Capitol pumped anger straight into his heart. The drugs didn't help.

"Don't fight… Shut up!" Wiress screeched, before running out of the room.

"Guys," Mags said, putting her face in her hands. There was nothing fake about her weariness.

Blight and Scythia had paused at Wiress' shriek, they pulled away, just enough to show they weren't about to grab each other's throats. Mags didn't doubt it was just as much because of the cameras than out of deference to her. She'd asked for it.

She stood up again, swallowing back tears. If it had been all in vain, if he'd been just a few minutes late…

"Well fuck," Haymitch groaned, vacillating as he stood up, "now Aster will kill me on Beetee's behalf just because he can." He winked at Mags. "It's that he doesn't get laid when Mercury–" He stopped, opening the door wide. "'Sup, Laddy?"

Finnick took them in, his eyes huge and horrified. Haymitch, red faced and stumbling, liquor smeared all over him, Scythia, draped from head to toe, barely showing her eyes, Blight, scowling and bloodied, and the cloud of smoke hanging over the room.

It was hard not to smile. He'd heard, he'd heard everything. Mags had dragged the most battered and weakest of victors down into the dust, but it hadn't been for nothing.

"I hope that bloody helped, Scythia," Blight grumbled, throwing her a dirty look. "Mags, find it in you not to care and bloody leave us alone."

Donna's face was carefully blank, but Finnick looked as if he'd been punched. The stumbled as they led him back to Four's quarters.

"Donna, what possessed you to come?" Mags said, itching to hug the woman.

"I didn't think they'd be so bad," Donna lied easily. "The Games haven't even started."

"It gets worse than that?" Finnick whispered.

Mags sighed. "They were good once, you know. During their Games, they were so full of life. They'd started out innocent, Blight had a tough life but he turned it all around when he arrived in the Capitol. Daphne had a wonderful childhood, she just had that strength naturally."

"Daphne's the… colorful one, right, with all the… clothes."

Mags swallowed. Finnick had never analyzed the Games. She didn't make her trainees learn columns of stats like they did in Two, but at least they'd studied. She squared her shoulders. There was no point of dwelling on it.

"Yes. She was brilliant during her Games," Mags said. "She stole all of my sponsors, because she was funny and fresh and that's what they'd have wanted from Four."

"The woman in black, is it really Scythia? That stink, that was morphling…" Finnick said, horror widening his eyes.

"Scythia had a big family too, like Colt she had so many big plans," Mags said, intent on twisting the point home. It had to be very clear in Finnick's mind that letting anyone else win would be useless.

"But even Gilly and Eirene, t-they're okay!" Finnick said, his voice rising in distress. "I mean, they don't get like that."

"No, they don't. But Four is different. Four's victors don't… crash." I don't let them.

Finnick nodded, and this time he looked certain. "I need to win. I can't save any of them, so I need to win."

Mags had never thought she could feel so despicable and yet so elated.

"Finnick, you saw them as they are. Don't speak of it to anyone else. Even the worst try to be strong in front of their tribute, even if later they won't go out and get any sponsor," Mags said, apologizing silently to Seeder, Woof and all of those who were admirable in their duty. "Tributes should admire their mentors, if only to make it easier."

Finnick nodded somberly. "I'll never tell."

"It's a secret," she said with a small smile.

His lips twitched. "I'll win," he vowed, his jaw trembling with determination. "I'll win and I'll be so sane you won't be able to tell the difference."

Mags hugged him, her eyes bright. "You may not feel like the good guy in there Finn, but trust me, you will be."

Finnick's chest tightened when he heard Delfina had gone straight to bed. She'd helped him so much and she'd looked so drained.

"Interview night's coming up," he said. "Do you have a script I can memorize?"

He'd always been good at public speaking but now, in front of people so alien, with the stakes so high… He'd make a fool of himself.

Mags turned to Donna who nodded. "We have it covered," Mags said, "you'll barely have to say anything."

Relief left Finnick famished. He grabbed his fork and aimed for the nearest plate.

"Oi!" Donna said, slapping Finnick's hand. "Finnick, no spicy foods and certainly none of that juice. You'll puke your guts out."

Then why was it right in front of him? "I might want to go in constipated though. Might avoid me a lot of embarrassment in front of the cameras."

Donna snorted. "Don't worry about that, it's not aired and nobody looks." Her eyes grew kind. "What you want is to give Delfina a nice hug and see if there's a promise she wants you to make for her. You promise, Finn, you'll win remembering she fought for you, not just because you're Mags' nephew, but because you're you. "

Finnick dropped his gaze, before looking up again and smiling shyly. He'd not expected Capitolites to be so nice.

He heaped some rice and chicken on the plate when Donna nodded her approval. For the first time, he knew he would try his hardest. He wouldn't break. Mags wouldn't let him, and he just wouldn't.

Mags excused herself after dinner and found Wiress in her quarters, lying on the sofa, a book in her hands. Aster seemed to be reviewing notes on the table. She was glad their escort wasn't there, even if old Dante was one they considered including in their plans.

"Why?" Wiress whispered, sitting upright. Her wary gaze filled Mags with guilt.

"I needed Finnick to see that," she said.

Wiress stared, her dark eyes huge against her sallow face. "Why? We were so…You," she said, her eyes widening dramatically. "Only you were… fine"

Mags pulled her into a brief embrace. How remarkably perceptive Wiress was.

"Yes, only District Four's victor looked like she had actually won," she whispered.

Finnick couldn't be allowed to think someone deserved to win more than he did. He had to believe everyone else would become like the sorry people he had glimpsed this morning.

Mags realized Aster was laughing. Laughing? That was a first. The welcome sound lifted some of the weight off her sore chest.

"Mags, could you convince Lyme to let Enobaria mentor next year?" he said. "Mercury would be happy to see her again."

Mags frowned, because that was certainly not what Aster had been laughing about. "I'll ask," Mags promised nonetheless.

Aster chuckled again. Mags grinned, blessed warmth spreading across her chest at the sight that some did pull through, and they probably wouldn't have bet on Aster, all those years ago.

"If I'm ever to be a pawn in a plan of yours, warn me, Mags," he said with a smirk. "I promise that I shall act the part."

His silken words pierced right through her heart. Mags looked down. "I'm really sorry, Wiress. I knew you would leave, I knew it would calm them down. You're not a failure, you have a life, you've built things, Wiress," she said earnestly.

Wiress gave her a little smile.

"Why go to such lengths for that pretty boy?" Aster wondered. "Is it his foolish innocence that touched your heart?"

Mags grasped the table for support. "He's my great nephew."

Wiress gasped.

All color had drained from Aster's face. "You fool woman, why didn't you say so earlier?" He said, taking long strides towards her. "Tell me that at least Lyme and Brutus know."

"It didn't come up yesterday," Mags said, surprised and touched by his vehemence. She didn't want their pity, she had to concentrate on getting Finnick out alive. "It won't be a secret after the interviews."

Aster glowered at her. "You mother us so much that sometimes you forget," he said, an edge to his tone that Mags' couldn't fully understand.

Sixty-fifth Hunger Games: Training day 3

The knife flew straight into the dummy's neck.

"So, sponsor-bait, you've got something to show the Gamemakers tomorrow?" Pashmina said, taking a second knife from the rack.

"Of course I do. I won't get a ten, but shouldn't you be happy at that?" Finnick said testily. "You get a guy who's fourteen, the cute pet you can dangle in front of cameras when times are hard."

Finnick hated how passive-aggressive he sounded. This wasn't him, this was stress speaking, and they weren't even in the arena yet. But the others were stronger, meaner and better trained than he was, and if it wasn't for Delfina, he'd never have allied with them. He was caged and surrounded by sharks.

Pashmina paused and Finnick wondered if it was pity in her eyes. "Mags must wonder what do with you."

"Oh, she's pissed," Finnick forced a chuckle. "But Aunt Mags never managed to stay angry at me for too long."

Pashmina blanched. "Your aunt? Mags is your aunt?" She exclaimed, so loudly that every tribute in a ten meter radius heard them. They soon went back to training, except for the Careers, who looked thunderstruck, and quite angry.

Finnick was stunned to see them so affected. Sure, it meant sponsors, but -.

"That's obscene," Nero spat.

Finnick had to raise his head to stare at the man from Two, a hulking mass of muscles with arms as wide as Finnick's legs. "I should've let the volunteer replace me, but right then I couldn't," Finnick said, the words tumbling out of his mouth as Nero pinned him down with a death stare.

"You moron," Nero said, but something in his demeanor made Finnick's fears evaporate.

They wouldn't kill him. Not straight away. Mags' name had changed things but he couldn't understand why. Their mentors might care, but why would the tributes give a damn?

Delfina's shook her head slightly, as confused as he was.

In the end Finnick pulled off a seven. He smiled. Fifty-six years ago, Mags had scored a seven too.

Sixty-fifth Games: Interview night

Caesar Flickerman clapped his hands as Finnick strode on stage. "My dear man, I do not need to chat to know that your character is impeccable. I've always been so jealous of stylists who can walk have the first seat on runways, would you be so kind as to indulge me and let the crowd take pictures?"

Finnick stared at first, but he soon understood what Caesar wanted of him. He straightened with all the self-confidence of the most handsome boy in Creneis Town, and turned to face the crowd, a peculiar little smile on his face.

"It's better than to force him to be witty," Donna pointed out backstage.

"True," Mags allowed as Finnick took poses worthy of any fashion magazine. Dread burrowed at her insides, but the feverish excitement in the crowd rang loud and true. "The pictures will be worth gold if he wins."

Finnick soon dropped his shirt. Caesar stood up and soon had to call the crowd to order when they began to chant for Finnick's trousers.

"This naughty boy is underage ladies and gentlemen," Caesar said, "a bit of restraint."

A woman booed, soon followed by a chorus of complaints.

Mags couldn't just watch backstage. No mentor had ever stepped in during the interviews, but that would only mean this one would be remembered, and not just for Finnick's abs.

"Will you stop assaulting my fourteen-year-old nephew," she said sternly, her blue dress gliding on the stage as she reached Finnick's side.

Caesar gasped and sat down, pretending to learn at the same time as the crowd.

"Noooo," he exclaimed. "I knew it! A boy so attractive couldn't come from just any family. There's victor blood in him ladies and gentlemen!"

Finnick offered Mags his arm, profound relief in his green eyes. They left the stage under thunderous applause.

"Ugh," Delfina said as soon as they were back in their quarters, removing the dozens of pearl-pins they had put in her hair. "I need a shower."

"You were perfect, Delfina," Mags said. She would not let the girl go without giving her the praise she deserved. "Until the very end, you're still every bit as important as Finnick."

Delfina smiled, her dark eyes bright. "It's easier, to have a reason," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Thanks, Mags," she added, before disappearing in the bathroom.

"Will they expect me to be like that again?" Finnick said softly, "if, when I come back?"

Donna looked away. "Making them want your body is the safest way to guarantee sponsoring, Finnick."

"Okay –"

"Try not to overdo it," Mags snapped.

Mags bit her tongue as the words left her lips. Finnick couldn't stay who he was and survive. None of them had, but in that moment, Mags saw Cashmere rubbing her wrists on the moonlit beach, and it killed her to imagine Finnick in her place.

She saw the questions in his eyes and dragged him to the window, to their little corner of privacy. Nori raised the volume of the TV.

"I have two years before I'm legal, and at worst, having sex never killed a guy," Finnick said, reminding her once more he wasn't ignorant and had quickly learned that everything in the Capitol had a price. "I'd be really expensive, so it's not like I'd be doing that all year."

Mags put her hand on Finnick's cheek. He was so bright yet so young and naive.

"No, you'd still have a lot of time to yourself, even if you'd have to lie to every woman," or man, but Mags didn't have the heart to say it, "to make her feel special." Mags pulled her hand away, tears glistening in her eyes. "You can win this, Finn, your life will be hard, you will be used, but I'll make sure you know how to make the world remember you for the good in you. You have the strength of a victor. I don't mean winning, I mean living with the victory. That is given to very few, and fewer still among decent souls. Trust yourself, Finnick, do what it takes, but only what it takes."

It was the angle they wanted him to play. But he was just fourteen, surely… Mags forced her muscles to relax. One step at a time, one step.

Finnick's impossibly green eyes turned to her. Soon Mags was engulfed into a hug.

"How are you still alive, Mags," he murmured, clinging onto her tightly. "I thought Snow was so smart."

"He will be beaten. You will help, and the rest will feel insignificant when it will all be over."

Mags couldn't let him leave without something to believe in. Something greater than him. If he did it to be a hero, if he did it for the greater good, then maybe, he would not break or be afraid of victory.

Author's Note

Alright, I thought to make this more weapons oriented, but I figured that the hardest thing for a decent person was to set their mind to killing, not the actual mechanics of the act and since Finnick is reasonably trained (and three days won't put him on par with Careers anyway) that's what Mags was desperate to work on (in addition to sponsors).

Next, the arena! Please review^^.