"Katniss is still coming, right?" Posy asks her as Hazelle sets a bowl down on the counter. She'd tossed a salad together using the new greens and strawberries brought from the woods with some leftover goat cheese. It joins the rest of the potluck that's laid out on the kitchen table and counters. Greasy Sae's pot of stew occupies most of the stove space.

"I think so, but only for a little bit. She'll come find us if she does." Hazelle turns and brushes some stray hair off her daughter's forehead. "How about you invite Annalise to play with you and Vick in the meantime? She looks like she needs a friend." Hazelle gestures toward the stairs, where Annalise sits alone.

Posy holds the deck of cards to her chest, looking at the other girl curiously. "Does she know how to play?"

"I don't know. Go ask her. If she doesn't, you can teach her." She watches Posy make her way over to the bottom of the stairs, say something, and fan out her cards with both hands. Annalise rises from the stairs, and they join Vick, Aiden, and Glenn Grant by the hearth in the living room. Outside, Rory hangs out with the oldest Grant boy, Hector, and some other workers on the porch.

Hazelle smiles to herself. Now that her children are all socializing, she can join the party as well. She surveys the growing crowd on the first floor of the house, and sees Alice wave to her from across the kitchen. Hazelle weaves through people over to her, waving and exchanging quick greetings as she does.

"You owe me a story," Alice tells her.

"About what?" Hazelle leans against the counter with her.

"How you hid the victors, sneaking off today! The newspeople were at a loss before they up and left. Almost immediately after, you're all back doing yard work." Alice laughs, acting it out.

Hazelle muses they were right to leave and return when they did, then. She's glad they were able to scrape by unnoticed - rather, unnoticed by the wrong people. "You've pretty much told the story. I can only add that we had a picnic and brought some things from the woods. I have strawberries now by the way."

"Well, as funny as it was to watch play out, we all kept the secret," says Alice. "And I will take you up on those strawberries. Our nanny goat is pregnant so there will be plenty more milk and cheese. She had a boy before we got her, and I'm hoping it's a girl now. Wilbur hopes she'll have more than one kid this time but I'd hate to tire her out like that."

With a knowing smile, Hazelle nods and remarks, "Having one kid at a time is plenty."

Alice lays a hand on Hazelle's forearm, her face bent conspiratorially toward her. "Nobody worried for us that we'd tire out, huh?"

"We're not as limited as goats," she points out. "I didn't worry about being tired out myself until Posy."

Having been an only child, with the undivided attention from her parents, Hazelle decided early in life that any child of hers would have a sibling, her body willing. She counted her blessings - four, to be exact - that it was for the most part. But her pregnancy with Posy was rife with troubles that spanned trimesters. While the worst part was obviously losing Rohan the week she went into labor, Hazelle was miserable before that and doubting she could stand another pregnancy. That concern became obsolete after the blast.

She still remembers that disparate loneliness during childbirth all too well, knowing her husband wouldn't be home to help however he could or share their first - and last - daughter together.

"At least the doctor can give those shots now," says Alice. "No more playing with fire or trying to track irregular cycles. We can even retire before our bodies do it for us, and we've both got some time before all the embers die out." Something in Hazelle's expression prompts her to venture, "Unless you've already crossed that point?"

"Not physically," Hazelle replies. Her mother died four years older than Hazelle is now without reaching menopause so she's not holding her breath waiting for hot flashes. "Even so, while I'd have appreciated something like that years ago, I don't need it now."

The way Alice turns to her, Hazelle knows what's coming. "Hazelle," she starts as Hazelle suppresses a sigh, "I hope you know you're a fine woman, and if you ever wanted to date again, they'd be lucky to have you."

"I don't consider it much," she admits. "Besides, I have children - they'd all need to get along for anything to work. And would I be lucky to have him? I had a good husband. I don't care to be disappointed trying to find another."

Alice presses her lips for a moment, considering her. Hazelle can only guess what she must see, what she must be thinking about her. But when Alice speaks, Hazelle realizes she's not thinking about her - not directly. "I was married before I met Wilbur. He died too young."

Hazelle's eyes widen at this. To imagine Alice with anyone other than Wilbur was odd, given how she adores him so freely. Though plenty of widows and widowers remarried, even if only out of convenience, especially in the Seam. But when Rohan died, Hazelle barely had time to grieve between keeping her boys dressed and fed and consoled, having and nursing Posy, and seeking work. She definitely didn't have time to date around or remarry. And since she and Gale settled into their system of laundering and poaching, and the Everdeens entered their family sphere, Hazelle didn't see the point in risking yet another pregnancy or more mouths to feed for what extra resources a remarriage could bring.

Shaking her head, Alice continues, "For years, I thought I'd never find another like him, or I wouldn't be able to love someone else as much. But when Wilbur came along... I don't know, it's different but it ain't lesser. Almost like with your children."

"I believe you," Hazelle tells her softly. "Guess I've been too busy for any of that."

"Well, if you took a break for once and looked around..." Alice suggests out of the corner of her mouth.

Hazelle rolls her eyes yet breaks into a smile at her friend's theatrics. "I'm taking a break right now. You've raised my standard for compliments anyway, calling me a fine woman with lit embers. Now no one can meet them."

Alice laughs with her. "Well, if you ever are interested in someone - whose compliments surpass mine - don't let those kind of thoughts stop you. Goodness knows there are plenty of new folk around here, and you're still too young to count yourself out of any fun."

Hazelle just nods and looks anywhere else. Her two youngest are still playing cards with the other children, and Annalise is laughing and clapping about something within the game.

Sae speaks up over the crowd, directing everyone to start lining up for food as they please. She gets a collective laugh when she announces, "This might be my best stew to date so may the odds be in your favor in getting some of it."

Hazelle tries to signal Posy over but her daughter insists in front of the other, older kids that she can get her own food with them. Vick gives Hazelle a look that says he'll help if needed, and so she lets it be. She and Alice happen to stand in line by Dana Renner, the engineer from Five. Right away, Dana asks Hazelle a similar question to Alice, about how her family spent the morning.

"Were we really that obvious?" Hazelle has to ask back, laughing indignantly.

"Sort of. I've come to notice anytime the victors are out and about, everyone's hyperaware of it in order to stay out of their way. Unless it's Peeta Mellark."

"Peeta is a sweet boy," says Alice. "He feels normal to be around, not like talking to a celebrity."

Hazelle raises a brow. "I don't think Katniss or Haymitch come across like celebrities. They just keep to themselves more than Peeta."

"Well, you'd know better than me. From what I've seen for myself, Katniss is much quieter than I thought. Hard to read her sometimes. As for Haymitch, I've never been in the same room with him unless you count the square on reaping day. But I know enough of him."

As they reach the front of the line and begin serving themselves, Dana says, "He's a lot more put together than I would've assumed seeing him on television for years."

"He is," affirms Hazelle, feeling both defensive and proud of him in saying so. "He's doing better. I think he'd surprise you, too, Alice."

"If you say so."

They head out to the backyard and sit cross-legged in the grass with their food. Hazelle notices Alice staring at her and shoots her a questioning look.

Alice answers it, asking frankly, "He's never made a pass at you, alone in that house, right?"

"Haymitch? Oh, no." Hazelle shakes her head, adamant. "He's not like that at all." She can't imagine him trying something of the sort with a straight face.

"Just checking." Alice spears a strawberry from her salad with a fork. "Rich men tend to have the same bad habits."

"Well, he's breaking the only one that I know he does have," counters Hazelle, frowning. "But he's my friend. I trust him."

Dana scoffs at Alice, "You know Hazelle can handle herself. Besides, I get the feeling if Haymitch did try anything, he'd have a target on his back for Katniss."

"Wouldn't take much to convince her, knowing those two," Hazelle jokes back half-heartedly. She glances down at her hands and recalls Haymitch holding one that morning to lead her away from the grave. Not like that at all, she believes. She's known some men who were. But Haymitch promised that she'd have a worthy friend in him, and he's honored that.

From her vantage point, she can see Haymitch's house next door and the gaggle shifting in and around the painted coop in his backyard. She wonders what he and Katniss and Peeta are doing, if they're all still together. She supposes she understands why they're abstaining from this local celebration - or rather, she's aware that there are matters she can't fully understand, given their experiences versus her own - but she misses them all the same. She hopes one day they can join her in this community without hesitation.

Between bites of food, Dana updates them on the reconstruction - progressing well, should be in a good place by fall. "Tell you what, I'm having a blast setting up the grid for an entire district. Not quite a clean slate since we've had to maintain and connect what's left in the Village. But my crew was joking the other day that we're like kids laying down toy train tracks, deciding what goes where. I like that control, not having to follow Capitol policies when they don't know a resistor from a diode."

"Well, you can also thank the Capitol for that," Alice points out dryly. "Courtesy of last summer, you have lots of open space in this valley to fill."

Dana winces. "Sorry, that probably came across insensitive."

Hazelle reminds Alice, "You have lots of open space to expand your farm one day, too." To Dana, she says, "I'm glad you like the work you've done so far, and you know we all appreciate it. Though it's odd to hear someone take joy in their industry; we were more than willing to stop mining coal."

"Maybe it's how we're brought up on it. I was always interested at least. But it's all I've ever known," Dana replies with a shrug, and Hazelle wonders whether she'd agree if Haymitch hadn't pointed out that blind spot in her own life.

Alice asks Dana, "Are you going to stay?"

"Nope. I'm in the guild. Once we're done here, I'm off to the next place until the whole country's fixed up."

Hazelle clicks her tongue in disappointment. "We'd hate to lose you."

"There's plenty who plan to stay, and plenty more to apprentice," Dana says, wiping the dregs of her stew with a roll. "I want to see District Four."

Once they've finished eating, Hazelle offers to return their dishes. She thanks Greasy Sae for hosting as she rinses plates and bowls in the kitchen sink.

"My pleasure. I've nothing else to do with this big ol' house," Sae replies as another arm sets down more dishes in the sink beside them. Hazelle turns to see Doctor Olsen, who tries assisting Sae at the sink but is waved away.

"Can't say I don't try," he tells Hazelle jadedly with a wink. As he walks away, a question piques her interest and she follows after him.

"Doctor Olsen-"

"No, no," he interjects, tapping his cane in protest. "I am Antony unless you're seeking medical treatment, which I doubt you're trying to do at a party."

"I'd sooner schedule an appointment," she says. "Antony, do you have any books to spare?"

"I brought something of a library with me. What kind of books?"

"For my son, Vick. He's interested in lots of things, and he's read through what we have. I can mend anything you need in exchange for renting some."

He waves a hand. "You did me a great favor, helping monitor our friend. Vick is welcome to look through them now. They're in my office downstairs."

Her brow furrows in confusion until Hazelle remembers his car parked outside and that he boards in this house with the Crowleys. "Oh, he's with friends. I could surprise him with the first batch?"

"I'm happy to show you." He leads her through a closed door by the kitchen and down the stairs, and walks ahead of her to turn on a light switch.

Crossing her arms amidst the cooler air, Hazelle surveys the open space of the cellar, which is filled with various medical equipment, a desk, a rolling chair, an exam table, metal cabinets, and stacked cots. There's a bookshelf behind the desk with alternating rows of books and artifacts that Hazelle doesn't recognize. The cellar door askew, Hazelle hears the noise from the potluck above them, muffled.

Her earlier conversation with Dana in mind, she asks, "Why did you become a doctor, Antony?"

He leans back with a thoughtful look. "Well, the Corps was forced onto me, and I didn't want to be a Peacekeeper, so I chose the medic route. My medical career took off from there. Why do you ask?"

She shrugs. "Might be considering a career change."

"Ah, in the medical field as well? I'm in need of a capable nurse, if you're interested in that."

Hazelle winces apologetically. "I don't care to handle death and disease all the time." She's seen it enough in her own life, with her mother hacking out her lungs for months until she had nothing left to breathe with and mining accidents and stillbirths and Gale's back flayed from the whip... Verbena always impressed her, being able to handle that stuff on a daily basis. It never seemed to disturb her.

"Besides," Hazelle adds, eyeing a machine with multicolored wires spouting from it, "this office of yours ain't convincing me."

Antony chuckles and offers her the rolling chair but she declines, distrusting its wheels, and stands by his desk instead. He perches on the exam table, laying his cane behind him. "I can see you becoming a physician from this angle. Anyhow, you're looking for something else?"

"Maybe... though I don't know what. I've always looked at work as the means to make ends meet. I've had to. But I hear there are new and better opportunities in the world now." She's even told her son about them, when Rory fretted about such things, though he has plenty of time to figure things out whereas Hazelle feels somewhat impatient with herself.

"I'd agree with that. But you don't know yet which ones to try for yourself?"

"Right," she answers, a little self-conscious. It's still a new way of thinking for her, to look elsewhere when she already has a secure, paying job. "Haymitch told me I should see what needs there are in the community and go from there if I want to."

"Do you want to?"

"Yes, I think so," she tells him as well as herself with a nod and a feeling of finality. "But I'm worried I won't find anything that's actually different. I'll just find another way to make money, and nothing will have changed."

Antony says, "I joined the Corps solely because of money. I couldn't have predicted finding the work so meaningful that I continued on to be a military doctor for years after my contracted tour ended. I didn't know I'd one day defect and serve a revolution, either." He spreads his hands, smiling. "Only one way for you to find out."

"I guess so," says Hazelle. She's known this, really, but has felt held back all the same.

He gestures to his bookshelf behind her. "You're free to peruse these and see if there's anything of interest for your son and for yourself. They're skewed toward my profession but, well, you did ask a physician about his library. They don't all relate to health care, though, as you'll see."

Hazelle scans the titles - ranging from history and ethics to biochemistry and physics - and picks an armful with Vick's interests in mind. "Thank you, Antony. This is more than enough."

"For now," he finishes with a wink.

Something about the doctor reminds her of her father. Perhaps it's the way he winks or his glasses and his thin voice. He appears to be around the age her father was when he died, a decade older than Hazelle. The comparison ends there; Antony is tall and strong, and he talks more than her father ever did. Though Hazelle knows it was hard to get a word in around her mother and so maybe her father adapted to that. She wonders what he'd tell her if he was here, with the mines gone and Panem anew.

When Hazelle checks in on her children, who have formed a kickball game in the backyard, she promises to join in for a round, and Vick is so focused that he doesn't ask about the books. However, as soon as Hazelle finds Alice and Dana on the porch, Dana bursts out laughing at the sight of them.

"You disappear with the handsome doctor and return with part of his library?"

"Here I thought you took my advice pretty quickly," Alice admits coyly. "Either to request the shots or to try them out with him."

Hazelle rolls her eyes, setting the books in her lap. "No need; he didn't say one thing about my embers still being fine and lit." She turns up her nose at this.

Alice snickers whereas Dana makes a face at them both. "You Twelve natives are quaint, I'll give you that."

Later that night, after the kids have gone to bed, Hazelle watches the news as she mends a pair of pants. With the time zone differences, she's still able to see live coverage of the conference. It's odd to be able to, like she's allowed in on the process. Right now the representatives are arguing over calls for changes to the draft.

Nathan accuses someone of trying to rush so they can sign on the reaping anniversary. The way he growls, "I'm sorry we can't be stylish about this, Lindon," evokes the strongest family resemblance to Haymitch she's seen yet.

Listening to their strenuous collaborative efforts, Hazelle can tell they are all well aware of what's at stake. But rebuilding seems to be the grayer part of a won revolution, where they must gather the pieces of a nation and fit them together in a different way than before, throwing out some parts and introducing new ones. If they fought to build something new, it should be made to last - and that takes a lot of deliberation, Hazelle supposes.

And something new, it's been in District Twelve. Hazelle had to corral her children to get ready for bed, they were still so excited from the events of today. Vick and Posy will never have their names on reaping slips, and Rory will never have to take out tesserae again. They won't watch another live Hunger Games with that awful, acquired resignation, that Hazelle could only cover their eyes against for so long. They will not toil in the mines for twelve hours a day, six days a week. She's watching a new nation come together instead of children being taken to kill each other. All of that is worth the civil war and its consequent, careful, yet tense, considerations.

Like Haymitch said for himself, she doubts she'd have anything truly worthwhile to contribute if she was in the position to. But Hazelle was also blindsided by the revolution. There were plans in motion unseen by her. This became obvious when she landed in Thirteen with the other refugees, having learned of its survival mere hours beforehand. She recalls the miners' strike years ago and how, after it failed, Hazelle believed bitterly that the districts could never unite against the Capitol. She figured if her tiny, insular district couldn't rally together over a common issue, how could the rest of the country? Fortunately, she was proven wrong, and her hope was reignited amidst her home in ashes.

Of course, thoughts of the revolution evoke thoughts of Gale, who fought fire with fire and won at unspeakable personal costs, burning those he never intended to. Maybe he knows he crossed the line, and his wounded pride and shame cloud any remorse for his original design. In this way, he's his father's son. Maybe Hazelle just doesn't see the world like Gale does, seeing the same problems but not agreeing on the solution - like the district representatives now, or even like her and Rohan at times throughout their marriage.

Or maybe Gale can be too practical like his mother, which is what haunts her the most.

Hazelle turns off the television; she couldn't find Gale in any of the wide-shots, and they're not going to sign the constitution tonight.

She should call him tomorrow even if he doesn't answer. She decided not to today since she assumed he'd be fairly busy. She doesn't know what she'll say besides that she loves and misses him. He should hear from his siblings, too.

When Hazelle retires for the night, that nighttime conversation with and about herself resumes. The day has given her plenty to review. Hazelle ruminates on how it bothers her whenever something new is suggested to her - a more fulfilling job, a new lover - and it catches her off-guard. It's frustrating to not know what she wants for herself because then any well-intentioned suggestion seems like nagging pressure to her.

She thinks of her mother, who did nag her about boys and work, setting high expectations that Hazelle dutifully met until Rohan. Hazelle may not have to deal with that anymore but she's conscious of her own children and their potential reactions to her dating someone. It's never come up before so she doesn't know how it would go over with them. It might never come up.

She turns and shoulders her pillow with a fretful sigh.

It's not as though Hazelle doesn't regard men. She's noted their bodies at work, their deep voices in conversation. She's admired Nathan's stubbly jawline, Odin's hazel eyes and full beard, Ralph's wiry forearms, Antony's thighs in slacks. She's noticed Haymitch's broadened chest and shoulders in a different way than how she notices his skin shifting from sallow to olive brown as he spends more time outside and away from liquor. But all of that's detached from anything other than mere offhand interest. Hazelle hasn't cared to know whether any of them look at her as well. She certainly doesn't size them up as possible stepfathers.

Instead, hesitantly, she tries to imagine herself loving some abstract soul like she did Rohan - not lesser, just different.

Hazelle doesn't realize she's fallen asleep dreaming about this, of all things, until she jolts awake. She didn't set her alarm, as she's been waking up well before it lately, but a glance at the clock reveals she's slept longer than intended. She dresses quickly and helps Posy get ready as well when she wanders in blearily asking for her hair to be braided for school. Hazelle sends her and the boys off to the house where Rem lives.

At Haymitch's, she finds him busy at the stove. She asks by way of greeting, "What are you making?"

"A mistake," he answers, frowning down at the skillet. "You're welcome to try it. I won't play nice in court if you take legal action for any damages, though. The coffee should be fine." He waves his spatula at a full pot.

Hazelle pours herself a mug. "Speaking of legal action, maybe you should become a lawyer?"

"Let's focus on not burning breakfast before we jump to law school." Haymitch shakes his head as he scatters in a handful of spinach. "I disliked dealing with lawyers almost as much as Gamemakers."

She presses on with, "You're persuasive-"

"I'm convincing. There's a difference."

"Even better. You also have experience using semantics to get your way."

"Is this how I sound to you?" he asks, incredulous, half-turning toward her.

"I'm returning the favor," she replies. "I mean, you must be getting bored if you're cooking, right?"

He's silent for a moment as he salts the sizzling mix of eggs, potatoes, cheese, and spinach. Then, he mutters, "The kids are coming over. Didn't want to leave you with this, and I haven't cooked in a while so..." He shrugs, turned away from her.

Hazelle peers over her mug at him. She forgets his recent efforts are not only out of restless boredom, but also a return to some normalcy. She joins him at the stove and tests a small portion, then hums approval. "You can't tell from this. It's good."

"Have some."

She declines, saying, "I already siphon most of your coffee. Besides, it's for the three of you. Which, by the way, how was the rest of your no-reaping day?"

"Good, considering Katniss and Peeta agreed to breakfast here even after I beat them at chess. There's such thing as a sore winner, I hear."

She smiles. "I'm familiar. Now I can tell Posy that Katniss didn't come to the potluck because you put her in a bad mood."

"Not untrue. How'd that go?" he asks of the potluck.

"Alice made assumptions about my body, and she and Dana Renner thought I slept with Doctor Olsen when I borrowed some books from him. So I was in good company."

Haymitch paused from his spatula-pushing to take a drink of coffee, and now he chokes on it laughing. "Lovely. Well, as heated as it can get, we would've made no such accusations at our chess tournament."

She retrieves cleaning supplies from the pantry, wondering offhandedly how many more times she'll do this. "I'll have to join sometime, give you a run for your money."

The challenging grin he gives her is one that Hazelle hasn't seen in a long time. She finds it becoming on him.

And when he turns away, so does she.