Chapter Twenty: From The Darkness To The Sun

A/N: Wow guys. So, I didn't intend for this to be the LAST chapter, but as it turns out...I think the events of Mockingjay speak for themselves. I'm only here to do Storm and Gloss's point of view and as they weren't active participants, a lot of this is reaction-based. I hope you enjoy this final chapter. If you haven't already, I'd love it if you read my Finnick/OC, Dig Up The Bones. Thanks so much for your support, guys!

Storm's POV

The reports that President Snow has been arrested come flooding in. Immediately, I want to return to the Capitol. This is something I want to see for myself. The man who has been behind the Games for so long, who was responsible for ensuring I was betrothed to Hyperion, for the loss of my child. I've been uncomfortable with physical contact with Gloss, but I'm opening up to him more and more. My face reddens at the prospect of asking him whether he wants to conceive a child.

"Do you think they'll kill him?" I ask Gloss. We're taking a hovercraft to the Capitol, after he surrendered to my insistence and sought permission from Paylor. She shook her head, but she was smiling when she said yes. When the bombs went off and killed all of those children, and the medics – including Katniss Everdeen's sister Primrose – I knew that there was no way Snow could get away with his crimes. Such a blatant display of his callousness would never be forgiven.

"I hope so." Gloss has been quiet for most of the journey and I know that this huge event has caused him to look back on his life, look back at the 68th Hunger Games and his life with Cashmere. Her death caused a hole to be burned in his heart, but I like to think that hole is beginning to heal.

He is one of the few Victors that hasn't been murdered – and I wonder why. He was completely at Hyperion's mercy, and yet Hyperion didn't have him killed. Did he think it was crueller to keep him alive, torturing him with the knowledge that he would never have me, that he was responsible for the loss of our child? I clutch at his hand tighter and he glances at me quizzically. We both have our scars now – and I realise that I'm closer to being a Victor than most people in District 1. I understand.

"We'll be touching down in a few minutes," the pilot calls over the intercom. I'm slightly nervous, because I am here to see one of the most monumental changes in Panem's history. Even if Snow is not found guilty, he will never again be able to exert his tyrannical hold over Panem. This makes me more relieved than I can say. It's strange to think that, two years ago, I was in complete blissful ignorance to the pain people like Gloss endured, even years after their Games had concluded.

"I wish I could've been the one to kill him," Gloss mutters, and I'm not sure whether he's talking about Snow, or Hyperion. My fingers absently trace the silver, shimmery scar left behind from my attempt to take my own life. It seems so frightening at the time, but at the time it was like it was the only logical choice I had left. I wonder if they know the truth now, that I was the one to kill Hyperion.

It will all be over soon. It's so relieving to know that. After years of having children killing children, the horrors have finally ceased and we have the person responsible for allow them to continue. I squeeze Gloss's hand reassuringly, watching as a slight smile crosses his lips. Words aren't needed. All I need is contact, some gentle way to assure Gloss that everything's alright, that I'm here for him.

Gloss's POV

I'm still reeling from the day's events, and I get the feeling that it's going to take me some time to process what happened. I sit with my head in my hands and try and deliberate it all. Storm has gone to some kind of conference, but I had no wish to join her. I've always been the solitary type, known to sit and brood – and this day merits much thought. My head is still spinning like I'm on a constant merry-go-round. I fist my hands in my hair and wonder what it means now that so much has changed.

I close my eyes and the entire day flashes through behind my eyelids. Elethea sitting by Finnick's bedside and watching his heart monitor intently, never once letting go of his hand. Katniss turning on President Coin and shooting her. Snow, finally meeting his demise, coughing up his own blood. Paylor being voted in as President. I wanted Storm to apply for the position, but she flatly refused. She says Panem would never want a Capitolian at their head, broken or not.

The door opens and Storm enters. She seems to have a glow about her, and I can see that the rebellion has impacted positively on her. I wonder what her fate would be if she was still just another Capitolian, if we hadn't grown as close as we are now. I'm still coming to terms with the fact that she's my wife. Cashmere told me once that I should never fall in love – and I never thought I would. I guess both of us were wrong about some things.

"It's over," Storm sighs heavily and sits beside me, burying her face in my shoulder, "It's all finally over."

I share her relief, but I can't help but wonder, what now? In the previous Panem, where the Hunger Games still existed, I had a purpose. It was a horrific one, preparing children for their inevitable deaths. Yet now, I find myself wondering what I'm to do. Return home to District 1, and all the painful memories of Cashmere? Maybe I can handle it with Storm by my side. She cared about my sister, too, so at last we can finally mourn her.

"Did you want to stay in the Capitol?" I ask of Storm, watching as her head jerks up and her eyes widen and she shakes her head. I suppose the memories of what happened here are worse than the good memories I have of Cashmere, the ones that just sting like saltwater in a wound because of the loss.

"I thought we could go back to District 1." She places a hand on my arm, and after all this time, I realise that she feels the same way about my district as I do.

Home.

Storm's POV

It doesn't feel strange at all to be going back to District 1. It just feels different, perhaps more empty than before, because Cashmere isn't with us. Gloss is painfully aware of it, too. He's very quiet as the train hisses to a stop when we reach the station. I kiss his hand and I don't let go as I get to my feet, walking onto the platform. How can so much have changed within the space of a few short years?

The house, too, is different. Everywhere I look I see Cashmere's ghost. I swallow hard and force myself to be strong. Cashmere's death was some time ago now. I have to learn to move on. In a few days, all my things will be in District 1 and I'll truly be a resident here. Everything has changed...and I like it. To some extent. I still wish that Cashmere was with us, and it feels like a part of me is still missing – but I have Gloss, and I convince myself that's all that matters.

I don't know how long I sleep, but it would seem only a few hours have passed since our arrival when I hear voices in the kitchen. I wander out and see Gloss talking to a stunning older woman, whose hair is as blonde as his. There's no doubt in my mind that this is Gloss's mother. I'm suddenly awkward and nervous. I have no idea how to present myself to Mrs Delucan. Gloss notices me and smiles.

"Mum, I want you to meet my wife, Storm."

At first I'm expecting some sort of District 1 judgement, an accusatory stare. But when Gloss's mother looks at me, I notice her eyes are warm like Cashmere's. She is in her late forties, but there is no doubt that Mrs Delucan possesses the same elegance as her daughter. I haven't met Mr Delucan, but I don't think there would be much of himself in the appearances of his children.

"Come here, my dear. You must call me Satine – Mrs Delucan makes me feel old."

I immediately warm to her, because I see so much of Cashmere in this woman. I wander over and she stands and embraces me, before drawing back and inspecting me critically. I'm uncomfortably aware of how plain I am compared to others – compared to beauties like Cashmere and Elethea and Gloss and Finnick.

"My son has told me so much about you." Satine sits down and stirs her tea gracefully. "Perhaps I will even have some grandchildren within the next few years."

She's lonely, I can tell. I'm not entirely certain, but I assume that Mr Delucan is either no longer with her, or dead. The loss of her daughter must have been hard on her – and now all she has is her son. Maybe, strangely, she has me too – her daughter-in-law. Gloss scowls and pulls a face like he's three years old again.

"Mum!"

Then I find myself laughing, laughing so much that I can't stop, and Satine is laughing too. Gloss is trying hard not to, but I know he'll break. I feel so free, like my heart is soaring, like I'm alive. Because they have all accepted me now, and I think it's about the best feeling in the world.

One year later

Gloss's POV

Storm bustles around the house, constantly proving to me how much she fits the role of a wife, and how good a mother she will be. Her hand often drifts unconsciously to the prominent swell of her stomach. She's six months pregnant now, and I can't help being both excited and terrified at the prospect of being a father. I have to continuously tell Storm not to stress herself too much, to relax, to sit down and take a break. We both know I'm just paranoid because of what happened before, what seems like forever ago.

Sometimes, Elethea comes up from District 4 to help out. I hear her singing in the kitchen. She's a fantastic cook – we all had something to ease the stress, and she would always bake pizzas and pastas and all sorts of delicious food, but she would hardly ever eat any of it. She eats now, and ravenously. I once teasingly asked if she was pregnant too, before Storm quietly reminded me that Elethea will never bear a child.

Cashmere has a grave out in the yard, and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. A headstone with her name engraved in Storm's curly letters. I put flowers out there whenever I remember, which is far too frequently still. Her body might not physically be in the ground, but I know she's there in spirit, watching with a mischievous smile and telling me she knew I'd end up marrying Storm all along.

The baby is a girl. Storm wants to name her Cashmere, after my sister, but I think we need to let go of the past and focus on building a better future. I agree to Cashmere as a middle name, but I want her first name to be Verity, because it means truth. Storm smiles when I tell her this, and she nods in vehement agreement. She wants me to tell our child our story, when she's old enough to listen and understand. It frightens me, but I know that it has to be done.

Maybe once, when I was younger, I might have wished to take back the past. All the pain of my Games, of mentoring, of Cashmere. Yet now I know that in order to have a future as bright as this, sometimes we need pain. We need to make the mistakes to learn from them. I don't believe in destiny or fate, but somehow, this feels right. I'm meant to be where I am now. Sometimes, when I've put the flowers down on Cashmere's grave, I look up at the sky and I'm grateful that it's such a beautiful day.

Wherever you are, Cash, I want you to know I'm happy.