"Homecoming"

~I'm coming home, I'm coming home

Tell the world I'm coming home

Let the rain wash away

All the pain of yesterday~

A/N: So you know the drill, ending a story on an A/N feels very wrong in my eyes, so this will be it for me. I honestly can't believe we're really here. It feels incredible to be finishing this second chapter in this larger story, and I'm so grateful for the people who have stuck with me. I've poured so much into this story, and even though I've made mistakes along the way, and have a lot of things I know I could have done better, at the end of the day I'm still proud of this story.

The 102nd is dropping at the same time as this chapter, so check that out after this (but not before, because spoilers). Otherwise, I hope to see you all in the sequel, and want to say one last time: thank you.

Audra

Caleb is dead. I got the letter in the hospital. It wasn't surprising. I knew when I left that odds were he would be gone by the time I got back. With everything going on, I suppose I just forgot about all of that.

First it was Caleb, and then it was everyone else. When Jaycen said everyone was gone, I still had that tiny part of me that didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. But a day later, while I rode the train back to District Five in complete silence, I saw it on the television. Atlas, Kyle, Brendon, Tristan, and all the rest of them too. Even Apollo. Just like that. Suddenly, I was alone.

But that wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to take all of them away from me. They had to take everything away from me, make me think it was me who was going to die, and then right when I'm given hope again, make me watch as my whole world burns around me.

Pillars of black smoke still rise from the ashes where Victor's Village once stood. I could see the smoke the moment I stepped off the train, and I knew what it meant. But I had to see it for myself, even when Peacekeepers tried to stop me at the gate, and told me there was nothing to see for me. I had to know for sure. I needed to see the remnants of the last thing I had left in this world, and know that there's nothing left.

A peacekeeper stands beside me from where I'm kneeling on the ground, my knees having buckled from under me long ago. He's talking about the fire, explaining what started it, breaking the news to me that I already know. My brothers are dead. My dad is dead. Everyone is dead. It never stops getting worse. Every day when I think I've reached the bottom, another thing is taken out from underneath me. But now that pit is so deep I can't even see the light anymore. There's nothing else to take from me. Even the small things are gone. My journals, my drawings, those few pictures that we still had left from before. It's all just gone.

I could've just died in the Games, and everybody would be better off for it. Concord would still be alive, and every single victor that's left would be more happy to have him instead. Dad, Arc, Liam, and Ollie would all still be alive right now. And maybe Caleb and Atlas and Tristan and all the rest of them would still be dead, but at least I wouldn't be around to see it. Things wouldn't hurt so much, every single day.

I ran for so long in the arena. I never stopped running. I never gave up. I kept on going until there was nobody else, because I wanted to live. For my family, for Caleb, for District Five, but most of all for myself. Every time I came close to dying I would feel this burning pain in my gut that made me run that much harder. From the moment I've stepped out of the arena it's like that feeling has faded lighter and lighter. The things that they made me do still show up in my nightmares. But then even when Apollo helped me, and made it so they could never make me do that again, things just found a way to get even worse.

James, Alice, Armie, Fox, Levi, Sigma, Caleb, Atlas, Tristan, Kyle, Brendon, Apollo, Aleksey, Arc, Liam, Ollie, dad. Every single time, another piece of me dies with them. Now it's starting to feel like I'm running out of pieces to lose.

I'll have to keep on going like this. Next year will be more of the same. This time I'll be alone, and two kids will look up to me and hope that I can do enough to help them stay alive. And I'll fail. Again, and again, and again. In six months I'll have to look at the families of Levi and Sigma and know that I let them down. And I'll have to look up on that stage and see someone else, and force myself to pretend that I'm happy for them. That I wouldn't do anything in the world to make sure it was one of mine that was up there instead.

Caleb did that for twenty-two years, and even then I only won out of dumb luck. It'll be even longer for me. How many years will it take for me to become just like him? Drowning in alcohol, not because it makes you feel better, but because it makes you feel numb enough that the pain and the good things start to feel the same.

The smoke is beginning to fade now, the last remaining embers being licked out as they suffocate, nothing left for the fire to consume. Another Peacekeeper squats down next to me and starts to talk, something about where I should go and where I can stay. I know I should leave, that staying here won't do me any good. All of the people that are gone, they would want me to move on, to keep on pushing no matter what.

But no matter how deep I reach into myself, I can't find the energy. That strength has been sapped out of me, so that I can't even get myself to stand back up. All I can do is keep my head just high enough to watch those dots of orange and yellow as they slowly fade away, giving way to rubble and smoke.

Hailey

The train ride back was much quieter. Galavant just stayed in his room and drank, while Glory slept a little and cried a lot. Joel had a stroke the day after I got reaped apparently. I got the news while I was in the cabin watching over the replays of the Games. To be honest, it was hard to care. Joel was good to me, but he was just another person that I knew would leave eventually. Another person I couldn't get close to. I could drink like Galavant or cry like Glory but none of that would change anything. He would still be dead.

We got shuffled into a car as soon as we left the train, the tinted windows leaving the outside world in complete darkness as the three of us sit in silence.

Gal is the first one to break the silence. "I never told you about my Games, did I?" He asks sullenly, not seeming to be speaking to anyone in particular.

I shake my head. I know about Galavant's Games, of course, but not any of the specific details. The academy is built around trying to mimic Galavant in every way, which makes sense I guess. He got a twelve in training and was the first volunteer to win from District One since the rebellion. He had to be doing something right.

"They show the trainees all the same clips. I broke off from the Careers, so it was me versus all five of them. At the bloodbath both the kids from Four came at me to try to take me out early. I killed both of them and took their weapons. In the final eight the pair from Two tracked me down and tried the same thing. It ended the same way. They always show me fighting those strong outlier kids who looked like they might have a chance, and then killing them before they even got their weapons up. Then there's the big finale, me versus my own district partner, hyped up for a whole month and over in ten seconds. They show those replays every day, and as awful as it may be I think I could live myself if that was it. If it were only those seven kills, I could convince myself that it was all okay."

Galavant reaches into his coat, taking a swig from a flask. It's hard to ignore the way his hands shake as he stuffs the liquor back in place.

"Who else did you kill?" I find myself asking.

"Vetta Starr. Sixteen-year-old girl from District Three. Killed her in the finale, right before I got my district partner. Didn't think too much of it at the time, she was just another obstacle. When I left that arena I didn't feel a single bit of guilt. I was just glad to be out. Then they should me the replays, and I saw that this girl from District Three went through the whole Games without killing a single soul. She wouldn't even kill the animals for food, she just ate berries and nuts the whole time instead. And on the thirtieth day of the Games, the last night she was alive, she stumbled across me sleeping. I didn't notice her, and I had completely passed out. She was standing right there, knife in her hand, knowing that I was the biggest competitor left in an arena with four people left in it. And she walked away."

Galavant leans up against the door, gazing at the blackened window. "I just want to know why she didn't kill me. If I knew that, maybe I could move past it. But she had no allies, she never talked to the camera to explain why she did it, no family back home to talk about what kind of person she was. In the finale, when I saw her, she put her knife down and tried to tell me something. She was terrified, and I figured she was just going to beg for her life, and I didn't want to hear it, so I killed her before she got the chance to talk."

The car skids to a stop, and we all sit in silence for a long moment. Eventually, Galavant sighs, looking back at the two of us. "You two both did some bad things in that arena. You killed people, some of them just kids who deserved a shot at life. You'll remember what you did for the rest of your life, and that's something you'll have to face on your own." He pauses, taking a moment to look each of us in the eye. "But neither of you did something you can't come back from."

"None of us did," Glory says, her voice shaking slightly but still assured.

Galavant gives a sad smile. "We're gonna be alright, you two."

That manages to eek a smile out of me. I've put my faith in so many different people, and every time they've left me. My dad, my mom, Joel, none of them lasted very long. But maybe this will be the time where things are different. This will be the time they don't leave. There may not be many of us, but we still got what's left, and maybe that can be enough.

The three of us file out of the car. The first thing I see is smoke. Black pillars rise into the air, and following the trail downwards reveals the source. Victor's Village, the dozen houses in a gated community, what was supposed to be my home, is gone. The buildings have been reduced to ashes.

It doesn't take long for a Peacekeeper to rush towards us. Glory and Galavant have both gone pale. I don't have it in me to look at them, to see what they're feeling. A sick, twisting feeling pangs in my gut. I don't want to hear what the Peacekeeper is about to say. I can only imagine how badly Glory and Galavant want to cover their ears, not have to hear the answer to the question that's coming.

"What happened?" Glory asks, sobs mixing into her voice as she chokes out the words. "Where's mom, and dad, a-and-"

"I'm sorry ma'am," the Peacekeeper interjects, not a drop of emotion or empathy in his voice as he speaks through that black mask. "The fire spread before anyone was able to react. Only Mr. Fairfax was out of the house when it happened, however, he entered the building in an attempt to rescue his other children. Nobody escaped."

An ugly sound rises from Glory, a muted, pained scream intermixed with a desperate gasp for air. My skin goes cold as she drops to the ground beside me. Galavant looks like he's in disbelief, softly shaking his head as he stares at the remnants of his home.

"Where's May?" He says in a quiet, unsure voice.

"Sir, as I said, nobody-"

"Where is my daughter?" Galavant explodes. I can't help myself from jumping back away from him, Glory just choking out another hiccup as she remains still on the floor. "I want to see my daughter," he says, his voice cracking.

"With all due respect, there's nothing left to see, sir. Just bones and ash."

Galavant steps back, feral eyes becoming wet as he desperately runs his hands through his hair. He attempts to force a smile onto his lips, lets out a humorless laugh, and takes another step towards the Peacekeeper. His eyes are still distant, facing towards the smoke and rubble. His hands are shaking, his legs wobbling back and forth so that his entire body is shuddering with every breath.

"It's all your fault," Galavant says quietly, his eyes going dark. Those words echo through my head, and my entire body seems to freeze as I'm helpless, only able to watch what happens next.

"Sir, there was-" The man begins to speak again, but Galavant doesn't wait for him to finish. In a flash he reaches out, sucker punching the man in the gut. While the Peacekeeper keels over, Galavant reaches towards the man's belt.

His hand wraps around the pistol, and in the flash of a muzzle, Galavant is gone. The sound is deafening, my ears ringing as I stand frozen in place, watching as Galavant falls backwards to the floor. I watch as the blood pools up by his side, seeping through the cracks in the street. I listen as through the ringing I can hear Glory's screams, watch the Peacekeeper frantically rise to his feet, take back his pistol, lean down to check a pulse that all of us already know has gone silent.

The blood, the ringing, the screaming, the flickers of a dying ember, and the black plumes of smoke that rise towards the sky, all of it surrounds me. I can see it, hear it, smell it, taste it, feel it, all around me, not allowing me to escape. Trapping me here in this moment. This familiar moment that follows me, showing itself every time that I think I've escaped it.

This time, I can't even bring myself to cry.

Jaycen Choice

"You've gone too far." I don't give Delilah a chance to react as I storm into the presidential office, ensuring the door closes tightly behind me. "I was willing to look away before. All the plots, and the backstabbing, the kidnappings and murders. I looked away, because we're family, and we have to stand by one another. I ignored what I saw, because I knew what that information coming forward meant. But this. . . you've gone too far, I won't stand silently anymore. You've assassinated presidents, killed tributes, kidnapped victors, and I never said a thing, because family comes above it all. What a damn fool I was, to think that you felt the same way. To think that your own sister was above these damned games you play."

"I told her not to go," Delilah says, not so much as rising from her seat as I yell accusations at her from across the table. Her voice is uncharacteristic, that sense of control and cunning is gone, she almost sounds like a real person for once.

"What?" I ask.

"I told Tali not to go to the party," she says, the wrinkles in her eyes so much more pronounced as she leans back into her chair. "She told me that she wouldn't. I suppose she had more of my conceit than I had ever thought."

"You didn't need to do it," I spit out. "After everything that's happened, your precious war was coming with District Thirteen all the same."

"But not with enthusiasm." She sighs. "A war is a trivial thing, how quickly the tides do turn from one way to the next. Something needed to happen, something to unite all of Panem, to light a fire in the heart of every single district. Besides, there were beginning to be too many victors for my liking. History has shown what happens when too many of them stick around for too long. Don't pretend that you weep for that pitiful bunch. I even made sure your dear Coira wasn't there, or little Connie for that matter."

My fists clench. "Apollo was there."

"I didn't invite him, but I'm glad he was there," she says casually. "You haven't read his file. That man knows far too much, he's lucky he lived for as long as he did. The things he knows about. . . he could have sent the country into rebellion with a single sentence."

"You can't reason your way out of this," I say, my voice beginning to quake. The anger that resides in me is directed just as much at myself as it is Delilah, but at least I feel regret over my inaction. Delilah is the same as ever, always playing some sort of Game, always believing she's ahead, even when the people who care about her suffer.

"I know," Delilah says. "I also know that you think I went too far this time, and while I disagree, I know you won't back down from that position. I didn't intend on Tali being there, and my only regret is that I didn't push harder to make sure she was safe. But in the end I did what was right, whether you see it that way or not."

Her words come out exactly as I knew they would. The same old Delilah. Even when her own sister dies because of her Games she refuses to back down. My hand drops down to my side, and my thumb fiddles with safety on my pistol.

"So now here we are," Delilah says, ignoring the weapon if she notices it. "I won't ever admit to what I've done, and you won't ever tell the public about it either. We both know the destruction that information would cause, and while you may disagree with how I go about things, deep down we want the same thing for this country. Progress. Stability. Prosperity."

"I thought that too," I mutter.

"Which is why you have to carry on." I look up to see her eyes staring into mine, a nostalgic shine in her eyes. "The rest of this government, even my vice president, all of them are just like the old regime I worked so hard to overthrow. Their only concern is how to better themselves, or at their very best, to make themselves into the hero of the history books that will be written someday. People like us, who don't seek that recognition, are the gears that are needed to keep Panem turning for another one-hundred years. Think of all the damage that would be caused if, after a string of terrorist attacks, the head of the organization tasked with stopping those attackers were to shoot the president in her own office."

I swallow a lump in my throat. Sweat pools up around my palms as I click the safety back into place, lifting my hands back away from the weapon. "So what do you propose?"

She nods her head, letting out a heavy sigh. "You can't expose my actions, but you can't kill me. I refuse to damage our country by letting my actions come to light, and can't step down. You wouldn't accept it, I wouldn't allow it, and the country couldn't take it. Ceaser will become president after me, and with him at the helm, a war with District Thirteen would leave us all in ruins, the bumbling fool he is. The country needs someone to feel their wrath, yet all evidence points towards District Thirteen being behind the attacks, aside from your evidence of the real truth.

"So, we need one final piece to fall into place, one sloppy, rushed job that revealed an intricately drawn plan. The president is found dead, and the CDA director, who's on the hot-seat for failing to protect our nation, becomes a national hero and redeems himself by discovering that the true saboteurs are. . . well, I'm sure you can find some scapegoat for the country to rally around. I'll leave that to you."

I slowly nod my head. "What'll it be then?"

Delilah reaches into her desk, and after a moment of rummaging, pulls out a single purple pill that I recognize all too well from my time as a field agent. Nightlock. "I've been prepared for such circumstances. I knew the risks of the game I was playing."

"You act as if I owe you an apology."

"No," she says assuredly. "You owe me no apologies, and I owe none to you. Sometimes, when you play games, you lose, and people suffer unduly because of it. But the outcome cannot dictate the righteousness of the action." Delilah stands up, pushing in her chair as she begins to walk towards the door.

"Where are you going?" I call out, finding myself absently reaching back towards the gun at my side.

She looks back at me, a twinkle in her eye, and the slightest hint of a smile stretched across her lips. "I'm going to go chat with some rivals, advise my friends, and shake some hands, while you go to some public place far from here. Then, I'm going to get myself a drink, sit, and watch the sun rise on this beautiful nation of ours, one final time."

I let go of the gun one last time, nodding my head as I struggle to find the proper words.

"Goodbye, sister," I say, feeling a sense of finality wash over me. Like one part of my life has just ended, a chapter in Panem's history closing in front of my eyes. A piece of history that will never leave this room. An entire lifetime of work passing by, caught in this last fleeting moment of its existence.

Delilah smiles back at me, easily finding the motto that our father ingrained into us so long ago. Not a promise, nor a hope, or even a possibility. Rather, an expectation of good, that we forever must be in constant pursuit of.

"Ad melius, dear brother."