Epilogue
20 years later

He begged me for them, and I kept resisting.

I was just so afraid that when we had them they would be whisked away like every other child I had ever known. He promised me that they would be ours, and nothing would happen to them if we didn't allow it to. And after ten years of marriage I thought it might be time. So, after being back in District 12 for nearly as many years I agreed to be the mother of Peeta Mallark's children. We've had two, so far. Our first born, Finnick, is a lot like his namesake. He's very handsome, with dark hair and strikingly blue eyes. He's always getting into trouble, either at school with his friends or teasing his sister, Primrose. She's a few years younger than Finnick and reminds me so much of my sister it frightens me, right down to the ducktail I constantly have to correct. Except her eyes, she has Peeta's eyes.

One of the local girls agreed to sit and watch the children for us while we were out, today. She works with us at the bakery, so I trust her completely. Normally I never leave the two of them alone for very long, but today is a special day, and there's no guarantee we'll be back anytime soon. Peeta meets me downstairs carrying a rucksack over his shoulder. He finds me fingering our wedding ring, the pearl he gave me set in a simple silver band. I do it often on days like today, so he simply smiles and doesn't say anything. He takes my hand and together we walk from our home in the Ember Village, formerly called the Victor's Village, and take the familiar beaten path to the woods.

We pass many of our neighbors on the way who stop us and give us hugs and a few words of encouragement. They know where we're headed today, and it's no secret. Others have come in from other districts, and even the Capitol, that it's hard not to miss. Still, no one invites themselves or ask to tag along, since they know this even has a strict attendance requirement. We move on and leave the settlements behind us. It takes a while, but we reach the lake first. It has not changed at all these many years, except for the small shack that once stood. Peeta and I knocked it down, and its place we erected a small stone monument. Engraved in the stone, it reads simply,

In Memory of Haymitch Abernathy
Mentor, Friend, and Eternal Victor

It's been five years to the day that Haymitch passed. But his life was not taken by force in some distant arena or on some inhumane battlefield. Haymitch fell victim to his own vice. I told him he drank too much, and that it would catch up with him one day. I ate my words the day they came true. Since then however, we've all always gathered here, in his memory and in memory of our own shared history. His actual body is interred at the cemetery in town, among all the children he mentored in the Hunger Games. But we built this for us. I think he would have liked it here.

A strange fog starts to roll in as Peeta sets down the rucksack and starts to unpack it. He takes out a large blanket and lays it down over the grass, a bottle of clear white liquor (Haymitch's brand), and a variety of glasses. I help him straighten out the blanket while he uncorks the bottle.

"Damn, I wanted to beat you two here."

I turn around quickly and see Johanna Mason coming in from the fog. She looks good, letting her dark hair grow out a bit, though now she walks with the aid of a cane, the final parting gift from those horrible months all those years ago.

"In what world could you ever beat me?" I say to her playfully, and we embrace each other as friends. It took us a long time to get to this point, from hatred to neglect to respect to friendship. I'm glad it happened, though. Slowly, she hobbles over to Peeta and they start to chatter pleasantly.

Beetee is the next to arrive, also walking with the aid of a cane. He had surgery about a year ago, something about a bad hip. It's strange to see them growing old like this, though I suspect I'm not so far behind.

"Still working in Three, Beetee?" Peeta asks, pouring him a glass of the liquor.

"I have cushy job in the Capitol, now," he says, accepting the glass, "President Paylor wanted me to become her new Science and Technology Advisor."

"And how's Gale?" I ask him. We exchange letters every now and then, Gale and I. The distance does us well, and I think of him fondly. I wonder if he does the same.

"The consummate bachelor," Beetee replies, "He's settled in the Capitol, now one of the President's bodyguards."

Annie is the next to materialize from the fog. She enters quietly, looks as though she arrived at our little hollow quite by mistake. But when I go to greet her she gives me the most meaningful hug, the kind that I thought only Peeta could give. There are moments when I wonder about Annie and how she makes life worth living. Then she does simple little things like this and all doubt is banished from my mind.

"Am I the last one here?" she asks, taking a drink from Peeta.

"Not by a long shot," comes a voice from the fog.

Like a ghost in the night, in strolls Enobaria, an arrogant little smile on her face and a slight swagger to her gait. I really don't much care to have her here, not after so much unpleasantness. But the fact that she comes at all speaks a lot about her character, and she joins the others milling about the monument.

"It's good to see you again, Enobaria," Johanna says.

"No it's not," she says, nonchalantly, "But I appreciate it just the same, Jo."

Once everyone has a glass, we all stand around the monument and drink a toast to our dear friend. Peeta says a few words, as only he can, then we all down the liquor in one shot. It's terrible. It burns the entire way down, but we all ask for a second pouring. Peeta leaves a poured shot on the monument, and the rest of us settle on the blanket. I take out a few snacks and fresh bread from the rucksack, and we all start to eat.

In no time the war stories start and the reminiscing begins. Everything from classic moves in previous Hunger Games, to benign conquests in their youth, to the revolution itself. We talk about how the old arenas have all been torn down, and monuments erected in their place. Apparently, President Paylor renamed Agora Square to Odair Circle, and the stone fountain has been replaced by a large eternal flame with a monument engraved with the name of every single person who died in the arena. This is why I voted for her. Twice.

We all sit and eat for hours and hours, with this fog seeming intent on not lifting. I catch Peeta's eyes and he smiles at me. We're not sure if this is something Haymitch would have appreciated, but if he and I were ever alike, he's somewhere having a drink and toasting to our honor as we did to his. Still, this is far better than a pious memorial ceremony with much pomp and circumstance. Instead, an intimate gathering of those who knew him best, and who do not lament his death, but celebrate his life. And as I watch them all laugh heartily and speak animatedly at memories past and memories yet to be made, I feel a supreme contentment settle over me, for the world is right as it should be.

The End.