A/N: Writing this is kind of therapeutic for me in that I was dissatisfied with the end of the trilogy and feel compelled to fix it. I've written 3 chapters and, in my head, have a plan for the remaining 3 or 4, with the exception of the ending. There are two I'm toying with, one more artistic, one more of a fangirl gratification. We'll see what mood I'm in when I get there.

The way Suzanne Collins left things allowed Katniss to cop out on making a choice between Peeta and Gale by removing Gale from the equation, and I wouldn't mind if Gale was this horrible, selfish person who didn't deserve to get the girl in the end, but he wasn't! And I can rant about this until I'm blue in the face, but instead I am channeling my feelings into a more positive medium.

Things are better now than they were. That is, they are when I'm awake. District 12 is flourishing. Not only did people rebuild, they improved. The removal of the fence gave people besides myself the privilege of being able to hunt in the woods and either legally sell their haul or feed their families. I have no family to feed. Mom is never coming home. That hospital she helped build in District 4? She is helping run it now. I hear their doctors are becoming some of the best in the country. Gale's mother, brothers, and sister followed him to District 2. With his job helping develop military tactics, they surely never go hungry anymore. And Prim... My sweet little duck. My Prim is still gone.

I look up out the window and see water dripping from the icicles hanging from the roof.

Thank God winter is nearly over. I currently have too much time to let my mind wander. Come spring, I'll take to the woods and resume hunting. I hardly ever bring anything home anymore, and usually sell any game I catch to the butcher at a low price for coins I don't really need. I just enjoy being in the woods. Even if Gale isn't ever going to meet me there again. His absence makes the woods seem bigger, emptier; the way Prim and Mom's absence do the house.

I hear the front door open shortly after I've returned my attention to the letter I was in the middle of writing. A moment later I smell bread and smile faintly.

"Who's that one for?" Peeta asks. He doesn't try to look. I don't expect him to.

The letters are part of my therapy. They will never be sent and I will never share them. Peeta respects this. He thinks it's good for me to express myself the way he does with his paintings, even if I don't share them with him the way he does with me.

"My father." I fold the letter in half, then tuck it away in a drawer.

"Don't stop on my account," he says.

I rise and join him on the couch. "I'm not. I'm hungry." I reach forward and take a slice of bread from the basket he's set on the coffee table. It's still warm. I take a bite and swallow before asking, "Been to see Haymitch already?"

"Believe it or not, I did and he was sober. More or less."

"What's wrong?" I ask sharply.

Haymitch hasn't been sober since we came home after the war, and he was only sober then because he either didn't have access to liquor or it was a matter of life or death that he have a clear head. Let me correct myself. He's sober when he's supply runs out. However he only restocked yesterday, when the train came bringing more, so that's no excuse.

"Don't know," he says. "He told me he's expecting a visitor or two today, though."

"Nobody visits Haymitch but me, you, and Greasy Sae." And he certainly didn't bother sobering up for any of us.

"Well he seemed okay, so maybe you're worrying for nothing."

I take another bite of bread. Because my level of optimism is nowhere near Peeta's, my mind is already rebelling against the idea of rallying any troops for anymore wars. Not that that's really a realistic option anymore since I went a little mad. My time as the Mockingjay has come to an end.

The low roar of an engine catches my attention and I tilt my head to the side slightly as I try to identify the source of the sound.

"Do you hear that?" I ask.

"Sounds like a car."

No one in District 12 bothers with cars any more than they did before the war, but a few were maintained in town for visitors.

I rise, glancing out the window as I walk to the door. There is indeed a car pulling up to Haymitch's house. I throw open the door just in time to watch Gale help his mother out of the car.

Gale!

My lips part in shock. I thought I would never see him again after the day of the assassination and yet here he is.

He turns his head to look at me. I don't know if he knew I was standing here or if the motion was out of habit, but he looks away as Peeta joins me in the doorway.

"I take it you didn't know he was coming either?" he asks quietly.

"No," I say as Gale and Hazelle walk up the path to Haymitch's house and subsequently disappear inside. I slowly close my own door.

That traitor. How could he not warn me?

"Don't you want to go say hello? It's been...what, a year?" Peeta asks.

Longer.

"No."

"I spoke to Annie this morning," Peeta says. Thank God he took the hint.

"Oh?" My hand finds his as I turn and return to the couch.

"Yeah, she wants to bring Finn for a visit. I told her we'd love to meet him." Annie returned to District 4 after the war. She is stronger than I gave her credit for in that she returned to the place where she and Finnick fell in love and chooses to raise their son there without him.

He doesn't speculate as to whether my mother would accompany them them because we both know she won't. Between Prim and my father, there's been too much loss for her here. She is content to receive the occasional phone call from me verifying I'm still alive because, although I am her daughter, I am also a symbol of the war that claimed Prim's life.

Peeta stays a while longer, then he kisses me and returns to his own house three doors down. I return to the window to stare at Haymitch's house, willing someone to emerge.

Damn them both. Haymitch could have warned me. Gale could have called first. I'm sure other people knew what he intended to do and could have let me know in advance so I could...what? Steel myself? Hide? He didn't so much as nodded in my direction when he arrived. Oh, he glanced my way but he didn't acknowledge me. It was probably more of a reflex than a real attempt to seek me out. He's been at Haymitch's for the last couple hours or so, but no one's come to say anything to me. No visit from Gale or Hazelle. No invitation from Haymitch to join them. Nothing.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say Gale had no intention of coming to see me.