A/N: This is the last chapter, probably. I might write an epilogue, we'll see. I hope you all have been enjoying this so far, I know I have. This chapter also contains some of the original book in Italics, but as always I own nothing Suzanne Collins does. Enjoy!
In my room, I resolve to just die. Just please let it be over, let me die. They'll go on without me I think. I how Peeta's doing, how his burns are now. I keep going like this, not eating. Not doing anything, just subsisting. Alive but not really living, trying to slowly die.
Then one day Haymitch appears, telling me it's time to go home. I'm ordered to resume living in District 12. He tells me Amala and Peeta are already waiting for me there. Excitement runs through me, but nervousness does as well. I worry I'll go completely mad being there, living mostly with Peeta and Haymitch. Having memories, good and bad, of Prim.
We reach twelve and I'm pleased to see Peeta holding Amala, waiting for me. He looks good and strong, though I can clearly see his new patchwork of skin. Amala looks well, a nice pink color. She's gained a bit of weight as well, though still small. "Is she ok now?" I ask nervously.
"Perfect." he says, grinning "Just a little small, but they think she'll grow quickly." I'm so glad to see them, strong and healthy. This is my family now. Safe and sound, the odds are finally in our favor I think.
And the odds do continue to stay in a favor. Within a few months, Peeta and I will be married. We're planning a traditional District 12 toasting and small ceremony. Things with Amala have been great; she grows a little more every day. We still take her to appointments every few months but all seems well. Peeta and I continue to work on our memory book. I write, he sketches.
A/N- From the book:
We learn to keep busy again. Peeta bakes. I hunt. Haymitch drinks until the liquor runs out, and then raises geese until the next train arrives. Fortunately, the geese can take pretty good care of themselves. We're not alone. A few hundred others return because, whatever has happened, this is our home.
With the mines closed, they plow the ashes into the earth and plant food. Machines from the Capitol break ground for a new factory where we will make medicines. Although no one seeds it, the Meadow turns green again.
Peeta and I grow back together. There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway.
That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.