It's been a long two years.

How have you been?

Clove spun to her right, and sliced her dagger into a mutt's abdomen. The tough flesh pulled at her knife, resisting the wound, and the wound was jagged when her knife exited its body. The creature slumped to the ground.

It had Raina's eyes. Raina, from 8. Clove hadn't even bothered to learn her name, in the beginning, as District 8 rarely ever produced anyone with favourable odds. She hadn't even known her name when she had been there, watching her, as Cato killed her. Azalea had mentioned it off-hand when they'd met up- Raina from 8 tried to stab me- and that was the first she'd heard it. But now that she knew (Raina, clothing and textiles Raina, never really had a chance Raina) she felt responsible for her. Responsible for what had happened to her. Never a victor but always a victim, Raina.

For the first time in her life, Clove felt true anger. She was always angry, of course. But that was manageable anger, one that she could control and sculpt into skill.

Suddenly the pull and tug of mutant flesh, flexing and writhing and pressing against her blade, seemed easier to rip apart. She attacked viciously, lashing out at everything in front of her. She also attacked dangerously, and she knew because Cato backed away from her. Cato was afraid of her.

Good. She wanted him to be afraid.

The mutts started to retreat, backing away from the crazy girl with the six-inch long dagger, from the girl they were programmed to kill. So, they fled across the field and up on the hill, where they squatted down on their haunches and watched.

Good. She wanted them to watch.

When they left, tails between their legs and glossy fur shining in the mid-day sun, she stood still for a very long time. She did not know what to do with herself.

It was only when a strong pair of arms wrapped around her, and another, that she finally moved. Slow, easy movements, and she became Clove again.

"What do we do about the bodies?" Thresh wondered, and Clove peeked out from under his arms to survey the damage.

"Leave them to rot," Cato said, wearily. "What else can we do?"

Thresh tensed, Clove felt his arms tighten around her. "But what do we do about hers?"

Katniss' body lay twisted in the middle of the field, neck wrenched in a way that Clove could see Katniss' face, could see her last smile. Her eyes were open and searching. All around her were pieces of Rue, fake Rue, please don't let it be real Rue, at least the pieces that had not been scooped up and eaten by the mutts. Clove stared into the blank grey eyes, and felt tired. She shook the boys off of her, and walked over to Katniss' body, and when her boys went to follow after her she would not let them. She reached the body, and knelt down, so she could see the body better. And she said, in a low voice, "I'm sorry."

Katniss didn't say anything back. Clove didn't really expect an answer. (Clove kind of expected an answer.)

"I'm sorry this had to happen to you," Clove continued, and borrowed her words from the doctors and trainers who told her peers they weren't selected as the 'volunteers' for the Hunger Games. I'm sorry this had to happen to you, but you didn't make the cut. This is not your fault, you're just not special enough. You are not strong, not great, not likeable. You are not good enough, and we have failed you. "And I am very sorry this had to happen to me. Because, Katniss Everdeen, I do not think you are special, or strong, or charismatic. I think you are lucky. You are extremely lucky to have that boy in your life. You are lucky enough that you will never have to go without him, and he is lucky enough that he will never have to watch you die. And when I see you in hell- because I know enough about the world now to know there is no heaven- you had better not have screwed it up. If I find out that you hurt him, I will torture you to the fullest extent, and I might let Cato have a go after I'm done. Because, District 12, I am strong. I am great. I am special. I am not lucky, but that did not matter because I had a boy who loved me. Who stills loves me, if this is real. I have a friend now, which is a luxury I had never been allowed to have. I'm sorry Katniss Everdeen," Clove repeated, "for being glad it was you. This is not a war I would want to win. You can have your hollow victory. Thank you."

She hovered her hands over Katniss' face for a long moment before she pushed down Katniss' eyelids, closing her eyes. Finally, she felt Katniss' presence fade away. Closure, she told herself. This is what closure feels like.

She walked back to her boys. Cato, the only person she had really loved. Thresh, the only one she really trusted.

"We need a place to camp for the night," she said. "I don't want to stay here longer."

"I'll get our gear," Cato offered, and left Thresh and Clove alone.

Thresh hesitated before asking, "Are you okay?"

Clove only answered because she couldn't hear any pity in his voice. "No," she answered, truthfully. "I'm losing my mind. I am scared, and I am so very tired."

"We all are," Thresh offered. "I think we all want nothing more than to put these games behind us."

"I think," Clove said, and then paused for a very long time as she watched Cato pick up the last of their scattered supplies, "I am ready for the end now."

Thresh hummed, and nodded. She laced her fingers through Thresh's, and felt the callouses from years of hard labour, and the scars from lashings. "But," she continued, "I don't know if Cato's ready."

"I am," Thresh said, certain. "There is so much waiting for me."

"What happened to us?" Clove whispered, as Cato started to head back. "We used to be fighters."

Thresh smiled sadly. "We changed. We had to."

"We grew up," Clove agreed.

"Are you ready to move on?" Cato asked, when he reached them.

Clove smiled brightly. "Of course," she said, easily. "What else can we do?"

Dedicated to GunRecon 11 for giving me a much-needed pep talk (literally) and kicking my ass into gear (figuratively).

And, as always, dedicated to Karamel, who is doing God knows what two years later. Hopefully still watching Doctor Who, because now we finally have something to discuss.

Love and Happy Thanksgiving,

-Pursuit