Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. They belong to Suzanne Collins.

Note: Here we are, the very last chapter of the story! Canon may have only seven surviving victors, but given this is technically a side piece to Cheating Death, the number is somewhat raised. Hope you guys won't mind that breach of canon of sorts. This has been a fun little project to work on over the past few weeks. Certainly a lot shorter than what I'm typically known for writing, haha. Hope you guys enjoy the conclusion to this short story! I'll be back with writing Nameless Chronicles stuff sooner rather than later if all goes well. :D

District Eight Male – Victor of the Forty Second Hunger Games
Name: Spool Nylon
Age: 14
Training Score: 8
Odds of Victory: 15-1
Fact: He was distantly related to Henry, the first boy from Eight to ever enter the Games.

In a twisted sort of way the sound of the final cannon was music to Spool's ears. It meant that he was the last one standing and could finally go home.

He couldn't feel elated though. Not when his ticket home had been paid for in the blood of four lives; the boy from Five, the boy from Four, the girl from One and now the girl from Ten.

Spool wheezed, still particularly worn out from his prior battle against Midas. He could feel the way some of his muscles were split or disjointed, all in dire need of surgery sooner than later. As he leaned against a tree for support with shaky legs the trumpets began to play.

He was victorious, for a given definition of the word.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the winner of the Forty Second Hunger Games! Tag Nylon!"

To this Spool couldn't help but softly smile to himself. Not for the fact he was the nation's newest victor, but because this was confirmation to him that he had successfully pulled off the ultimate scam against the Capitol. They were still in the dark about how they had gotten the wrong twin from Eight, and now they had the wrong victor as well.

A smooth talker who was never even supposed to enter the arena to begin with.

Spool tossed away his weapons to the ground and tried not to look at the dead bodies of Asterix and Mare, having seen enough death and suffering to last a lifetime.

"I said I'd be back in two weeks brother. Seems like I was wrong," Spool tried to stay standing despite how weak his legs felt under his weight. "But I wasn't wrong when I said I'd be home. I'll see you soon."

It was eerie just how silent the arena was now that the trumpets were finished and every other tribute was dead. The only sounds to be heard was the soft chirping of crickets from out of Spool's sight.

As Spool watched the sun finally set down on the horizon, its every golden ray reflecting off of the acid lake, the hovercraft began to descend to take him away from the horrible place he'd spent the past nineteen days.

It was finally time to go home.

(A few days later)

The thing Spool found to be the eeriest about being a victor was the lonesome nature that came with it. The feeling was everywhere, whether it had been back at the tribute building, the interview with Caesar Flickerman or seated on the tribute train as he was now, watching the world go by.

He was all alone. In the tribute building Jemma was no longer there. Prior to the interview there was no longer a large line of varied young boys and girls, each desperate to live, merely himself all alone.

And now, on the train, Jemma was both gone and yet… not. She was in a casket at the end of the train, to be buried shortly after getting back and then forgotten about, at least by the Capitol.

It made Spool's blood boil to recall some of those watching the final interview had genuinely forgotten who Jemma even was.

They'd forgotten so many of the fallen tributes. It even angered Spool they'd forgotten about Midas, even if the brute had been his greatest enemy. His life had still mattered.

"Feeling OK Tag?" Paige asked, walking up behind the tribute she mentored into a victor.

"More or less," Spool replied. Even now he knew he could never reveal his true identity. "I'll be better once I'm back with my family."

"Well, you won't be waiting for much longer," Paige said, softly smiling. "Ten minutes and we'll be there."

"Can't wait," Spool replied.

"I'm sure you can't. I was the same way twelve years ago," Paige agreed. For a moment a cheeky smirk adorned her face. "I'm sure Lammy helped make the wait at least a little more bearable though."

"Paige!" Spool covered his face, groaning.

"I'm just saying, you two were inseparable since last night. Perhaps the second victor couple we'll be getting after Baron and Runa, hmmm?" Paige couldn't help but teasingly stick out her tongue for a moment.

"We just… hit it off," Spool insisted. No need to point out that Lammy alone had figured out his ruse. "We're friends."

"Well, if you say so," Paige said, turning to leave the train carriage. "See you on the train platform Spool. You did great, and I'm glad you're here."

Paige took her leave and Spool was once more alone with his thoughts. In spite of everything he couldn't help but shake his head, bemused.

"Lammy and myself? Yeah, that'll be the day. Just friends from different districts, that's all," Spool remarked, rolling his eyes.

Spool returned to watching the world fly by outside the train, barely able to wait for the moment he'd be home and able to see his family.

He tried not to think about the dead tributes and how next year the cycle would repeat once again, but it was a losing effort. Well, it'd never change if nobody dared to try.

Spool knew it was not a question of if he would dedicate his life to defeating the Capitol. It was merely a matter what he was going to do first.

(35 years later)

When the hovercraft finally touched down upon the ground the first thing Spool felt was a sense of premonition, though of what sort he did not know.

The second thing he felt was relief that the long flight was over. He'd always hated being in hovercrafts; something about being miles in the air just did not sit right with him, even if the hovercrafts were supposed to be safe.

Perhaps memories of his own Hunger Games and images of the Mockingjay using a special bow to shoot down hovercrafts during the war had something to do with it.

"We're here," Spool said, rising to his feet and stretching out. "You both ready?"

A pair of yesses from his family were his answer. It was ironic, Spool thought, that so long ago he had thought Paige's idea of himself and Lammy being a pair was just a silly fantasy… now here they were married after putting it off for so long. She was still just as beautiful as the day Spool had met her.

They never did have kids biologically, but Cupid was the perfect son in Spool's opinion. The small pacifist, the victor of the Capitol Games held only a year or so ago and the only victor who never killed a single person, looked unsure how to feel about visiting the Forty Second Arena.

Then again, it wasn't an arena anymore. None of them were.

"What are we gonna do here Spool?" Cupid asked.

He'd not started calling Spool dad yet, nor did he call Lammy mum, but that didn't bother Spool. The poor boy was still going through a lot. Nightmares, feelings of loss… the usual.

"Pay our respects," Spool said as he led his family out of the hovercraft. "Just… remember, I guess. I know who I need to visit. It's been a long time…"

Lammy squeezed Spool's hand as they walked down the ramp of the hovercraft. She knew which of the fallen tributes he was most referring to.

She briefly wondered what it would have been like to have had an ally in her own Games. Lammy had been all alone and dealing with pure isolation ever since she ran away from the bloodbath at the very start. She'd never had the luxury of a friendly presence until the last cannon had fired.

"…They've certainly done some renovations to this place," Spool noted.

Gone was the awful acid filled forest. Gone was the cornucopia. Gone was everything that had been used to kill innocent children.

All that remained was a large meadow with pathways leading to distant marble monuments – twenty three in total. It wasn't hard for Spool to figure out what they were meant to represent.

In front of Spool, Lammy and Cupid was a monument different than the others. One that was smaller and with a visible plaque upon it. That, and a picture of Spool's own face.

"The Hunger Games were a terrible thing, a cruel tool used to divide a nation and punish the innocent. May this memorial stand as a reminder of what was lost, those that perished long before their time and of the atrocities that played out within the confines of what used to be the Forty Second Hunger Games' arena, an acid forest," Spool read out loud. "This monument stands in memory of Spool Nylon, the Games' victor. He stands unique for being the only tribute who swapped places with the intended tribute and emerged victorious. May he be remembered come the day of his eventual passing and known not for the four kills he committed, but for his role in the rebellion and bringing democracy to Panem."

For a few moments Spool stood silently, taking this all in. His expression began to change from sombre to stunned and finally awed.

"Spool?" Lammy gently placed a hand upon her husband's shoulder. "Is everything alright?"

"What's wrong?" Cupid asked, ever so soft. "…Is it, um… flashbacks?"

Spool shook his head. He glanced down on the ground for a specific path, one he knew he needed to walk. In moments he found the one marked with the District Twelve seal.

"Not quite," Spool replied. "I just need to check something."

Spool set off with Lammy and Cupid behind him. His walking pace quickly turned into a sprint, one that his family could not quite match. Spool did not slow down, too focused on his goal.

He had to know for sure if the truth was as he suspected it to be.

Spool finally skidded to a halt when he arrived at the monument he had been looking for. The monument that had been built in memory of his close ally and dear friend from District Twelve.

The monument that already had a visitor by it, laying down a large amount of flowers.

A visitor who looked exactly the same as the boy Spool had became so close with in the arena… just a few decades older, of course.

"…Orinoco?" Spool asked.

The man, one year Spool's elder, turned to look at the victor. For a moment all was silent.

Then the man nodded, a ghost of a smile crossing his face.

"I've wanted to meet you for a long time, Spool," Orinoco said, moving to shake Spool's hand. "I'm Orinoco, and you already had the pleasure of knowing my brother Ozzy."

Spool couldn't suppress the feeling of his gut tightening. He winced, barely noticing as Lammy and Cupid caught up to him, lacking any idea of what to say.

"…I'm sorry," Spool eventually whispered. "I tried to save him… but Shine… she was just…"

Orinoco nodded, understanding what it was that Spool was trying to convey. At that point he gave him a firm hug.

"You did your best," Orinoco assured him. "Without you Ozzy wouldn't have lasted as long as he did. It wasn't your fault."

"I've been telling myself that for more than thirty years," Spool softly exhaled. "So… he took your place."

"He did. He always was the tougher between us," Orinoco chuckled, bittersweet. "Family only goes so far in District Twelve. The only other volunteer we've had was Katniss. The fact Ozzy volunteered for me, in a manner of speaking, was unheard of."

"Why didn't he volunteer when your escort asked?" Spool inquired, curious. "I didn't because a fly flew in my mouth."

"…Honestly? The same thing happened to Ozzy. They didn't show that on the recaps," Orinoco sat down on a bench beside the memorial, Spool doing likewise a moment later. "Two twins in the same Games, both taking the place of the real tribute, both doing so because of a fly in the throat… what were the odds of that?"

"Probably pretty low," Spool laughed. He laughed and laughed some more. "I'll be real… I have no idea what to say."

"I don't either. I'm still processing the fact we're free," Orinoco replied. "You know, I may not be the Orinoco you knew when you were in the arena, but perhaps I could be your friend… just like my brother was?"

Spool couldn't help but smile. "I'd like that."

"So would I," Orinoco shook hands with Spool. "So, I see you have a family now."

"You and all the nation," Spool replied with a small laugh. "The wedding was broadcast everywhere."

"So, you're not going to introduce me?" Orinoco asked, smirking.

"Nah, I will. This is Lammy and that's Cupid. They complete me," Spool hugged Lammy close as he spoke.

"Nice to meet you," Lammy said.

"Always nice to meet new people and make new friends," Cupid added. "Sorry for your loss."

The group of four talked on the bench for some time. They talked of family, of friends, of what was lost and what had been gained in spite of the awful Games and the regime of the past. Through this conversation Spool began to feel like he had finally found the last missing piece. He knew what had been missing for so long.

Closure on the death of the only person in that arena he was able to trust once the bloodbath had ended.

"Got anymore flowers?" Spool asked after a while.

"Plenty," Orinoco confirmed. "Why?"

"Because there are still a lot of monuments for us to pay our respects to," Spool said as he rose to his feet. "For one, Jemma. She cried a lot, but had nobody to cry for her in return. Maybe it's time somebody did."

Spool took one last long look at the monument built in honour of Ozzy. He knew he'd be back to pay his respects again at some point in the future. Probably multiple points in the future.

But first, there were other fallen children who needed his attention. Children he had plenty of words to speak to, whether they could hear them or not.

Spool, with his family and Orinoco behind him, set forth to Jemma's distant monument and whatever future awaited him. Panem was free, and he still had decades left to enjoy what he had fought for.

THE END