Disclaimer:

I do not own the Hunger Games book series. It is the property of Suzanne Collins and the publisher Scholastic Press. The movies are owned by Lionsgate and other associated producers and creators. I am simply a humble fan, writing this for the enjoyment of other fans. Please support the official release.

After Games

Maisie Rosale

Victor of the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games

The hovercraft materialized over her head, eclipsing the sun. A single ladder extended down from the ship, in sharp contrast to last year. She put her foot on the bottom rung of the ladder, grabbing a higher one with both hands. As soon as she made contact, she could feel the electric current freeze her in place.

Her eyes were looking down when she froze, allowing her an aerial view of the arena as she was pulled up. The flawless white palace gleamed over the tranquil looking forward. Had she not survived in the hell that it really was, Maisie would have no idea of the horrors that lurked beneath. As the doors closed behind her, she thought it was a perfect representation of the Capitol. Spotless and beautiful on the outside, rotten and horrible under the surface.

When she got into the hovercraft, the current stopped. She stumbled forwards, only just barely able to stop herself from falling. Before she knows it, a team of doctors surrounded her, in sterile white masks and gloves. They grab her arms, poking and prodding her body.

Maisie forgets that she's out of the arena. That she's no longer in the Hunger Games. These white-clad creatures are mutts out to kill her and she starts struggling wildly when she felt the code prick of a needle.

The next thing she's aware of is waking up in a bed. Slowly opening her eyes, she's met with yellow lights shining down from her on the ceiling. Slowly turning her head, Maisie finds herself in a room with no windows or doors. Just the single bed in the middle of a white room, a machine situated by her bed. It connected to her arm, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out what it was doing there.

It was only when she tried to sit up that she noticed the restraints on her arms and legs. Maisie began to breathe heavily, trying to pull at the straps keeping her down. No matter how hard she yanked them remained firmly in place, only causing her more panic.

Only when the wall opens up to reveal a white-clad servant (an avox, she remembers), did she finally calm down. I'm not in the arena, she thought to herself. I must be back in the Capitol.

The avox set a tray of food down across her knees. He pressed a button on the side of her bed, and the straps keeping her down released. Maisie was set up, staring at the silent man, but he only pointed towards her food before he vanished back through the open door. When it closed, there was no sign that it was anything but a wall.

A spoon was sat perfectly by a bowl of clear broth, with only a few vegetables floating around in it. A single piece of the long fancy bread was by its side and a glass of crystal clear water. She spent a moment wondering why they hadn't given her more (she was hungry) when she remembered Caesar commenting last year at the end of the game. He said Katniss and Peeta would have to hold off on the rich food until their bodies adjusted, having spent nearly eighteen years in the forest arena. If that was true for them, Maisie didn't know why it applied to her. She spent the last however long in a palace, feasting on the finest food the Capitol had to offer. She doubted any other tribute in the history of the games ate as well as her, Wallace and Romeo did-

Maisie cut herself off when her allies entered her mind. She forced them out of her head if only to push away the ice-cold feeling of dread that ripped through the pit of her stomach. It threatened to explode and she didn't know if she could deal with the fallout.

Right now her mother and Aaron were somewhere on the outside, making preparations for her victory ceremony. Lloyd would be arranging and creating the clothes she was going to be wearing for her life as a Victor. District 9 was probably setting up for her return home, getting one of the empty houses in Victor's Village set up for her. She wouldn't be allowed to live at her mother's house anymore. The Capitol practically demanded that Victors were to live in the houses assigned to them. Not any other.

For a moment, the idea of living up in her house all alone scared her more than the arena.

She finished the broth and bread, which turned out to be harder than Maisie thought at first, but it didn't satisfy her either. She looked around the room, but couldn't find anything to call for someone. Instead, she pushed the empty trey of food off her bed, manners that her mother had drilled into her head gone completely. She had just come out of the Hunger Games. That should give her a pass. At least for a while.

As soon as she set the glass down on the floor, a cold liquid shot into her through the tubes and she felt herself passing out.

The pattern continued for longer than she could have liked. Wake up, eat, and then back to sleep. It wasn't until the third or fourth meal that she realized her eye and the wound on her shoulder didn't hurt anymore.

The scratches and scars across her arms began to disappear slowly, each time she woke up she seemed to have fewer. Color gradually began to return to the pale skin on her arms, and each time she woke up she felt stronger than before.

Maisie didn't know how long she had been in the cycle, but one day it finally ended. When she woke up, the IV was no longer in her arm. The trey of food was filled with bacon and piles of scrambled eggs, which she dug into.

Her skin nearly glowed before her eyes, incredibly soft to the touch. It was unnatural how soft it felt.

The fabric had been placed neatly on a small desk that hadn't been there the last time she was awake. Maisie gently got out of bed, discarding the hospital gown. A simple brown dress was waiting for her.

The door opens before she's even finished tying the shoes. Maisie stepped into a long, white hallway, which appeared to lack any doors. She assumed it was the same way her room had been."Hello?"

She called out into the empty hallway, not expecting an answer.

"Maisie?" A voice calls back, sending a shiver down her spine. She turned to look at the end of the hallway, where a large circular room was located. Running to it, she caught sight of her mother, arms wide open. Maisie launched herself into them, feeling the familiar warmth wrapped as her mother embraced her. "My sweet girl. My brave, strong little girl!"

Her mother's arms constricted around her, and Maisie started feeling the tears falling down her face.

She didn't know how long she stayed in her mother's embrace, but the polite sound of a cough pulled her back into reality. Reluctantly she pulled away from her mother.

Her stylist Napoleon Arc grinned at her, his golden hair cascading around his head like a lion's mane, smiles. She returned it with a watery smile of her own. He was decent, as far as people in the Capitol went. It was his first year as a stylist, but he excelled in her parade and interview outfit. He was also one of Cinna's only three apprentices, which was the reason he was offered the Nine stylist position despite being a nobody.

District 9's escort, Lloyd Goldberg, was actually smiling at her. Since she had been reaped, all that her escort did was remind her that she needed to hold herself to a higher standard whilst in the Capitol, as she was just some random girl from the district lucky enough to be chosen. He often had his nose upturned, and his looks always came with a reproachful sneer. All of that was gone, and Maisie was surprised to find him actually smiling for a change. He didn't even say anything about how a Victor should be more dignified.

Napoleon and Lloyd each hug her tightly, whispering good how proud they were of her.

"Go with Napoleon, honey. He still has to do your hair and make-up," her mother said.

Maisie knew what was coming. The final interview. Being forced to watch an edited cut of the games. It was going to be in her near future, but right then she didn't care. All Maisie wanted to think about was at that moment, reunited with her mother. She remembered climbing into the launch tube. She hadn't believed she would ever see her mother again.

Napoleon gently put his hand on her back and guided her away from the room. Down a newly opened passage, and to an elevator.

It leads her back to a familiar room. The tribute center walls are blacked out, game guards stationed at every corner. As Napoleon led her inside, imagines of Wallace, Romeo, and the other twenty-one tributes flash through her mind. As the elevator climbs up, Maisie wonders if the dead will ever truly rest, or if they'll follow her out of the arena to haunt her for the rest of her life.

Her prep team meets them on the Ninth floor and they're all so excited to see her again. Maisie makes her best effort to smile, but she's too overwhelmed by them to do anything else. They stick to her like a pack of hungry wolves.

Napoleon gives the order to have me brought to the dining room, and she's given another meal. Roast pig, soft rolls, and vegetables in a creamy sauce. Maybe it was just the euphoria of her winning, but they taste better than anything she ever had.

They don't give her a second helping though, the staff wanting to make sure it didn't come back on stage. Finally, they pull her to the room she stayed in as a tribute, and she was told to strip. Maisie had long since gotten over being naked in front of these four people. While all her prep team was women, Lloyd certainly wasn't, but she no longer feared him seeing her exposed. He had been a bedrock during her time in the pre-games, and from that experience, she certainly called him a friend. His eyes ran over her body, but like every other time he looked at her, it was nothing but a professional looking at what he had to work with.

They help her work the shower, and she's left to soak for a good while. The hot water feels good on her skin. Napoleon left the room soon after, but she knew it would be back before long. Her hair and make-up began even before she left the bath tube, and by the time she stepped out, her clothes were waiting for her. She found a midnight blue shirt with white buttons, a matching skirt (not even going down to her knees. Really. Did the Capitol have no concept of modesty? Not that she secretly minded terribly much), and a pair of red shoes.

"I hope you don't mind. I picked them personally," Napoleon said as he came back in.

Maisie smiled at him, grabbing the shirt. "Not at all."

Maisie and Napoleon take the elevator down to the level the tributes trained at. It was customary for the new Victor's support staff to raise from below the stage, followed by said Victor. Maisie is left in the arena below the stage they will all come out at. Her prep team, escort, stylist and mentor.

They all offer her more quiet congratulations. Honestly, she didn't quite know how to feel about all the praise when she had murdered two tributes to get to where she was.

Maisie was led to a metal circle and told to wait. Her team disappeared, and she was left with only her thoughts. Which was the last thing she wanted. All her thoughts were about the dead, and she imagined the dead didn't like her that much.

Though she was dreading what was to come like there was no tomorrow, it passed in a blur. She rose to the stage after her mother, to the blinding lights and the deafening roar of the crowd. She bowed, got to the Victor's chair. Caesar greets her, makes a few jokes, and then the recap begins.

Maisie did her best to tune out what she was seeing. She pretended that the girl the cameras were following was someone else. A girl in a different life, who had to go on to murder other children. She pretended that she wasn't on stage with Caesar, but back home in her mother's house, watching it all on the holoscreen.

When the grueling three hours of torment was finally up, Maisie breathed a sigh of relief.

The President of Panem himself appears and sets the crown on her head. It was the first time she had ever seen the man in person, and he was every bit as scary in real life as he was on the holoscreen. He whispers his congratulations and hopes they have an amicable relationship going forward.

She and her team are taken to the President's Mansion for the Victory Banquet and meeting all her most generous sponsors and more government officials than she can keep track of. The parade of people lined up to meet her doesn't end soon, everyone wanting to shake her hands and asking to take photos, which she doubts she's allowed to refuse. She barely gets a few bites of the delicious soup that tastes like summer.

By the time they return to the Training Center's ninth floor, the sun is already setting. Her mother instructs her to sleep, and she's too exhausted to do anything else. As soon as her head hits the pillow, Maisie is out.

The next day she barely had time to eat a meal before her prep team was all over her. New make-up, hairstyle, and clothes soon followed. Napoleon promises that after the interview it'll all end for a while, and Maisie can't wait for the promised moment.

The interview takes place on the ninth floor, and Caesar is as nice as ever. She managed to get through it all without breaking her act, smiling the whole way through. Caesar, for his part, keeps the questions about the arena and her allies to a minimum, but he has to ask her, like every year. She answers, keeping the good-natured smile on her face.

When it finally ends, she goes to the bathroom to cry. After getting it out of her system, Maisie considers taking the dress she wore for the reaping but decides against it. It was full of too many memories. It would be a constant reminder of the monster she became.

The car ride from the Training Center to the train station is quick, and before she knows it, the train is already departing. As she watched the Capitol disappear behind her, for the first time it truly hit her; she was going home.

Romeo Night

Private in District 13 Military

Romeo bit into the soft bread of the, his eyes never leaving the holoscreen. Maisie was boarding her train, the announcer singing her praises. How it was such an exciting season, and that she couldn't wait until next year's games!

"You know, out of all the tributes, she was not the one I expected to win," Helene Dulac said to him. She walked by, taking the seat to his right. Just like him and everyone else in the mess hall, she was wearing the grey uniform of District 13. "My money was on Gleam. Either him or one of the pack."

"Think I would have won?" Neptune replied, sitting on his left. Just like him, they both had the same food, only Romeo had the biggest portion of all.

Helene nodded, popping off one of the peas in her mouth. "Oh yeah, pretty boy. Your good looks and relation to Finnick might have gotten you to the crown."

Neptune actually pouted, which Romeo couldn't help but laugh at. Helene smiled too. "And my deadly skills, right?"

Helene shook her head. "No. Just your good looks."

"Good looks, huh?" Neptune leaned across the table, smiling at her. "Helene, tell me how handsome I am."

On the screen, the train door close in front of Maisie., hiding her from view. The camera stayed on it as the train pulled out of the station. The official games broadcast ended.

"Where's Rance?" He asked the two before taking another bite of his bread.

"She's still with the weapons division," Helene answered, throwing one of her pea's at Neptune. "Apparently they're working on a way to hack into the Capitol's security network. Trying to see if they can get access to some of the lower security cameras."

Romeo couldn't imagine being stuck in a room all day, working on a project like that. It sounded boring as hell. Still, if it got her mind of Rye, he wasn't complaining. After her partner was killed, she spent the rest of the day crying. A certain sadness had followed her since. He hoped getting into the swing of things again would be able to help her.

Romeo looked over in time to see Neptune glance at the schedule on his arm. "Damn it. We have P.T. in fifteen. We better eat, or Commander Jackson will have us running until dinner."

Author's Note:

Hello! I hope you have enjoyed the twenty-second chapter!

I know that in Canon people in thirteen are given the rank of soldier, but I'm just going to say that's the lowest rank, and Romeo had advanced to a private.

I hope you have enjoyed the final chapter of this story! I hope the games and side stories (which will continue into future stories that follow this one) and I hope you'll all consider checking out any future stories I post!