Epilogue
Los Angeles 2024
Peeta
The arrow hits the target, and the crowd erupts. Bullseye, and dead-center. Or just about.
My heart is bursting with pride. Katniss is smiling, and I see her eyes search the stands. I wave one arm to help her find us, the other arm preoccupied with holding our toddler. She beams at me, and I grin back. I watch as she hands over her bow and gear to Cinna to get ready for the medal ceremony. Our toddler squirms in my arms. "Hey Rye," I tell him, smoothing his blonde hair. "Your mom just won her third gold medal." He blinks sleepy grey eyes at me, jet-lagged.
"But what about the team medals, Daddy?" asks our daughter, who is sitting next to me. "Can't forget those."
"Of course not," I smile, putting my arm around her and pulling her close. "Then that makes four more medals."
She nods, satisfied. She's very self-possessed for a five-year-old.
The medal ceremony gets underway, with Italy receiving bronze, and South Korea getting silver. Then, "Katniss Everdeen Mellark, United States of America" is announced, and she steps onto the tallest platform, bouquet in hand. We all stand as Katniss bows her head, receiving the medal, and the anthem begins to play.
"Oh, say can you see?" our daughter sings along, hand on her heart. She is already so much like her mother, even insisting on having her dark hair braided back to match.
I see Katniss blink back tears, and I know she's thinking of her sister. Another gold medal for Prim.
Katniss
Peeta looks dashing in his suit and tie, complete with a handkerchief in his breast pocket and an Olympic rings pin on his lapel. The other sportscasters welcome him to the broadcast, and he opens effortlessly with a few jokes about the hazards of cross-country flights with small children. They all laugh and then dive into a discussion about the odds on freestyle wrestling medals. Peeta is a natural as always in front of the camera, eloquent and expressive in the discourse. I find myself wondering if he should be a broadcaster for sports news, instead of running a bakery and bistro. I run my fingertips across the gold medals wrapped around my neck, and then I start to think of Prim. What would she think of our lives? What would our dad think?
The children's antics somewhat distract me from my thoughts. They are playing in the private waiting room we are in, as I watch Peeta's performance on the flatscreen TV in there. The room's comfort and finery are lost on the kids who are running in circles, our girl with her dancing feet, and her brother struggling to keep up with her on his chubby toddler legs. They laugh and squeal.
It was so hard for me to agree to having children, but Peeta wanted them so badly. When I became pregnant, I was overcome with fear that our child would get cancer. Only the joy of holding her in my arms could tame it. Carrying him was a little easier, but not much.
I dread their questions about Prim and my father, and when they will learn what killed them. How can I tell them without frightening them? Peeta says it will be okay. We have each other, and we can make them understand in a way that will make them braver. Hopefully, the genetic odds will be in our favor.
"Hey, you rascals," Peeta says, entering the room, grinning. Shouting happily, the kids run to him, and he scoops them up into his arms with a laugh. I laugh, too, and go over to him. He gives me a big kiss, and Willow reaches out her arm to hug me, too.
"How'd I do?" Peeta asks me, then he seems to notice my expression. "Is something wrong?"
I just shake my head. "You were amazing. You sure you want to stay a baker?"
He smiles at me, still studying my face. "Yup, my life is now one of baking. I'll be a contributor at the Olympics, and so on, but that's it." Somehow he finds a way to hold the kids and also caress my cheek. "It'll be okay," he adds softly, surmising my thoughts.
I don't know what I'd do without him.
Only Peeta can help me see that we can be happy and hopeful for the future of our children, that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. Willow and Rye bring us such joy, it would be a shame not to revel in it.
"I know," I smile. "I love you."
"I love you, too," he smiles back.
The End
A/N: The decision for the 2024 Olympics host city is literally any day now - but I didn't want to delay publishing the chapter. Of the contenders, I'm guessing LA, although if I'm wrong, I'll go back and edit that. I enjoyed researching for this story to make everything as realistic as possible.
Thank you for reading! Please review and let me know what you think. Thank you so much for all the follows and favorites! I really appreciate it! This story idea popped into my head while watching the Rio Olympics, and it has been so fun. I'm glad I could share it with all of you. - E
