Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

The Ten Unwritten Rules of Being a Hunger Games Victor

By Fanfic Allergy

Rule Ten:

The war was over. The rebellion had won. I'd won. Except I didn't feel like a winner. It was like being in the Games all over again, only worse. Prim was dead. Finnick was dead. Gale might as well have been dead for his involvement with Prim's death. There were many times, I wished I were dead. If only to have the peace that death offered me, but after my initial breakdown in the Capitol I'd never had the will to go through with suicide.

I'd read somewhere that some general long before there was a Panem said that war is hell. And I had to agree. It is hell. It is all hell. And just because the war is officially over doesn't magically make everything better. I sure wasn't better, if there was even such a thing.

I was broken and scarred and living from minute to minute, hour to hour. I couldn't fault my mother for abandoning me to go to Four. In her mind, she'd lost both of her children to the war. Just because one was still alive didn't mean that they were any less lost. She could barely face her problems, I knew this. I saw how she acted after my father died. There was no way that she could face me and everything she saw in me. No, I understood her reasons. But it didn't mean that it didn't hurt any less.

Instead, the courts, and if I am honest the Capitol, decided that Haymitch would be my guardian. I don't know if I considered it brilliant or terribly short sighted of them. Haymitch, for all of his mentoring, was about the last person I would trust with the well-being and care of someone long-term. Still, it meant that I could be home in Twelve instead of stuck in a room in the Capitol like a caged animal.

Returning to Twelve with Haymitch was easy he knows when to talk and when not to. I didn't want to. One hovercraft ride and the man unceremoniously left me at my house to wallow in my grief. I knew he's the one who talked to Greasy Sae about taking care of me. I knew because she told me late one night when I asked her why she was there making sure I ate. She wasn't being paid for this like I had feared, but she hadn't known I was back until Haymitch sought her out. I suppose I owed him for making sure I was fed. But I still felt like I owed Sae more.

I must have still been half mad when Peeta finally returned to Twelve. The sound of his shovel roused me from my funk and I investigated. Seeing the bushes in his wheelbarrow, I latched on to the latter half of their name. Rose. But an evening primrose bush looks nothing like an ornamental or even wild rose. Its leaves are thinner and spikier. The plant itself is without thorns and lower to the ground. Only the flowers are even close to similar to the wild rose with its four heart-shaped petals. Only the most unobservant person would mix the two up. The fact that I misidentified them spoke volumes about just how damaged I'd been. But it woke me up. Got me out of the stupor I'd been living in.

The fact that Peeta had returned the same day I decided to truly start living again wasn't lost on me.

Two days after Peeta's arrival and Buttercup's return, Haymitch moseyed into my kitchen with a bottle of alcohol in one hand. Sitting himself down at the table, he reached out and yanked away my bowl of stew and snagged a loaf of bread and started eating them, tearing the bread up into smaller pieces to dip into the stew.

"Go ahead make yourself at home," I said with a hint of irony and got up to get another serving of stew.

"Don't mind if I do."

Peeta just looked at him and then at me as if deciding what to do or say and I shrugged. What could we do? It wasn't like we were hurting for food. "So what are you doing here?" I asked.

"I suppose you mean other than stealing your lunch. Again," he added with a belch.

"Yeah, other than that."

"Figured I'd come by to give you the last of the rules."

I frowned. Did it really matter now? With the games gone, there wasn't any real need for mentors or mentor rules. "Aren't you a little late?" I asked. "Besides, Peeta still hasn't heard the ninth one, yet."

"Yes, I have," Peeta said quietly.

"When?"

Peeta's eyes met mine and then glanced away. "While I was in Thirteen recovering from being hijacked."

"Oh."

"You didn't think I would let my favorite tribute fall behind," Haymitch asked mockingly.

I shook my head. No, I suppose he wouldn't. Still, I was glad that he hadn't forgotten about Peeta.

"So, here it is. The last rule for being a Hunger Games victor," Haymitch said pompously. "Rule Ten: Stay alive. Don't let the Capitol win."

"That's it?" I asked incredulously.

"That's it," he agreed, shoveling food into his mouth. "Pretty simple, but one that people tend to forget." He looked at both of us pointedly.

"I suppose that makes sense," Peeta started slowly. "Each victor is someone that could be a threat to the Capitol. We survived their games, often on our own terms. And by surviving, we give hope to others."

"You two kids especially."

I nodded. I knew Haymitch's words were true. Peeta and I, we were the ultimate Victors. We showed that the Capitol had needed us more than we had needed them and that was the true seed of revolution that we'd planted. Together we were the ultimate symbol of the Capitol's weakness. No wonder Snow wanted us dead so much. I knew I had been a symbol. That had been hammered into me in Thirteen. But I hadn't realized just how important Peeta and I together were to the cause. It was the real reason why they'd rescued him, I'd realized. Not because I needed him. But because they did. And then I realized that they still needed us. Even after the revolution. Because despite our scars and our traumas, the fact that we'd weathered the storm showed that everyone else could do the same. I still had power over the Capitol. We still had power.

Peeta seemed to realize it too. "They can't keep us here forever, can they?" he asked Haymitch.

"They can try," our mentor answered pointedly.

"But that'd just lead to another revolution if word got out, wouldn't it?"

Haymitch belched, "Probably."

Turning his head to me, Peeta said, "You don't have to stay here. You could go to your mom or Gale if you wanted to."

I shook my head and took a seat next to Peeta. "I don't want to," I said, reaching out to clasp Peeta's hand. "I'd rather be here." I left the 'with you' implied, but Peeta picked up on it and squeezed my hand softly.

I smiled softly at him and realized that for the first time, I was looking forward to living again.

AN:

Another day, another time-skip. Most of you should know where this is. I need to talk about the whole primrose thing. I have primroses in my garden and I have climbing roses. And the plants look nothing alike. I feel that if Katniss can tell the difference between Nightlock and Rue's look-a-like berries she'd could easily tell the difference between primroses and roses. For one the plant themselves look nothing alike. NOTHING! And the flowers which are the most similar have a different petal count and center. I couldn't mix the two up if I tried and I am a city kid. Minor rant. Don't get me started on geology and what would be underwater after a disaster. But let's just say I have a degree in that and let it go. Because I do.

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Thank you for reading.