Chapter 39:

I am stunned by the turn of events. My jaw drops, and it takes a couple of seconds for my mind to register the fact that the announcer just crowned my sister the Quell winner. As soon as it does, my eyes involuntarily fill up with tears and I start shaking like a leaf. I am sure I look like one of the older women in our district that I used to always make fun of on Reaping Day for not being able to keep their act together, when their children managed to avoid being reaped despite their names being on a lot of paper slips. But I swear never to judge again. Because until now I had absolutely no idea how heart-wrenching it felt to be certain that the whole world was going to be taken away from you, and then to somehow, miraculously, get it back.

I don't have time to dwell on the positive news for long. The TV camera briefly flashes to the tributes. Though they heard the announcement, all of them look bewildered as they try to comprehend what it means- since they have pretty much been clueless up to this point- and clearly they can't; it is evident in their expressions. But the cameras only stay on them for a bit before something unprecedented happens- the focus of the cameras shift partially as the TV's that we're watching suddenly become a split-screen. On one half is live action in the arena as always. But on the other half of the screen- the camera brings something entirely new into focus. Something that obviously occurred outside of the arena, something that already took place- you can tell by where the sun is in the sky. And what I see through the lens is enough to make me want to throw up.

Finnick Odair and who I'm guessing are his parents- they all have the same bronze-colored hair- are hanging from nooses, dead. Though their lifeless faces are already becoming distorted to the point of un-recognition, I identify Finnick because of his body- and because his arm is stiff, grasping for a trident that a Peacekeeper is holding just out of his reach. Not only is the image being projected on half of the TV, but into the arena as well- and the other half of the screen is zoomed in on Annella, waiting for her reaction. The second Annella sees them, she breaks down into hysterical sobs and falls to the ground, screaming.

The booming Gamemaker voice comes back on the speaker, who speaks in an ominous tone. "These people committed the ultimate crime against the Capitol- treason- by organizing this attack. Their actions were punishable by death. All of the other rebel armies that participated were also killed in self-defense by Peacekeepers." The Capitol cuts to some additional previously recorded clips of the arena-break, rebels attacking Peacekeepers with whatever weapons they had available; Peacekeepers eventually gunning down every last one of them. Not coincidentally, I recognize a family that gets a fair amount of screen time as Mouseface's. First of all, they share the same rodentlike features- and second, Mouseface begins bawling the moment that she sees them. Though I wasn't able to recognize anyone that I could pinpoint as Jack's family specifically, they must have been there- because by the end of these clips he is crying, too.

The Gamemaker voice continues in a cold voice, in what is to be his final devastating blow: "And insofar as the disqualified tributes are the unintentional impetus of these attacks, it is incumbent upon the Capitol to punish them to death. Their execution by hanging is scheduled to take place tomorrow at 12 noon outside the Training Center. May this serve as a warning to anyone considering retaliating against the Capitol to save future tributes- your efforts will be in vain. Thank you, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

The wagering bar, for one split-second, is silent. In that moment, I allow myself to entertain the possibility that every last citizen of Panem is feeling the same way- shocked at all of the death, appalled at the brutality of the Capitol. I glance at Haymitch, and the injustice is certainly plain on his face. But before I have time to gauge anyone else's epression, the Gamemaker's voice comes through the intercom one more time. And with a remarkably different, lightened tone.

"Ahem, attention, citizens of Panem. In addition, I am pleased to announce that the wedding of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark will take place beginning tomorrow at four o'clock in the afternoon, also outside of the Training Center. Primrose, as this year's Quell winner, will be able to serve as maid-of-honor in the ceremony. Finalized invitations will be completed within the hour and distributed by this evening. Although everyone will be able to view the ceremony on TV, only those that receive an invitation will be able to attend the wedding in person. Thank you."

With that, the wagering bar at once appears to recover from the earlier news and erupts in a burst of excitement. They collect on their bets from the Quell- several grumble as they are forced to pay up- and an entirely new round of wagering starts- how my hair will be styled, whether Peeta or I will cry saying our vows. I am amazed that people are gambling on my decisions- yet no one is approaching me, asking my opinion- it's as if they don't even realize that I am there. Which is good, because most of me is somewhere else entirely anyway. And certainly not on my upcoming wedding.

My state of mind could not be more bipolar. On one hand, Prim won! I cannot get over the fact that she managed to overcome all odds. My shy, heart-of-gold younger sister, who I swore wouldn't be able to harm a fly much less another tribute, managed to do just enough to survive, beat out all of the other competition. After meeting with President Snow several months ago, I had lost all faith that she would even have a fair shot. But as a district, I suppose there are worse things you can do to spite the Capitol than trying to manipulate a wedding date- like perpetrating an outright attack against it. Still- I had never allowed myself to fully embrace the possibility of Prim returning- and now that it is real, tangible, I simply don't know how to grasp it. I hope that it will hit me when I see her.

On the other hand- the alliance lost. The rebellion is dead- or at least, near fatally wounded. I bow my head in remembrance of some amazing people who were able to do what I have always wanted to do but never quite had the courage - openly defy the Capitol without any room for misinterpretation. How brave they all were! Even though I survived the arena, compared to them, I feel like a coward. And the hope that had been driving me through this whole process- the hope that Prim would take part in something spectacular, something greater than her own survival- vanishes into thin air. Actually, it was more than that- it was also my hope for our future beyond the end of the Quell. What are we going to go back to? What are we going to be able to look forward to? I am terrified that Prim, Peeta, Haymitch and I will be stuck in the mind-numbing present. After seeing the District 11 citizens on the Victory Tour, and watching the footage of the District 8 uprising on the mayor's TV, there is no way that I can be complacent. After the little seed of rebellion had been planted when I first spoke with President Snow, and after I sowed and gingerly nurtured it for the last year, watched it grow into more than I imagined, how can I be expected to walk away from it now? I can't.

I look over at Haymitch, who looks as depressed as I have ever seen him. With one swipe of his arm, he sends the empty shotglasses of green stuff he had drunk to stay awake for the entirety of the Quell off the bar and crashing onto the floor. He takes two shots of liquor in a row. "What's the fucking point anymore?" he says angrily. I am about to dismiss his remark as being merely a frustration of having to stay up all night to mentor when I notice that he has tears in his eyes.

Not knowing what to say, not sure if I have any comforting words to give, I pull him close for a hug. His breath reeks of spirits, but I hold on tight as he sobs on my shoulder. After a minute, I finally say the only thing I believe is in my power to make him feel better. "Prim won," I tell him, mustering as close as I can get to a smile. "Thank you."

When he looks up at me, his eyes are red and puffy. "But we lost," he replies.

I nod my head. "I know. But that's not your fault."

He looks like he is about to reply when his gaze falls back to the TV screen, now behind me. He nods at me to turn around.

The hovercraft has arrived, and Prim is waved onto the single ladder that falls enthusiastically by someone from the Capitol. I can see the hesitation in her eyes- she obviously feels conflicted about leaving the rest of the alliance. For a moment, I wonder if she'll refuse- but she eventually climbs on. I feel a sharp pang of guilt- is she deserting the rest of her alliance because of me? Probably. Isn't that ultimately what I told her to do? Of course. I wince.

Next, a different hovercraft arrives for Annella, Jack, and Mouseface. Unlike the previous one, there is no animated waving- Peacekeepers descend the three ladders that drop down and harshly shove the alliance members to the ladders with the butts of their weapons. Jack has to hop on one foot. Then the hovercraft disappears, taking the alliance with them. I wonder if I will ever see any of them again.

And just like that, the Quell is over, and the TV screen goes black.

A/N: Hey guys, normally I don't like to detract too much from the story by writing long author's notes, but there are a few things I would like to say here.

I guess, personally, my biggest criticism of the Hunger Games trilogy is that I felt like the rebellion happened so fast- a lot faster than I thought was realistic. They had been under the Capitol regime in Panem for as long as anyone had really lived, and to coordinate a rebellion and completely overthrow the government takes time- as do wars themselves. It just seemed like WAY too few pages covered the events in the time elapsed between when sparks of a rebellion began vs. the completion of an all-out war. I would have LOVED to see Suzanne Collins write more of a Harry Potter-esque-type series of 5-7 books, where the Games were sort of the annual event the series was based upon, and every year the rebellion would get a little stronger until finally war broke out in the last couple of books. But, alas it wasn't to be- and I suppose Suzanne Collins did just fine with a trilogy instead ;)

In this fanfiction, I am obviously trying to slow down the progress of the rebellion a bit, to set things up for at least one or two more Games before an all-out war officially breaks out. All of that said, however, I unfortunately don't have the time (or right now, uh, the inclination) to write a few hundred thousand more words describing the next few years from Katniss's point of view. I only have a couple of chapters left, I think, before I will reach what I consider to be a pretty good stopping point. Maybe I'll write more down the road, maybe not. But hopefully those of you reading will be satisfied that it is a complete enough story, even though I'm leaving the door open for a lot to happen in the future.