From The Ashes

Hey all! This is something I've often talked about doing, but never did. An alternate ending for Mockingjay! I just want to get the ideas out on paper (or I guess not paper, but you get the point) for now, and I'll give more background later. Enjoy, and please leave some good suggestions or constructive criticism! Each chapter will be pretty short. They are supposed to be a "collection" of letters written to Katniss by those closest to her.

In my alternate future, Katniss has died. She was killed by those mutts rather than Finnick. The first chapter is a letter Prim writes to her. It's 17 years after the events of Mockingjay.

Chapter One
It’s strange to watch them play in the Meadow. Boys and girls, running and jumping and singing and dancing, just like we used to. To think of the thousands buried below… These children will never know of the horrors of the world we lived in. At least not in the way you and I knew it. They’ll only know of the world you left for them.

Things are different since you left, as one could only imagine. We’ve come so far in the sixteen years since the murder of Snow and Coin’s trial. President Paylor served 10 years as our President through two elections, until a third national election brought a Theopolus Alderidge to the President’s Mansion. You’ll not be surprised to hear that Peeta is working for the President now, working as the Secretary of Development. He made a stop here last month, as the Capitol opened a new community center where the Justice Building used to be. You would’ve hated his speech. He talked about you, a lot. There’s a statue where you once stood, when you saved my life.

Haymitch was there, albeit drunk. He clapped, he cried, and then he threw up. He’s been back in Twelve for almost five years. For a time, he chased Effie around the Capitol. He’d attend her dinners, her fundraisers for the President, and even gave the occasional interview. Finally, Haymitch ended up here, alone and drunk. He doesn’t talk about what happened, and I don’t ask. When I check in on him, he usually sits slumped over on his couch, drunkenly asking how everyone is. It usually ends with him passing out.

Finnick and Annie’s relationship has fared much better. Their oldest, Hudson, is now sixteen. They also have a daughter, Saylor, who is just starting school. Their newest addition, Beau, is only 3 months. I often ask why they waited so long to have more, but the answer is always the same; “It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.” Your loss certainly affected them, like it did the rest of us. Anyhow, you’d love their children. They’ve visited a few times now, and they always ask a lot of questions. They love to see pictures of mom and dad, and of course you and Peeta. It makes me miss mom.

She hasn’t been back to District Twelve since she left, all those years ago. After your service in the Capitol, she took off to work for a new health initiative, establishing hospitals in rural parts of Panem. I think it’s her way of keeping your memory alive and avoiding the pain our District holds for her. She writes letters, and we talk often on the phone. She’s invited me to come with her a few times. A seaside medical clinic in District Four, a huge hospital in the heart of District Ten, clinics in Six, Eleven, and One. But my place is here. It’s where you would’ve chosen to go after the dust settled. Peeta probably would’ve joined you. But I guess that wasn’t meant to be. Just as I wasn’t meant to be in the Games, you and Peeta weren’t meant to take those berries, and Coin wasn’t meant to be President.

And speaking of meant to be's, I saw Gale's mother in the new Marketplace the other day. She looks well. She gardens, and seems to get along fine working as a school teacher. Her son Rory lives with her, I'm sure you remember him. Posy and Vick both live in Thirteen still. I guess they couldn't bear to come back. Neither could Gale. I heard he has a job as the head of security for District Two. I suppose he always has a dog in the fight. I spoke to him once since you've been gone, at your funeral. He hugged me, he apologized, and then he dissipated into the crowd. And that was the last I've heard or seen him. It must be an Everdeen thing, trying to avoid the most painful memories. Again, I try to remind myself, some things just aren't meant to be.

Even now, watching these clueless children play in the Meadow, unaware of the foundation that stand on, I know this is how it was meant to be. Panem is growing, free from the tyranny it suffered for many years. Peeta has began to heal. Finnick and Annie, forging their family in love and a fresh start. Haymitch, as drunk as ever. And now, me, watching as children dance and play without fear or concern of Peacekeepers. These were the luxuries we could never afford, and yet, here they play their games. I suppose I should be even more thankful for the Games they will never have to play.