The Eleventh Hunger Games~ A Mags Fanfic

Epilogue

               

2.5 years,

20 chapters,

59 pages,

32706 words,

and one story later,

it has finished.

This is it guys, the final update for The Eleventh Hunger Games...Aw geez, I'm going to be honest, I'm kind of tearing up right now. This story has just kind of always been with me for the past two years, and now that it is actually...over, it is unbelievably hard to comprehend. Maybe I'll write some of Ben's or Lorem's perspective...would anybody read that? Before I let you all go, I just want to give immense credits to Suzanne Collins, especially for this chapter, because there are many direct lines from Catching Fire in here. Also, there is an acknowledgements section at the end for all you lovely readers :)

And with that, Enjoy!

Epilogue

I know the fog is meant for me. It is the Capitol's subtle, grotesquely humorous way of getting revenge on me for taking Annie Cresta's place and preventing another love story from being further manipulated at the hands of the Capitol for torturous amusement.

It rolls in unnaturally uniform tendrils through the thick vegetation of the arena in a deadly silence. The others shout frantically as they run down the lush slope, the poisonous chemicals composing the fog bringing painful, sickening blisters when they touch skin. "What is it? What is it?" I hear Finnick ask in bewilderment, his body jostling beneath me as he carries me on his back through the jungle.

"Some kind of fog. Poisonous gas," Katniss's voice answers, followed by an urgent "hurry, Peeta!" I crane my neck to see her behind us. Her face is strained in pain and desperation. She frantically gestures for Peeta, who slowly, tenuously makes his way to her, still recovering from the aftereffects of hitting the force field.

I wrap my arms tighter around Finnick's neck, undoubtedly thankful for carrying me further than my legs ever could when time took its toll, yet slightly guilty all the same for weighing him down. No matter how fast he runs, though, the wall of fog is always there, adding more and more searing blisters to our skin.

Finnick stops suddenly and spins around, shouting encouragement at Katniss and Peeta as they painfully hobble down the hill. And then he is moving again, except toward the fog now. By the time we reach them their muscles are twitching uncontrollably from the poison and Peeta's legs—both real and artificial—are spastic and nearly useless. Without hesitation, Finnick hoists me up tighter against his back and loops an arm around Peeta.

We only cover a short distance before we stop again.

"It's no good," Finnick says to Katniss, breathless. "Can you take Mags?" A different kind of pain flashes across Katniss's face but she complies and bends down. I give a gentle squeeze around Finnick's neck and transition on to Katniss's as comfortably as I can for her.

It's not long after when she begins to fall. The fog has made its way into her bones, and like Peeta's moments before, her legs have become uncontrollable. We tumble to the ground, our muscles twitching and our skin burning.

Finnick joins us a moment later with Peeta over his shoulder. In a strangled voice Katniss says, "It's no use. Can you take them both?"

Finnick's eyes fall and a pained expression washes over his moonlit face. To Katniss and Peeta, such raw emotions must seem quite foreign from him, but for me, I've watched such deep and powerful pain shape him from a playful, bronze-haired boy into a brave, strong, man. But even so, my heart still aches for that childish smile that never once failed to warm me, the smile that was stolen from the Capitol and twisted to fit their desires. His quiet voice is broken. Sad, even. "No, I can't carry them both." His eyes shift from his arms jerking at his side to Katniss, then finally land on me. "I'm sorry, Mags. I can't do it."

Where there should be fear, there is only a calm. The calm that only a nurturer can have to soothe a frightened child; the calm that washes away the terrors that so often haunt one after the games. The calm that makes everything okay, despite the bleak path ahead.

Deep down I knew from the start that my time has long since come. My games started this way, and so they shall end this way.
And so, I haul myself up and hobble over to Finnick. I cup his face, the face that brought me unbelievable life and happiness and hope when after the games only gave me Death and heartache and despair. The face of a child, my child. The face of a man. A man that can and will do so much, and bring others the life and happiness and hope through the harrowing dark.

I look into his eyes that hold me like an anchor and still gleam faintly like those of a child's, though veiled in tears. I plant a kiss on his lips. Give him a soft smile. Pull away. And let the fog envelop me once more. •

               

~Acknowledgements~

It is because of you, my lovely readers, that I have finished this fanfiction. I wish I could meet every one of you, because I'm not kidding when I say that it means the absolute world to me when I see so many reads, votes, and truly amazing comments from you. I cannot thank you enough for all that you have done and said. Many of you have been here since the beginning, and for that: one, you have the most patience in the world, because let's face it, my updating skills are quite tragic, and two, thank you.

Somehow you all have suffered through my cringe-worthy writing from two years ago until present and have at last made it to the conclusion of this story. (I hope I did at least a decent job of portraying younger Mags throughout this fanfic and especially in the Epilogue.)

The other day I was looking at the demographics of readers for this story, and it is incredible to see that people from all around the world are reading my story. Just...wow. That is amazing and thank you so much.

If any of you have any stories you would like to share, I would LOVE for some suggestions, and if any of you are looking for more Hunger Games fanfictions, I have multiple wonderful ones that I would recommend!

And now for specificities...big big big thanks to my lovely friend wingardiumOliviOsa for helping me make decisions, like from which knife Mags should use to who should kill whom, and just for being immensely awesome.

Also, of course, this entire story, let alone this entire fandom, would not exist without the incredibly talented, creative, and overall genius Suzanne Collins. Thank you for creating such a unique, riveting story that has impacted thousands of readers and viewers like us.

I think I've said thank you about five-hundred times in these short pages, but I mean every one of them. I just have to say one more, for old times' sake.

Thank you, my truly wonderful, inspiring, lovely readers.

*Holds up three fingers in Mockingjay salute*