What Happened After: A Maxerica Fanfiction

Reflection

It had been years since that night. Years since that dream where I dreamt that my entire family had died or almost died, Maxon along with them. When I saw Maxon that night, he was beside me because I ended up in the hospital infirmary after the rebels stormed the palace during the Choosing ceremony. A bullet had entered my arm and I passed out from blood loss. Being a member of the Selection, I was placed in the doctor's office alongside Maxon. 

That terrible dream I had of the future Maxon and I could have had caused me to be frightened of every shadow and corner of the palace. So, out of my best interest, I left the palace and Maxon. He didn't want to see me go but it was what was best for me at that time. We kept correspondance through letters and postcards during the first year but lost touch over time. 

I first returned to Carolina to be with my family. They helped me recover from my physical and emotional wounds and I found myself lost in my music more and more. Eventually, I began to move around the country, never staying in one place for long. People respected my space and kept their distance but soon enough their stares would become too heavy and I would move on to the next place. 

One summer I found myself back in Angeles. I stayed away from the palace but every once in a while I would catch it looming over the horizon or standing out from the skyline. Thoughts of tracking down Maxon crossed my mind but I was never brave enough to go through with it. He never did end up getting married, still young enough to produce an heir when his advisors finally pressured him into some formal arrangement. There was one woman who he was engaged too but it fell through. 

I was painting by the seaside when someone looked over my shoulder, casting a shadow on the canvas. "That's a lovely piece you're working on," a familiar voice said. I didn't dare turn around and face the person behind me. It couldn't be. "Of course, I've only known one person in my life who could create works like that. Not even the palace artists could compare." I turned and there he was, "Hello, America."