Frostbite

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This chapter and the previous one went up together and consist of the final update, so please make sure you have read the previous chapter before you start on this one. Thank you everyone for this journey!

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They watch in silence as the tribute from Sector One finally gives up. Peeta sees his eyes glaze over, hears his breaths fade, watches as his life leaves his body. The end of another Hunger Games. He looks away, unable to watch any further. Does Katniss see this, too? How does she bear to continue watching?

He glances over at her. Her hands lie loosely on the armrests of her chair. She is sitting straight up and watching the screen with an expressionless countenance that gives away nothing.

The cannon sounds for the last time. Katniss doesn’t react, just continues staring straight ahead.

She sees, Peeta observes. But she does not truly see.

It is like this year after year. Peeta has never lost faith that Katniss might someday realize the horror of her own Games (hardly different than the ones she herself fought in), but that does not mean he hasn’t doubted her at times. During those times, it seems as if she will never let go of her yearning for revenge, justice. Will never let go of her past... their past. So like the countless years that have come before this one, Peeta waits.

“Peeta.”

Peeta is at her side immediately. “Yes, Katniss.”

She sighs, a long sigh.

“I’m resigning as President.”

She has opened her eyes, he thinks in wonder, and waits for her to continue, as he knows she will.

“Oh, Peeta,” she says again, voice cracking. “I’m just so tired. I’m so tired of it all.” She slumps over, abandoning her rigid posture. “I’m leaving the Presidency to the children. They’ll do a better job than I have, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I think they will,” Peeta murmurs, putting a hand on her shoulder knowingly. Her hands begin to shake, and her eyes grow wet despite her own protests.

“I won’t cry,” she says fiercely. “I won’t.”

“Shhh...” he soothes gently. “It’s quite alright, Katniss.”

And she leans into him and cries anyways as they watch the tribute disappear under a blanket of new snow. The soft snowstorm has left nothing but wide expanses of pure white, unmarred by blood. Deceivingly beautiful and innocent, the entire scene makes it seem, eerily enough, as though none of the events of the past weeks had ever happened.

The Hunger Games have finally come to an end.

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