Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.

AN: As always, thanks to Nursekelly for helping.

To jump or fall, pt 21

Despite the fact that Snow is dead, the fighting doesn't stop, not immediately. There aren't many left loyal to the Capitol and the old regime, but the ones that are certainly have fire in them.

Roving bands of Peacekeepers crop up, destroy land and homes, kill without thought, threatening the rebel control.

They battle over strategic stretches of rail line, wrecking land travel in and out of the Capitol, cutting off supplies both ways.

There simply aren't enough members of the rebellion skilled enough to fight them on the ground. After only a few weeks it's decided that a strong show of force is the only way squash them and protect those in the districts.

It's a cool early morning when the rebellion sends out half a dozen hovercrafts and firebombs the forests and caverns those loyal to Snow are held up in.

"We won't hesitate to do this again," a woman, Commander Paylor, a leader from the Districts, chosen to be the face of the rebellion, tells the nation from the front steps of the presidential mansion. Behind her, someone has strung Snow up. He sways strangely in the breeze, dried blood smeared on his face and clothes, now in tatters, eyes plucked out by birds. He makes an appropriately grisly backdrop for such an announcement. "We will not tolerate the blood of the innocent being spilled. If fire is what you want, then you'll burn."

Even with the airspace more or less in strictly rebel hands, keeping the masses connected and fed isn't easy.

It's a logistics nightmare as Mr. Latier and other rebels with the skill and knowledge repair computers that control everything from the trains and hovercraft to heating and air, electricity in all the districts.

Still, having shaky utilities and needing to feed themselves is hardly a hardship on most in the districts, especially with the majority of the Peacekeepers defanged, no longer arresting starving citizens for poaching. They aren't under constant threat of death or arrest, and that makes all the difference.

Those in the Capitol take a much bleaker view of things.

"We starving!" They complain on the news, even as they hold rations in their hands. "We have no water, no air, no television!"

"You'd think we were torturing them," Finnick mutters as he wanders into Madge's hospital room, flopping into a fluffy chair beside Annie.

"They're still better cared for than anyone outside the Capitol," Gale adds irritably.

"Man cannot survive on squeeze-to-heat-and-eat-burritos alone," Birdy chirps from the doorway. She then pulls a burrito from her ragged purse. "Though we could try."

She tosses it to Mr. Abernathy, stretched out on a chaise by the window, and it lands with a plop on his belly.

Madge just sighs and flops back on her bed.

She's been trapped in the hospital for an entire month, 'recovering' from the ordeal at the mansion, even though she didn't have so much as a scratch on her.

They'd taken her there to check the baby, then kept her there as fighting had broken out across the Capitol, 'pods' of unspeakable horrors unleashed as the final act of the falling government. It was for her safety, and she'd accepted the confinement for the baby's sake. There was hope now that things might all come out well, and she didn't need to be running head first into the madness around her.

She doesn't care though. She's never had any interest in being part of the government, not the one they've just destroyed nor the new one they're building. Her heart has always been settled closer to home, and for the first time in her life, she thinks she might just get to live the life she's always dreamed of. A simple life, no one watching, no one jeering, just her and her and those she holds dearest.

Being stuck in the hospital isn't a hardship on her. The quiet does her good, lets her rest and focus, breath, be just herself after all the games she's had to play. It gives her time to enjoy her impending motherhood for the first time.

Mr. Abernathy and Gale were there with her, along with Finnick, Annie, Rory, and Charity, and their company kept her occupied for the first few days.

They'd all been much worse off than her.

Annie had needed stitches, blood, and a sedative, while Finnick and Gale had only needed their wounds cleaned and bandaged.

Mr. Abernathy had been taken to surgery to remove a bullet fragment and suture a blood vessel in this shoulder, and helping him recover had given Madge a purpose as she'd sat pointlessly in the sterile hospital and waited for word that it was safe to go home.

That's all she wants. She'd done her part, helped free Panem from Snow's control, all she wants is to go home and raise her baby with Gale.

There are others willing and able, much more capable than her, ready to build a new nation, and she trusts her friends to help them do that.

Birdy flittered in and out, bringing news and updates, sometimes footage on her compact.

Occasionally, Gale and Rory went with her.

Unlike Finnick, who was at ease to stay in the hospital and hold Annie's hand as she recovers, Gale isn't made to sit idly by. He needs to be helping, doing something.

He'd vanish for hours, come back smelling of smoke and heat, dust and debris clinging to his dark hair and clothing, telling her about the efforts he'd been part of.

"We dug out one of the train tunnels they collapsed," he'd told her after one of his first trips. "Since I worked in the mines I had a lot of the practical knowledge to blast it open."

There'd been a hint of pride in his voice. He was getting to be more than a pretty face, more than just the man that got Madge pregnant. There was excitement and purpose for him after days of being trapped playing a game he didn't understand and never wanted any part of.

Madge half wondered if he'd want to stay and continue the rebuilding even once the means to leave were back.

Rory certainly seemed like he might.

"Chaparral is staying," he'd mentioned. "She and Sorrel are going to help keep the distribution lines open."

Madge had almost pointed out that there was really no home for Chaparral or Sorrel to go home to, unlike Rory, but kept the thought to herself. There'd been no point bringing it up until she had to.

Still, when the phones were restored days later, neither Gale nor Rory even hinted that they'd want to remain in the Capitol.

They're every bit as eager as she is to leave the strange world they'd been plucked up and dropped into.

"Tell Vick and Posy I'm bringing them this hard candy," Rory told his mother, holding a colorful bag up and inspecting it. "It tastes like pineapple and mango, whatever those are."

"I'll be so happy when everyone is back together again," Hazelle had sighed over the crackling phone line. "I miss you all so much."

She really only meant Gale and Rory, but Madge appreciated her pretending she cared about her as well.

"You'll be able to have the baby here, that'll nice, won't it dear?" Madge's own mother had cooed over the line. "Have you picked a name yet?"

Smiling, Madge told her no, running a hand over her ever expanding belly and hoping she would in fact get to have it back in Twelve.

As they days and weeks crept by, she'd harbored the growing worry that she and Gale's baby was going to be born into one of the strange white birthing rooms at the south end of the hospital.

There was something awful about those rooms, manufactured and sterile, as if the baby were a product to be displayed.

It's exactly what their baby would've been if Snow were still in charge.

"She's gonna be born at home," Gale assured her, when she'd voiced her fear to him, woken him with her crying in the small hours of the night.

He'd held her and combed her hair, pressed kisses against her skin.

"If I have to carry you across Panem myself, this kid is being born at home."

He had no power to keep that promise, but Madge let herself believe him anyways. She needed to believe it.

It feels more and more like it'll be a lie though, as she gets bigger and the trains and hovercrafts remain either unreliable or unable to take them home, still wholly occupied with keeping food and medicine moving between the districts.

"Any word on those congressmen?" Mr. Abernathy asks, sitting up and opening his burrito, tearing into it messily.

"Chaff's men found them. They've been dealt with," Birdy answers, brushing greasy hair from her face. "We hung them in the shopping district, along the river."

It's a brutal but effective way of controlling the unhappy Capitol citizens. If they want to believe the rebels are monsters, they'll gladly give them reason for it. Displaying the former men and women who'd created the laws that crushed the spirits and life from the districts and then continued to try and stir up trouble once they'd been ousted as nothing more than trophies is a cruel but effective way of showing the rebels have been paying attention for seventy plus years.

They may not want to be the government they're replacing, but that won't stop them using some of their more creative tactics until things have quieted down.

Madge doesn't like it, feels its borrowing too much from Snow's playbook, controlling by terror, but she understands it.

There are simply too few rebels to allow former government officials to remain alive and creating unrest while they work to set up something better in the wake of a war. Killing them and making examples of them is the most effective way to maintain control for the time being.

It isn't perfect, but it's the way it has to be. For now.

"It's been awhile since we've had to do that," she adds when she sees Madge's exhausted expression. "I don't like it either, you know?"

Madge does, and she knows that if there were a better option they'd take it. Things had happened too swiftly for a less awful choice to be formed.

"I didn't come to talk about that anyways," Birdy grumbles, slumping against the wall and crossing her arms. She shoots Mr. Abernathy an agitated look. "I actually came with good news. The rail has been restored to Twelve."

Madge's heart stops and she sits up, stares at Birdy in disbelief.

She can't form words, just waits for her friend to laugh and tell her she's only joking. She always is it seems.

It doesn't come though.

"I thought there was still a stretch between there and Eleven that was blown?" Gale asks, his skepticism plain on his face.

A little grin forms on Birdy's lips.

"Oh Dorothy, still underestimating me."

#######

They switch from the restored train line to an older rail system at the edge of Eleven.

It's ancient, but well maintained, all for the use of Capitol citizens who'd wanted to see nature from the safe confines of a luxurious train.

"Mostly it was used by those of us that had to get between districts without being noticed," Alameda explained as Madge waddled to the dusty car. "Most of them have been destroyed, but this one got missed."

Gale snorts. Of course they'd had their own secret train system.

"Vaya con dios, my friends," she told them as they boarded the train. "Good luck with the spawn."

Madge had grabbed her, clutched her tight in a hug. "You'll come see me, won't you? With Annie and Finnick?"

Before they'd left the Capitol, Madge had made both Finnick and Annie promise they'd come to Twelve and visit her.

"You've been my family all these years," she'd sniffled. "I don't want to lose you."

Annie had smiled softly, given her a gentle hug. "A hurricane couldn't keep us away."

Finnick had nodded, eyed Gale and Rory and smiled warmly. "And you'll come to Four, too. All of you."

Rory grinned. "I wouldn't miss girls in bikinis for anything."

Madge had rolled her eyes at that.

"I dunno. If I want to visit a backwater hell hole I can just go back to my district," Alameda told her before snorting. "Of course I will. Need to make sure Gabrigale's taking care of you."

Gale didn't even bother grumbling about her newest name for him, just rolled his eyes and reminded her they wanted to make it home before night.

"I'll miss you too, Dorothy," she shouted as she jumped from the bottom most step and spun to grin at them.

"Like the plague," he muttered as the train shuddered and started forward.

They'd picked up speed in only seconds, the scenery blurring past, melting into a flash of greens and blues, growing darker as night crept in.

It's evening by the time the train begins slowing. Outside the sky is indigo and purple, the last of the daylight vanishing over the horizon.

Haymitch is at the window, holding to an overhead rail as the train lurches to a stop and the door clicks, unlocking.

Outside, Gale can see his mom, Vick, Posy, Madge's parents, and Charity's mom and sisters, all hovering at the edge of the train's light, warm shadows dancing over them as they wait.

"Ready, sweetheart?" Haymitch asks, jerking his head toward the door where Rory is waiting impatiently, hand on the handle, with a tearful Charity wringing her hands beside him.

Madge nods and wraps her hand in Gale's, cool fingers pressing to his skin, as she smiles.

Gale pulls her to her feet.

"Let's go home."

########

Epilogue

Madge wakes, squints into the dim light filtering through the curtains.

It's Reaping Day, or it would be, if there were still Reapings.

Reapings though, the Games and all the pageantry around them, are nothing but fading memories. Sad and twisted bits of history never to be repeated.

Madge, the other Victors and all the Tributes, are just names in history books. They're part of an awful past that shouldn't be forgotten but that they can't be mired in either.

At her back, she feels warmth and sighs.

Sometimes she still wakes and expects to be alone. Long years of Gale having to leave her for the mines still hanging in her mind.

More ghosts of the past still haunting her present, despite her best efforts.

He's still with her though, despite all the trouble she's been, all the trouble she's caused, he hasn't abandoned her.

She snuggles closer, presses her ear to his chest and closes her eyes, memorizing the steady beat of his heart.

They're alive and together. It's more than she'd ever hoped for.

Gale's body shifts, his arms tighten around her and she feels his warm breath ghost through her hair before he presses a kiss into it.

"Good morning," he murmurs.

Before Madge can mutter a sleepy reply, she hears the bedroom door creak open and a set of little feet pad softly across the floor, one a little less steadily than the other.

"Momma," Glen whispers loudly, just out of sight, hidden behind Gale. "Daddy, we see'd a turkey!"

Madge almost laughs when Savanna makes a squealing noise of delight and begins blubbering inarticulately.

Grinning, Gale chuckles and rolls over to looks at them.

"Well? Should we go get it?"

Both Glen and Savanna shout in excitement, race out of the room to get dressed for what they feel is a great treat.

Still laughing, Gale sits up, pops his shoulders and sighs.

"Time to face the day."

With a groan, he pushes himself to his feet and heads to the closet for clothes as Madge stays nestled in the bed.

He won't remember that it would be Reaping Day. Probably no one, except her and Mr. Abernathy, the other last of the Victors, will have the old date saved in their mind.

She thinks that's for the best.

The ghosts that haunt them are theirs alone, for better or worse, and she wouldn't wish them on anyone else.

"You okay?" Gale asks, his eyebrow pulled together in concern as he crosses the room, straightening his shirt as he goes.

Madge nods, gives him a small smile.

"Fine." She shrugs. "Just thinking."

He nods, runs a hand through his hair, his expression somber.

"About the Reaping?"

It takes minute for her to register what he's said, but when she does, she doesn't bother denying it.

"It just-it seems so long ago, but it wasn't."

A lifetime feels like its come and gone since she was the Diamond Girl from District Twelve, since she played for packed concert halls, since she killed to survive.

The world has changed so much, and it all seems so distant, it might be all a dream.

Despite the memorials, the yearly remembrances she and the others so often attend, Madge fears it'll all be washed from the country's memory.

People will forget. Sometimes Madge thinks she's forgetting.

Time will pass, and just like everything else, people will forget the suffering. They'll forget the Reapings and the Games, all of it. It'll all be nothing but fable, a warning easily brushed aside.

Tears begin falling, dripping off her cheeks, and she furiously swats them away.

Warm arms wrap around her, and she lets Gale pull her to his chest.

"No one's forgotten," he whispers. "No one ever will. We won't let them."

It might be a lie, but it's one he must believe, if the certainty in his voice is any indication.

She hopes it's the truth, that the world isn't as fickle and forgetful as she imagines.

Gale presses a kiss to her hair and Madge sighs.

This, she thinks as she holds him close, hears their children running in the hall of what was once her tomb that she and Gale have made their home, is what Victory should feel like.

The future may be uncertain, but they're still writing it, with every heartbeat that passes, every action they take.

Even if all the pain of the Games is forgotten and comes to pass again, people will fight against it.

For now, all they can do is raise Glen and Savanna to be brave, to know what their parents love helped build, to be good people.

It's not a game anymore, not part of some great play put on for strangers.

This is the life that they'd fought for.

It's a world apart from where they'd been, it's their victory, and they can't waste it worry over what might come.

Wiping the last of the tears away, Madge stands and pulls Gale to his feet, smiles brightly.

They have a lot of living yet to do.

#######

AN: And that's it. I wanted to tie things up and didn't want to drag it out, so hopefully I accomplished that. It's not perfect, but nothing ever is. This story has been an exercise in patience, and I hope it didn't disappoint anyone too badly. Thanks for sticking with this series over the years. Now on to my next adventure.