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Effie pulled the two victors close to her, hugging them tightly. Haymitch knew she was barely keeping it together.
"You are the best victors I could've asked for. I'm truly sorry, you deserved so much more than this."
Tears fell down her cheeks as she pulled back. Hastily she wiped them away, tried for one last smile, then turned away, tears still swimming behind her eyes.
Silence descended over the room as she briskly walked away.
Haymitch swept his gaze over the pair of them, sorrow and fear sending a deep ache through his entire body. He'd lost everyone and everything, and now he might lose them too. His victors.
Peeta, with his kind smile and unwavering goodness.
Katniss, fierce and determined, that fire burning behind her eyes.
Silently he prayed to whatever deities might be listening that this rebellion plan worked. If Finnick, Johanna, Beetee and the others could just keep them alive long enough for them to have a chance. He’d give everything, anything to bring them both back home. But nothing was certain, not in the games, not in the war efforts.
He badly needed a drink. His hands trembled, body wracked with chills from his efforts to stay sober. He had to keep it together for them. For her.
I can see him trembling, shaking from self imposed withdraw.
Warmth spreads through me knowing that he is doing so in order to give us the best possible chance in the arena.
To the outside world, Haymitch must appear foolish, broken, perhaps weak or even incompetent. I know better.
We’ve spent so much time together these last months that I have grown to truly know the man behind the facade. Behind the liquor he uses both to numb and as a shield. Haymitch is not unlike me.
In him I have found a refuge from the horrors, from judgment, from expectations.
Haymitch was many things, but he wasn’t an idiot. He could admit, if only to himself, that as much as he cared for Peeta, he cared for Katniss more. The girl on fire, who’d sparked life back into him when he’d thought there was nothing left but a drunken husk of a man.
From the moment he'd seen her determination on the train, when she’d nearly put a knife through his hand. He’d known she was something special, a fighter, a survivor, with courage and tenacity running through her veins. She'd had his attention from the beginning, it was why he'd chosen to save her. Peeta’s survival had been only a bonus. She was his priority, Haymitch knew that no matter what he’d always choose her.
Looking at her he saw how the events of the past year have changed her. Her eyes were harder, a defiance and anger always visible in her face. She'd changed physically too, he could see it in the supple curves of her body and the added length of her braid.
She’d never really been a child in his eyes, not with all she’d endured before the games ever began. But in the brightly lit room, he couldn’t help acknowledging that she was truly a woman. A beautiful one at that.
He knew it was wrong to see her that way. Twice her age and broken beyond repair, not that she was exactly whole either. Still, he’d never allowed himself to really consider or examine it. Simply accepted that he found her attractive. It didn’t change anything.
What matter was that Katniss was first person in well over two decades that he truly cared for, and that strangely enough seemed to care for him.
They’d grown closer after the end of the Victory tour, even more so once the Quell had been announced. He knew her, perhaps better than anyone else. They’d spent countless nights together, drinking away their pain, sometimes talking about their past, sometimes saying nothing at all.
He wasn’t sure his battered old heart would keep beating if he lost her.
With a sigh, Haymitch ran a hand through his hair. They were out of time. He had to say goodbye, and could only hope it wouldn’t be the last.
Trying to push his musings about Katniss away Haymitch looked to Peeta.
“Well this is goodbye,” the boy said, “thanks for everything Haymitch.”
He fought for words but none came. Instead, he did the only thing he could manage. Leaned in and hugged the boy, patting his back.
“Stay alive Peeta.”
I feel a pang in my chest as I watch the two of them embrace. They are contradictions, both of these men so crucial to who I am. So completely opposite, yet as they part I see a wordless understand pass between them.
This is unusual for them. Peeta has always needed words, whereas Haymitch and I have always been able to speak with everything except.
It unnerves me a little, yet I also found a little comfort knowing that when I am gone, perhaps a friendship between them can endure.
Haymitch pulled back from Peeta, nodded once at the unspoken promise between them.
He’s made promises to both of them and only time would tell if he’d be able to keep them both.
Haymitch turned to Katniss, her eyes burning with emotion, though her expression remained unreadable.
His chest tightened, he wanted to pull her in, clutch her to his chest, beg her to stay safe, and stay alive. To come back to him.
Instead he tried to memorize her face.
Her eyes met his, something flickering in those haunting grey depths. Whatever it was piqued his curiosity because she’d never looked at him the way she was now.
Peeta must sense the awkward tension because he cleared his throat, “I’ll give you two time. I’m just going to go find Portia, okay. See you in the games Katniss. Take care Haymitch."
Haymitch watched him go, feeling slightly guilty at the boy's clear hurt over Katniss’s indifference toward his feelings. Had he expected to say his own private goodbye? It seemed likely. It only made him feel worse. He’d never wanted the boy to get hurt.
Katniss didn’t seem to notice Peeta’s departure, her attention never leaving Haymitch. Whatever guilt he harbored he shoved it the back of his mind at the feeling of being her sole focus.
The second the elevator doors clicked shut, she moved.
In a few strides she stood right in front of him. Then, as if second guessing her actions, Katniss froze, just inches from him. Haymitch quirked his lip, opening his arms to her.
Instantly she threw herself into them, resting her head against his chest. He wrapped her up, one hand on the back of her head, the other on her spine crushing her body to his.
He breathed deeply as if he’d been deprived of oxygen. Her natural scent mixed with whatever sweet shampoo she’d used made his head spin; or perhaps it was simply the feel of her in his arms.
Katniss tightened her hold on him, nuzzling closer. As he’d breathed in her scent, she seemed to be doing the same.
Waiting for her to make the next move he simply held her, so much unspoken between them, yet he understood more than words could say.
Several long minutes passed before she pulled back, just enough to look into his face.
"Haymitch…" she breathed, barely more than a whisper, her warm breath ghosting over his lips.
“Haymitch.”
I breath his name like it’s a benediction.
I cannot say when it happened, but this man has become my touchstone to reality. He both grounds me, and lifts me up. Somehow both unyielding and yet achingly tender when I need it.
It may be wrong, but what I feel for him is something beyond reason, beyond comprehension, beyond explanation.
Somewhere in between him saving my life and the late, drunken nights, I’ve grown to care about him, rely on him. Some part of me whispers that perhaps I’ve even started to fall in love with this man.
But, as with so many things in my life, I don’t have enough time to find out.
However, I do have right now. So I take a few moments memorizing every contour of his face, the feel of him surrounding me in a not so tender embrace. His warmth breath on my hair, his strong hands caressing my back, the shelter of his arms.
My hand goes to his cheek. His eyelids flutter shut. I lean into him afraid to go to my death without ever knowing what it would be like to kiss him.
He froze the instant her lips touched his.
His heart hammered in his chest, a million thoughts rampaging through his mind. Taken off guard by the soft press of her lips, Haymitch remained motionless.
Katniss pulled back, and in her eyes he saw a flicker of doubt.
Haymitch yanked her towards him, crashing their lips together. Katniss opened for him, allowing his tongue to slide into her mouth. She tasted like fire. Her arms snaked around his neck, and he gripped at her hips, loving the intimate press of their bodies.
Their tongues moved in a slow, steady dance as they explored each other for the first time.
Haymitch couldn’t stop a moan falling from his lips. He’d wanted this for so long, wanted her in a way he knew he shouldn’t. He’d never been one to play by the rules though, so he deepened the kiss, beyond elated to feel her passion rivalling his own
It was better than anything he'd dreamed about, and that said something considering the amount of times he’d dreamed of her. The feel of her was setting him ablaze.
Girl on fire indeed.
The way Haymitch kisses me is intoxicating. I am drunk from his kisses, drunk on him.
I am desperate to feel more of him. Moving my hands to the buttons of his waistcoat I thumb the top one open, then another until they are as undone as I am.
His hands slip under my thin shirt and I feel his calloused hands gently caress my bare skin.
The sensation is like a shot of liquor. And I want more.
I push my body closer, pressing harder, wanting to feel everything. I suck at his tongue, nip his lower lip, tugging it gently.
He moans, and I am undone by the sound.
Haymitch moaned. The feeling of her bare skin beneath has hands was like touching white hot flame. His fingers stroked along her sides, tracing the curves of her ribs.
“Haymitch.” She whispered.
He opened his eyes and found her staring back at him, for once completely unguarded.
More than anything he wanted to scoop her up, take her back to his room and show her what it was to make love. He’d worship her body for hours, with hands and fingers, lips and tongue and teeth. He’d touch her reverently until she trembled and begged for him.
He felt her desire, a mirror to his own. But they were out of time.
Mustering all his willpower Haymitch removed his hands from her shirt, instead cupping her face. He placed a soft kiss to her forehead, then each closed eyelid, and finally her soft pink lips.
"Sweetheart, we can't."
"Haymitch, I don't care what's right and what's wrong; I just want you before…"
She trailed off but he knew what she's saying. If only he could tell her everything. But it would only put her in more danger to know the truth.
Instead Haymitch said, “to hell with what’s right.”
And he kissed her again, trying to convey everything he couldn’t say just now.
That he didn’t care if it was wrong, he wanted her, all of her, body, mind and soul. But not like this. Not as a goodbye. Because this wasn’t goodbye. Haymitch might not be much, but he’d move heaven and earth to get her out of that damned arena. And then, perhaps, they might finally get a chance at something.
I can feel my desperation rising with each passing moment. I don’t want to let him go, don’t want to lose him.
But there is no other choice. I will die in that arena and maybe if I can just hold on to these few stolen moment, I can go to my death with the memory of his hands and his lips.
He pulls back and I blink, a tear sliding down my cheek. Haymitch strokes it away with his thumb.
"I don’t want to let you go,” I whisper.
I can see something like pain flicker behind his eyes as he pulls me close.
It’s several long moments before he speaks, and I am started by the earnest tenderness of his voice.
"Katniss, I want you. Only you, always you. We have to part now, but it’s not goodbye, do you hear me. It’s not. I refuse to lose you Katniss.”
“But Peeta, you promised…”
He sighed.
“I know, and I will try to keep that promise. But I won’t give up on you.”
Then even softer, he said, “I love you sweetheart."
Haymitch’s eyes widen at the realization of what he'd just said.
Katniss, stood momentarily paralyzed in his arms, a look of utter shock on her face. He extricated himself from her, worried he’d said too much. He backed away, unsure if he should leave or try to say something, when she lunged for him, grabbing his wrist.
This time, he was the one to freeze. Katniss tugged, when he didn’t move, she tugged again, and Haymitch moved back into her arms.
Seam grey eyes met, his full of fear and uncertainty, hers full of hope. Tenderly she reached up and cupped his face.
"I love you too Haymitch."
And with that his whole world fell into place.
I surge forward, capturing his lips again. This time the kiss is softer, sweeter, the emotion of it bringing tears to my eyes. Because this man is everything I need, and everything I never knew that I wanted.
When we’re out of breath, we break apart, foreheads resting together.
His hand pushes a stray lock of hair from my face.
"You have to come back to me, I can't live without you."
The desperation in his voice shatters me apart. I know that I owe Peeta, but I so desperately want to be selfish. Then he whispers something and my heart leaps.
“I have a plan. I need you to trust me.”
It’s all I need.
"Don't worry Haymitch, I will always come home to you."