Chapter Text
Lenore Dove was almost sure she’d never been so embarrassed in her life. Don’t get her wrong, she’d done embarrassing things before. She’d given herself a lopsided haircut when she was seven the night before yearbook pictures. She’d called a teacher mom before. She’d fallen asleep in class. She’d fallen down the stairs. She knew what embarrassment was.
But for some reason… this might genuinely be the most embarrassing moment in her life.
It hadn’t started that way, by any means. She’d been all too excited about things. Her uncle, Clerk Carmine, had dropped off a box he’d found in storage, one that held old heirlooms from their family that he’d felt she might have better use for.
It’d been filled with a few journals, pictures, and things that she knew would be enough to fill far too much curiosity she had about her family. Ones she’d never met, the way they’d once lived. It was something that she’d hold close to her heart.
But just the same, there’d been a few trinkets. Little keychains, bracelets, earrings, and rings. She’d seen some of them in old pictures of her family performing. Some of it felt close to costume jewelry, in its own way. And maybe that was always the point. It’d been something that had made them stand out. That let them shine like the bright stars that they were.
The item that had caught her attention the most had been a little ring. She’d seen it before. There was a picture that she’d had framed in her room since she’d been born. It’d been of her Mama, smiling brighter than the sun, pregnant with her, just weeks before she’d been born. The hand that the ring had been on was on her bump, cradling it so carefully, so filled with love.
And there that ring had been, just waiting for her. Like it’d always been there waiting for the right moment. It was the best reminder of her Mama she could ask for, one that she could have with her everywhere she went.
She figured it might not be a perfect fit. But she knew she’d have to see just how it did. And that had been the plan that morning. She just needed to slip it on, check it, and ask her Uncle Tam Amber to help get it resized the next time she saw them.
Which was exactly where her problem started.
It’d slipped on easily enough. It hadn’t been the problem. Where she had messed up, entirely, was when she’d tried to slip it back off. It’d been fine, at first. A few twists, a few tugs, the smallest of a nudge from where it had been. She’d been hopeful.
But it wouldn’t budge.
She’d tried all she could to stay calm, to try not to get herself worked up. The more stressed she was, the worse it would be, she knew that much. But it didn’t seem to matter. No matter what she did, what she tried, it simply… wouldn’t budge.
And it’d been fine for a while. But the more that she’d tugged and tried to get rid of it, the more it ached. And the longer she pulled, the worse her finger looked and the more it hurt. It was swollen. There was no denying that.
She had tried what she could think of, had tried water and soap and oil, whatever she could manage to get the damn thing off. The fact that it wasn’t coming off was making the panic sit in her chest. And as much as she liked to think that she kept it together under stress, this felt different.
She didn’t want to have to get it cut off, which was where it felt like all of this was going. After years of wondering just where it might be, she’d finally found it. And now she might lose it. It had been enough to send her even further over the edge.
A fire station had been the final suggestion when she’d been in tears on the phone with her cousin. It was that or the hospital, where his fiancée could try and get it taken care of when she went on her break. But he hadn’t been sure of when that would be. And the last thing she wanted to do was to stumble into the emergency room because she got a ring stuck on her finger.
Which was exactly why she’d found a fire station. Burdock had promised her they’d get it done quickly, that she’d blink and it’d be done with. But what if it wasn’t? What if the firetruck had to take her to the hospital because they couldn’t get it off? That would actually make it the worst day of her life.
And she was scared that was exactly what was going to happen to her at this point. But she just had to get through it at that point. If she waited any longer, she was sure there was a possibility that she could lose the finger itself.
And maybe that was as dramatic as could be.
Okay, it was dramatic. Even more so when she had made sure she hadn’t gone to the station closest to her house. She had been worried, more than anything, that maybe one day she would need their help. Proper help. And if she had to face them in the midst of a fire, knowing that she was the girl who couldn't get a ring off her finger? She couldn’t face it.
There were plenty of fire stations around their town. It wasn’t like she had to go much further. But she was hoping it would mean she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew. Or anyone that she could stumble past on the sidewalk.
And she’d been grateful when the face she had come across was one that she didn’t know. That didn’t mean anything, at least. It looked familiar enough, but one she couldn’t place. Her blonde locks were back in a braid, tossing things into a bag.
The woman’s head lifted, as if she just knew someone had arrived. Her brows had raised, seeming to be looking Lenore Dove over. There was something in her gaze, something that almost made her want to shrink away from it all. The thought of turning right away was becoming more and more prominent the longer she stood there.
“Can I help you?”
Shit.
“Uh…” Every need was erased from her mind. Even though she was sure she could feel her heartbeat in her swollen finger. “I just need some help.”
“With?” There was the smallest bit of impatience in her voice, as she finally seemed to get a good look at her. Her eyes settled on her hand, for just a moment, before she settled the bag down. “C’mon.” She didn’t even wait to bother and see if she was following after her.
Lenore Dove did just that, following close behind, half afraid that she’d get lost. She felt like there were too many looks sent her way, already dreading the idea that she was going to have to face them again. And she was still contemplating just turning and running right out of the firehouse itself.
“Itchy!”
Itchy? Was that what she was going to be known as? Itchy? She wasn’t even itchy. Was it some kind of code? Was she broadcasting what an idiot she was to the rest of the station?
A door swung open in the back, one that she hadn’t noticed until it had. It was clear there was someone there, someone who had come along to the word itself. And honestly, she didn’t quite want to lift her gaze and make eye contact with whoever it was. She was trying to save whatever little glimmers of dignity she had remaining.
“W49.” The code fell easily from the woman’s mouth as she spoke. She earned a small grunt in understanding from the other person on the other side of the door. “You take good care of her, Itch. Might just lose her finger otherwise.”
She really could lose her finger? That caused her gaze to leap up, panic clear across her features as she looked at the two of them. Which was only met with a snort of laughter from the woman in front of her.
“Relax. Your finger will be fine,” the woman said. Even though it wasn’t anywhere near as comforting as she was sure it was meant to be. Maybe it was because she just seemed far too intimidating, even with her small stature. “He’ll take care of you. Won’t ya, Itch?”
“Yeah.”
Yeah. What confidence she had in one single word. From someone being called Itchy. But what other option did she have? What did she have to lose? Other than her finger, at least.
There was the smallest of gestures, one she assumed was meant for her to step through the door and follow after this Itchy guy. She gave the woman one last look, half hesitating in the idea, before she followed him. It was quieter in the back, it seemed, looking more like quarters than anything else.
Her eyes stayed on the back of the head of curls in front of her. He towered over her, which didn’t feel like anything new. But that was all she could see of him, at least for the time being. She did her best to keep up with him, pausing as he made his way toward a couch.
The man’s hand patted the back of it, as if to give her some direction on where to settle. Which she followed, figuring he knew better than she did, by any means. He continued past her and to a cabinet, moving to tug out some kit before he made his way over. “What’s your name?” He asked as he settled down on the edge of the coffee table in front of her.
What was her name? As she met that light gaze, it felt like she’d completely lost any sense of just what the answer was. Did she have a name? One that didn’t feel distant and wrong on her tongue? Or had she always been nameless?
She kept his gaze for a few moments before he turned his attention to the kit in his lap. It was enough to seem to break her out of her spell, seeming to snap out of it. “Lenore Dove.”
It caused him to pause, a glance up to her before he turned his attention back to the kit. He dug through, trying to make sense of what he was looking for. “Alright, Lenore Dove,” he started softly. “You try anything to get it off?”
Her head nodded, eyes falling to the ring that she had always loved. But in that moment, she never wanted to see it again. “Twisting, soap and water, oil,” she listed quietly, the small waver in her voice. “Baby and olive. So my hands are very soft and taste good.”
Taste good? What the hell is wrong with you?
That earned a small chuckle at the idea, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips. It made her feel just a bit better about it, even as she felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment.
“You’re not wrong,” he offered before he shifted in his spot, offering his hand out to her. “Let me get a good look.”
She hesitated for a moment before she settled her hand against his palm. His hand nearly dwarfed her own, his other moving to gently twist it in his own. He was soothing as could be about it, at least, which helped calm her.
“Does it hurt?”
Her head nodded as she looked down at the finger. “Aches,” she admitted softly. “Felt my heartbeat at one point.”
“Means it’s still beating, I think that’s good,” he told her, a lightness in his voice. It was comforting, to say the least. That he was trying to make her feel better about it. “Doesn’t feel like you’ve been cut?”
Her head shook.
“Good,” he reasoned. His fingers moved, shifting to move hers to get a good look at it. “Think you’ll keep it yet, Lenore Dove.”
She shouldn’t have felt as relieved as she did. She felt that it was all too ridiculous in itself to be scared of the idea. But the panic had set in for her without a moment of hesitation.
He gently settled her hand back down, turning his attention back to the kit in front of him. It was the first moment she felt she could get a good look at him. He was tall, that much she’d seen right away. A few curls had fallen from where they’d been neatly tucked away on his forehead. And his tongue was sticking out in his focus. He had to be around her age, just like the woman who had led her along the way.
She felt her cheeks burn even more at the idea of it. It was embarrassing to be like this in front of anyone. But in front of someone her age? Where she looked like a complete idiot? She wanted to melt into the couch and never breathe again.
“This is so embarrassing."
He hadn’t even lifted his head, seeming to be picking between what he’d need. “No, it’s not.” It was spoken soothingly, in a way that she’d do to comfort one of her students. Gentle, soothing, something that only made her feel more foolish about all of this.
She watched him as he pulled out a small pair of scissors and what looked like a string. String? Was it all that simple? Had she fucked up so much that she hadn’t thought about string?
He shifted again, giving her a small nod, this time meeting her gaze. There was a smile on his lips. It was nothing that was teasing, or jesting, or making her feel less. It was kind and calm. Something that she entirely needed then. “It’s not embarrassing.”
It took her a few moments before she nodded. “I’ll be embarrassed enough for the both of us,” she offered, though there was a quiet bit of laughter in her voice about it. And it earned her a chuckle from him, which caused a smile to ease onto her lips.
“Then I’ll not be embarrassed enough for the two of us,” he reasoned, giving her a small nod before he shifted the string in his hands. “It might be uncomfortable. But I figure you’ll want to keep this intact?” He nodded toward the ring.
She gave a gentle nod at the thought. “If we can manage.” That would just make it worse. Embarrassing herself and messing the ring up? She was sure Tam Amber would be able to fix it. But she also didn’t want to take her Mama’s ring to him and have to explain why she’d messed it up.
“I’ll do my best,” he promised, offering his pinky out to her. It was enough to cause a small snort of laughter to escape her. This was ridiculous. But that made it feel a bit better.
She shifted to link her pinky with his. Her finger curled around his, which earned a small squeeze from his far larger one. Just something else to help calm her.
“Let me get you some ice,” he reasoned, settling it down beside him before he moved to stand. “You want anything to drink?”
Her head shook, watching him as he moved across the room. He was entirely on a mission, sure that he crossed the floor in twice as few steps as she would have. “No, thank you.”
He made his way back over once he’d gotten a small bag full of ice, offering it to her. “Sit it on there for a bit,” he reasoned, twisting some of the thread off before cutting it.
Her head nodded, letting the ice settle and ease a bit on the aching finger. This was too much, entirely, and she was trying to do what she could to stay relaxed. The quiet in the room was only making it worse while he worked on getting what he needed. “Bet you haven’t done this before.” Stop talking.
“All the time.”
It’s part of his job. Just stop talking, dummy. Stop talking.
She didn’t know if he could read his mind or just knew how things like this went. But she was grateful either way as he cleared his throat. “How old are you?”
“Huh?”
“I’ve got to fill out some paperwork when we get it off,” he explained softly. “Promise I’m not being creepy. Or something like that.”
“23. Almost 24.”
“Yeah? Me too. 23,” he spoke, looking up to her with a small smile. “July.”
“December.”
There was the briefest of pauses, something that had her mind running like no other. She wished it were different, that it didn’t send her into a panic. Especially because she could see how much he was trying to focus then.
“What do you do?” She asked, nearly blurting it out before it sank in what she had just asked. Why did he have her like this?
It earned her another laugh, at least, and a smile, as he shifted to settle the ice off her finger and back to the table beside him. “This.”
“Yeah, that…” Her cheeks flushed a bit more, watching as he adjusted to settle her hand against his knee. “Was it always what you wanted to do? Like, when you were in second grade, was that what you dressed up as for your dream job?”
It was probably too specific. And she was sure that he wouldn’t answer. She sounded like she was talking to her class instead of some guy her own age.
“Nah,” he finally answered. There was a long pause as he glanced up at her. “Never thought about it. We had a house fire when I was 16. They got us out, and I owe… everything to them. Figured I could give back the same way they gave to me.”
Her face softened a bit, nodding her head in understanding. “Doing some real good, you know? Always nice to have a reason. A why.”
He nodded, shifting her hand in his own, as he moved to slip the thread between her finger and the ring as carefully as he could. It took a bit of adjustment, all too focused on it until he was satisfied. “What about you? What do you do?”
She kept her eyes on the ring, as his long fingers twisted the string in a strange shape. “I’m a teacher. Second grade.”
“That’s the real public service.”
It earned a snort of laughter from her, shaking her head at the idea. “Yeah, if you think chasing after kids and keeping crayons out of their noses is public service, I guess it is.” It earned a laugh from him this time. “They’ll love to hear that the cool firefighter helped Miss. Lenore Dove.”
“Oh, I’m cool?” He asked, lifting his gaze with a small smile, feeling her cheeks starting to warm a bit. “That’s the highest compliment when it comes from kids. Might live on that high all day.”
“Firefighters are the coolest. Everyone wants to be one at that age,” she admitted. “That or a superhero. Same thing.”
“Eh,” the man started with a soft chuckle. “Superheroes have better pay. And tights. Though I don't know if that’s a plus.”
It caused another laugh to leave her. Was it too much? Was she too giggly? She didn’t know. But she was all too aware now of just how much the sound was escaping her.
He shifted the string a bit, settling the hand against his knee again. “I’m gonna wrap the rest of this around your finger. Tell me if it’s too tight, alright?”
Her head nodded, watching as he carefully twisted it around the swollen finger. It was strange, watching the way that her finger seemed to flatten out a bit. “It’s okay.”
“Alright,” he mumbled, shifting to slip it underneath the ring once more before he was satisfied. “I’m just gonna slowly untwist it. If it hurts, tell me to stop,” he told her.
“Got it.”
He shifted his long fingers, careful to pull the string slowly away from her skin. He was focused, eyes on her hand as he worked. It was impressive, in itself, the way that the ring seemed to slowly be nudging forward. “You’re not from here, are you?”
“No.” Her head shook in response as she tilted her head. “Is it that obvious?” She’d never quite fit, which had been fine. But the idea that he could tell only made her worry a bit more.
He shifted the string a bit tighter, enough to cause the smallest of a wince. It was enough to cause him to pause, fingers still as he looked up to her. His pale eyes searched over her face, wanting to make sure that she was okay. When he seemed to think so, he shifted his finger to pull a bit more. “No. Just… know I would remember your face.”
She was almost sure that her heart dropped right to her feet. If his eyes weren’t so locked on hers, she would have dropped it. And she was almost sure that her face gave away just how she was feeling. “Ye… yeah, I uh, my family’s around here. We traveled a lot when I was little, never stayed in one place,” she explained, feeling like she was stumbling over her words. “My cousin was born and raised here, though.”
“Yeah? I might know them,” he reasoned. “Lived here my whole life.”
She shifted to glance down at her ring, looking it over with a soft breath. “I apologize if you do,” she joked. “Burdock Everdeen.”
“Burdie?” The young man asked, a small laugh in his voice. “No shit. Small world.”
She didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. But it seemed to be much more of a laugh, a smile, and surely it meant well. “I’m sorry you know him,” she laughed softly. “He suggested a fire station. Or waiting for his fiancée to have a break at work.”
“Asterid would have gotten this off in a blink,” the man agreed, looking back down to the ring as he shifted a piece of the string. There was a small pause, his other hand moving to try and push against the string, his lips pressing together into a small frown.
Her own lips turned into one as he reached over to settle the ice back onto her finger. That wasn’t good, was it? And she was almost scared to ask about it.
He shifted for a moment, one hand keeping the ice on her finger while the other wrapped around her thin wrist. “We’ll keep it here for a minute, try and get some of the blood flowing again,” he spoke, shifting to lift her hand over her head.
“Okay.”
He offered a small smile, something that was reassuring in it. “Finger’s gonna be okay. Worse comes to worst, we might have to cut it.” He paused, meeting her gaze for a moment, soothing as could be. “The ring, not the finger.”
It was enough to cause a breath of relief to leave her, something she hadn’t realized she was holding. She knew it was ridiculous to be so worked up, or to even think that he’d chop her finger off right then. But she hadn’t been able to help herself.
“But I’m gonna do all I can to make sure I don’t,” he assured her. His gaze turned back to the hand he had lifted, long fingers wrapped all too carefully around her wrist. “Not gonna piss off some guy-” his gaze dropped, for just a moment to hers, before back to her hand. “Or girl, or anyone, if I have to cut your engagement ring off right?”
The question caught her off guard. Engagement ring? Was that what it looked like? She glanced at the ring for a moment before her head shook at the question. “No one to piss off but myself.”
There was some look that crossed his features, one that she didn’t quite know how to place. Was that relief? A look that was glad to hear her words? The fact that she was single? Or at least engaged?
Don’t be stupid. You’re being ridiculous. It’s his job.
It was likely just the fact that he wasn’t going to have to deal with anyone being pissed off about it. She wouldn’t want to be the one to blame for it happening in his shoes. That had to be what it meant.
She watched a small smile grow on his lips as he moved to bring her hand back down, settling it against his palm once more. “I don’t know. Don’t think I’d want to be pissing you off. I would like to stay on your good side.”
“You’re doing pretty okay so far,” she teased, watching as his fingers rewrapped around the string. “You’ll be doin’ even better when this damn thing’s off.”
His head nodded with a soft chuckle, eyes still locked on the string. It was as gentle as he could manage. For someone as large as he was, he was as gentle as he possibly could be with each twist of the thread.
She did her best to keep her breath as steady as she possibly could. If nothing else, all he’d have to do was cut it. And as sad as it would make her, at least she had Tam Amber, who would fix it up in a heartbeat. That was what she had to keep reminding herself as she watched the ring slowly wiggle.
As it pulled up over her knuckle, she felt like she was holding her breath every bit. It was nearly too good to be true, as if she breathed too hard, it’d somehow slip back down her finger. His palm underneath her hand, wrapped gently around her wrist to steady her. His other hand worked to untangle the string the rest of the way, far quicker than he had been to get it unstuck.
Her shoulders relaxed as he pulled the ring off and into his hand. Her finger still looked swollen, though, but it was far better than it could have been. “Thank you,” she whispered, feeling like she had tears in her eyes, trying not to spill. Not in front of him.
“I’m just glad I’m still on your good side,” he told her with a soft chuckle, moving to pass back over the ice to her. “Let me get you some more ice, okay? Get you home without it melting too much.” His fingers moved to drop the ring into her hand with a smile, one that felt like it was squishing her heart a bit. This was strange. This was too much.
Get it together.
Her head nodded, watching as he stood from his spot, sitting back on the couch. Her eyes fell on the ring in her palm. Such a pretty little ring caused far too much trouble. Maybe it was one more little gift from her Mama. Which… it always felt far too ridiculous to think about. But sometimes, sometimes it was nice that she was giving her signs all the way up there.
“Here,” his voice sounded behind her, making his way around the couch to settle beside her. “Feeling any better?”
She shifted to settle the ice back onto it, letting her shoulders relax next to him. It was nice, at least. And she felt like she could breathe, as embarrassed as she was about it all. “Yeah, lots,” she promised, smiling over to him.
His smile was nice. She could see that much. She’d be blind not to see just that. And the way he was looking at her was even nicer.
“I’m sorry.” The apology earned a furrowed brow, which caused his smile to curl up a bit. “I’m sure you had so many other things to be doing than helping silly me with this. Way more important things that mattered.”
His smile softened, his shoulders shrugging in response. “Nah. This was a fresh of breath air.” The confusion on his features seemed to hit rather quickly, shaking his head. “Breath of fresh air. Right?”
A giggle left her, nodding her head in agreement. “Yeah,” she whispered, smiling at him. “Thank you. Really.”
His hand moved to settle over hers, something that if she were any younger would have had her squealing out. “Glad I could help.” He moved to stand, shifting his hand to offer out and help her up from the couch. “Always happy to help. Trust me, I have dealt with nearly… any problem you can think of. I’ve seen a lot worse than a pretty girl getting a ring stuck.”
She was more than grateful that he had started past her as her cheeks warmed. She did all she could not to roll her eyes at herself about it all. Why was she like this? She followed quietly after him, letting her eyes flutter around. At least it was all almost over. She’d never have to see him again.
And why did that fact make her a bit sad to think about? She didn’t know anything about him. Hell, the only name she knew him by was Itchy. And surely that really wasn’t his actual name, was it?
She followed as he led her back through the station, back past the woman she’d first talked to. She was still settled near one of the trucks, sorting through a few bags and seeming far from interested in just what the two of them were doing. Though she swore she saw the start of a laugh from her as they passed by.
“Thank you. Again.” She was sure she had said it a thousand times by then. But she really did just want to make sure he knew. That, after everything, he knew she really did feel bad about it all.
“Don’t worry about it, Lenore Dove.” Her name sounded nice when he said it, something that caused her to want to smack herself on the forehead to even think about it.
She gave a nod, turning to head back down the block. Back home to a hopefully far less swollen finger and to try not to think about how embarrassing it was. Though she paused, turning back to face him. “I never got your name.”
Surprise. That was the look that crossed his face at her words. She could use the excuse that she just wanted to thank him properly, to leave some compliment for all of his help. That would be the easiest answer. Not that she wanted to have a name to the face that had made her feel like some little girl with a stupid crush. “Abernathy.” He tugged his jacket collar down enough to show the name neatly stitched into the shirt underneath it. “Haymitch.”
“Haymitch.” It was a nice name. It fit him. She couldn’t help her small smile that grew before she gave him a gentle nod. “See you soon.”
“Hopefully not.” There was a laugh shared between them. Of course, the last thing either of them wanted was that. More than likely, it would mean that she was in need of more help. Nothing more. Right?
“Yeah.” She gave him one last nod and a small wave before she turned back to head home. Her eyes glanced down at her hand, grateful as could be that her finger was finally seeming to get the right color to it again. Though her mind couldn’t shake the thought of the man.
She felt like a fool for even thinking about him in any other sort of way. It’d been nothing more than him trying to help her out, which she would always be grateful for. That was all it had been. So why couldn’t she shake the feeling of his hand wrapped around her wrist so carefully?
She glanced behind her, as casually as she could, as if she was getting a good look around her. She had tried to wait, to try and give at least a little bit of space before she had even looked. She was sure that he had already headed back inside. She was sure there were far more important things to be working on, no matter how much he had sworn otherwise.
And there he had been, standing still in his spot, eyes locked on her. Even as the small blonde woman had seemed to settle next to him in conversation. She met his gaze, for just a brief moment, which had only gained a smile that would have made her knees weak.
It took everything in her not to whip her head away, out of panic, out of some excitement. But she finally had to look away. Her cheeks felt on fire, as if someone had lit them with a flint striker. She couldn’t help the smile that had settled onto her lips. And she was sure it’d take far too long to get him off her mind now. Even though she was sure the likelihood of them finding each other again was nowhere near as high as she wanted it to be.
Maybe she could ask Burdock about him? Or maybe she could get another ring stuck on her finger? Or two? Something that would make him have to be around for longer? What the hell was she even thinking?
She was fucked.