Work Text:
He knew it was over the second that he felt the fullback make contact with his leg. Haymitch had been in rough tackles before, but this one was different. Something twisted and wrenched and he could have sworn that he heard something pop or crack.
There were some things that you never came back from.
His body dropped to the ground, but that was almost a natural reflex after twenty years on the pitch. Someone hits you and you go down and make a show of it no matter how real the contact. The white hot pain that hit him a second later was very real and he hissed and grit his teeth to keep himself from screaming.
The rest of the team had come over to yell at the ref for a bit and he heard the whistle as Barker was sent off. All this he was only vaguely aware of as his every thought was consumed by the unending pain in his leg.
Chaff grasped his hand to pull him up, but he didn’t even manage half way before Haymitch let out a grunt of pain and fell bak to the pitch. It felt like his whole body was being ripped apart.
“We need a stretcher,” he heard Finnick say from somewhere nearby.
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Haymitch growled at him. That wasn’t how he was gonna let this end - dragged off the pitch in a stretcher like some pathetic cripple.
“I just - “ he began, gasping again as he tried to bring his legs under him. “Give me a sec.”
“Haymitch, there’s no sh - “ Coach began to say, but Chaff didn’t let him finish.
“He said give him a sec,” Chaff barked at him, glaring at the rest of them like they were about to disagree. “Let him leave with some fucking dignity - alright, Gaff?”
Coach relented and Haymitch was allowed a few moments to wallow in his agony. The trainers came and shot his knee with something that would make the pain a little more bearable. By the time they had it wrapped he could stand to move the thing even if it still wasn't entirely weight baring.
Chaff gave him a moment before pulling him to his feet, doing all the work. Finnick was there on his other side to steady him, clapping hand on his back to disguise his concern.
“And he’s up,” he heard the commentators announce followed by a loud cheer from the crowd and the chant that had followed him all the way from his first match at Leeds United.
“Hay - mitch! Ab-ar-nathy! He’s a page right out of history!”
Haymitch raised a three fingered salute to the crowd, taking the moment to steal himself before he hobbled off the pitch. One of the trainers was waiting for him just inside the tunnel with a pair of crutches - he threw them away with a disgusted sneer.
Whatever they’d shot into his knee was already wearing off, but he would walk away on his own volition even if it killed him. Even if he barely managed two steps into the locker room before he had to collapse onto the nearest bench.
He'd barely sat down when he heard the door open and close on the other side of the room. No need to look up to see who had dared to follow him in there. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he yelled at her - his last line of defence and deflection.
Unsurprisingly, Effie ignored him.
“Go away,” he growled, teeth bared like a wounded animal.
She shook her head sadly.
“I don’t want your pity,” he spat disdainfully as she move in closer.
“This isn’t pity,” she told him firmly, even as her eyes filled up with tears. “I am so proud of you, Haymitch.”
“Yeah, right,” he muttered back at her. “I’m nothing, sweetheart. Just a washed-up old has-been.”
He didn’t look up as she settled on the bench beside him. “No, my darling,” she said softly, her hands guiding him to rest his head on her shoulder and running lightly over his dark hair. “You are everything. Today you showed them what true strength looks like.”
He scoffed at her inane words, but it soon turned into a sob as he finally let himself break down with the pain and grief. Effie said nothing, just wrapping her arms firmly around his shoulders. He’d have been embarrassed for anyone else to see him like - so completely and utterly devastated. But Effie …
They had been hovering around each other for so long that it almost seemed inevitable when they finally decided to try for something more. Haymitch just wished that he hadn’t waited until he was some pathetic dinosaur staring down retirement. He wished that he could have given her his best years instead of … this.
“What am I gonna do?” he asked, his chest feeling tight with dread. It was the question that he’d been avoiding for the last year and a half, pushing through one injury to the next until he finally hit a wall.
“You don’t have to decide that today,” Effie answered softly. One of her hands had loosened the band that kept his hair back so that she could run her fingers through his hair in that way he always complained about but secretly loved. “We have all the time in the world.”
“I don’t know how to do anything else,” he said worriedly, though he felt some the tension leave him as she continued to pet his hair. “I’ve never even had a proper job.”
“Then perhaps you can become one of those house husbands,” she teased lightly. “I will be the breadwinner and you can make me a three course dinner every night after a hard day in the office.”
“Well I certainly can’t let you do the cooking,” he shot back. “I’d die of malnutrition in a fortnight.”
She paused her gentle soothing long enough to send him an annoyed scowl. “I’m glad to see you are feeling more yourself,” she said prissily. But then she kissed him softly on the lips so he knew she didn’t mean it. “I love you,” she said as she pulled away. “I know it doesn’t seem like much right now, but you have always been enough for me, Haymitch.”
He whispered the words back against her lips. And for the first time in a while that uncertainty didn’t seem quite so scary. He still had no idea what he would do with his life, but he knew that they would get there together.