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There was a part of Maysilee that never really imagined this was the future.
She never imagined getting picked for the Hunger Games, let alone winning those games with itchy-mitchy Haymitch from the Seam.
She also never imagined that they wouldn’t just give her the money and the house and leave her the fuck alone.
Even the forced Victory Tour with Haymitch, and the celebrations, she really thought that by the time the next Games happened that she could just fade into oblivion. Especially with the way that she and Haymitch had won their games by flaunting the rules. They were both lucky to be alive.
Lucky that they could be threatened into behaving with the threat of their families’ deaths on their heads rather than actually losing their families.
Haymitch had already nearly lost his family. The fire had been a warning and Maysilee had been grateful that she didn’t know the young girl that she had to mentor for the next Games or the one after that or the one after that.
But knowing them or not knowing them, it was tearing them both apart.
Their tributes would never be given another shot to win, but at least they had each other.
Blending into each other’s lives, holding onto the only other person that could understand the hell that they go through year after year. It was all they truly had, even with their siblings alive, even with their friends alive.
Not having to mentor them in the games had been a relief.
And falling in love was almost too easy once Haymitch had let go of his girlfriend that was killed for her own crimes but had been held onto until Haymitch could witness it. Part of the warning from Snow.
She thought that they would be ignored after a while. They’d been good, followed the rules, despite wanting to be the worst victors ever, melting together like the capitol clearly wanted. They’d only given in after they had fallen for each other on their own, and both hate how much the capitol loves it.
But they didn’t fade into the background, they weren’t left alone, and she couldn’t believe this was her happily ever after.
“I saved you a seat,” Maysilee says, as she offers the seat beside her to Haymitch at the bar. She’d beaten him there for once.
“I can’t keep doing this, May,” he whispers, already half-drunk as he accepts her offer. “I can’t.”
“Then, we need to find a way to win.”
She gives him a look, and he knows, it’s not about their tributes winning a Games. That was never going to happen. No, they need to spark a rebellion and a war and win.
“We will, someday.”
***
And then, the impossible happened: District 12 won again.
With a pair of tributes.
A pair of tributes with the easiest rebel icon they could find.
Katniss.
It had hurt her to see Astrid’s daughter and Otho’s son in the games, she knew it hurt to see Burdock’s daughter in the games for Haymitch, but it sparked something she hadn’t seen in a long time - determination. Determination to win. Determination to fight.
Haymitch was not about to let her die. Not on his watch.
There had been a part of her that believed that it has somehow been a punishment, that Snow somehow knew that Plutarch and everyone else had still been trying to find a way to rebel, but she didn’t care.
Their plan worked.
The fact that their star-crossed lovers angle worked was a minor miracle, many capitolites had compared them to her and Haymitch along the way, claiming that they, too, had been star-crossed lovers (largely forgetting that Haymitch had someone else when they were reaped), but she knows that it’s only sparked the rebellion more.
Which is exactly what they needed.
***
So, she’s not surprised when the Victory Tour seemed to reveal just how much rebellion is going on and even more when Snow had insisted that all living victors attend the live broadcast in the capitol for the reading of the card for 75th Quarter Quell.
She’s not even surprised what the card reads – tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of living victors for each district.
What better way to quell rebellion than to legally execute those most willing to rebel? It was genius and she hates it.
But this is just what they need.
So, she calms Katniss and Peeta down once they’re back to their Victor’s Apartment in the Tribute Center, and then, goes to find Haymitch.
He’s at the nearest Victor’s Bar around the corner, and as she approaches, he says, “I saved you a seat,” as he offers her a drink.
“Some happily ever after this is, huh?” Maysilee offers, taking a sip. She tries not to drink as much because Haymitch drinks enough for both of them, but she’s never one to turn a drink down if she’s completely sober.
“At least we won’t leave any kids behind,” Haymitch says, shrugging.
“You’re just going to give up now?” Maysilee questions. She glances around. “Perfect time for the ultimate painting, right?”
He gives her a look, and says, “Twenty-five years since our lives went to hell, May, don’t you know when to give up while you’re behind?”
But he winks at her, and she suddenly knows that there’s a plan. Haymitch has always been in the know with the Rebellion more than she has and has protected her more since he blames himself for the chaos of their games as if she wasn’t also angry at the way they were treated.
She smiles and kisses his cheek, grateful that there’s something in the works, maybe happily ever after is possible.
***
It takes a lot of time, a chaotic turn with Haymitch as mentors for the last time, nearly getting captured in a capitol and a war none of them had actually been prepared for.
Sober Haymitch is a real treat, but it works.
She works with Katniss to fight the war in the best way any of them know how – she may be the Mockingjay, but she didn’t get there on her own and she needs encouragement only people that know her can give her.
***
When it all settles, Snow is dead, Coin is dead, and the people are free, they go home.
Most of twelve is gone.
Katniss is a mess, Peeta is a mess, but Maysilee and Haymitch sit on their stoop in Victor’s Village with a couple of drinks raised to each other.
“We did it, Hay, we made it.”
He bumps her shoulder with a slight smile and kisses her cheek. “Never thought you and I would ever get this, honestly.”
“Me either,” she admits. “But now, we can rebuild – heal, move on, and finally have that happily ever after we deserve.”
“Cheers to that.”
“Cheers.”