#5 Haymitch Abernathy and Johanna.
So I’m going with some angst...
Thanks for the prompt @mega-aulover!
This is before the Quell
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5. “I feel stuck. And everyone is moving without me.”
Haymitch steps onto the roof, his footsteps the only sound against the concrete. The smell of smoke is the first indicator that he isn’t alone, and he inhales the familiar scent of a Swisher Sweet…peach, from what he can tell. It’s a wonder how she ever managed to find a pack or someone to even replicate the pre-Panem cigarillo.
However, she’s a Victor and can get just about anything she wants—except freedom.
Crouched behind a water heater, Haymitch finds her—barefaced and wearing nothing but a black silk robe, the cigarillo balanced between her fingers.
Sitting beside her, Johanna hands the smoke to him and he takes a deep puff, savoring the sweet toxic flavor and the thought that it’s touched her lips.
“Didn’t work,” he says after a moment.
“I figured,” she mutters. “Blight is downstairs, gathering some stuff that he’ll need to give to his wife and kid. I couldn’t take the blubbering…” She turns to him as he inhales. “Your kids did great. They really tried…with the toasting and the baby thing.”
“Wasn’t good enough.” Haymitch hands her the stick back to her. “I feel stuck. And everyone is moving without me.”
“Don’t be a fucking idiot.” She takes a deep breath before turning to him, angry tears filming those dark eyes. “We’re moving towards our deaths. If this whole scheme falls through, we’re fucked!”
“No, I’m fucked!” he suddenly shouts. “If they die…if you die—where does that leave me? Stuck. Mentoring another set of tributes who will have no chance…stuck on this never-ending train.”
“I get it.” Her hand reaches to entwine in his. “It doesn’t matter whether the road is good or bad, at least you’re traveling.” She turns to him. “Where do you want to go?”
“You know we can’t leave the building—”
“Just pick a place,” Johanna grouses.
“I don’t know…maybe District 4,” he finally says. “That damn peacock Finnick is always talking the place up. I’ve also never seen the horizon on the water.”
“Haymitch, you goddamn poet.” Johanna smirks. “Now, do me a favor and close your eyes.”
“Are you nuts?” he replies.
“No, that’s Wiress.” She turns to him, her robe gaping just enough to catch the tantalizing swell of her breasts. “Just do this for me, okay?”
Haymitch nods, mouth dry at the intensity of her dark gaze, and follows her instruction.
“There’s a beach…the sand is white…and the sea is so blue that you’re having a hard time separating it from the sky. What are you doing?”
He thinks before for a moment.
“I’m watching them play in the water. They’ve never been to the beach. They’ve never been anywhere, really—just stuck on that damned train, clinging to each other. There, they’re happy and Peeta doesn’t feel like a giant cock up even though his mother constantly tells him he is. The leg doesn’t bother him. Katniss manages to smile occasionally, though she’ll deny it. She’s actually looks at Peeta, the way she wants to.”
“Poor Mockingjay,” Johanna coos against his ear. “And, where am I?”
“Right next to me.”
“Oh.” There’s a slight hitch to her response. “And what am I doing?”
“You’re just there,” Haymitch explains, his voice tight. “And it’s enough. Because you’ve all managed to stay alive.”
He suddenly tastes peaches against his tongue.
Her hands cradle his rough cheeks gently and for a moment, he detects a semblance of affection.
However, that’s not them.
They only take.
Because they have nothing to offer one another except for whatever this is…or was.
Their lives aren’t even theirs.
They pull apart breathless and shaky, her hands falling from his face.
“K-K-Keep your eyes closed,” she trembles thickly.
Salt….tears…
Victors aren’t supposed to cry—unless they know they’re about to die.
“Okay,” he rasps, trying in vain to keep it all from rising up.
Haymitch waits…and waits…and waits…
When he opens his eyes, she is already gone, taking the taste of peaches and of hope with her.
FIN.
