The Mockingjay Pin

by saxanet12

The pin was why, when Peeta confessed his love for Katniss, Haymitch vowed to bring the Star-crossed Lovers of District Twelve home together. And the pin was why, after the Rebellion, children no longer had to die bloody deaths in the Arena like Maysilee, drink away their problems like Haymitch, or live half-dead from sadness, waiting for God to finish the job, like me.

Mockingjay Pin

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Hunger Games because I am not secretly Suzanne Collins. But enjoy!

Sorry for any gore, but it IS the Hunger Games.

"Maysilee, can you help me with this? You have a good eye for window decorations!"

"Sorry, dad, I have to run the counter. Oh, I'll get Marilyn to do it."

And that's how I found myself watching the counter of our empty store. Not many people in District Twelve (especially not in the Seam) could afford sweets. It was a boring job, and Maysilee hated it more than I did because she genuinely loved talking to people.

I sighed, trying to read my copy of Beowulf, a book assigned to us in class. I hadn't liked it: there was no happy ending, like in fairytales. I liked happy endings, and hoped I would get mine eventually.

I could hear Maysilee's laughs from outside as she helped our dad. I wished I was her. Maysilee was the older twin, and she, she was so good at everything! She loved to sing, and had a beautiful canary. She was the top of our class even though she rarely studied, she was good at sports, and even though we looked exactly the same, it was Maysilee that had boys falling at her feet.

Oh, and to top it off, she was a deep down nice person.

I sighed, wishing for someone to walk in and distract me. The little bell on our door jingled, almost on clockwork, and two boys walked in.

They had the black hair and olive skin of the Seam, which surprised me. Like I said before, Seam kids usually don't have enough money for lunches, let alone extra candy.

The younger one looked around five, adorable and excitedly tugging on his brother's hand. I recognized the older one: his name was Haymitch and he was twelve, like me. And, I'll admit, I had a teensy weensy crush on him. Okay, so maybe not so teensy weensy.

Haymitch looked down at his brother and pointed at the candy. "You can have any three," he said.

His brother gasped, and his gray Seam eyes flashed with excitement."Thanks, Haymitch!" he beamed, "This is the best birthday ever!"

I watched quietly as the little boy picked out three pieces: a peppermint, a blue and green striped one, and a lemon drop the color of sunshine. Haymitch paid for them in carefully counted coins.

"It's all right." I said, "You can have them. It's his birthday, after all, and three small pieces aren't going to make a difference." Maybe I was trying to impress my crush, or maybe deep-down goodness runs in the family.

It didn't matter. Haymitch replied gruffly, "No," and roughly slid his coins across the table. I took them without another word.

The younger one had stuffed two of the candies in his mouth and held the other one out to his brother, "Take it," he said.

"No, it's your gift," Haymitch replied, still angry, but with warmth seeping back into his tone.

I watched them leave, wishing I had done something else.

They came back every year on the same day, the little boy, whose name was Hayward, jumping up and down in excitement, and Haymitch carefully counting out the coins.

I never again tried to give him a discount. If I were Maysilee, I probably would have kept trying out of stubbornness and misguided kindness. If I were my mother, I would have been wily and lowered the price right before he walked in. But I'm Marilyn and I didn't move a muscle.

"No discount?" he asked. I shook my head slowly.

His scowl contorted into a half-smile, a half-smile for me.

X

"Happy birthday!"

"This is your sweet sixteen, so we got something that fits the theme," Maysilee said as I held out a big bag of sweets from our shop.

It was Vera Barbury's birthday, and since she was our best friend, Maysilee and I had pooled our money to buy her a ginormous bag of candy. She would need a lot of sweetness in the time to come: the Second Quarter Quell reaping was in less than three months.

"I know what else I really want for my birthday," Vera said, a blush creeping across her cheeks, "A kiss from Amir Everdeen,"

"You can't be in love with Amir," Maysilee chided, "He's from the Seam, and you can't possibly want to love someone from there. Isn't that right, Marilyn?"

I didn't say anything, because I loved Haymitch, who was also from the Seam. But Maysilee was right. The Seam was the slum of District Twelve, where all the coal miners lived. I shuddered thinking about it. But I was sure Haymitch was worth it.

"Amir would be worth it," Vera replies, voicing my thoughts, "I swear, when he sings, the birds go silent,"

"But you have that Mellark boy," Maysilee tried to dissuade her, putting on her stubborn face. Vera wasn't convinced. "Come on. Marilyn, you agree, right?"

"I think if the boy was worth it, I would give up everything for him," I said dreamily. My eyes flitted to Haymitch, who was sitting at a table a few feet away with Amir. The Seam kids were required to go to the same school as us (segregation was banned almost two hundred years ago), which was nice, because I got to see Haymitch every day.

Maysilee turned up her nose disdainfully. "You guys are crazy. I would never marry a pauper from the Seam. In fact, I think I would be the mayor's wife."

X

I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to make sense of my math homework. All the numbers swirled around in my head, and I could feel the start of a headache coming on.

Maysilee and I had started our homework around forty minutes ago. She had whipped through it, but I couldn't understand a single problem. Normally, she would have stayed and helped me, but she told me she wanted to help dad organize the candy trays or something. I had thought that it was strange that Maysilee wanted to work, but the thought of my homework before me led me to completely forget about everything else.

I walked around the side of our house, but stopped short when I heard two familiar voices. "Oh, this is so sweet!"

"'I've been uh- saving up um- for it," Haymitch, who was always snarky and arrogant, seemed almost nervous. But who was the blond girl he was with? It couldn't be Maysilee! She told me everything!

I saw Maysilee pin the pretty gold Mockingjay pin to the front of her shirt. "Gosh, it's so pretty! This was so thoughtful, thank you!"

Haymitch grinned, a full smile, not a half-smile. "I thought you'd uh- like it, you know because you like singing so much."

Run, I told myself, you don't want to see this. But my feet refused to move.

So I watched. I watched as my sister, my twin, my best friend in the whole world threw her arms around the arrogant Seam boy who I loved, watched as their lips met, they lost their balance, and collapsed against the side of the house, breathing heavily from loss of air.

That would have been a perfect time to take my leave, right? But no, my feet were still numb. So I stayed to hear Maysilee speak to Haymitch, "I don't like this whole secret thing. I've never kept anything from Marilyn, and I don't like all this sneaking around."

"We can't. If anyone finds out about us, your father will have me killed in a snap second. And you don't want that, do ya sweetheart?" Haymitch had regained some of his barbed humor.

"No," Maysilee replied. She untangled herself from him, and stood up. "I'd better get going. The Reaping is in a week, and I need to try on my outfit."

He smirked, "You'd better look pretty,"

Maysilee gave him a disdainful look and playfully slapped him. I knew she would find me if I didn't move so I took off back to my room.

As I ran, I felt fury take hold of me. I could remember her high-and-mighty voice at lunch; I would never marry a pauper from the Seam. It was nothing but a lie.

And it wasn't fair. I loved Haymitch, would give up the world for him. It wasn't fair that Maysilee got everything she wanted, everything I wanted.

By the time I got to my room, some of the anger had melted away into sadness. I threw myself onto my bed, soaking my pillowcase with my tears.

I heard a pair of footsteps up the stairs. It must have been Maysilee, who sensed my tears. Twins are like that. "Marilyn, is something wrong?"

In response, I sobbed harder.

Maysilee came to my bed and patted my back, "Hey, what's wrong? You're not upset that I left you today, are you? I'm sorry, but…" she lowered her voice and her hand fingered the pin on her blouse, "I had to see Haymitch. I've got to tell you something. I- I think I love him, you know, and it's hard to meet in secret. I hope knowing that will make you less upset."

No, knowing just made me more upset.

X

"All right, Marilyn. We have to go now." Maysilee pulled me towards the Town Square, her hands tight on my wrist. "The Reaping starts in ten minutes."

I could see the Mockingjay Pin pinned to her shirt. She had never taken it off since the day she had received it. It made me sad to look at it, and I turned away.

I didn't want to go to the Reaping. I never wanted to go, to be honest, but this year was worse. It was the Second Quarter Quell, the fiftieth anniversary of the District's loss to the Capitol, and in order to truly "celebrate", four tributes would be reaped instead of the usual two. That meant two more chances for me to hear my name called out, two more chances for me to be led to the slaughter.

I wasn't really afraid for myself. I was only in there six times, which was not bad at all compared to some of the Seam kids, who had to take out tesserae and ended up with their name in the bowl fifty to sixty times. I wasn't afraid for Maysilee, whose odds were as favorable as mine.

I was afraid for Haymitch. Despite everything, I still loved him, and I couldn't bear the thought of him dying in the Games. I knew he had taken out tesserae, and I knew he had taken it out often.

Maysilee and I were roped into the section for eighteen year old girls. Her hands were tight around mine, and I could feel the pain in my arm. But it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart when I saw that her other hand was gripping Haymitch's under the rope; Haymitch bent down to kiss it chivalrously, a light grin on his face. She gave him a weak, scared smile, and I could feel a tear rolling down my face.

However, before anyone noticed, the reaping began, and I felt myself tuning out the boring speeches. Until, of course, the tributes were announced.

The first tribute was a scrawny girl from the Seam that couldn't have been more than thirteen. She would die, I could already tell.

The next was Haymitch. I say it with certainty now, but then I was completely shocked. He didn't say anything, and his expression did not change. He tried to wrench his hand free of Maysilee's, but Maysilee had an iron grip. He looked at her, no expression in his eyes, pulled open her fingers, and strode purposefully to the stage.

Maysilee was screaming and sobbing at this point, but I remained calm for some reason. I wish I hadn't, though, because if I hadn't been so calm, I wouldn't have fully understood what happened next.

There were two more tributes, of course, because this was the Quarter Quell, and the next damned child was none other than Maysilee. My Maysilee, my best friend (despite it all), my mirror image, was going to die.

I could feel her fingers trembling, and her jaw was open. Her knees were shaking, and tears were flowing down her face.

I let go of her hand almost immediately. I regret that to this day. I wish I had held on for even one second longer. I wish I had told her how much I loved her. I wish I had truly forgiven her, but I never did.

I was in a daze as the last tribute was called, and I wasn't sure how I even got home that day.

That was the last time I ever held her hand.

X

Watching the Games almost killed me. Every time Maysilee battled another tribute, every time she was injured, I felt like it was happening to me, like I was watching myself in the Arena.

As for Haymitch, I felt a pang in my heart as he battled the other tributes, ruthlessly murdering just to live another day.

They were not allied, which was not surprising. Most likely, they did not want to end up having to battle one another at the end. Still, it made me happy, knowing that the two of them were not together.

But that all changed one day. Haymitch was battling the two of the Careers, who had decided that they'd had enough of his sarcastic humor and cutting remarks. ("So, Haymitch, what do you think of the Games having 100% more competitors than usual?" "I don't see that it'll make much difference because they'll still be 100% as stupid as usual. So I figure my odds are roughly the same.").

He was doing pretty well with his knife, and I was honestly surprised. While Haymitch had never been the sweetest boy in District Twelve (not by a long shot, but that's why I loved him), I didn't imagine him as a cold-hearted killer either.

Both Careers were on the ground, dead, and Haymitch stood up, brushed off his hands, and began walking towards a clearing. He didn't see the third Career, a boy from District Two, creeping up behind him. I gasped.

Haymitch was in a headlock before he knew it, and I shut my eyes, not wanting to be witness to the gruesome death I knew was inevitable.

I opened my eyes to the sound of retching. It was the boy from District Two, coughing on his own blood. I was shocked, but then the view shifted, and I saw Maysilee standing off to the side, holding her blowgun and a box of poisonous darts. Haymitch was on the ground, looking up at her, his face emotionless, a trail of blood spilling down his broken nose.

She looked at him. "We'd live longer with the two of us."

He stood up and pushed his nose back into place with a loud crack. "I guess you just proved that." he replied, wiping blood from his face, "Allies?"

She nodded, and I watched them. I watched them walk, hand in hand, Haymitch hoping to find the end of the arena. I watched them share the apples that Haymitch found, feeding each other. I watched them drink water from leaves on the rare occasion it rained. I watched them sleep, watched them take turns keeping watch.

I watched him watch her sleep, love filling his face despite how much he tried to hide it. I watched her shiver from the cold as the nights got colder. I watched him take off his jacket and cover her trembling form. I watched him brush her hair back from her face with loving hands. I watched him kiss her cheek gently, even though my vision was blurred with tears.

The Games were nearing their end, and the toll was visible on both of them, especially Maysilee. "Why are we still walking, Haymitch?" I heard her ask, "What do you think we're going to find? I'm not moving until I get an answer."

He looked at her, expressionless as usual. "This Arena can't go on forever. It has to end somewhere."

"What do you even hope to find?"

"I don't know," he said, beginning to walk again, "Something we can use."

She sighed, and began to follow him.

They trekked up a giant hill, him pulling her along as she became increasingly tired. I knew she was thankful when they reached the top, the end of the Arena. It was a Cliff.

She bit her lip, as she always did when she was nervous or indecisive. "That's all there is, Haymitch. We can go back now."

He looked at the ground. "No, I'm staying here."

I could see the tears pooling in her eyes. She bit her lip so hard that it began bleeding, a tiny ribbon of red trickling down her chin. She was fidgeting nervously, "All right," she said, her voice choked, "There are only five of us. Might as well say goodbye now. Don't want it to come down to the two of us."

He didn't look at her, just kept his eyes fixed on the ground, "Okay,"

She turned around, her shoulders shaking, and walked down the hill.

He waited till she was out of earshot to yell, kicking a large rock off the cliff. He sank to his knees, his hands on his head. He barely heard the zap and crunch of gravel over the sound of his angry cries.

He looked down, staring at the rock that had supposedly just plummeted off the cliff, right back in its original place. He picked up another rock, rolling it between his fingers. Casually tossed it off the cliff. Heard the zap. Watched it fly back into his hand.

He smiled. He had finally found what he was looking for.

X

He heard the scream just as I did, in the voice I had heard my entire life, the voice that I would hear the rest of my life in my nightmares.

He began to run, and I was too startled to close my eyes.

She was lying in a meadow of grass, clutching at her neck. I could hear the flapping of the birds and their loud chirps. To this day, I cannot come across a bird without screaming. They were candy pink, the color of the strawberry candies we sold in our store, the color of Maysilee's cheeks when she blushed.

The ribbon of blood trailing from her lip was accompanied now by larger rivers of blood trailing from her neck. She was making clicking sounds, and I could tell she was having trouble breathing. Her body was spasming, and I could tell she was in immense pain.

He ran to her, sinking to his knees near her bloody body. He grabbed her hand, tears in her eyes, and ducked his head over her. I had never once seen Haymitch cry, and it set me over the edge. Tears finally began spilling from my eyes.

"I love you," he kept repeating, over and over again, even after her body stilled and became cold. "I love you,"

X

The Games ended quickly after that. Two other tributes were killed very quickly, leaving only two: Haymitch and the girl from One who had singlehandedly killed almost half of the other tributes. I prayed that Haymitch would not be added to her kill list.

Their battle was long and difficult, as most last battles were. She was incredible with her axe, but he was tremendously powerful with his knife. I sat there, my knees hugging my chest, praying that I would not have to watch another of my loved ones die. I was a complete mess after the death of Maysilee, and I couldn't bear witnessing another death.

They were about even, but then Haymitch caught her in the eye with his knife. But minutes later, she disarmed him and caught him in the gut with her axe. Things were not looking good for Haymitch.

I watched him run up the mountain, one hand clutching at his gut, trying to keep his intestines in. She followed him, rage filling her one eye.

He had reached the top of the cliff and turned around to look at her. With a yell, she threw her axe at him. He sank to his knees, and the axe soared over his head.

The girl smiled, knowing that she would easily outlast the boy desperately gasping for breath. She began laughing.

Haymitch was having a hard time breathing, and he collapsed to the ground, blood spilling out of his mouth. But behind him came the spinning axe, bouncing off the force field and burying itself in the head of the startled girl from One.

Haymitch was the Victor.

X

Of course there was a giant celebration for Haymitch's victory, but my family wasn't there. Instead, we held a small funeral service for Maysilee. The Capitol fixed up the tributes before sending the home, so Maysilee's face was as smooth and beautiful as it was before the Games. She looked like she was merely sleeping, and a light touch would wake her up. She was wearing her dress from the Reaping, and the Mockingjay Pin was securely fastened on.

I stood near the plain wooden box they had sent her back in, looking at my beautiful sister. I wasn't able to bear the pain of her death; it was like I had died with her. I didn't want to hold her hand, too scared of the coldness I would feel instead of the warmth I wanted. She may have looked like she was sleeping, but she was dead.

Instead of holding her hand, I reached over and did something I would regret forever. I unfastened the Mockingjay Pin from her dress and slipped it into my pocket quietly, making sure nobody was watching.

Suddenly I began to cry, and I couldn't bear to stay in the house. I ran outside and didn't stop running until I reached the dirty part of town, the Seam.

I began walking, my head turning back and forth, my hands stuffed in my pockets. It smelled terrible, and it was cold. The celebrations had ended hours ago, and the streets were empty and quiet.

I slowed down when I smelled burning embers. What was going on? I heard angry yells in a painfully familiar voice, and I turned the corner.

Haymitch was on his knees in front of a burned down- house, yelling and beating the ground with his fists. "Mom! Pop! Hayward! Mo-om!" His voice was strangled, broken.

He collapsed, his chest heaving and his arms cradled protectively around his chest. The tiny house was in ashes, and I could see small items that had survived the fire; a small spoon, a miner's hat, and a small child's shoe. I realized what had happened, and I was horrified.

I must have stood there for hours before he noticed me, tears streaking his dusty face. He stood up and walked over to me like he was in a trance.

I just stood there, wondering what was going on, until he pulled me into an embrace. I was startled into a smile. "Ha- Haymitch? What's going on?"

He was still gripping onto me. "He- he killed my family."

"Who?"

'President Snow."

"W-why would he do that?" I asked, pulling away from his embrace even though I didn't really want to.

Anger replaced his broken voice. "Apparently, the Capitol did not like my little stunt with the force field." He spat, "They claimed it sparked of rebellion. Snow must have decided I had to pay,"

Tears filled my eyes, "Haymitch, I'm so sorry."

"Not as sorry as I am."

X

He never acknowledged my presence after that. I saw him in town sometimes. He frequented the Hob, trying to drown his troubles in liquor. He drank the hard stuff, the alcohol that made you a different person, and most people in town began to avoid him. Not me, though. Despite everything, I was still in love with him.

I began having terrible nightmares about Maysilee's death, and I often woke up late at night screaming. It was one of those nights, and I decided to take a walk. I was wearing the Mockingjay Pin, which I had never taken off since the day of Maysilee's funeral.

I didn't realize that I was in the Victor's Village until I had reached there. It was incredibly dark, and I began to feel a bit nervous. I was right next to Haymitch's house. I was about to turn back, when-

"Hey, sweetheart," someone said, in an incredibly slurred voice, and I became extremely frightened. Everyone had heard about the horrible things that happened to girls when they went out late at night. I tried to turn and run, but a hand gripped my arm hard. I tried to scream, but my voice refused to listen to my brain.

Suddenly, in the light of the moon, I was able to see the person with his hand wrapped around my arm. It was him. "H- Haymitch?"

He didn't say anything, just grabbed me around my waist and pushed me gently against the wall of his house. Suddenly his lips were on mine, warm and soft. I was startled, but in an incredibly happy, amazing way. I could taste the alcohol on his lips, but I didn't care. Here was my Haymitch, his arms wrapped tightly around me, and his face warm against mine.

We must have kissed for a long time before he pulled away, tracing his fingers across my face in a drunken, but loving fashion. I pulled him closer and tangled my fingers in his hair. He smiled and looked at me.

"I love you," he said, a huge grin spreading across his face, "I love you so much, Maysilee."

X

I began avoiding Haymitch after that night. I had pulled myself out of his grasp, not bothering to look back at his startled, drunken face as I ran away.

I had no idea if he understood, or even remembered what had happened, but I didn't care. I was done chasing after him.

I knew Haymitch would be mentoring at this year's Games, but I didn't care about him anymore. I didn't care about his stupid drinking problem. I didn't care about his stupid smile, which was so beautiful. I didn't care, okay? I didn't.

It had been almost a year since Maysilee's death, and the Reaping for the next games was in three days. I was nineteen now, so I would no longer have to worry about dying in the Games.

I was at her grave, with a bouquet of red roses and the Mockingjay Pin. It was time to make right my theft, time to give the pin back to its rightful owner, time to let go of Haymitch once and for all.

I arrived at her gravestone only to discover I was not the only one there. Haymitch stood in front of me, a bouquet of yellow marigolds, the color of Maysilee's hair, in his hand.

He turned around and nodded his head to acknowledge my presence. He looked sober, the first time I had seen him sober since the night his parents died.

"I'm sorry," I said, stiffly formal, "I can come back later."

"No," he said, "I'm about to leave."

I walked to Maysilee's grave, knelt down, and placed the bouquet of flowers and the pin on top of her grave. Haymitch added his marigolds, then picked up the pin and rolled it around in his hands. "Is this her pin?"

I nodded my head slowly. He leaned over and gently pinned it onto my shirt.

"You should keep it," he said, "I like seeing it on you,"

I don't know if he remembered kissing me, but I didn't think it mattered. Haymitch and I would never be a couple. He loved Maysilee too much.

I touched the pin, looked up at him, and smiled. "It was nice seeing you, Haymitch. Have a nice life."

He smiled, and I began walking back to town. I turned back suddenly, and saw him knelt over Maysilee's grave, whispering earnestly.

I smiled, turned around, and began walking.

X

The pin was why I married Mayor Undersee, who told me it was beautiful, just like me.

The pin was why I still got terrible headaches and stayed in bed most of the time, wracked with severe depression. I couldn't look at my daughter Madge without seeing my twin.

The pin was why Haymitch was drunk most of time, trying desperately to erase the memories he couldn't forget.

The pin was why, 24 years later, Haymitch vowed to save the "Girl on Fire" because he couldn't save his girl.

The pin was why, when Peeta confessed his love for Katniss to Haymitch, Haymitch vowed to bring the Star-crossed Lovers of District Twelve home together.

And the pin was why, after the Rebellion, children no longer had to die bloody deaths in the Arena like Maysilee, drink away their problems like Haymitch, or live half-dead from sadness, waiting for God to finish the job, like me.

Hi, thanks for reading! Please review, fan, and favorite, and I'll give you candy! Just kidding, don't accept candy from strangers.

Sorry if there are any factual errors relating to the Second Quarter Quell. I don't have a copy of "Catching Fire" for reference, so everything is based on my memory. If there are any corrections, please review and let me know so that I can fix them!

Anyways, I picked "What Hurts the Most" by Rascal Flatts as the song for this story.