One-Shot: Death of a Gladiator
Peeta Mellark burst into the Victor mansion. He was winded, out of breath from running half the District even before Greasy Sae had finished relaying the horrible news at the bakery.
Peeta found Haymitch Abernathy with a liquor bottle in one hand and a knife in the other. That was not unusual. No, what was unusual was that Haymitch Abernathy was in bed, with the covers pulled up to his chin. Most other times, Peeta had found him in much more creative sleeping arrangements. Like a chair. Or a sofa. Once, Peeta had even come upon his mentor sleeping off a hangover in a hollow tree out back of his mansion.
Haymitch now turned his head to his former apprentice, his eyes tired and sad. "You came. Good."
Peeta approached the edge of the bed, sat and took Haymitch's hand. "Haymitch, don't go."
"I must. Way of all flesh, boy. Most of my Victor friends who weren't killed in the Purge or the Quell died in their sixties anyway."
Peeta stared. "You're 56 years old!"
"And 40 of those years were spent drinking," Haymitch smirked. "Besides, I got 46 dead tributes. Duke, my mentor. Maysilee. Fern. Grant. Gregory, my brother. Rosemary, my girl. My mother. They're all waiting for me. District 12 was always a bit of a dump anyhow. Let's hope heaven is better."
"The District is rebuilding, Haymitch," Peeta insisted. "People are kinder now and braver than they've ever been. If we keep that going, all will be well."
Haymitch stared at the young Baker. "Just so. You've become your own man. Good. Good..." He squeezed Peeta's hand after a small silence. "If Katniss doesn't get back in time..."
"She'll be home any second, from her evening hunt," Peeta promised.
"But if she doesn't make it... tell her I'm sorry. For how cruel I was to her sometimes. I only did it because I knew she could take it and it would drive her to be her best self. I know that's not an excuse, but..." Another squeeze of the hand. "And tell her: have a baby. Give me grandchildren. I want a legacy. Although..." and here he chuckled. "I may have already gotten one in you and her. At least I get to miss Sweetheart acting surly AND bloated."
Peeta laughed deep into his throat, but it soon turned into violent sobs.
"Oh... be cheerful, boy. I'm proud of you. Have courage. I love you, son."
"I love you too, Haymitch." And Peeta stayed bent over him until the old man breathed his last.
Katniss Everdeen was home and in the nightgown she only occasionally wore when her husband came in. She approached, fretful.
"I heard. Is he...?"
Peeta nodded sadly. "He's gone, sweetheart."
Katniss burst into tears and embraced her spouse. She rested her head on his chest, nestling the top under his chin as he stared into the distance beyond.
"Poor Effie. Haymitch was like her husband. At least I have my husband tonight."
She kissed him deeply. When they broke apart, Peeta cleared his throat. "Haymitch had a request for you."
Katniss stared at him, suddenly feeling wary for no discernible reason. "What?"
"He... he asked you to carry my baby. He wanted grandchildren."
Katniss was deeply moved that Haymitch would have considered any child of hers and Peeta's a grand baby. So it moved her to give an answer different than the one she had given for a decade and a half. "Yes." She held out her hands to her husband. "Show me."
And so, for the first time, Peeta went into his wife and he knew her and he lay with her, as any husband should with his bride, his wife.
Katniss soon conceived and became pregnant. As her stomach swelled and her breasts ballooned and she began to know the pain that most women know, she became irritable. Surly. Saddened. Sometimes, she would burst into tears at how she had to waddle, calling herself fat and ugly. But Peeta would insist that he had never seen such a glowing and beautiful creature. When Dr. Aurelius reported the fetus was a boy, Katniss knew just what to name him.
When the baby boy was born, he was called Haymitch Abernathy Mellark. In honor of his grandfather.