Lay Down Your Rusty Armor: the death of Haymitch Abernathy
Author: Howlynn
Realm: The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins
Story Title: Lay down Your Rusty Armor: The death of Haymitch Abernathy
Summary: Haymitch loved her and she loved him. This is the way he ended, with his Mockingjay paying him back for all he'd done for her.
Character/Relationships: Haymitch/Katniss non-romance, Peeta/Katniss.
Rated K+ - I know scared me too. No bad words - just as clean as can be - But I was maybe a little drunk when I wrote it so I warn you it is kinda sad.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Knight's end, by Howlynn
Lay down your rusty armor
Let me take your sword
There is no further conflict, Sir
Just peace to look toward
.-
The generals have all gathered
The soldiers gone away
Sit right here and rest a spell
There is no clash today
.-
You fought a worthy battle
You stood a worthy core
Now let your heart take comfort, Sir
You have to fight no more.
.
"You must hate me more than I ever imagined, sweetheart," he mumbles up at her, wasted mind and spirit in a failing body he can't quite escape. She says nothing so he continues, "Help me, Katniss. Please?"
"Stop being ridiculous, Haymitch. You're going to be fine." Her voice is firm, the tears welling in her eyes say she knows otherwise, but she isn't willing to accept it yet.
She has spent the last month in this room full of bad smells and diapers. She should hate being here watching a sick old man, who never was very nice when he felt good, battle every loss of dignity he'd ever known. But he's her Haymitch and somehow she owes him the secrets of her heart she can't share with words. Instead she saves him the shame of others washing the things he can no longer control away. She bathes him and sees that he isn't alone. There are always visitors in the afternoon. He was a powerful important man once.
There are streams of them some days, flying in and riding the train in to bid him farewell. Katniss doesn't know most of them, but they all know her of course. She combs his hair and holds his hand. Her kids say it's pathetic that she doesn't just hire him a nurse. She shouldn't be doing this alone. Grampa Haymitch is too much to handle.
Peeta tried to insist that she give up this idea of hers that she must perform the menial tasks his condition requires. The way they shout at each other still frightens him after all these years. His suggestions fall on two sullen, put upon faces, both demanding he keep his nose to himself. Truthfully Peeta thought it would be better for them both. She has no natural caregiver instincts. Haymitch deserves someone who can be more reasonable with him than the baggage they carry allows.
Peeta gives up on the idea and he cooks for his reprehensible mentor. He isn't insulted when his food remains hardly disturbed. Every bite he tempts the old man to swallow and keep down is a victory. After all these years, he discovers Katniss can still surprise him. She takes good care of Haymitch, her touch and her words somehow measure to each day's growing frailty.
Katniss wouldn't do it for anyone else except maybe Peeta, but she doesn't consider what she does menial. She had lost so many; somehow her heart forgot to explain that, this bigger than life man of scowls and verbal lovebites, would ever leave her. He was supposed to simply go on forever. She didn't know how to be without him to pick on, and who would ever see her the way he did?
They had had their battles. She almost didn't forgive him for leaving Peeta behind to be captured and tortured by The Capitol. A few years later, when she found out that Haymitch could have ordered Peeta's rescue the first week, she had damned near killed him. Haymitch would have let her too, if Peeta hadn't stepped in. That had disturbed him for a long time. Haymitch had just stood there bleeding and watching her with amused hopelessness, as she raged. Only when her hands closed around the knife, did Peeta understand she really meant him harm.
He'd had his reasons when it all came out. Peeta, Annie and Johanna had not been the only lives at stake. Haymitch, the drunken bum and ass-clown of the universe, had other people he loved who were trapped and counting on him to save them. He lost most of them anyway, but he only gave up on the others when his Mockingjay broke.
He'd made Effie Trinket look like a capitol girl who actively betrayed the rebels. She went through a lot during the war. She never forgave herself for being weak and pretending. It allowed her to live. Haymitch had fed the secrets to her, play-acting to be a pure fool, madly in love with her, when in reality, the secrets she passed were true but of only slight value. She acted the perfect double agent and publicly said terrible things. It convinced her captors and as she stood in the square, a prisoner, watching Peeta's prep team slaughtered, she herself had been partially pardoned. After the war it was under Haymitch's rallied wings and power that Effie was not labeled a criminal by the new government.
Haymitch had been far wealthier than could be explained by victor pay alone, yet at the end of the war he was flat broke. Katniss was mortified to discover that Haymitch was just getting by after the war. Truthfully he wasn't getting by at all. He'd sold everything he'd had just before the rebellion to pay for the bribes and the clandestine kickbacks that had allowed them to beat the Capitol. He never told anyone and Johanna had to be the one to tell Katniss.
It took her years to accept he'd done every bit of it for her. He adored and respected Peeta, but he had somehow treasured Katniss. It wasn't romantic or even exactly like a parent would love, but she was his Mockingjay. It was more than anyone could find the words to clarify.
Sure some could say he had used her, but in some way, he had a right to use his creation. He saw her through games, pain, loss and despair. She saw him find hope. She allowed him to love again, in a fashion that didn't come with the burdens of the past and the expectations of lovers. For Katniss, Haymitch's heart was completely pure. The way they loved was nothing but blessing and cursed delight. They made the other strong. They made each other live. He kissed her forehead, not her lips. She caressed his heart, not his body.
Were they in love, yes and no? The two of them loved far deeper than many husbands and wives, yet they loved hatefully and remorselessly. There was a sort of worship between them even if it seemed wrapped in contamination and condemnation. They were both capable of falling into the others arms, but they both were faithful to Peeta. Haymitch would never have dared and Katniss would have never forgiven him if he had. Still, they both held onto the other over the years.
She had let him keep her in one piece long enough for Peeta to be able to fix her. She had held him as he'd cried for his Effie, when she lost her battle to cancer. He radiated in pride as she handed him her first child, named after Haymitch's mother, knowing this tiny baby would always belong to the man who brought them home as much as her and Peeta. He handed her his life as he finally admitted that he wasn't feeling so well these days.
Katniss and Haymitch were not a couple and not lovers, but they were something different that neither needed , nor found it possible, to explain. No sweet words had ever passed their lips for the other, but the belligerent hate filled remarks meant precisely the same thing. They meant more because sometimes only the two of them understood.
Haymitch had his rundown home in victor's village but he could barely scrape the money together to keep himself in booze by the time Katniss had begun her long trek out of her darkness. Peeta made sure he ate.
He was ashamed that he couldn't even feed himself. She arranged a stipend for him out of the Mockingjay fund she'd been handed for doing nothing. Haymitch was her guide, and now she rescued him without feeling him a burden. He could be a jerk, but his poor old broken heart had been in her care for the last forty years. Now, on the brink of eighty, he is leaving her. He stood the pain for her, but he is near begging now.
The drugs no longer control his pain. She knows and wonders how cruel she has to be to let him suffer just to postpone her own suffering. She fiddles with her hair; quietly contemplating what it will do to them both if she waits for his final indignity. Can she watch her proud knight supplicate? Her hair is still in a braid, though it is mostly white now. His face, so fierce and terrible once, is nothing but lines and paper now. His grey eyes that sparkled formerly are watery and dull. Her best friend is leaving and she is clinging to him beyond reason.
She holds him as he winces and moans for hours, such a brave Cavalier. When the pain finally passes she takes his hand gently and agrees to his request. He holds her, telling her the details he wants to share, giving her his final instructions. She sits up all night with him and they laugh and tell silly things and secrets.
Just this once, their lips touch and they whisper the sacred words they both carried for so long.
"I don't know how I will stand it, Haymitch? I wish it was me going because it hurts so badly. I will always love you, you barfing useless pig." He reaches up and touches her cheek.
"You will be fine. I will see you in a blink. Just have to watch over you in a different way for a bit. Katniss. From the very moment I saw you, you know. I never betrayed you, not one time. Sometimes I failed. On my soul, little burnt britches, I was true. Always, every damned breath was for you." He squeezes her hand. He hadn't called her that in years. She hadn't found it very sweet once upon a time.
"I do know. Really, "she says smiling at him. "You're my best friend."
"Thank you. I'm not your only one though," he says in his old bossy way.
She narrows her eyes at him. "It's been over thirty-five years since that stopped being true."
"You threw him away. Fix it."
"I don't know if we can," Katniss says honestly.
"Life is full of surprises, my love. Some of them, you have to put a little effort into. I never had a chance in hell of saving you, but surprise. Here you sit." He sucks in his breath and holds it as the pain rushes back to him.
Katniss picks up the vial of morphodeen, a newer drug her mother had developed just before she'd passed away. She sighs and looks at him, begging him to say, don't worry, let's not concern ourselves about this now. Instead his eyes meet hers and she sees hunger for her to murder him.
"Are you sure?" she whispers.
"Yes, sweetheart. Ready a week ago," he says in a tired way.
"I have to live with this the rest of my life, you know."
"Then know you have nothing but my thanks. Katniss, nobody loves me enough but you. Not even your brilliantly, perfect husband. You are my girl. This proves it. You always were." He smiles at her and pats her hand.
"I know. Always will be you old fool. You and your damned rusty armor. Who's going to save me now?" she says this, as the tears finally trickle down her cheeks. She has prepared the dose, knowing what is in this plunger is fatal times ten. Her lips feel hot and her heartbeat is jettisoning and throbbing in her fingers as she accepted that these were her last seconds with him.
"I am passing you your torch-lighter and my armor. Time to fly. This time you have to save me, sweetheart." His gray eyes observe her, fierce and clear, like when he'd told her to remember who her enemies were as he'd sent her away, only to pull out every stop in creation to keep her alive.
There is no ceremonial prelude as she kills her last victim. He only smiles as he extends his arm and she lets the needle escort him home. They don't say goodbye or make the other promises of eternity. She watches his eyes as she drives the soothing poison into his veins.
It is done and she can't blink as his face relaxes and he winks. He reaches up and fumbles with the tourniquet and shudders in something near pleasure, once it falls away.
"Finnick says to tell you that it wasn't your fault."
"Tell…Prim," her voice chokes.
"I love you….Sweetheart," he whispers, then his heart is still.
She blinks in horror. Those beautiful gray eyes of his. "Haymitch?" she whispers as the last air hisses from him.
"Might have known you'd get the last word. I love you too you … crazy old man." She rests her head on his silent chest, unable to share him with a soul just yet.
Peeta enters the room hours later with breakfast, to find his wife curled upon their mentor like she has curled to Peeta so often, since they were young tributes. He waits for her to stir, feeling a little jealousy when he sees she's been crying. She has found comfort in this man's arms rather than his, yet he sees rapidly that there is something amiss in this embrace.
Katniss breathes and rests in pale arms, her head propped on the unmoving chest. It is a lover's embrace, but it is all wrong. Haymitch's eyes stare through him, glassy and serene. Katniss rests in the arms of the dead, perfectly at peace with the comfort of a corpse.
He puts the tray on the floor, unsure of how she will awaken. He hates to have to tell her. It is horrible and beautiful that he has died with her in his arms. Peeta has to take a moment, to prepare his own heart for the storm that is the loss of the only one who ever could have made his dreams come true. Haymitch had given him Katniss. Haymitch had saved her from all the terrors she'd ever faced in the world and now Peeta felt on his own for the first time in his life.
He has wondered about them over the years. He'd nearly made accusations of the two of them at one point in time. He was still very sick with his spells back then. Just because he could mostly control them didn't mean they didn't bleed into his rational thoughts. She didn't even suspect that he'd spied on them for months soon after they were wed. He'd sometimes back tracked and nonchalantly popped in on them for years. Katniss had spent many nights drunk and far beyond the reach of Peeta. In his heart, he knew it was the safest place for her during his episodes. His jealous mutt mind almost said words he could have never been forgiven for, yet if he had found her anywhere else, those fears would have destroyed him.
The first time, Peeta really understood it all for sure was when he'd walked in on her stoically sewing Haymitch up. He was only wearing a robe and both of them were soaking wet. There was blood everywhere and both of them looked up at him with guilty expressions. He imagined many terrible possibilities.
Two days later she had taken a deep sigh and said, "He has spells too, Peeta. I know what it must look like, but if you don't let me go, we will lose him." She chewed her lip face frowning, eyes refusing to meet his. "I can't tell you why. I don't even like him, but…"
"I wake up at night and you aren't here. It makes me afraid. Does he call you? How did you know, the other night?"
She shrugs. "Lots of things. Sometimes I see it coming. I hear him over there sometimes and I go. Mostly, I wake up and just know. I'm not always right. I get there and he's fine. But, if I don't go…"
"And something happens to him…"
She nods in relief. Her eyes meet Peeta's. "I hate him, but."
"You can't live without him? Me either." Peeta smiles at her and nods. "Only one answer."
"I know. Sorry."
"I could go sometimes if you want?"
She shakes her head sadly. "You like him. He will pretend he's fine. He gets really sneaky around you about things. I promise it isn't anything that can hurt us, Peeta."
Peeta looks down at them, and his eyes well in freely flowing waterworks. Haymitch had finally abandoned his Mockingjay. He reaches out timidly and lays his warm hand on her shoulder. She didn't move except to open her eyes.
"He's fine Peeta. He's finally won," she says quietly. "I just need some time."
Peeta took care of things around the room. He found the used needle on the floor and suddenly as he searches her face, he knew. "You killed him?"
Her eyes close. He waits down stairs for her. Her eyes are hollow four hours later as she wanders down his stairs, holding the banister as if she is drunk. She goes to his liquor at once and pours the glass full. Only after she belts it down does she say in a small voice, "He's your's now."
Peeta holds her as Katniss, face empty, weeps for him. She doesn't sob or make a sound, but his shirt dampens and her breath, explosive and random, is like a trigger to his own sorrow. Peeta puts her to bed, and then does all the things for his mentor that he feels need to be performed. He makes sure he's not in a capitol coffin. He orders flowers and makes calls.
Katniss rouses many hours later and disappears into Haymitch's study. She hands Peeta a suit of clothes, lividly screaming with Cinna's hand in design and pale gray with green fluting. "We have to notify the other victors," she says and doesn't speak again until the day they stand at his grave.
There are not as many people to send him away as Peeta expected. Johanna and her husband stand on his left and he never thought he'd see this woman weep again. Only her torture and his had ever gotten to her as far as he knew. Haymitch had lived a long happy life, yet this is as bad as torture to Johanna. Katniss stands at the podium and her stories of the old man make everyone love him damply. Haymitch would have had some awful remark for them all, but Peeta can't help but smile.
Gale appears, he'd been there, but Katniss is startled when he walks up to her and embraces her. "He kept me updated on you."
Katniss looks up at the dark Seam boy turned man. "He didn't ?"
"Oh Catnip, he always knew. I needed you, but you didn't need me." Gale is hurt that he is gone and brings a hanky quickly to his nose.
"Then there was no reason not to tell me yourself."
"Just did, Catnip."
"Have you been happy, Gale?" She looks up at him and hopes he says yes.
He smiles a little. "Mostly. But you were, and that helped."
Peeta smiles and shakes his hand. Gale pulls him into a quick man hug and is invited back to the house. People mill in and out, but the three last victors and Gale outlast the rest of them. Two Finnick Odairs, the second and the third, take places at the table and look like mirrors of their namesake.
Katniss never could get over Finn's son being older than his father when he had died. Annie had been killed a few years ago while trekking dangerous rocks to her and Finnick's secret cave. She had slipped. The tide was treacherous that day and it had pulled her out and she'd drowned. It was terribly sad yet somehow Katniss couldn't help but know she was ready. Annie had said as much each time they had visited, once Finn was grown.
Johanna had taken Annie's loss harder than anyone. She told the boys raunchy funny tales of their father and grandfather, just like she always did. Gale stayed a few days and they sloshed out to their rock and tried to sit on it, giggling that it must have shrunk. Peeta laughed and took a picture of them.
Life went on without the brave knight. Katniss cleaned his house and fussed over what to do with his tattered old things. Peeta didn't push her, but he worried about her. Those bits of him she cherished mattered only to her.
It took a long time for her to make the place presentable. Haymitch had been part packrat. Peeta donated paintings and one day the doors opened to a handful of visitors. Peeta smiled, happy for her to have something to keep her busy. The little museum of victors grew and eventually staff had to be hired. It eventually took over Victor's Village. It was where the book they worked on ended up. There were tapes of the games and those who watched no longer did so with gleeful smug expressions. They could not understand how it could have happened. His legend built as time went on. Tiny bits of him slipped away from her over the years until her memory and the legend blended.
Katniss was proud as the youngest ones looked up at the gray eyes that smirked down at the visitor's parlor in hard mirth. Haymitch would have gotten a kick out of how he looked so noble and shiny in his portrait. He'd always been a little raveled and a little tarnished in life, but sometimes people only see what they want to.