Haymitch paced restlessly in the train, only pausing to snatch up a bottle of liquor and take a huge swing from it. He swore quietly. He was on his way to the Capitol, for the goddamn Quarter Quell. It wasn't like he hadn't been expecting to go back at this time of the year, because he always mentored anyway, but this was different. He had worked so hard, tried so hard, to get those tributes out of the arena in one piece. And he had exceeded all expectations by saving them both. That was unheard of. Literally, if anyone ever mentioned it they would probably be turned into an avox. And that was probably why he was on the train with his two current favourite people, Katniss and Peeta. He had little sympathy left in his heart, but he felt deeply sorry for the pair. He was sorry that Peeta was ordered to kill the girl he loved, who didn't love him back yet. He was sorry that they both faced horrors in their sleep that neither would dare mention during the day. He was sorry that Katniss had to give up whatever life she could have had with whoever she would love because the Capitol demanded it. He was sorry that he they had to go back and face their nightmares all over again.
And yet currently he was more than a little angry. Well, maybe that wasn't quite right. More like he wanted to be angry, but so many years of facing the Capitol and their outrageous demands had made him unable to bother anymore. But he knew he had potentially angry feelings. At both of them. And he knew he had no right to even think like that, but he couldn't help it. They had just gone over all the other victors once again made tributes, and the callous way Katniss had looked at them had made him irritated. He could hear Peeta's voice in his head, asking if Finnick had any weaknesses. He knew that they were just doing what they had to. To them, these people were threats, people who would kill them. They were strangers. And both of them would do whatever was necessary to protect the other. It was a private and exclusive club they had going, Katniss and Peeta against the world. No one would ever matter more. Katniss probably wouldn't risk her life for anyone else in the arena, even if they were allies. She certainly wouldn't risk Peeta's life. Ever. Haymitch may not have been hugely present in District 12 life since he became a Victor, but he had once been a Seam boy. He remembered how important debts were, especially to people like her. She owed the boy, and wouldn't stop until her debt was repaid. That was how it worked. He was equally sure that Peeta did not see things the same way, but that was a problem to be handled later. Nevertheless, to Katniss, the faces on the screen were enemies. To him, they were more like friends.
He couldn't expect her to understand, since she had never met any of them, but people like Chaff had been like lifeboats for him. Chaff had been an unwelcome, then a tolerated then eventually an appreciated drinking partner for many years. He had stood at Haymitch's shoulder as yet another District 12 kid died a brutal death, and offered quiet sympathy. Haymitch often repaid the favour. Chaff laughed and joked, even at the darkest of times. Chaff was his best friend.
Johanna was another person he wished wasn't being forced back into the arena. Partly for her sake, partly for everyone else's. He had a lot of respect for the woman. She was ruthless, endlessly brave, she was quick to anger and had a knack for making people feel awkward. She also wanted a rebellion so badly it seeped from her pores. She had lost everyone she ever cared for, which had turned her already hard heart into stone. She was strong and prepared to fight. He wasn't at all surprised that she had been reaped. She was too outspoken, didn't know when to shut up and hide her emotions. And now that she had nothing to lose, she would speak out against everyone and everything that had ever wronged her. On live television. Part of him wanted to see it happen, watch the repercussions, but another part was worried that she would bring suffering upon the other victors. There wasn't a single fibre in his body that wanted to see Katniss' arrow through her neck, however.
And then there was Mags. Beautiful, quiet Mags, who was as lovely as she was kind. He had been both comforted and told off by the little old lady. Sure, he could only understand half of what she said, but she always conveyed her meaning along with a warmth that had long been foreign to Haymitch. Everyone loved Mags, not just him and Finnick, who had a close relationship with her, what with her being his mentor. Katniss' comment about Mags had rankled, mainly because she was talking about the inevitable death of the nicest lady he had ever had the honour of meeting.
Finnick Odair. He had a mixed relationship with the pretty boy from 4. On the one hand, Finnick was an annoying, smart-mouthed peacock, always prepared with a smirk or rather unsubtle innuendo. He had the entire Capitol at his feet and wouldn't shy away from using it to his advantage. He hadn't during his Games either. To put it simply he was difficult to be around on a good day, and impossibly infuriating on a bad one. But, on the other hand, Haymitch knew that though a lot of women would do anything for him, Finnick had never wanted that. He had never wanted anything from the Capitol, and Haymitch was sympathetic with the younger man's plight, forced into slavery to protect his loved ones. If there was one thing Haymitch could admire about Finnick Odair it was his determination to protect his family, which rivalled Katniss' own. And he had to admit, Finnick wasn't just a pretty face. He had the smarts to switch from earning money to learning secrets, a far more valuable currency. Haymitch had no doubt that one day soon that little trick would come in handy. Haymitch also knew that Finnick would be a deadly foe in the arena. He had been invincible when he was fourteen. All that had changed since then was that he had become stronger, more jaded and angrier. He was the one that Katniss should fear, if she was going to fear anyone. She probably wasn't. But he would still make the best ally. Haymitch intended to see that his tributes and Odair teamed up. Besides, a few of the victors already knew some of the plans, Finnick being one of them. Of all of them, Finnick was the most likely to keep his mouth shut. He was good at waiting for the right moment. And Haymitch wanted at least one person who would fight to keep Katniss and Peeta alive with them at all times, and he had the upmost confidence that Finnick wanted to see the Capitol torn down as much as he did.
He downed the rest of the bottle. He didn't want to see his friends die. Not Chaff, not fiery Johanna, not sweet Mags. If Finnick died, he would get over it eventually though. Winning the Games had brought all of them together. They weren't all friends, they certainly weren't a family, but everyone who wasn't a Career understood each other. They all understood the pain the others were facing. They had all experienced the horror of losing a tribute they had been charged with saving. They had all lost something, or someone. They were linked through pain and suffering and flames. Yet Haymitch had no doubt that when the gong sounded, there would be blood. Friend would kill friend. People who had stood by each other during the Games would be stabbing each other in the back. They weren't friends, not in the arena. They had each won the Games. All of them, some more than others, had no reason, nor inclination, to trust anybody ever again. Nevertheless, Haymitch had no desire to see any of them die. Except the Careers. They could burn. He didn't want to see Johanna's axe hack off Chaff's other arm. He didn't want to see little old Mags bleed to death. He didn't want to watch Finnick's trident end another life. He didn't want to see Katniss kill the only people he had ever considered allies.
As much as he didn't want any of that, he refused to let any of them kill his tributes. Not these two. Not Peeta, who was so kind you could live a thousand lifetimes and never measure up. But that's ok, because he doesn't need you to. He was so pure, so honest and genuine. He was far too gentle for this life, far too decent. No way was he dying. And Katniss. The girl on fire. The girl of fire, more like. Fire burned in her very soul. Fire lit her heart, filling it with a flame Haymitch had never seen before and was unlikely to ever see again. She had fire in her eyes, a courage and spirit that would not be matched. She was the type who could survive this life. She could stand and face the atrocity that was the life of a Victor. She could do this. She was a survivor. Always would be. She was the Mockingjay. And she had already survived so much, lost so much, that Haymitch wasn't prepared to let her die.
That was why he was proud to have joined the rebellion. He would help Heavensbee, he would travel to 13, letting countless people die in the districts, but he would save his charges. He would save his friends.
Unlike many of the other victors, he had no particular desire to see the people of the Capitol pay for what they had done. They disgusted him, with their fakeness that they thought was attractive, their cruelty which they were too blind to see, the way they cheered as children died, and the way they adored watching people's loves get torn apart. But that was just how they were. They didn't see any other ways. It was how they had been raised, how they had been designed. There was only one man that Haymitch would see destroyed. The one who wasn't blind, who knew how the Districts struggled, who enjoyed watching their pain. Who saw it, recognised it, understood it and laughed. The one who caused it. President Snow. Now him, Haymitch wanted to see suffer. He would pay.
He will pay.