I know, I really shouldn't be starting another story (well, this one shot) again, but I'm almost done with the Avengers one, and the Remus on is on hold for a while. I have an excuse for everything! This is for you, all you Hunger Games fans (like myself)! I just had to write this down, it was bugging me for a while. In case you didn't know, all the italics mean he is in a memory. I have never been to a funeral, so sorry if it's inaccurate.
Disclaimer- I do not own the Hunger Games. I'm a terrible writer; there is no way I could write those amazing books.
Haymitch walked into the small room. Chairs filled it, all facing forward. At the front of the room there was a dark wooden casket that was much too small to hold someone old, someone who was the correct age to die. That's because she wasn't the age to die, she was, or had been, far too young. The casket was Prim's. Of course, it wasn't filled with her body, her being blown up and all that. It was filled with ashes. Not her body's, but the ashes of everything that had been destroyed in the explosion she had been killed in. She was much too young to die, much too young, not living her full life like she should have.
A large bunch of yellow Primroses sat on top of her coffin, the only color in the room. The room was grey, and those who occupied it were wearing black for the funeral. Haymitch didn't believe in God, after being in the area, but he believed in the Devil, that was for sure. He didn't think all of the other people attending the funeral believed in God either, but they needed something to believe in. Just because the Capitol went down didn't mean life was going to be easy. Too many people had lost someone or everything they had trying to defeat the Capitol, but the sacrifice was worth it, well, for most.
Haymitch plopped down in a chair somewhere around the middle row. He agreed, for Katniss, that he would stay sober for this event, but that didn't mean he had been the night before. His head still hurt from all the drink, pounding with each movement he made. He stared at the front row. The ceremony hadn't started yet, but the room was pretty filled with people whom Prim helped in District 13. Prim had touched a lot of lives
In the front row sat Katniss and her mother. The mother was wearing a black dress, much in contrast to her red and swollen eyes, sore from crying probably. It looked as if she would break down at any moment. , and was forcing to keep herself together. Katniss on the other hand, well, she was something else.
Katniss was in a black simple dress, but it suited her nicely. Her hair lay flat down and plain; it was without her usual braid. But it was her face that caught Haymitch's attention. Although pale, it looked clean of emotion. A normal person might have described it as 'heartless.' Then again, Haymitch wasn't a normal person. He had known her so long, he knew that was just a mask to prevent her from looking week, vulnerable. The Hunger Games had taught Katniss that impression is just as important as the actual fight. Haymitch was able to look past the façade though. It was all in the eyes.
Her eyes held more than any teenager's eyes should hold. Behind them lie a pool of emotions, all mixed together. He could see pain and suffering from losing a sister , as well as a former father. There was a certain fear, no doubt from all the times in the Arena. Also, there was almost a tired look. She was probably tired from the never ending cycle of death that revolved around her, tired of taking charge of everything, everyone, maybe just tired of life. Yet underneath the despair, there was a small flicker of hope. Hope that now the Capitol was defeated, gone, life would be better. Hope that the hunger Games was the last of the pain the people of Panem would receive. Hope for a better future.
The sermon began, and Haymitch's head pounded harder. He found in difficult to pay attention to whatever the man was saying, so he let his mind wander. His eyes drifted the dark casket that was at the front of the room. Prim. He had only truly spoken to Prim once. Staring on a small point on the wall in front of him, he tried hard to recall the memory.
He was sitting, and had been for some time, in the hospital area of District 13 with nothing else better to do. It was quite empty for a normal day. He had watched as Katniss's sister, the one chosen for the reaping, Prim, and her mother helped the sick, but now only one boy remained. The mother was good, but in a retrospect, the daughter was better. Haymitch watched as her nimble fingers nearly danced over the young boy she was stitching up. Next to her, a quite ugly cat sat on the table, flicking its tail idly.
The young girl didn't represent Katniss at all. Prim had light hair, and was very frail. While Katniss's eyes were dark, Prim's were lighter. The light blue eyes displayed a sort of innocence; something only a young child could achieve. Where Prim's eyes showed innocence, Katniss's showed a fierce fire, something of that of a warrior. But Katniss was a warrior.
Eventually, the young boy got up and waved Prim bye. Prim smiled; it made Haymitch' s heart heavy. Her smile was simple, but warming. It had been a long time since Haymitch had seen anyone smile. With all the death and rebellion, no one seemed happy, and smiles were rare. But Prim had broughty that back. Haymitch had only ever known one other person with a smile like that, and she , lke prim, was dead. And she, like Prim, had died far too young. Maysilee.
"Haymitch, do you need something?" Prim asked, washing her hands of the blood.
"No, unless you have a better way to entertain me."
"Afraid not."
A long silence ensued as Prim cleaned her work area, every movement she made echoing in the underground halls of District 13. Suddenly, loud footsteps thundered through the halls. Katniss appeared in the room, bow strapped to her back.
"I'm going out for a bit. Do you need any herbs?" Katniss asked.
"No, I think we have just enough," Prim replied, giving her sister a quick hug. Haymitch watched as when they were hugging, Katniss tucked in the back of Prim's shirt, what she called the 'duck tail.' Prim smiled as the archer left; however, once she was gone, worry shadowed Prim's features.
"She loves you," Haymitch mumbled, barely audible.
"What did you say?"
"She loves you." Haymitch spoke up. "More than you could ever know." Prim had sat down across from Haymitch as he slowly continued. "Before the Games, when I was training her, she wasn't worried about herself. She was worried about you. She really didn't expect to win; she was worried about how you guys would survive if she wasn't there, how you wouldn't be able to take care of your mother if she had another 'phase' as she put it. I think you are whist kept her going all that time. She stayed alive out of love for you."
Prim was silently crying now, thin tears leaving a trail on her pale face. She tried wiping them away, but failed miserably. Haymitch walked over and closed the door;he didn't want the whole of District 13 to hear their conversation. Haymitch had never been a father, surly wasn't planning on it, and had no clue what to do with the crying girl. Part of him told him to comfort her, the other part telling him to leave her alone. He just put his hands on Prim's shoulder, not sure what else to do. Prim started to speak now.
"I'm just so afraid that s-something…that something is going to h-happen to her. I'm scared that with all t-this…rebellion…one day…she just w-won't come home…then I don't know what I'll do." Prim finally broke. After holding herself together for so long, she just let go. What had been thin tears turned into sobbing heaves, and she was nearly gasping for breath. Her thin frame started to shake from crying so hard, and her shoulder that had been under Haymitchs' arm shuddered tremendously.
Haymitch wasn't sure what came over him, but he pulled Prim close to his chest, and held her there for a while. Prim grappled onto his shirt like she was holding on for dear life. Haymitch only tightened his arms that were wrapped around her, wet tears seeping through his shirt. They stayed like that for a while as Prim let all of her emotions flow out like a stream, and having Haymitch be the stone in the middle of the stream that she clung to so desperately.
She finally, after a long time, let go, rubbed her eyes, and composed herself. She stared at Haymitch for a while, then muttered the words,
"Thank you."
Haymitch was pulled out of the memory as everyone stood up, so he did as well. The sermon- man stared to sing, and Haymitch honestly wanted to tell him to shut it, but kept silent. He listened to the words, and realized the man was asking God to accept the soul into Heaven. Katniss's lip quivered a bit, and Haymitch watched as Peeta walked up from the third row to the first, stood next to Katniss, and grasped her hand tightly. The two Star- Crossed lovers united. He looked at their hands, and how they were entwined with each other. Another memory appeared in front of Haymitch's eyes, drowning out the preacher's never- ending song.
Maysilee was climbing the boulder within the Arena when her foot slipped. Haymitch was already at the top, so he thrust out his hand, and held her, preventing her dangling body from falling. Grasping on to each other's hands with all their strength, Maysilee eventually made it up, pulling herself forward. That had been close, too close. They had formed an alliance for a while now, and worked well together.
"Thanks," she said, panting. Haymitch had no reply, as they were already moving forward to where their small cave was. They walked inside as Maysilee pulled out a small canteen filled with water. Haymitch looked at it quizzically.
"I stole it from the three District 7 people down near where the volcano was when you were hunting," she said, answering his unstated question. She poured a capful, and downed it like Haymitch would down whiskey. Suddenly, her body began to convulse, shaking under her clothing. She fell to the ground as Haymitch's eyes widened, unsure of what to do. He emptied the canteen onto the cave floor, which not only contained water, but smashed blue berries inside as well. Haymitch cussed aloud, and felt her pulse. It was getting slower and slower, so he quickly forced his hands onto her stomach, trying to force the liquid out of her.
After one minute of trying, blue liquid seeped out of Maysilee's mouth, and she sat up, coughing. Haymitch let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, and hugged her as tight as possible. He had been so close to losing her. He didn't care if he looked weak for hugging a girl, he held on tightly. Maysilee let go first, and smiled a bit.
"Well, that makes two times you have saved my life within the day. Thank you." She lay down, while Haymitch took the first night watch. Once she was asleep, Haymitch slipped his hand into hers, and whispered.
"No, thank you."
It took Haymitch a minute to realize that one by one, people were going up to the coffin to pay their respect to Prim. He walked up when it was his turn, and looked at the coffin. Besides the Primroses, there was a carving at the top. It held her name, date of birth and death, but at the very top, there was a carving of a Mockingjay. He ran his hand over the carving, stopping at the beak, as another memory flashed before his eyes.
The bright pink birds' beaks speared through Maysilee's neck. Haymitch ran up, and grasped her hand as she lay bloodied on the ground, slowly dying. Haymitch felt tears prick his eyes, but he blinked them back. Maysilee's eyes watched his, and he felt something inside of him stir.
"Th-thank you , Hay-Haymitch," She whispered, barely audible. His grip on her hand tightened. Why was she thanking him, he let her die! It was his fault, and now she was dying! She swallowed, gasping for air, as more blood poured out of her neck.
"Haymitch, I-I Love yo…." Her eyes went blank, almost distant, and her grip on his hand slackened. Blood poured from her neck, and all was over between them. Haymitch let a few tars slip out of is eyes, and he laid a single kiss on her forehead.
In the middle of the dark wood, there was a carved saying.
Always remember
Haymitch stood almost frozen. He would always remember everything. The sacrifices made to defeat the Capitol, Prim's death, the death in the Arena, the pain , the sorrow, …
Haymitch placed his hand on the quote. She would always be remembered, always.
"Thank you." He whispered, and then walked out of the room.
Well, how was it? Please, oh please dear readers, leave a review for my sake. Please