We're A Team, After All
"I never thought you'd be here," she calls, her voice carried by the roaring wind. He looks up from his bottle of whiskey - his lips curled into a half-cocked scowl, because how dare she - but he doesn't dare look over his shoulder at her. He doesn't think he can face her, especially not today. He can't fathom why she would think he wouldn't come - he wouldn't send the kid off with no one there for her. He shouldn't have come, that's true, but not even the devil himself could keep him away. The girl deserved him to pay his respects, at least.
The sound of her heels on pavement dulls to a soft thud as they touch the grass, and he picture her nose wrinkling up in disgust at the idea of her heel getting dirty. The image of her tiny nose scrunched up, her brow furrowed over something so petty in a situation like this, is ironically hilarious. Only because she was that shallow, once upon a time. Now, he has a feeling she walks stoically - with that same broken smile and those same hollow eyes. Haymitch laughs, deep and throaty and bitter at the notion of her smiling. It had been too long since she had done that. The small thuds speed up a little.
"You honestly thought I wouldn't come?" he asks, still not turning to look at her, even as the thuds stop. Despite the post-rain chill, he can feel her warmth radiate off of her. She's always warm, even when she's mechanical and staring off into the distance. She places her hand on his shoulder and he looks at her finally, the scowl faltering before slipping completely off his face. Glassy blue eyes stare up at him, and he can tell that she's fighting her tears too. Her once curly and voluptuous strawberry blonde hair falls limply over her shoulders, wet from the rain probably. He can see it on her face that it's a struggle for her not to cry. Like him, she hides between biting remarks and sass. Stupid girl. That's what he did when the liquor wasn't enough and the drugs were too much. That was a pathway to destruction, the hiding.
"No, I didn't. I knew you would come to her grave but not... not to the actual service. I thought I would be the only one," she says, looking down at her black pumps. They're a size too big for her and show off the scars on her feet, but they're probably the only shoes she has.
"Yeah, well, surprise," he says, taking a sip of the whiskey and turning back around to face the grave. There's a pregnant pause of silence - many unsaid apologies and confessions hanging on their lips but refusing to go anywhere or do anything. "She didn't deserve this."
"No one did," she replies, pushing her locks away from her eyes, her gaze never wavering from the inscription on the stone. "but you're right. She was the last person to deserve it."
"She... I... where's Katniss?" he asks, because for the first time since the Girl on Fire stepped into his life, he's at loss for words. She shrugs, pushing her hair away again, seeing as the wind keeps blowing it into her eyes. He looks away, the slight action sending a chill through him.
"She's still on trial - I tried to go see her but... no one is allowed in and she's not allowed out. Afraid they might slip her something so that she could end it all. Where's her mother?"
"Four, with Annie. Her excuse is that Annie would need a trained doctor for the pregnancy but..." Haymitch breaks off on a shrug, the unsaid words left hanging in the air. The real reason why Aster Everdeen wasn't here, at her youngest daughter's funeral, was because she couldn't stand to do it again. And also because she couldn't think about Katniss without feeling some sort of burning hatred. But Katniss didn't need to know that.
"So we're the only two that came to her funeral?" Effie asks, looking back up to him. Haymitch shrugs again.
"Hazelle took the kids back to Two, with Gale. Enobaria didn't know her, and the rest of the Victors are recovering. And Plutarch or Beetee wouldn't dare show their faces, unless they know what's good for them. Peeta and Katniss are both recovering, obviously. Yup, Effie, we're the only two on the face of this Earth with enough conscience and health to come see the kid off."
Effie dares another glance at the inscription, Haymitch's words leaving a bad taste in her mouth.
Primrose Everdeen, aged 14.
61st - End Games
She Now Lies So The Dandelions Will Grow
A loving sister, daughter, and girlfriend to many
The Heavens Want Their Angel Back
And below it, the wings of a Mockingjay. Haymitch had brought a bouquet of primroses along, and they lay horizontally across her grave. Sniffling, Effie leans down and picks up the flowers, setting down a slightly charred bear and placing the roses between it's stuffed legs. Effie's hand lingers for a moment, and Haymitch watches as her chapped lips form unintelligible words, speaking a mile a minute. A prayer? Goodbyes? He might never know. Effie stands again, smoothing down the yellow fabric of her dress - Prim's favorite color.
"What's that?" Haymitch asks, eyeing the bear suspiciously. Effie shrugs - despite the fact that it's unladylike - and buries her fists into her coat pockets.
"I pulled a few strings that Plutarch owed me. All of Katniss' possessions were sent here to Capitol. Among them was this bear. I don't know the story behind it, but I do know that it was Prim's. Maybe from childhood. Who thought of the quotes?"
"'She now lies so the dandelions will grow' is from Peeta, the kind poet that he is. He said that Katniss once told him that some of Katniss and Prim's favorite flowers were dandelions - Prim liked to blow them out and make wishes. Katniss just liked the dandelion root tea and the greens you could make with them. 'The heavens want their angel back' is what I put on my brother's grave - it's a saying my mom used to tell us when people died too young."
"We should have died before her," Effie says, her voice cracking before breaking off into a choked sob. Haymitch awkwardly pats her back and they stand in silence. The only thing causing the slightest of noise is the sounds of liquor sloshing in Haymitch's bottle, the whistling of the wind and a nearby families' sobbing. At some point, a calloused hand finds hers and she holds fast to it, swiping at the tears that the wind had begun to chill.
They stand there, paying their respects to the young girl with wide eyes and a future brighter than the sun, until the moon peeks above the horizon and Effie's feet begin to ache. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, Haymitch guides Effie back to the pavement that leads to the exit. It's not until they are well past the cemetery gates that Effie speaks.
"Does it ever get better?" she asks, pausing to remove her heels and walk in stocking feet. He wants to warn her off the broken glass that could be anywhere, but the pavements have been cleared for walking, so he keeps his mouth shut. "I mean, for Katniss, will losing her sister ever get better? Will it ever hurt just a little less?"
"Getting better? No. Will it hurt a little less? Maybe. But not for a long, long, long time," he replies, going to take a swig of the bottle - only to find it empty. He tosses it to the ground and it lands in some rubble unceremoniously.
"That's not reassuring Haymitch," she says softly, holding back a remark about picking up after himself. He shrugs again, reaching into his breast pocket for a flask and taking several large gulps of whatever lies inside. Rum. That's a nice change.
"It wasn't meant to reassure you - I was being honest. You don't need to be soothed, princess. It's that girl trapped in the Training Centre that does. You didn't lose your sister."
"Yes, but I still cared for her," Effie spits, snatching the flask from his fingers and downing some of the liquid in a few dainty sips. She coughs a bit, but Effie has always been able to hold her liquor - she had too, being friends with Haymitch - and the burning sensation in her throat cools to a nice tingle. Haymitch snorts.
"Whoop-tee-doo, sweetheart. You didn't love her as fiercely as that girl did. We wouldn't be here if it weren't for that little girl with the two golden braids. You didn't- you don't understand, okay? You're the last person that needs to be-" he cuts off, swallowing a lump in his throat and pulling away from Effie as if she'd cut him. He doesn't even reach for his flask.
"You did," Effie says, the realization of what he didn't say hitting her. Effie places her hand on his shoulder gently, surprised when he doesn't jerk away again. "You loved Primrose."
"No," Haymitch says. "I didn't love her, per se. But I fuckin' admired the kid. She was... she... without her existence, I'd be trapped in that hellhole of a house and you'd be... you'd still be ignorant and oblivious. Without her, we'd still be under a tyrant for our government, we'd still be sending kids to die. I just think that her mere existence set off a chain reaction, a domino effect if you will, that inevitably changed a country. Hell, she convinced Katniss to be the Mockingjay. I had respect for her."
"And damnit, she was a good kid. When it wasn't Katniss or Peeta, Prim was over there at mine, tidying up, fixing any cuts or bruises that I gave myself. Prim was over there, making sure I didn't drown in my vomit, tucking me into bed and just... just taking care of me. So I also was debited to her too. Primrose Everdeen was the last person in Panem that deserved to die."
"I don't know what to say," Effie says, taking another sip from the silver flask. "I cared for her too, Haymitch. I respected her strength - that girl was a ray of sunshine, bouncing and flouncing about when I couldn't... when I was too stubborn to leave my damn compartment. She dealt with things better than me, a grown woman! I admired Primrose, which is sad. I wish I just... I could trade my life for hers. I don't want to live on an earth where the one thing Katniss treasured most has been destroyed. I don't want to do that."
"You don't want to trade your life for Prim's, Eff," Haymitch says, pushing his mess of curls back. "Look, I'm losing Katniss, Peeta hates me, I don't have a family - you're all I have right now, princess. We mourn Prim, but we don't wish death on ourselves in her name. I learnt that the hard way."
Effie sighs at Haymitch, but laces their fingers together again.
"Okay," she whispers, squeezing his hand comfortingly. He look at her, at the look of despair and sadness that seems to have permanently carved it's way onto her face.
"It won't get better for a long time," he tells her, tilting her chin to look at him. "but until it does, we'll be there to take care of each other. We're going to help Katniss mourn her sister, we're going to mourn Prim, and we're going to live - for her sake."
"We are a team, after all."