Chapter 12 : A True Victor


His ears kept ringing long after Snow's face had disappeared from the screen.

His hand was empty of the glass he had just been holding and he realized, belatedly, that he had thrown it at the wall, missing the screen by two inches. It laid, shattered, on the floor.

Shattered.

Someone laughed and it took him a few minutes to understand it was him. He laughed until his side hurt and tears ran down his face.

And, then, abruptly, as quickly as it had started, the laughter stopped.

On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors.

He wanted to throw up.

He bowed down in two and took long deep breaths that did nothing for the anarchic beating of his heart or for the nausea.

Cannot overcome the power of the Capitol.

This was Snow's revenge. This was why Haymitch was still alive when Cinna was dead. It wouldn't be just Haymitch. It would be Katniss too. And enough of the victors to remind them all of where they stood in the food chain. It was a direct message to the Districts. The Capitol could kill their champions. It was…

It was the perfect answer to a failed coup.

Obvious enough for those who knew, not open enough to trigger reactions from those who didn't.

Most District people would be relieved even. It meant that they didn't need to fear for their children that year. He might be able to find comfort in that small mercy later on. For now…

For now, he couldn't quite process it.

Reaped from their existing pool of victors…

Katniss, for sure.

But not only.

Friends.

Twelve was the only District with so few victors but there were others… How many were there in Eleven, for instance? Five? Two of them being elderly. It didn't bode well for his best friend either. And even if Chaff managed to slip through… He knew all the victors. Some better than others, true, but he knew them all. Even the Careers… Some of them he had no sympathy for, others he liked to think he was on friendly terms with.

He knew those people.

Every single one of them.

How fucked up was this?

Was it Heavensbee's idea? Was that the suggestion that had convinced Snow of his loyalty and had saved his head? Tossing the victors back in their personal hell?

The arena.

The arena and its luring treacherous beauty. The emerald green grass, the deep blue water, the sweet smelling colorful flowers… The candy pink birds. Maysilee choking on her own blood. The volcano erupting in a rain of lava, the smell of sulphur in the air. Nya and her missing eye chasing after him to finish him, to win. The gut wrenching fear in the launching pod. The voice in his head pushing him on, reminding him that Hayden and his mother were waiting for him at home, that they would eventually starve if he died there, that Mabel would be there to welcome him back with her soft lips and her secretive smile. The voice telling him it was all worth it. Lives taken. Lives lost. All worth it for the certainty of holding all of them in his arms again, to melt in their embrace, to hear them say they loved him again.

A lie.

All a lie.

A trap.

Couldn't go back.

Wouldn't go back.

Fear was paralyzing.

He was sixteen again.

Listening to his name ringing out in the Square, last to be called by the Capitol clown on the stage. Being nudged forward by his friend because he was taking too long to move and it wouldn't look good, it never looked good when they tried to run and the Peacekeepers had to chase after them. Pushed in that room in the Justice Building, intimidated by the place despite himself because he had lived his whole life in the Seam and this was the wealthy part of town. Trying to look strong for his mother, for his brother… Losing it with Mabel because she wasn't just his girl but his best friend, had been since they had learned to talk, and he was freaking out. The words she had murmured in his ear until he had calmed down, learned how to breathe normally again, words he couldn't remember at all even though their rhythm was branded in his memory like a distorted melody.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Words he had offered to all of them like a confident gift, a promise.

He was sixteen again.

He was sixteen again and his ears were ringing…

"Haymitch."

His name was quiet and it made the ringing stop. He looked up at the boy standing on his living-room's threshold. Peeta was paler than usual but there was a determined tightness to the line of his mouth, a tension in his shoulders.

And suddenly Haymitch was back to himself. If felt a lot like falling. He fell through memories that seemed so real he could almost touch them and back to his tired weakened body.

A forty year old man who was responsible for two kids and couldn't afford to be paralyzed by fear.

"We need to talk." Peeta declared, all tough, just like when he had confessed his feelings the year before, before the interviews, and had told him he intended to see Katniss out of that arena.

Peeta was the best of them. Haymitch had always known that.

"Yeah." he said. His voice sounded rough, raw, to his own ears and he cleared his throat. "I guess we do."

He gestured at the armchair but Peeta declined with a shake of his head. The boy took a few steps toward the fireplace and remained there, in the middle of the room, a commanding presence. The charisma was good, Haymitch noted, Effie could work with that.

"We're going to make sure Katniss wins this." the boy said.

No surprise there.

No question either.

"Alright." he agreed.

He was a bit impressed with himself for not even hesitating. He had thought his own survival instinct was stronger than that. But maybe he had developed another instinct in the last year. An even stronger one. An instinct that commanded him to save those kids by any mean necessary.

"Well, that was easy." Peeta said. The boy let out half a bitter chuckle. "I thought you would fight me at least a little about it first."

"What's there to fight about?" He opened his arms wide and let them fall back to his side. "We get Katniss out. You two crazy kids can have a very long life together. Pretty sure she doesn't want kids of her own but maybe if you ever get a dog you can name it after me. That'll make for a good joke, too. Caesar will love that. It's important to be funny, you know. Helps with sponsors." He licked his lips and ran his fingers through his hair. "Fuck, I need a drink." This was a lot to take in without the help of alcohol. His hands were shaking but he forced himself to slouch further in the couch instead of pacing the room like he wanted to, look casual. Detached. Like this was no big deal. "We're done? 'Cause I'd like to do some cursing in peace now."

Peeta was frowning. "You're not going. I'm going."

"Ah. That fight." he snorted, studying him. He understood the projected confidence and determination better now. Peeta wasn't there to ask him to die. Of course not. It would have been too easy. "No, kid."

"You owe me." the boy snapped. "You chose Katniss last year so you owe me. And that's what I want. I will go in there and…"

"And get yourself killed for her?" he scoffed. "I'm curious. What's the plan here? You die so she doesn't have to marry you and she's free to be with that other boy she doesn't even know she actually likes? Or you hope that, then, she's finally gonna understand that you're the good guy? 'Cause that's stupid. Either way? You're gonna be very dead and she's gonna be very unhappy."

"You think I want to die? I just want her to live!" the kid shouted, eyes suddenly brighter. He clenched his jaw and forced his voice down. "I can help her win."

"Sure, you can. And you will." he shrugged. "Out there. You're gonna charm the pants off sponsors – not literally if possible – and you're gonna make sure she's got everything she needs to live another day."

"Oh, come on, Haymitch!" Peeta snapped. "Let's not pretend you care for me enough to volunteer if…"

"Don't you fucking dare." he spat. "I'll volunteer. And I'll punch you if you try to do the same thing. Don't think I won't." They glared at each other until he shook his head. "You want to save Katniss. I can save you both. That's the way to go."

"No." the boy protested. "If I go in there, I can make sure…"

He was out of the couch in a flash, not as swiftly as he would have liked but faster than Peeta had been expecting. He grabbed the kid's arm and gave it a firm shake.

"Listen to me." he hissed. "Fucking listen to what I'm saying. There won't be any more tricks. There won't be any miraculous save. Only one person is coming out of that arena and if you think for one fucking second I'm gonna stand by and let both of you go in when I can stop it…" It wasn't convincing the boy. Not at all. He could read it on his face, plain as day, set in his damned stubbornness, his damned tendency at playing the knight in shining armor. Haymitch would never be much of a knight but he could probably be a good rook – knock everyone out of the way, clear a path, protect Katniss long enough for her to cross the chessboard. "I won't be any help out there. Remember Cinna and Portia's accident? I got out of that one easy, you hear what I'm saying?" He gave him another shake. "I'm blown in the Capitol for sure. Doesn't matter how they'll do it but I'm pretty sure no sponsor will deal with me. I'll be useless, boy. That's my accident. I get to watch you die."

Peeta was staring straight into his eyes, searching for the lies, always mistrustful because he and Katniss had hidden too much.

"You don't know…" the boy argued, a touch less confident.

It was all Haymitch needed. An in.

"Yeah, I do." he chuckled. It almost sounded hysterical. He adjusted his grip on the boy's arm, relaxed his fingers enough that they wouldn't leave bruises. "I fucking do."

"Even so…" Peeta shook his head. "I don't know anything about mentoring. Even if…"

"Effie will take care of the practical stuff." he cut him off. "Hell, she's better at mentoring than I am. She practically got the two of you out by herself last year." That was a gross exaggeration. But Effie was good. And she could do this. She would do this. "You just need to trust her and follow her lead. You're half of the star-crossed lovers. Sponsors are gonna eat in your hand. They're all gonna be rooting for you."

"If I go in, I can protect her." the boy pleaded.

"You think I wouldn't have her back?" he sneered. "You think I'd turn on her?"

Peeta didn't answer at once and it was almost insulting. Haymitch dropped his hands and stepped back, his sneer deepening. He was a despicable man on a lot of accounts. But he would have never

"No." the kid said quietly. "But I'm stronger."

He hadn't just spent weeks in withdrawals, he meant.

Although Haymitch supposed that had been a blessing in disguise. Withdrawals in an arena… That wouldn't have been fun. And it would have made him an amusing spectacle for the wolves. He would have hated that. He had been a joke for most of his life, he hoped his death would carry a little more meaning than that.

Not that there was ever any meaning in death.

"You're missing a leg." he reminded him. He didn't feel bad about the flash of pain and shame that passed on the boy's face. It was a fact. The crude and honest truth. And speaking of truths… "You know what's going to happen, kid? You're gonna volunteer, you're gonna go into that arena and she's gonna realize she loves you at the worst possible moment."

"Yeah, that's going to happen." Peeta scowled.

"Yeah. It will." he laughed bitterly. "'Cause that's the kind of person she is. It's the kind of things she'll figure out too late." A bit like when he had held Effie until dawn on the last night of the Tour. A bit like… He rubbed his face. "You know the worst? It's gonna make the Capitol's day too. Tragic end to a tragic love story. You go in there and you die, you let them win."

"I wanted to be more than a piece in their game." the boy whispered sadly.

"Then be more." he almost begged.

"If I let you go in there for me, they win too." Peeta countered. "I let them win."

"No." he objected. "'Cause this Quell… That's my game. Not yours. It's my own fucking fault. I tried…" He let his sentence trail off and shook his head. "Doesn't matter. You said I owe you. I do. I chose her last year, I'm choosing both of you this year."

"Haymitch…" the kid said, his voice breaking a little.

It was tempting and the boy was tempted.

Haymitch understood that very well because he was tempted to. Accept the teenager's offer, promise to stay out of the arena whatever happened… If he had thought for one second that there was any hope of getting both of them out of there, if he had thought for one second that he would have been more useful out there… If there had been any guarantee…

If Thirteen hadn't left them all to hang…

"You know what the smart thing to do is, Peeta." he insisted. "And you know what Katniss is gonna say once she pulls her head out of her ass. How long do you think before she gets here and asks me to die for you?"

"She won't." the boy denied.

"Wanna bet?" he snorted but he wasn't amused and he didn't pretend to be for long. "I'm an old man. Whatever shitty life I had is behind me."

Peeta ran both his hands in his hair and tugged a little at the roots, clearly distressed. "It's not fair. I can't ask you…"

"You're not asking." Haymitch cut him off. "You're not asking and you're not carrying that guilt. My choice." The boy stared at him, breathing hard, so Haymitch went on. "We need you to be out there. For Katniss. That's the best way you can protect her."

Peeta turned around and paced back and forth, retracing the path from the couch to the bookshelf a few times. "What about Effie?"

The question took him a little aback. "Told you. She's the best. She can…"

"That's not what I mean." the boy interrupted him, not unkindly. "You know what I mean."

What about Effie?

He felt a pang of sadness only thinking about her. What she would have to go through… It was hard for her when it was children she had only known for two weeks. Watching friends go in there… Watching him

Oh, it would kill her.

Just like it would have killed him if he had been staying behind.

But she would do her job and she would do it well. He trusted her implicitly. She was the best escort out there and everyone knew it. Every other victor had put a request for her at one point or another. The only reason she was still in Twelve was that she was the only one who had ever been able to talk some sense into him and make him somehow behave.

"Effie'll put Katniss first." he promised. "She…" He rolled his eyes. "Do I really need to spell this out, boy? We care about the two of you in case you didn't notice. Both of us. We have our priorities straight."

Peeta stopped pacing to study him once more, wary. "She's your…" His sentence was left in suspension either out of tact or because he wasn't sure what term to use. The boy cleared his throat and averted his eyes. "Are you sure you're ready to…"

He appreciated what the kid was trying to say, to ask, but it was a pointless line of enquiries.

"She's Capitol." he said quietly.

"What does it have to do with anything?" Peeta scoffed. "It's Effie. She's much more than just her citizenship. She's…"

"Capitol." he finished before the teenager could launch into a speech on her qualities and flaws. He was intimately acquainted with each and every one of them. "I know everything's about love at your age but for some people sex is just sex. It's just a fling. Could never be anything but that."

They didn't belong in the same world.

And it would have been a selfish waste to save his own skin for something that had been doomed from the start.

Peeta nodded thoughtfully – not really convinced, he suspected, but maybe understanding the lie was a necessary one.

He and Effie had no future whatsoever.

The boy swallowed hard. "Are you sure?"

"That I want to go back to an arena?" he mocked. "What kind of fucking stupid question is that?"

"That you want to die for me." Peeta clarified. "For Katniss."

He didn't let himself hesitate. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure."

The boy slouched a little, as if a weight had just settled on his shoulders. He looked older all of a sudden, older and exhausted. Lost.

A true victor.

Haymitch had won the argument but he found no joy in it. He wasn't twisted enough for that.

"Go home." he told the kid. "Get some rest."

"What are you going to do?" Peeta asked in a small voice. That was a very good question but the sharp ringing of the phone answered that for him. The boy flashed him a small sad smile. "Tell her hi for me."

Haymitch waited until the boy had slipped through the backdoor to put his shaking hand on the phone. He took a deep breath before answering. "Took you long enough, sweetheart."


Did you like announcement day? What did you think about his conversation with Peeta and their arrangement? Let me know your thoughts!