Happy Reading!~
Chapter 12: Monsters in the Wall
[Haymitch]
Here in the valley,
there's somethin' to see,
here in the valley,
between you and me.
So climb on down
the side of the hill,
stretch your arms wide,
and see somethin, you will.
The sharp sound of the cannon rung out, booming and throbbing off in the distance. It sends a jolt through me and Maysilee; I'd been on watch for hours in the hollow of a large fur, her tiny body curled under a layer of pine, ensconced in the very thin sleeping bag I'd managed to procure from the now desolate Cornucopia. We'd been tracking the Career pack for two days, trying to stay hidden long enough to rid them of their supplies quietly, but to no avail. After a few hours of searching, we'd lost track of them in the heavily forested area of the mountain side.
"What was that?" she whispers, rising up beside me. I start, then smile gently down at her, placing a hand delicately on her arm.
"Just a canon, Maysi." I say softly, moving to pat her gently on the leg. I hear heavy footsteps, and my body tenses, clutching the short knife I'd found with the sleeping bag. I slink as far back into the darkness as I can, pushing her back down beside me.
"Oh, man!" comes a loud voice, shrill and dark in its tonation. "Did you see the look on his face? What a loser." laughter sounds from the blackness, crisp and foreign.
"Is that them?" breaths Maysilee from below me. I shrug, pulling back on my haunches, struggling to see through the darkness. The branches we'd pulled onto Maysi to keep her warmer hid her form from view, though I know the moment the Tributes pass us, she'll be whipping up to blow poison darts at them. The thought chokes me with a chuckle for a moment; then, as if out of nowhere, I smell smoke.
"Hey, do you smell that?" says the boy from earlier, who I assume to be Satin, one of the two still living male Tributes from District One. A round of uncertain assent leads them away from where we camp.
"What is that?" I whisper, and Maysilee sits up to dig through the pack, pulling out the telescopic lenses I'd stolen off a career; risky, but worth it. I throw them on, squinting through the barrier of trees. "Shit." I yank my pack from beside her, shoving things into it at random: the lenses, our bottles of water, my thermal coat from the start.
"What?" Maysilee starts rolling up the pack without information, throwing the tree branches away. "What?" she says again as she shoves it into her own pack. "Mitch!" her voice grows louder, against the rumbling sound that has started to cascade toward us.
"We need to go. Now." I jump up, and she quickly pulls on her long sleeved shirt, tugging her coat on over it. "Now, Maysi!" she throws her pack onto her back; we no longer try to hide our footsteps, no longer care about being quiet. We just need to leave. My hands shake as I push her in front of me, the smell of smoke and the rumbling growing stronger, louder. I look back only once as the mountain's rocky edge comes into view. The world bursts into flames and ash as we stumble and then tumble down the side.
I awake, still feeling the crunching of stone beneath my ribs. My heart races, and the knife I sleep with each night is clutched tightly in my still slightly shaky hand. I forget for a moment where I am, and sit up in a bed I haven't slept in for years. The sheets smell musty, dusty, and I push out of the bed, confused by sounds in my supposedly barren house. I search for a flask, a bottle, anything to calm the quakes that move through my body, but there's nothing. Damn those kids. A moan sounds from my living room, and I take pause, throwing the knife down on the bed. It's not one of pleasure, I realize after a more than terrified moment, and move towards it. It's a sound of fear. I'm hurdling through the door and into the house, feet dragging against the slightly warped wood. I see her, laying there in the sheer darkness, the muddy sky hanging in the interim between sunrise and night. Her back is arched off the couch, sweat collecting on her brow and pulling her hair into clumped bunches on her face. She whimpers, I can hear her and tears spring to my eyes at the idea that she's hurting. For one totally selfish moment, however, I feel less alone. At least she has them too. I shake the thought off, rushing to the couch side, hands hovering over her for a moment before I gently shake her by the arm.
"Ah!" she swings out, hand catching me in the side of the head, heel of her palm smacking me in the temple. "Oh my God, Haymitch." She moves forward, sitting up as her shaking hands reach out for me. I grin gently, rubbing my face with little disturbance.
"Eh, happens." I reply, moving away. I can feel the lack of alcohol rushing through my body suddenly, chills coming over me as I flop onto the couch next to her. I rub my hands together, then shiver and shake slightly, muscles quaking. "Better?"
"Awake." she replies, sitting up more and rubbing the dream out of her face. She scowls at me after a moment. "How are you?"
"Oh, right as rain, Kat." I sneer, responding the only way I know how. "I dunno if I can do this, sweetheart."
"You can," she mutters, flinging the blanket across me and unfolding her legs to step off the couch. "and you will." Katniss looks at me for a moment, eyes narrowed. I shrug, pulling the blanket further onto my body.
"I don't wanna." I mutter, teeth chattering. "I feel sick."
"You sound like a petulant child, Haymitch." she stomps away down the hall. "I'm going hunting before it gets too cold, but Peeta will be over in about ten minutes to feed you. Think you can handle yourself?" I shrug in response, trying to keep my stomach from turning over more. "Alright, well. Behave. And feed your damn geese." She stomps out the door, waving a finger at me with a smirk on her face. I watch her run across the way to change into warmer attire for hunting. My eyes slip shut, but I'm not tired anymore. I'd slept long enough, disobeying my usual rule of never sleeping in the dark. The daytime, the light, feels more secure, less haunting and abusive. I open my eyes, glaring out the window. Snow starts to fall, thick and hard, and I can see Katniss standing in her doorway, almost can hear her asking if it's worth it. She shrugs and runs through the snow, almost gleeful in her ability to be outside freely. My eyes wander through the living room, and I shiver again, feeling bile rise in my chest. I swallow against it, refusing to let myself be weak. I trace the lines of my television, it's broken glass a symphony of pain. I'd never had it replaced, for good reason. After the quarter quell, I didn't really have a reason to. I remember watching so many bullshit announcements on that television, never quite lucky enough to be able to just WATCH the Games on them, no. I had to be there, in the Capitol, surrounded by the silly, frivolous twits while my children died
Not like I did much to help them before these two kids, though.
Not like the kids that were Reaped before them really wanted my help, anyways.
Being Reaped in Twelve had always been a death sentence, that was true before my drunk and stupid ass ever got hauled onto that train every year.
Even after I'd watched my family killed by Peacekeepers, their slick grey so at contrast with the sharp white it changed to shortly after that, I'd tried to keep hope. After all, I'd won for them; Evie and mom and Missy and Maggie. Fat lot of good it did for my mother though; Evie and Rowan. I cast the thought away, moving my eyes over the edge of the mantle.
"Kid, you gotta want to win to stand a chance! Don't you wanna win?" I take a sip of some bitter drink I'd found on the bar, face pulling at the taste. The 17 year old girl sitting in front of me, only five years my younger, sobbed harder. "Fuck, look, forget it, sweetheart." her eyes widen in fear at my words, coughing and hiccuping and whimpering desperately. I stalk away, drinking the sour beverage in one go. Shaking off the feeling of guilt, I wander slowly through the bar car, choosing carefully. A bottle of amber liquid stands out to me, and I snatch it up from behind the counter, watching the scowl of the Avox deepen. I trudge to my room to drink and hopefully forget that these kids are dead, and I can't do shit about it.
Peeta comes even as the tremors begin to grow more intense. He lays me down, wrapping me in a blanket with a cool cloth on my face as my fever beings to spike. Watching him move around my house brings a smile to my face; he'd grown, strong and tall and fast since coming back to Twelve. Two inches had added to his height, and he finally looked his age - no longer skinny and gaunt as he did when Coin shipped him off to fight. My smile drops from my face when he catches my eyes.
"What are you so happy about?" he questions lightly; my stomach twists, though I doubt it has much to do with my lack of alcohol. His kindness is almost too much for me. I can't forget how he looked when he returned from the Capitol, how my efforts to keep Katniss safe had ended with him so broken.
"Nothin," I grumble, holding back a moan of pain. I scratch my bearded chin absently, still coddled in the blanket. Feed you damn geese. Katniss' voice rings, clear as a bell, through my mind, and I push the blankets away, rising from the couch. It feels as if all the warmth is being sapped from my body, and I shiver and shake at the lack of alcohol to warm me. Peeta stops me with a simple hand on my shoulder.
"Where are you going?" he asks gently.
"Gotta feed the damn geese," I reply, teeth chattering. I push past him, moving through the house to the kitchen, where I keep the stale bread and some cracked corn I'd had shipped for them. Lotta money for such a stupid habit. I pull on a coat, worn from use, and grab up the bag of corn and bread ends, stumbling my way back to the front door.
"Haymitch, you're not well." Peeta protests.
"Better get out of my way, boy, before I make you unwell." I mutter. He moves only slightly, as if against his better judgement. I trudge outside into the wet snow that pours from the sky, feeling more like rain; thunder cracked in the distance, and it would probably storm tonight. The geese wail in protest against the inclimate weather - more than likely, most of 'em would die before the end of winter. At least we'd have plenty of roast goose to eat. I toss a couple handful's on the ground, watching them fight each other over the scraps I throw them. My mind goes back to words that Coin had said to her district, about fighting one another for scraps. I shake the thought off - war was over. Nothing to worry about anymore; I pull out a few more handfuls, feeling weak. My eyes start to blur - I know what this means; it's happened before. I barely make it back to the house before I drop to my knees, shaking, and the world goes dark.
"Haymitch… Haymitch, can you hear me?" a soft voice comes through the darkness. I am in bed; I can tell because the smell of the bedroom is musty versus a, well, frankly rotten smell from the rest of the house. I blink a few times to readjust to the light from the windows, and Katniss leans over me, her brow furrowed in worry. Peeta stands just to her side, arms crossed over his chest. "What the hell were you thinking?" she covers me briefly with her body, in what I assume to be a hug, and then leans back to sit upright on the bed beside me. Her hand finds mine, and I squeeze it before moving to sit up.
"Needed to feed the geese, sweetheart." I reply, a smirk on my face.
"Not with a fever of 103, you don't." replies Peeta.
"You're the one that let me out of the house, kid, don't you turn this around on me." I reply, sitting up further, but feeling more weak the more I move.
"I'm not, it's just…" Peeta trails off, rubbing his face. "Look, Haymitch, Katniss and I were talking and…"
"We're gonna send you to my mother. In Four. Get you treatment." Katniss cuts in. I look between them, smirk fading into a somber tone.
"You're serious." I reply.
"Haymitch, we don't know what we're doing here, and it could be dangerous. I'm lucky Katniss saw you fall, or else I wouldn't have known what to do." Peeta urges.
"Look, I got this, it's not the first time I've had to dry up, and I'll be fine." But even as I say it, I sound unconvinced. Peeta looks between me and Katniss for a moment before he shakes his head. "C'mon, kids, I'm fine." I press.
"Haymitch…" Katniss stands, shaking her head as well. "You're not. And we can't take care of you. We love you but…"
"But I'm just too much for you, sweetheart. Got it." I push down 'til my chin is just above the covers, not looking at them. Peeta leaves, grumbling to himself, but Katniss kneels beside the bed, hands folded, head leant to the side, trying to catch my eye. "Look, if you're gonna send me away, just do it already. Get me out of your hair."
"Haymitch, I never said I was just gonna send you away and forget about you. Peeta and I are coming too." she smiles. "There are some things we need to work out there anyways, and Annie wants a painting done of Finnick to hang in the baby's room." I look at her in surprise, the way she usually looks at me. I shiver slightly; I still have a fever.
"What happened? Why did I pass out?" I ask, ignoring her statement for moment.
"You had a seizure. If I hadn't come running out of the woods to avoid the rain, Peeta would've been left to his own devices." she looks away from my prying eyes. "Prim had one when she was really little. My mom only knew what to do because of her parents. Otherwise we would've been helpless. That's why we're going out there. Otherwise we'd be fine here on our own. She can help you. And then, once the factory is built, we'll have real medical services here and…"
"Look, I get it, sweetheart." I try to smile at her. "Don't worry, it's okay." she sighs in compliance for a moment, and then stands, pushing a smile to her lips. She leans slightly to the left, watching me before nodding once and leaving the room.
It takes two days to get everything together to go to Four; tickets, permission, a special medical team for me, because I have become so sick with withdrawals. My hands shake, my fever has yet to break, and stays solidly at 101 degrees. Walking from the Village to the train is a struggle. I yearn for the feeling of alcohol, that sickly sweet burn that slides from mouth to stomach, leaving a hot trail in its wake. My dreams start to become hallucinations, thick with sharp instruments and the wails of the children I couldn't save. Peeta comes to me, haggard in his appearance, cursing at me.
"No!" I thrash around in my bed as hands are laid on me. "No, don't touch me!" I can hear soft footsteps.
"Leave him alone!" Katniss' voice wails above the rest. They step back, allowing her to pass through. "Get out." She steps towards me, kneeling down in front of the bed. "Haymitch, you need to let them treat you."
"I don't want to sleep anymore." I just want to die. Why can't you just let me die? "I just want to be left alone."
"Haymitch, please." she whispers.
"No, Katniss, no, I don't want to, please don't make me." I sit up, covered in a slick layer of sweat, sick to my stomach. "All I can see are them, those dead kids. Those damned, dead kids."
"It's okay." she stands, closing her eyes for a moment. "Look, why don't we have some food? We'll be in Four in a few hours." I look at her, eyes searching for her reaction to my refusal to move. "Alright. Then stay." she marches out of the room, and I close my eyes, pushing back the tears that rise to the surface. I didn't want to be here. Don't want to get treatment. Was satisfied in being left alone. But here I am, on a train to Four, after four days without alcohol, and I still feel like I'm dying.
We reach Four with little trouble, two days and two nights on the train, arriving early morning to Annie and Maggie's faces looking weary and weathered as always. Katniss and Peeta and I part ways, and I am escorted to a facility on the edge of Four, eyes drifting in and out of focus as we hurtle down the road. "How are you feeling, Mitch?" asks Maggie gently, soft hands brushing over my too hot skin.
"Like I've been betrayed." I reply in a gruff tone. "What are we gonna be doing here anyways?"
"It's just a room for you to stay with medical supervision. There's someone here to see you, also." we pull up the drive, towards a large building that looks more like a manor than a hospital. I give her a concerned look at her statement on visitors.
"Hope it's no one important, I've definitely had better days." I chuckle at the irked look on my old friends face. "Who is it, anyways?"
"Not sure, I wasn't told." Brisk hands brush me out of the car, and I'm escorted up the stairs towards the doors. Inside it is, indeed, a medical facility; bright white walls and minimalistic furniture a stark contrast against the regal looking facade. We stop briefly at the desk so I can sign my name on a few sheets of paper, all legal looking stuff I give few glances to. Then I'm guided away again. It feels odd to have hands on me that are merely providing guidance instead of throwing me in a room and locking the door. I enter the plain colored room, light blue with a plain bed and few furnishings.
"What is this?" I ask one of the men as they go to leave. He almost rolls his eyes, but catches himself. He sidles over to the desk, reaching for a pen and a small piece of paper.
A rehabilitation center for those that have been hurt by the war. He writes. I, unfortunately, am unable to speak to you myself, but if you have anymore questions, I'm sure someone else can answer them. His writing spans over four lines, and then a smile ties onto his thin features, obviously Capitol in appearance.
"Oh. Thanks." I say awkwardly. He nods, and then leaves. I look around the barren room, and my eyes settle on a vase of flowers blooming on the bedside table. They're beautiful, petals rippling like water, thick and full; they are not roses. My mind settles, and I relax onto the bed. I wait.
And wait.
And after what seems like an eternity, Maggie enters my room. I glance at the clock. It has only been five minutes.
"Okay, Mitch. I-"
"Please, don't call me that anymore, Maggie." I whisper, looking at my still shoe covered feet.
"Haymitch, right. I need to take your temperature and get an idea of your symptoms, and we can progress from there. After that, you can see your visitor."
It takes a while, especially considering I'm still feverish and my hallucinations haven't settled. But after about an hour she smiles at me gently, a hollow reminder of the girl that married my best friend.
"Do you miss James, Maggie?" I ask as she rises to leave.
"Every day." she replies. "And…"
"Evie?" I chuckle. "Yeah. Never gets any easier. For any of it." Even after everything is over.
She leaves with a promise to escort my visitor in momentarily. I relax, scuffing off my shoes and tossing them across the room, throwing my coat over the chair in front of the desk. I open the window a little and toss the flowers out, too sickened by the sight of them. Any flower is a bad flower. Snow saw to that. I shudder at the thought of the snake faced man, glad to be rid of him, and lay back onto the bed to close my eyes for a moment. It's starting to grow very light out, the noon sun rising over the practically hot January air. At least, I think it's January. I've lost all track of time in my calculated living.
A knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts, and I clear my throat quickly. "Come in." I mutter to the unseen figure.
The door pulls open, and a quiet and demure looking woman enters. I almost don't recognize her for a moment, her soft blonde hair falling in thick waves down to her shoulders, makeup minimal, though her shoes remain the same height as always, elevating her six or seven inches above the ground. She looks… normal, for all intents and purposes. I watch her walk across the room, then look up when she reaches the bed.
"Hey, Effie." I whisper.
A/N: Please don't hate me! I wanted so badly to keep writing but this chapter is already a million miles long. I love all of you, thank you to those who have followed and favorited recently, even without update. I really appreciate it.
If you liked my work, please favorite/follow/review, it really means a lot to me! The next chapter will be up in a little over a week, but I have a surprise for you guys that I hope you will enjoy…
I'm starting another (I KNOW ANOTHER) story, called Poison Me. It's about Haymitch's life between winning the Games (so his Victory Tour) and when Peeta and Katniss won theirs. So the story will span over 24 years, which is a long time. I hope you enjoy it. The first chapter should go up within the week.
Also, I'm starting school on Monday (yay, college), so I'll probably have less time to write here. But, I will be posting updates to all stories on my blog .com. Please follow me there, and I'll try to keep you guys up to date on Poison Me, Hands and Fire, AND Tonight, I'm Gonna Dance. I love you all. Please remember to fav/follow/review if you enjoyed. Have a good day.
