Cold slowly and reluctantly gave way to warmer air as the months continued on. The trees of the forest returned to their shades of green and his geese reunited in his yard. He'd almost missed the blasted things during the winter. Almost.
It had been a quiet few months as events had finally started to settled down. Peeta and Katniss had seemed to find their fit and were living together full time now. Katniss only sometimes seemed to end up on his couch or the end of his bed in the early morning hours as she suffered from an episode and that was okay.
The fits and lost hours from them both seemed to be less frequent as the temperature began to rise. Only occasionally had he had to intervene in between the two during a dinner or an argument.
Things were okay with them.
He was almost okay too.
He'd filled another journal with stories of the people he'd met in 13. Boggs, Mitchell, the rest of the fatal Star Squad. They deserved their pages. They'd brought Katniss home too.
On the day of the Reaping Day Festival he'd closed the final chapter on Finnick Odair. He figured it would be the final chapter, at least. He'd shut the journal as he'd filled the last page with a memory from Finn and Annie's wedding, finally complete. He had recalled the pure joy that had radiated off the man on that day. He remembered how it had finally felt almost okay to be happy for him.
The festival didn't make him feel that. He didn't know how to feel about it.
Katniss had first told him about the District's intentions to throw the event after the cold winter months. He'd gotten drunk that night, sure that it would be a disaster that he didn't want to ever participate in. The idea had been loathsome. It had been terrifying.
And now it was here. Things were brighter than he'd expected – there hadn't been an incident to ruin the mood of the District in months. Yet still, he didn't want to face it alone. He gripped his bottle tight in his hand and filled his flask with another before heading over to Peeta's to check on the pair. It would be a hard day for them all, that much was sure.
When he stepped through the door to the kitchen he was more than surprised. Katniss was cleaning a large buck in the kitchen and separating out its stock. It was impressive and he couldn't help but be astonished at the size of the thing as he clapped her on the back and said a loud toast.
"Where'd you get this?" He tipped the bottle back and took a sip. She grinned broadly at him and continued her preparations.
"I shot it! This morning, Peeta and I were in the forest and I got it. Sae's coming later to get some for the festival tonight." He didn't flinch as she pulled back at the flank. Refocusing anywhere but on the night ahead of him.
"And where is Peeta-bread today?" She paused her actions slightly and he took notice. It wasn't a good day already for Peeta, it was obvious.
"He's upstairs painting. You can go up if you want, but..." She trailed off and rubbed her hands against her pants. Her clothes were already filthy. He nodded and kept quiet. They weren't going to talk about how difficult the festival would be. They all had planned to go. Planned, at least. It was a step in the right direction. He took another sip.
"Alright. Well, I'll leave you to it. You'll get me if you need any... help?" His eyes motioned to the ceiling above where Peeta was taking refuge.
"We'll be fine, Haymitch."
"Still," He pressed as he headed towards the door.
"See you tonight," She called after him, returning to her task at hand. He didn't respond as he headed back across the lawns to his house. He'd see them tonight, but he had very little intention of remembering it.
The afternoon passed in a hazy blur as he sat on his porch sipping down his bottle. He'd already finished off one and was currently working on a second. The haunting memories from his own Reaping Day were folding through his consciousness as he rocked on his porch swing. The fresh air was the only feeling tying him to the present as he fought to remain conscious.
He watched out ahead as the sun slowly began to fall over the tree line. It was getting closer. Like it was a wave moving up the shore.
The festival was supposed to be something good for the District. It was supposed to be a celebration. But as a Victor of his Games and one of the few remaining remnants of the past, he had a hard time getting past the ominous undertones.
He'd probably never get past this day without the feeling of being smothered with memories.
Later, as he made his way into the Market to Rylan's stall he couldn't help but notice through bleary eyes the lights and colours that flickered around him. It was truly a sight, even for drunk eyes. The District seemed larger than he'd ever seen it. Seemed happier too. The early crowds with their grinning children and their loud screams of excitement didn't grate his nerves but instead relaxed him.
This Reaping Day was not meant to be filled with grief and pain.
He stumbled his way onto a stool at Rylan's counter and the man didn't even bother to ask before pouring him a shot of something strong. Rylan knew, without a doubt, that for any Victor the celebration of the Reapings would be bittersweet.
Haymitch didn't hesitate in tapping for another after quickly swallowing the first.
And the night went on. The sounds filled in and the crowd pulsed around them as Rylan worked double time to serve all the customers at his stools. In the pauses of service Rylan would talk to him and ask him about nothing important trying very hard to keep him conscious for a little while longer.
He was sitting hunched over the counter with his head in his hands when her voice floated over his shoulder. The Girl on Fire who'd made it home alive. The closest thing he would ever want to a daughter. He held himself together and tilted his head to the side as she pushed a bowl of water in front of his face.
His eyes focused and refocused on the piece of paper that was tucked under it. The words floated and swayed in the water's illusion.
'His name's Fin'
It was scrawled with a careful mess on the paper. His mind clicked it around into place as he took notice of the fish. He wanted to sob like a child. His chest felt like it would collapse upon itself as he read the words again. The gesture was beyond words.
He turned swiftly, as swift as he could at least, and pulled her tightly against him. This girl was what he was living for. She was the reason his heart still beat. Finn had given everything for her, for him, and now here they stood with crowds celebrating around them. The war had ended. Festivals were held instead of Reapings. This girl had been the flame that had burnt the world to the ground and saved him.
"I can't give you back your old one and I'm sorry I lost him. But don't lose this Fin, Haymitch." Her words were heavy on his heart and he held her tighter, refusing to let go of his last vestige of hope. There was a note of cause in her voice and he pushed it away. Finn had acted of his own accord that day. She hadn't lost him.
"He wasn't lost. He just chose to give everything one last time." He whispered it in her ear and then released her back to her night. He nodded at Peeta who stood behind her, observing the scene in quiet contemplation. The boy had turned into a man during the winter months, had turned into something he was proud to leave his Mockingjay with.
They were the three Victors of District 12. The markers and the survivors of the Capitol. They were Reaped in a day that this festival longed to overshadow.
He turned back to face Rylan at the counter and laid down his coin. Standing from the stool on watery legs he lifted the bowl in his hands and pushed onward toward the Village. The walk took him twice as long as he stepped carefully, clutching to the bowl, refusing to spill even an ounce of the water.
He'd slept heavily through the next day, avoiding the hangover that would undoubtedly punish him for his lack of dreams. He didn't hear or see the images from the night before that had exposed the Victors to the rest of Panem again.
It was only when Sae showed up in his kitchen and told him about the photos that he considered tearing his hair out and fleeing the Village. Instead he checked in on Katniss and Peeta, encouraging them avoid the Town and keep to themselves. He reminded them of her conditions with the government, of how if the government wished they could proceed to check her status.
He didn't need to remind them of their options if she went missing again.
They already knew what was coming. He'd seen it in her eyes that the way the Capitol feasts on her privacy made her cringe. He pitied them both. They were only trying to move on and the government refused to let them do it in peace.
When the knocking came a few days later he didn't bother answering.
Nor did he answer the next day.
He considered checking on them, seeing if they were alright, but he knew they would be better off figuring it out themselves. That's how they had healed each other. He'd be there if they needed him. He'd be here for as long as he could.
The days moved on. They turned into weeks. And soon the District was once again quiet with the daily life of its citizens. No swarm of cameras arrived and no press flooded in. Katniss and Peeta explained what had happened and its results with reservation.
They weren't sure either if this had been a one-time deal.
He was thankful at least that it was Cressida who'd been assigned to them. She was likely the reason there hadn't been any outcry at the story, or lack there-of. She'd been witness to the trials these two had faced during the war.
He spends most of his time now out with his geese, tending to his flock. It's here where she finds him as the sun shines overhead and surrounds them with warmth and comfort. There's a steady peace here now as she rises to sit on the fencing of his pen.
She kicks her heels against the wood and he can't help but smile like a fool. He's reminded of how young she actually is. How much life she has before her. It's hard to believe he got her home alive. He turns to meet her eyes, inquisitive as to why she's here. He can see Peeta heading towards them with a fresh loaf of bread. Always baking. Some things never change.
Except it has. She looks a little different now. A little lighter and a little happier. There is no hint of the sharp bones and the frail girl that he brought back from the Capitol so long ago. This girl is strong and alive. Every bit the phoenix he saw rise the day after the storm.
"You have a secret. Out with it." He calls across the pen to her as Peeta rests his hand on her shoulder. She grins in response and takes the bread from Peeta's hand, offering it to him.
"Want some toast?"
He's not surprised. Really, he's not. But he can't help hide the grin that plays across his features. They finally fucking did it. For a moment, he can't help but feel glad that he's here for this moment. Too many years he's spent wishing to end it, too many days he's spent drowning in his liquor. It was a long way out of that bottle.
But this moment, right here, was worth it.
AN: And that's it! There's a epilogue still but this will be the end of this story. Thanks for sticking around and I hope you enjoyed it.