I debated back and forth between posting this in Between Lives and the Ballad but bc this turned out to be Haymitch-centric, I decided to post it in the one-shots for Haymitch.

Where Haymitch tried to deal with being sent back to District Twelve after the war….

Finding Home
(42 years old)

Standing in front of the house he had inhabited for the past two decades knowing that this structure was among the few left standing in District Twelve brought about a surreal, desolate feeling.

Holding his breath, he took a look around at the rod-iron gates that swung inwards towards the village, the chipped fountain of angels in flight in the middle of the walkway towards the houses and as he inched closer, at the shrubberies and vines growing in front of his house. Everything was the same as if time had hung frozen while he was away. He released his breath, the thin fog rising in front of him.

He had been gone for months, months, if not a year or more, put through intense withdrawals, fought off a war and toppled a tyrannical government, and yet this house remained. Stepping inside his front door, his foot nudged the empty bottles out of his way and watched them roll down the hallway. Dirty clothes were still strewn on the floor, now coated with a thin layer of dust like everything else in this house.

This sight was familiar.

Everything was exactly as he had placed it. He felt like he never left.

The first thing he did was to empty the rucksack of the bottles of liquor he had stolen from the Presidential Mansion.

He opened one, gulped down the contents and let the familiar burn of liquid comfort him.

He didn't want to be here.

Each time he looked out of the window, the self-loathing rose like a bile in his throat. The destruction that lay beyond Victor's Village was because of him. It started from the moment he approached Seneca Crane to spin the star crossed lovers story, and now, it came down to this – the annihilation of his district.

When the Rebellion broke across the country, he was already deeply embroiled in it. He had refused to think of the end and of what he could do, what he would be able to do. He didn't want to give himself hope. It felt treacherous to have hope so early when his fate was still hanging by a thread.

But when Snow was captured and held prisoner in his own mansion, Haymitch had allowed himself to imagine a future where he was free, and while he was it, he never did picture himself back here in District Twelve.

There was nothing for him here in District Twelve, only nightmares and ghosts. The war would have ideally closed that chapter of his life. He could try to move on without walking on the same ground where he had buried his family and countless of tributes, where bones and skeletons of the locals had turned to ashes.

He imagined District Seven somehow. The image came unbidden in his mind and the more he thought of it, the more he longed for that cabin in the woods. While he wasn't sure if Effie would agree to come with him, it didn't seem to be her scene after all, he would have still have asked anyway. He would be contented with her visits.

It didn't matter now.

He was back here with fresh responsibilities. He was back here for Katniss.

He wasn't very good with responsibilities. He did what he was always good at – he got drunk.

Haymitch was vaguely aware of the comings and goings of Greasy Sae, bringing updates of Katniss living next door to him. Like him, the girl was keeping to herself. Like him, she didn't want to be here anymore than he did. They were both trapped once again like they were before, in a house none of them asked for.

He drifted in and out of awareness, surfacing once in a while when his liver managed to break down the poison he kept ingesting.

Greasy Sae's raspy voice was telling him that he should eat.

Greasy Sae was telling him that Katniss had not left her bed in a week.

He grumbled something unintelligible.

He wondered, if only briefly, how long it had been since they returned home but in the end, it did not matter. They would be here till the end of time. Katniss was not allowed to leave and he was bound to her.

The house phone rang.

Stumbling drunk, he answered it if only to make the noise stop.

There was a woman on the phone, sharp, shrill voice demanding an attention he couldn't give. She sounded increasingly agitated.

In his haze, he registered Peeta's name in her voice.

"Haymitch," he heard this woman said, "Haymitch!"

He hung up.

There were more bottles, more days passed out unaware.

"How's Katniss?" he slurred one evening.

At the back of his mind, he realized albeit belatedly that he had palmed off his responsibility to Greasy Sae. Old and hunched, she came over every day to make sure they were both alive.

Greasy Sae was annoyed. He could tell from the tone of her voice when she grumbled and asked if he cared at all, and if he did, he should have gone to check on Katniss.

He bristled.

He cared about the girl. Of course, he did. He was here, wasn't he? He agreed to be her guardian. He put his needs and wants on hold, cast it aside because of her. He cared more than anyone knew.

"Haymitch!"

The voice was as familiar as this house.

He turned on his sides and pressed his face on the sofa.

"Oh, enough with this already!" the woman clicked her tongue in disapprobation. He felt fingers nudging and prodding his flesh. "When was the last time you have a meal? Or a shower?"

This woman was persistent. He cursed her internally, willing her to leave him be.

Instead, he felt impatient hands grabbing his arms and hauling his dead weight up so he was sitting. The strength surprised him. He scrambled for his knife.

"Don't bother," she said. "I've put it away before you can stab someone with it. I know you too well."

He shielded his eyes against the painful glare of the sun streaming fiercely through the window. She had parted the drapes to let the lights in.

"Effie," he breathed in recognition. "What a beautiful dream."

Her face scrunched in annoyance and fondness.

"I can assure you, Haymitch, I am very much here. I'm not in one of your dreams. Now, get up. Half a day wasted already… Do you know what one can accomplish within that time?"

"Huh."

"Do get up, Haymitch, please. Can you stand?"

He grappled her upper arms to stand shakily on his legs, and he lurched forward to kiss her, a sloppy, messy and wet kiss, none of the finesse and the skill with which he often kiss her when he was half-sober.

She pushed him away.

"I miss you," he mumbled.

"I know," she sighed softly. "I do, too. But forgive me for saying this, your breath is horrid and you smell of sweat and… I'd rather not think about it. Let's get you clean up."

The cold shower cleared his head. Still, he watched her under hooded eyes as she went about cleaning him and washing his hair. He tried to get her out of her clothes but she would have none of it. Disenchanted, he took the toothbrush wordlessly.

A part of him was embarrassed that she was still cleaning after him but another was glad to see her.

Greasy Sae had left a plate which Effie heated up for him. They settled in the kitchen, cups of coffee to warm them up.

"Why did you fall back?"

He snorted, "I've always been this way."

"No, you haven't. I've seen you sober," Effie folded her arms and looked at him crossly. "You're supposed to be responsible for Katniss."

"Her mother's supposed to be responsible for her," he snapped, the repressed frustration bubbled to the surface in her presence. She was always the only person who could coax the truth out of him. "I ain't her father, you know. I shouldn't -"

He snapped his mouth shut, breathing heavily.

"You don't want to be here," Effie said, startled at the realisation.

He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms.

"No, I don't. But I got to, right?" he released a tired, defeated breath. "I'm allowed to be selfish once in a while."

"Where would you have gone?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Was thinking of Seven."

"What's at Seven?" Effie asked with an indulgent smile.

"A cabin would be nice. No one depending on me, no one expectin' anything outta me. There'd be tall, green trees when you look out the window, firewood cracklin' in the house. You."

"Me?"

"I'd make a room for you. We could…" he trailed off and brought his cup of coffee to his lips, gulping it down.

This talk was taking a dangerous path, a hopeless one.

"We could always have a house in the woods, Haymitch," Effie said and his eyes snapped at her. "One day."

He snorted.

"Peeta's coming home in a week. I came because…. I needed to make sure you're alright. Katniss is fine on her own. She's grieving and moping, but she could hold it on her own. But Peeta… I can't have you passed out drunk all the time. Peeta might slip into one his episodes unexpectedly and he'll need you. Katniss would too."

He swallowed the guilt. She was right. He should be here for the kids. It was unfair to Katniss what he was doing; to bring her home and then leave her to Sae while he drowned himself in the bottom of a bottle again.

"I'll cut down," he said eventually.

Effie smiled, her eyes lighting up and it put him at ease.

"Come," she beckoned.

She brought him to the back yard where he spotted three white feathered fowls, noisy as a hungry infant.

"Greasy Sae found these geese. I said to leave it here, that you'll take care of them."

"I ain't in a habit of adopting strays."

"You do," she pointed out simply and left it at that. "Anyway, I do not quite like how noisy they are but I thought it will give you something to focus on, something to take your mind off, and fill your time other than drinking."

"Fatten them up, serve them on a plate. How'd you like them cook, sweetheart?"

"Haymitch," she whacked his chest, "honestly."

He laughed then. It was the first time the sound tumbled from his lips since he returned to Twelve after the war. He slung his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, pressing a kiss on her temple.

"Thanks."

For pulling him out of his drunken stupor, for helping him again and again, for the geese even though he wasn't sure if her plan would work.

"My train will leave tomorrow," she told him, pressing a cheek against his chest, "but I'll come back again next week with Peeta. I'll bring him home."

"Okay."

"Haymitch," she pulled his attention back to her once again when it grew quiet between them. "It doesn't have to be District Seven. We would be lonely. This can be home, too. Katniss and Peeta will be here, they're family."

He mulled it over.

"Yeah," he shrugged finally because all he heard in that was that she would be with him.

We.