"I'm so sorry," says Plutarch, and for once, he seems genuine. Haymitch is holding Annie's hand. Johanna left the room as soon as he said they had confirmed Finnick was dead, though Peeta, Katniss, Gale, and some of the camera crew had survived.
"They say he was protecting Katniss and Peeta to the end, and was overwhelmed."
"Did they recover his body?"
Haymitch doesn't feel like he asked the question. He feels like someone else used his voice.
Plutarch shakes his head, and explains about the exploding Holo.
Annie starts screaming. She spends the night in the hospital.
Haymitch doesn't remember much after the medics took Annie. He's on a hovercraft.
Katniss needs him.
The first person he sees in the Capitol is Willow. Her face is totally expressionless as she takes him through the President's Mansion. It's filled with suits and district rebels. The whole place is in disarray. It's the best thing he's seen in a long time.
Willow takes him to a room that's been set up with every Capitol and District 13 medical invention. The very best doctors in Panem are putting Katniss back together again. Willow doesn't touch her, but her hands reach to stroke her hair, then to hold her hand, and then they drift back to her side and her eyes close.
"I heard…about Prim."
Willow's head snaps in his direction. She's hurt and shocked he's brought it up. Then the emotions leave her face, and she's like an automaton again.
"Yes. That was awful."
Then she leaves.
Haymitch stands over Katniss. Every once in a while, her head turns, her eyes twitch and even open a little. She sings in a whisper, and she cries silently, though no tears come out.
He can't stand to be in that room anymore, and leaves. He manages to find Plutarch, who's shouting at two suits in front of a large, heavy-looking wooden door. Roses have been carved into the panels.
"Oh, Haymitch, thank God," says Plutarch. "Come here. These imbeciles won't let me in to see Effie."
Haymitch punches one in the jaw so hard he drops immediately, and Haymitch feels a knuckle bone fracture. It hurts like fire, but the other suit is slinging her gun to point at him. He grabs the muzzle, points it at the ceiling, and sweeps her feet out from under her, holding on to the gun as she falls, and releases it trying to catch herself with her hands out of instinct. She falls on her butt and Haymitch points the gun at her.
"Open the damn door."
She scrambles to her feet and, with trembling hands, unlocks the heavy door. Then she runs away.
"We don't have much time," Haymitch says, walking into the darkened room.
Plutarch closes his mouth and follows him.
Inside, the curtains have all been drawn across the floor-to-ceiling windows. It smells musty, like it has been closed off for a while, but Haymitch still picks up an ephemeral scent of lavender as he walks further into the room. He sets the gun down, and lets his eyes adjust.
He sees Effie sitting in a chair, her back to him. Her white-blonde hair hangs in a straight line to her mid-back.
"Have you come to kill me?"
Haymitch stops mid-step.
"Effie, it's us. Plutarch and Haymitch," Plutarch says.
Effie turns in her chair to look at them. Plutarch shuts the door, blocking the bright daylight from the hallway.
She sees Plutarch and smiles, then her eyes drift to Haymitch. She stands up and he sees she's wearing her shift dress, the hem ragged, and a bloodstain on the collar. She walks toward him, they're not far from each other.
She puts her hand on his face and the door bangs open.
Suits pour in, shouting and waving their guns.
Plutarch puts his arms up and allows them to push him out into the corridor.
Haymitch can't tear his eyes away from Effie, even when they grab him by the arms and drag him out.
The door closes and a suit locks it. They're carrying away the unconscious soldier he knocked out, already turning at the end of the hallway. The one whose gun he stole is scowling at him.
Effie is alive.
"President Coin wants to speak to both of you," she spits out. One of the other suits hands her the gun Haymitch had left in Effie's room.
He and Plutarch, who looks worried, and is trying to wipe his face blank, are escorted to Snow's office, where Coin has set up shop. It's interesting to Haymitch that she hasn't immediately started redistributing Snow's wealth, dividing the spoils evenly, according to need and rank. It's interesting that she's in his office, using his title, like a wild dog rolling around in the remains of a dead animal, cloaking itself in another scent.
"Gentlemen," she says, gesturing at the chairs in front of the desk. They sit.
Plutarch says, "Madam President, I want to apologize." Coin stares at him, her careful expression inscrutable. Plutarch continues, "As you can imagine, we have been very worried about Effie, who has always been a friend to us."
Coin's gray eyes swivel to Haymitch, who just stares blankly back. She returns her gaze to Plutarch, who's still talking, and Haymitch notices she's wearing makeup. Interesting.
"So, you're saying, a prominent Capitol citizen, who escorted district children to the Capitol to be murdered for years, who refused to come to Thirteen when the chance was offered, has always been a friend to you?"
Plutarch chuckles. One thing about the ex-Head Gamemaker, is he does not lose his cool under pressure.
Haymitch looks around. He thinks Snow would have had a drinks cart in here, somewhere.
"Effie Trinket," says Plutarch, "Was never a prominent Capitol citizen. That's why she was assigned to Twelve."
"Twelve has produced some of Panem's finest. The Capitol was so threatened by its power, they firebombed it, turned the entire district into a holocaust."
Plutarch and Coin have their fun, sword fighting with words, looking for a weakness, a fatal opening. Haymitch spots the drinks cart and gets up. He feels Coin's eyes burning into his back as he pours himself a drink, but when he turns around, she's watching Plutarch.
He sits back down and cuts across Plutarch, saying something about Effie not knowing about the rebellion.
"She was locked up by Snow," he says. He takes a sip. It's warm, so warm, and it slides along his tongue, burns the back of his mouth, as it makes its way down his throat, hitting his stomach the way heat from a fire hits freezing fingers after hours spent outside in the cold.
"Right?" he asks her.
Coin nods.
"She's no friend of the Capitol. She kept Peeta and Katniss alive in both arenas. She told me herself, she'd do whatever it took to help." He pauses, pained by the memory of her on the train. "Please, tell me," she had said, tears in her eyes as she thought about Katniss and Peeta in danger. "It's my fault she didn't know about the rebellion," he continues. "I thought she'd be safe." He clears his throat and drinks again. "We don't know what she might have done if we had successfully rescued her."
Coin thinks about this for a second.
"You're right. We don't know what she might have done. But we have extensive records explaining what she did for the five years she was an escort. Ten district children dead, with her intentional assistance."
Haymitch rolls his eyes.
"Every person out there colluded in the deaths of district children," he says, waving vaguely with his whiskey glass to indicate the Capitol. He's already feeling loose, better. "What are you going to do? Execute every Capitol citizen?"
Coin's lips tighten.
"Effie Trinket will be held until we can arrange a trial. The two of you, and anyone else you can come up with, may speak on her behalf."
"Thank you, Madam President," says Plutarch, rising from his chair and bowing slightly.
Coin regally inclines her head, a gracious look on her face.
"We'll speak later."
He and Plutarch leave. Plutarch mimes wiping sweat off his brow and Haymitch chuckles. He downs the rest of his drink. He almost can't feel his broken knuckle.
"Where's Peeta?" he asks.
"He's been helping in the hospital they set up outside, on the soup line."
Haymitch nods. He should go see him. Instead, when Plutarch says he needs to speak to someone about televising Snow's execution, Haymitch goes to find more alcohol.
He sees Peeta later that night, outside the Mansion, in the temporary barracks they've set up on the Mansion grounds. He's sitting with some district rebels, laughing at something one of them has said. He was burned too, trying to get to Katniss. He wasn't burned as badly, but it did reach his face, which is red and blistered and shiny.
Haymitch has just decided to let him be, enjoy his meal, when Peeta sees him and stands up.
Peeta is watching him like he thinks Haymitch will disappear. He sets his plate on the ground without looking away, breaks from the crowd, still staring. He thinks of Katniss in the cold collar, Prim and the bomb, Finnick, and he thinks Peeta might be about to kill him because he allowed it all to happen.
Then Peeta has his arms around him.
"Haymitch," says Peeta, and he laughs, and Haymitch can feel a cool wetness on his neck.
He returns the embrace in silence. He finds there's simply too much to say.
Peeta lets him go, but stays close. He's crying quite freely, with a broad smile.
"I wasn't sure…" Peeta clears his throat. "I just wasn't sure if I'd ever see you again."
Haymitch grins. "It's good to see you."
Peeta looks a little more serious. Haymitch sees the shadows flicker in his eyes, and wonders what it is he's seeing.
He says, "They say Katniss's burns will heal completely, in six months or so. Is that what you heard?"
Haymitch nods. The poor kid. When he's flown over farmland in a hovercraft, he's seen the same kind of patchwork grafting. She has gruesome patches of different kinds of skin, like a human body made up of different human parts.
"Finnick, uh," Peeta says, and blinks rapidly, looking away from Haymitch. Haymitch takes the opportunity to blink the tears back from his own eyes. "He saved me, again."
"He did that because he wanted to," says Haymitch.
Peeta shakes his head.
"He's always regretted not being quick enough to save his little brother. He told me himself." Haymitch sighs. "I admit, he never thought he'd get to marry Annie, but I know he saw it as an unexpected bonus. He's wanted to die to save someone for a long time."
Peeta looks sharply at him, his mouth slack.
"We all do, Peeta. All us victors. We're probably the only people alive who know about that. And Annie did, too. She doesn't blame anybody."
Peeta nods, and looks at his shoes. A tear drop falls between them, onto the dirt.
"And you heard about Prim? And Effie?"
Haymitch says yes. They talk about how Katniss is likely to take it when she wakes up. He's sure there's a part of her that's glad to be in the rippling world of morphling. He's sorry and impatient for her to wake up.
He tells Peeta about Effie's trial and Peeta swears.
"Katniss and I will speak at her trial."
"Thanks, Peeta, but I doubt they'll wait for the Mockingjay. They want it done quick. I'll give you the details as soon as I have them."
"Okay," says Peeta. "Don't worry. We'll get her out." Then he tears up again and says he's going to sleep early.
Haymitch heads to the bedroom that's been set aside for his use. There's a bottle of whiskey right where he left it.
He settles on the bed with a glass.
He thinks about what he told Peeta about Finnick. Ever since Snow had made it clear to him how little he valued victors, Finnick had been certain he would die. Just like Cinna on the Victory Tour.
Haymitch thinks of Finnick's smile, those white straight teeth behind perfectly sculpted lips, like copper in the sun. He thinks of Finnick's mouth on his, his surprising tenderness. His beautiful generosity with himself.
He pours another glass. It's not fair that Finnick is dead and he's not. He would have died for him! For Peeta, or for Finnick, or for Katniss, or Effie. He would gladly have taken Seeder or Chaff's place, even Cinna's.
And what is he? He thinks, pouring himself another glass. He's just a useless alcoholic, who let his friends get killed.
He's crying. Actually, he thinks he might be screaming. He upends a sofa and kicks a chair across the room. Nothing, he's nothing, and Finnick is gone, and Cinna with him, and he's here. Even Chaff, even Seeder, who had seemed eternal, and sweet, precious Mags, who had held his hand.
He seizes the mirror over the dresser and heaves it across the room.
Stumbling over decorative pillows and cushions, he makes it to the bed and falls on it.
He doesn't remember falling asleep. He wakes, head pounding, in an actual pool of his tears, and moves his aching head to the pillows, and falls back to sleep, hating himself and the world that let Finnick Odair fall through its fingers.