Chapter One-Hundred-and-Three; The Best Man
(Haymitch's POV)
Haymitch's fists clenched into angry fists at his side as Seneca without warning turned sharply on his heel and started off down the street away from Haymitch.
Without wasting a moment or sparing a thought for his actions, Haymitch started after him and his hand shot out as with one deft movement Haymitch had hauled Seneca back by his collar and slammed him into the nearby wall.
Haymitch tried not to let the vindication he felt at the action display on his face as Seneca cursed sharply when his back collided with the brick and he gritted his teeth in momentary pain, before his eyes crackled like blue lightening.
Haymitch's storm grey gaze however matched his in intensity as he forced the words out in a level tone. "Why are you blackmailing Dan to appear as Stephanie's Capitol lover?"
Seneca surged forward from the wall and for an interminable moment it seemed as if the whole situation would devolve into an all-out fight as they stared each other down in a silent battle of wills.
However Seneca with a visibly monumental effort squared his shoulders, straightening his blazer with a sharp tug before he spoke in a condescending sneer. "My car is around the corner. This is a conversation best had in ensured privacy," he clarified.
This time when Seneca turned sharply on his heel Haymitch did not haul him back like a disobedient dog, but stood almost perfectly still for a moment as he tried to regulate his harsh breathing and force down the utter fury Seneca's mere presence caused in him.
Every singed nerve in his body cried out for him to drag Seneca bodily back and beat him to a bloody pulp. It would be no less than the ice-blue eyed man deserved for all the pain and heartache he had caused.
Five bloody years of innocent tributes sacrificed to Seneca's wrath and now…Haymitch inhaled deeply.
The only scrap of hope Haymitch had was the thing that angered him most;
Seneca claimed to love Stephanie.
Haymitch felt his thoughts begin to refocus and order as he concentrated on Stephanie. She was why he was doing this, why he would suffer Seneca to find out what he was up to.
Walking briskly within a few moments Haymitch caught Seneca up, just as he reached the parked car with the tinted windows at the edge of the street.
Of course he was wary of a trap of any kind from Seneca, and Haymitch couldn't help but recall with a bitter twist of his lips how he had reproached Stephanie fiercely when she had done something very similar at Sterlin's apartment.
Without even a glance back Seneca ducked into the car, leaving the car door open in his wake as an invitation, if Haymitch chose to take it.
Haymitch paused for barely a moment before he followed suit and slid into the seat facing Seneca.
The car door slammed shut with a chilling finality after him and the engine thrummed softly before the car began to pull away from the relative safety of the pavement.
There was a split moment when the utter, irrefutable strangeness of the situation seemed to crash down upon both men and Haymitch shifted almost awkwardly in his place while Seneca looked as though he had tasted something bitter.
"Now, are you going to behave like a normal human being?" Seneca quipped, solely for the purpose of trying to irk Haymitch.
Haymitch glared at him silently, refusing to be goaded by the Gamemaker.
Seneca seemed annoyed by Haymitch's seeming composure initially, before his annoyance melted into a cloying smirk as he saw the massive strain Haymitch was under to just remain sitting and not tear him apart.
"What are you using Dan for?" Haymitch demanded, his jaw clenching tightly as he ground his teeth together. The very mere act of having to ask Seneca for information concerning the one he loved most was nearly too much.
It seemed an unbelievable stroke of cruel irony; that the life of the one he loved most would be in the hands of the one he hated most.
Seneca's eyes glinted in poorly concealed amusement as a smirk toyed at the corners of his lips. This was so much better than butchering Haymitch's tributes, Seneca thought callously.
But the smirk dimmed slightly as he acknowledged the question and the reason why Haymitch Abernathy – of all people! – was sitting here now.
"I told Flickerman to start the lover appeal the night of the interview, and I told him to recruit his brother Dan into the act," Seneca told Haymitch carelessly, watching Haymitch's eyes narrow.
"Why?" Haymitch ground out slowly through gritted teeth, as he pressed a clenched fist to his mouth in an attempt to stop him from embedding it in Seneca's face instead.
Seneca ignored Haymitch's question and instead spoke on, "Dan will have upcoming private dates – without cameras mostly – with Stephanie," Seneca elaborated, smirking inwardly that Haymitch was mostly still in the dark to his plans.
"To whose benefit?" Haymitch leaned forward suddenly, his grey eyes like thunder, his fists clenched tightly in front of him.
Seneca narrowed his eyes, calculating how quickly he could move to avoid the fist Haymitch was most certainly going to throw at him any moment now.
"Evidently Stephanie will not be going on the dates," Seneca remarked, unable to resist pushing Haymitch ever closer to the edge.
Haymitch didn't need to ask the next question. Where would she be going then?
Haymitch was long past trying to convince himself not to physically harm Seneca; his only amendment was to get the information from him first.
The way the conversation was turning it was clear that Seneca was planning to use the dates Stephanie would be having with Dan as some front while something else would be happening.
It also benefitted Seneca that as the hunt for Stephanie's Capitol Lover died down it took the heat of him. Capitol reporters were the most resilient and resourceful when it came to getting information. And Seneca didn't trust the jeweller who had made the expensive, unique necklace he had given to Stephanie at Cen's boutique, to remain silent for much longer; especially not with the bribes and underhand tactics some reporters would sink to, to get their story.
With Dan outed so to speak, as Stephanie's Capitol lover the hunt was over and Seneca was out of immediate danger of being identified as a tribute's lover; that would result in much bigger problems than a sensationalist story in some tabloid newspaper.
Seneca swallowed bitterly, narrowing his eyes as he gritted his teeth against his next words, though knowing them to be necessary he forced them out, "I will need your cooperation in convincing Stephanie."
Scrap the amendment, Haymitch thought viciously as he lunged for Seneca, his hands curling with a satisfying violence around Seneca's throat.
Convince Stephanie?! Did Seneca seriously think he was going to tell Stephanie to trust Seneca?! – Was he out of his God damn mind?!
Seneca struggled against the fierce hold, clawing at the hands curled around his throat as his black hair immediately became dishevelled, falling across his unblinking, cobalt eyes.
Striking out suddenly Seneca's hand struck the interior of the car and the panel of control buttons of various functions.
Seconds after the screen separating the passengers from the drivers had fallen open, the car screeched to a halt. The engine still thrumming, two pairs of footsteps could be heard before the doors on either side of the car were pulled open and Haymitch was immediately hauled from Seneca.
Haymitch's back connected harshly with the unforgiving concrete as he was lugged bodily from the car, before he was flipped over and he felt the familiar burn of a professional hold as his arms were twisted behind his back. He heard the click simultaneously as he felt the cool, metal bracelets bite into his wrists when his hands were handcuffed behind his back.
Looking up, he was able to see as Seneca clambered out of the car, one hand raised to his fast bruising throat, coughing harshly as his driver hovered unsure at his shoulder.
As the hacking coughs died away Seneca finally looked up with narrowed, watering eyes and gritted teeth. "I suppose I've had that coming for a while now from you, Abernathy," Seneca said, somehow managing to remain smug despite the circumstances.
Haymitch gritted his teeth in anger. He shouldn't have lost his temper he silently berated. Seneca was just baiting him, waiting for him to do this – and most importantly; Haymitch had no new answers.
It might have been gratifying to feel Seneca struggling for life for the few moments it lasted; vindication, retribution, revenge for his own dead loved ones, for five years of brutally slaughtered innocents, made him press down harder on Seneca's windpipe.
But now pinned to the ground by one of Seneca's personal guards the adrenaline was wearing off and frustration was seeping in.
Seneca's driver hurriedly fetched Seneca a bottle of water which Seneca took a few, long drinks from, as his driver danced nervously from foot to foot.
Seneca looked up and nodded once to the guard hovering over Haymitch.
Haymitch found himself roughly hauled to a sitting position on the cold concrete and with a pointed glare from Seneca, the driver went scuttling back to his seat in the front, shutting the door after him and raising the screen once more.
The guard tugged once more on Haymitch's cuffs, raising Haymitch's arms behind him to an almost painful level as he pretended to check they were secure. Haymitch didn't give him the satisfaction of making a noise though and with a disappointed grunt the guard moved back to get into the front with the driver.
Seneca remained half in the shadows of the car's interior seated and half leaning out of the open door. He was eyeing Haymitch warily, though a malevolent smirk played at his lips as he massaged his throat with one hand, the other loosely holding the bottle of water.
"Make you feel any better, Abernathy? They're still dead, you know? And it seems you can't even finish the job." Seneca's voice was no longer its smooth, velvety tones. It was hoarse and gravelly but still just as dangerous and cruel.
Haymitch felt a murderous, red hot anger rise up in him and he moved suddenly, forgetting for a brief moment of the handcuffs that restricted him.
Seneca gave a sudden, husky laugh that trailed off into a cough though he was still smirking as he looked brightly on Haymitch struggling against the cuffs, like the animal Seneca viewed him as.
"Sit still," Seneca commanded, his tone suddenly bored as he took another gulp from the water bottle, wincing slightly as he swallowed, to which Haymitch allowed himself to feel slightly vindictive.
"Before you decided to become a crazed animal, there was actually something important being said," Seneca spoke.
Haymitch glared up at him in silent loathing. "If you think I would tell Stephanie to trust you then you really are crazy," Haymitch told him flatly.
Seneca's left eyebrow twitched though it didn't seem to be in amusement as his expression sobered.
"But you will," Seneca enforced.
Haymitch gave a short humourless laugh, his grey eyes blazing in silent fury.
There's nothing you could do that would make me say it…Haymitch thought, but Haymitch knew the Capitol too well to know that that was never true, especially not for the blue-eyed Gamemaker who would go to any lengths to see Haymitch suffer.
Seneca's jaw steeled in cold fury as he fixed Haymitch with a cool glare before he elaborated, his tone clipped. "Stephanie's fainting is becoming a problem and will only become more troublesome as time goes on. Are you really so imbecilic to think that she will survive the bloodbath, even if she doesn't faint first?"
Haymitch considered he had never hated another human being as much as he did Seneca Crane in those moments; because he knew Seneca was right.
Seneca's smirk had returned, toying lazily about his lips.
They both knew the words that came next.
Haymitch needed Seneca's help.
Haymitch's entire body nearly shook with rage at the thought, and even more so because he knew it was true.
These were Seneca's Games.
Haymitch would be only able to sit at a monitor and watch as Stephanie fought for her life in the arena, whereas Seneca would be up in his control room like a god, controlling every single molecule in that arena.
Haymitch didn't deem him with an answer. Seneca for a moment seemed set to push Haymitch to ask for his help and Haymitch knew he would not have been able to stop himself from lunging for the Gamemaker again.
However for some reason Seneca relented and he leaned back, crossing his legs almost casually as he loosened the collar of his blazer against his still tender throat.
"Tomorrow Stephanie has a date with Dan Flickerman. During it I will bring her to a secure facility where tests and the such can be completed to uncover the cause of the fainting and with it a solution," Seneca explained.
Haymitch narrowed his eyes to flint slits as he glared malevolently at Seneca.
He hated, abhorred, detested – There was no strong enough word to describe what Haymitch felt in those moments about the current situation he found himself in.
He knew what Seneca was saying was practical, and even admitting that in his mind was a milestone that left a bitter vile taste in his mouth.
Stephanie's fainting and a cure for it was beyond anything Haymitch could do. But Seneca…Haymitch clenched his fists tighter feeling the cold metal strain against his wrists.
For a moment Seneca's face was serious as he looked at Haymitch, almost assessing him.
"We both want to get Stephanie out alive, Abernathy," Seneca said quietly, his ice blue gaze boring meaningfully into Haymitch.
Haymitch didn't answer him. There was nothing to say.
Seneca's slightly amused expression returned as he leaned forward almost conversationally.
Haymitch averted his gaze away from the smirking Gamemaker's face taking in the tall buildings, shady streetlights and abandoned parking lot they were currently in.
"I suppose Stephanie has told you all about our little encounters," Seneca taunted.
Haymitch wanted to tell Seneca that he was a complete and utter idiot, that even if Stephanie wasn't with him, Haymitch knew her well enough to know Stephanie would rather die than be with someone like Seneca.
But he didn't…because of that one begrudging factor that Haymitch felt like swallowing knives about.
Haymitch needed Seneca's help.
Whatever deluded fantasies Seneca had mattered little in the end if they would get Stephanie out of the arena.
However if Haymitch was to point out the cold, bleak reality to Seneca and his fanciful visions then Seneca might well just kill Stephanie out of spite, jealousy or anger. If he couldn't have her then Seneca would be damned before he would let Haymitch of all people have Stephanie.
The thoughts made Haymitch's gut clench sickeningly, to have to hear Seneca talk ever so casually about Stephanie, to know what Seneca was thinking everytime Stephanie's name passed Seneca's lips.
Haymitch didn't know what delusion Seneca had enthralled himself with this time; from convincing himself that Haymitch was responsible for Lark's death to…somehow telling himself that he could make Stephanie fall in love with him?
Seneca looked to Haymitch unfazed and Haymitch knew what Seneca was going to say before the damn words had left his mouth;
"May the best man win Abernathy."