A/N: Hello everyone! I just finished a few of my midterms and the urge to write was too strong. This quarter hasn't been kind to me. Tests, projects and readings are starting to stack up. Winter Quarter is zipping by so fast. Just a few details about Maysilee and Marco and a flashback scene about life after Haymitch won. Hope you enjoy it! Reviews please! I promise the next part will be worth the wait!
If Only: Collection #7
#23 False
"You know what a good icebreaker is." Marco stated as he settled against the sturdy cement wall where Maysilee set him by. The silent girl gave him a blank stare before turning her back on him and setting their supplies out. He watched silently waiting for a response. They haven't spoken for the whole day despite their close proximity when Maysilee was wrapping his wounds. "Twenty questions." Marco answered when the girl failed to answer him.
"Twenty questions?" She repeated, gathering a tiny pile of kindling before striking her flint. Tiny sparks jumped from the stone, trying to catching the dry tinder. The blonde prayed, hoping it wouldn't go out as she gently pushed it towards the larger pile of wood. The flames ate the wood achingly slow but it eventually caught. She sighed in relief and tucked her tools into her back pocket before facing her unlikely ally. "It might be too exciting for your condition." Marco stuck his tongue out at her before cringing from his sudden shift. Instinctively, Maysilee moved towards him, placing her hands gently over the makeshift bandages.
Marco didn't say anything as he observed the beautiful girl up close. The light from the flames bounced off the concrete walls, dancing over Maysilee's pale but slowly tanning skin. Her hair fell out of its ponytail, the jagged ends tickling her cheek as she leaned down to observe the wrapping. Maysilee suddenly glanced up, giving Marco a full view of her striking blue eyes as she gently reached out, touching his forehead, caressing his heated skin. Marco knew Maysilee Donner is a stunning seventeen year old, the whole nation of Panem knew. But right now, with her hand against his face, her breath tickling his cheek, and her mesmerizing eyes only focused on him, Marco truly understood how beautiful she was, inside and out.
"Go." She ordered, turning away to pull the pack he salvaged from the escape over. For a second, Marco thought she wanted him to kiss her senselessly but his foggy mind gradually cleaned up. "Twenty questions? You wanted to play." Marco mentally shook his head and smiled, causing tiny dimples to appear on the side of his mouth.
"Finally falling for my charm?" Marco teased, finally feeling like himself again. She rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly, searching through the various pockets the huge pack had. Despite Maysilee's unfortunate encounter in the city ruins, it was too late and dangerous to venture out into the woods. The Capitol's hybrids tended to stalk around at night on unsuspecting tributes. Also, Marco's short time with the Career pack has been insightful. He informed Maysilee earlier about Alex's uneasiness about the ruins. There was something haunting about the city. Maysilee silently agreed with the cruel District 2 boy but she didn't tell her ally. As long as the Career pack kept away, she was willing to stay for one more night.
"What's your favorite color?" Marco asked.
"Storm gray." She answered without thinking before looking up quickly. "I mean green, forest green." Marco gave her a sideways glance as she looked down at the plastic bottle in her hand. She tried to fill the silence to cover her slip. "It reminds me of the forest that surrounds our district. Even in the darkest times, I can just look outside and feel slightly better, lighter. It's silly." She finished before tossing the bottle towards him.
"What are these?" Marco asked, clenching the bottle and slowly unscrewing the cap. A few white unmarked pills tumbled into his large hands.
"I'm not sure. They're pain killers, poison or sugar pills." Marco gave her a skeptical look. The girl just shrugged her shoulders, trying to play it off. "Take them or don't. Either way it's a plus for me." He sighed but took the pills, grimacing as they went down. The two waited with baited breath, wondering if Marco was going to keel over. After a few moments, she spoke again. "What's your favorite color?"
"Blue," he answered without hesitation. The light moved across his face, accenting his high cheekbones, smooth skin and define chin. His green eyes met hers for a fraction of a second. "A blue where the sea and the sky meet. It's breathtaking. It's about the same shade of your eyes, Maysilee." She flushed and Marco grinned. He wasn't like any guys back in District 12. It was comforting. It was dangerous. "Your turn and no more stealing questions." Maysilee chuckled and twisted a piece of her golden hair between her fingers, pondering.
"What made you betray the Career pack?"
Marco let out a cynical chuckle escaped his lips before leaning his head against the study wall, pressing his hand against the fresh wound. "Pulling out the big guns, Maysilee."
"I play to win, Marco." She replied just as the anthem started. A tense silence fell over the two as Maysilee stood up to pull the damaged drape away to peek at the sky. Her eyes focused on the virtual sky as faces appeared, quietly noting who was there and who wasn't. Marco didn't move from his spot. Dark eyes focused on the dancing flames. A pretty face of a fourteen year old girl appeared with auburn hair and deep brown eyes.
"That's Amy." Maysilee turned, remembering the boy beside her. Marco's dark green eyes were focused on the young girl with sad eyes. His voice was deep as he recounted what happened today. "I found her dead in the river. Ironic huh? A District 4 kid who died by drowning. But it doesn't add up. Ames is… was an amazing swimmer and she drowns in a pond of five feet water?" Maysilee wanted to reach out, to comfort the boy but the hurt was still raw. She could hear it in his voice. The death of his district partner hit him harder than the wound on his abdomen. "I snapped, went on a rampage with a sword. I was about to wound a few Careers before someone stopped me. Alex was going to execute me until someone stepped in."
"Who stopped him?"
"That's two questions. I'm gonna get back at you soon." Maysilee rolled her eyes and bit back a smile. "There was this guy, a year or two younger than us." Marco narrated, running his fingers through his amber locks. "I don't remember his name but he was tall, dark-skinned with black hair. The number on his armband has a one on it." Maysilee's mouth opened slightly as her quick mind connected the dots. "He was convincing, appealing to the hunter side of Alex. In that moment, I hated him. He sounded just like Alex but in reality, he saved my life. He stabbed me but allowed me to escape with the pack and spear, telling Alex to wait a few hours before chasing me down."
"The wound was deep but it didn't hit any vital organs." Maysilee murmured, biting her thumb. Ryan… what did you get yourself into? She thought, taking slow steady breaths to gather her thoughts. "It has to be Ryan, my district partner. The District 10 male died in the blood bath. District 11 male is a monster and difficult to forget. It has to be him." Maysilee deduced, running her hands up and down her bare arms. She could feel Marco's green eyes studying her and probably assessing her state of mind. She did the exact same thing when he was talking about Amy. "Ryan is the quiet loner type. He observes and deduces before acting. He knows what to say and when. I wasn't particularly close to him."
"So… both District 12 tributes saved my life today. Funny how fate works." Maysilee rested her head on top of her knees, biting back the sarcastic comment bubbling in her throat. She took a good long look at the young man across from her. The firelight caressed his tan skin, following his strong jaw line and Adonis-like features. The shadows traced the hard line of his chest and abs. His pants hung low on his hips but the bandages covered the bottom half, the wound. Maysilee could feel her heart pounding against her chest. The boy was damn sexy.
The anthem and death toll finally ended, leaving them in a somber silence that neither moved to break. I was like the weight of what happened today finally hit them. Here they were, two teens who barely met, who were destined to kill each other eventually, sitting in silence lost in their own thoughts. Maysilee shook her head, what a cruel world we live in, she thought before pushing herself up and grabbing her tiny pack to get some dry fruit. "Why did you volunteer?" Marco's deep voice cut through the silence, bouncing off the walls of the bare room. The blonde teenager paused, shifting through her thoughts.
"For the fame and glory, of course." She replied, turning on her heels to face him. Please, please don't pry. She pleaded in her head as Marco shook his head, not believing her for a second. She didn't want to bear her heart to the boy in front of her. She didn't want the whole nation to see her shatter into pieces, pegging her as a weakling. She couldn't risk it. Sob stories can only go so far in the games. Maysilee isn't a sob story. Her eyes hardened and keeping an impassive look on her face, her fingers reached down and slowly slide her dagger out of its sheath.
"No, that's not you. You don't need fame and glory. You already have that, Angel of District 12." Marco said. He knew the answer from observing the girl during the training sessions and her charming interview. There was a deeper meaning. She was like every angry grieving relative of the casualties of the Hunger Games. But unlike everyone else who suffered in silence and allow the wound to scab over, she fought back in her own stupid way. "You want retribution from your sister's death. You want to be acknowledged. You want the Capitol to know your face and n-" He stopped when the icy cold feel of steel pressed against his neck.
"I want," Maysilee moved faster than she has ever before, crossing the distance between them in a flash. Her hand was steady as she kept the dangerous dagger poised underneath Marco's jugular ready to slice the vital vein. Her legs were straddling him, keeping him from moving towards his spears. His green eyes widen as his mind finally processed what happened. "I want you to shut your mouth before I shut it for you." She ordered in a cold calculating tone. The warm caring girl from before and this girl couldn't possibly be the same. "Don't talk about me like you know who I am. You don't know me. Now, don't make me into a target." She prayed the boy understood her underlining meaning as he slowly nodded his head. The intentionally cold girl slowly got off him, tucking her dagger into its sheath and walked to her side of the fire, keeping her icy eyes on him. He really didn't know who this girl was.
#24 Pickpocket
"Stop it Luke," Maysilee ordered closed her eyes, feeling the Seam's boy's gaze without looking up from the ground in front of her parents' candy shop. "Don't give me that look." The said boy flinched at the girl's harsh tone and stepped out from his hiding spot. Maysilee studied the boy with scary blank eyes, clenching the wooden handle of the broom to her lithe body. A slight breeze tickled the ends of her long blond hair as it fell over her shoulders. She allowed it to grow out pass her usual length, a token to her younger sister's death. "You're not working today?" She continued, turning around to set the broom against the worn-out wall before settling on the hard concrete steps and smoothing her fingers over the creases in her summer dress.
Luke smiled and sat beside her, stretching his long legs out and resting his hands behind them. They observed the empty town square, watching as the sun slowly dips behind the houses, casting huge shadows. "Nope, I start next week. I'm savoring the last rays of sun while I can." Maysilee nodded her head, unable to offer any comforting words. She would never need to venture down into the dirty minds, inhaling the dangerous thick air and endure the harsh conditions to make a meager living for her family. No, all Maysilee had to do was smile pretty, ring up expensive substance-less sugary treats and find a merchant husband. She frowned at the thought, unable to stomach the cruelness of their lives. She couldn't change it though. "Also, I can't help the way I look at you." Luke added, turning to look at the beautiful girl. He moved slowly, reaching out to offer a comforting hand. Maysilee thought moved instinctively, unwilling to accept any human contact. "May…"
Their friendship wasn't conventional. It started when Maysilee noticed Luke lingering around the shop, bravely entering the shop and studying the jars of candy the lines the wall. He wasn't like the other Seam children who press their faces up against the pane glass, too scared to enter the shop. But when candies started disappearing, Maysilee knew who in an instant. But she ignored it (the candies were past their expiration date.) but kept on eye on him. Luke was intriguing. He was the only one who could tolerate Haymitch's surliness with a bright smile. Later, Maysilee learned Luke wasn't keeping the candy for himself. He was handing it out to the children of the Seam, children who's stomachs growled for food and eyes lit up at the sight of the shiny hard candy. Her heart tugged at the cause and she had to do more. So when Luke entered the shop, Maysilee would conveniently leave a loaf of bread or a bag of trail mix out and announce loudly she was going to the back, adding a conspiring wink towards the boy. Soon, a tentative friendship formed between the two over the months.
"Do you remember how I used to give you those pitiful looks?" Maysilee asked, looking up from the folds of her dress to meet his dark gaze. His Seam eyes seemed to glow brightly against his tan skin. Luke was tall, about Kane's height, but without the bulk. He was all skin and bones, lanky like a tree but healthier than a majority of the Seam kids. His hair was long, a common style for the Seam. She was itching to grab her scissors and give him a much needed trim. Luke sighed at the thought and turned away, gnawing on his bottom lip. "I stopped. Now it's your turn."
"It's different." He replied stubbornly.
"Please," the boy fell silent under his friend's request. Of course, she was still hurting from Marigold's death. She thought she had accepted the fact her sister wasn't coming home when they shared their last hug in the Justice Building. But when Marigold survived the blood bath, fought through the swamps and met up with Haymitch, Maysilee allowed her mind to conjure up thoughts that her sister could return home, alive and well, not in a wooden box. Stupid, she chastised herself, clenching her fingers tightly so the nails would bit into her palm, you stupid girl. What she couldn't handle were the pitiful looks everyone sent her. In just that one look, Maysilee could see what they're thinking. Poor Maysilee, poor Donner family. They didn't deserve this. No one deserves this; death is just a fact of life. Maysilee internalized the idea, reminding herself every day not to let the tears fall. "How's Haymitch?" She asked, needing something to distract herself.
Luke let out a heavy sigh and ran his fingers through his thick hair. Maysilee turned and noted the tension in his usual lax form. "If it's even possible, worse than you." He rested his head against his laced hands, trying to form his thoughts into words. When two people they were both desperately close to entered the Games, Maysilee and Luke couldn't look at each other. They were praying, hoping for someone to come home and inadvertently hoping for another's death. Luke stopped visiting the candy shop, opting to hang out with his Seam friends to cheer for Haymitch and the other Seam kids. Maysilee would occupy her time with Markus, Kane and Ivy, keeping her mind far away from her friend's sudden abandonment. It was bound to happen, they were too different. "You don't want to know."
"Tell me." She ordered, reaching out and placing her hand on his. Luke glanced at their hands, pale against tan, before looking up at her. Luke comforted her when Marigold died, allowing the girl to take her frustration out on him before collapsing into his arms in sobs. Now, she wanted to help him even if it met to face her sister's involuntary killer. "Please, Luke. Let me help you."
"He rarely talks." Luke started, putting his thoughts into words. "Not like before where he would just offer a sarcastic comment here or there. He doesn't talk at all. He just sits there silently, lost in his thoughts. There are moments when he just disappear into his mind and never come out until Oliver or Sophia touches him. He hasn't hurt anyone yet. He nearly slashed me once when I touched him but he's good with stopping." Luke took a deep breath before continuing. "He has nightmares. I know by the bags underneath his eyes but he won't talk to anyone. It's like he's trapped in the games and he can't leave. I'm afraid he's going to resort to liquor or something stronger to get him through the night. Jeffery promised not to sell Haymitch any white liquor but May, the money is too good. We needed it. No one is going to refuse him for long…"
Luke looked like he's been searching for an answer for every day since his friend returned. And he's been coming up empty. "Stay here." Maysilee said, standing up and slowly opening the door, thoughts swirling in her mind. Luke could see her mother standing at the counter with a blank expression. She barely seemed alive nowadays, just standing there blinking, unlike her harsher self who would scowl at the sight of his Seam features. Mrs. Donner was grieving, taking her youngest daughter's death harsher than her own twin. Maysilee disappeared and then reappeared from behind the counter, now carrying a basket of food. Luke braced himself for the mother's cries of indignation but none came. The door snapped firmly behind blonde. "Here," she said, shoving the basket into his hands. The fresh smell of bread and roasted meat invaded Luke's nose and his stomach rumbled. "Now I need you to steal Haymitch's key. I have a plan to snap him out of his stupor. This is your payment."
Luke grabbed a still warm roll, ripping into the warm soft bread with his teeth. A satisfying moan escaped his mouth when gooey cheese burst into his mouth and he closed his eyes, savoring the taste. "Yes Ma'am," he replied, standing up and silently calculating the hunger mouths he could feed with the food. "Though, you know I would have done it for free if you just asked, May." He said as Maysilee reached out to dust off some dirt sticking to his shirt.
"I know." She whispered, allowing the boy to slip through her fingers, her thoughts lingering on a different Seam boy and how to fix him.
The effects of the alcohol were slowly wearing off as Haymitch stumbled up the cobblestones towards the Victor's Village. He reeked of stale alcohol and any town folk who crossed his path gave the 50th victor a wide berth. Haymitch couldn't fight off the smirk as a pair of town girls jumped out of his path. His vision was foggy but he still found the path the lead to the Victor's village. A foul taste lingered in his mouth as he reached up to wipe the corner of his mouth. He smirked, recalling his little mess in the fountain in the middle of the town square. Poor sucker who has to clean that up, he thought as he straightened up, looking at his pristine white house. Absentmindedly, Haymitch reached into his pocket, blinking when his hand came up empty. Well fuck, he thought scratching the back of his neck as he looked at the oak door, debating if he should jab his knife into the lock and pry it open. He moved forward, wrapping his hand around the knob and frowned when it turned easily without its key.
"Must have forgotten my key," he murmured, stepping into the house without a second thought. The foyer was dark and his mind was spinning from the drinks. He didn't even notice the second presence.
"You would expect a Victor's home to be harder to break into." Without thinking, Haymitch moved lightning quick, pulling his knife out, grabbing the other person's arm and trapping them between his body and the sturdy wall. The sharp blade was placed underneath the intruder's chin, ready to slice the vital vein. He faltered though at the sight of golden blonde hair falling, snow pale skin and sharp azure eyes. "Can't just kill one Donner, Abernathy?" She greeted, slowly reaching up to pull his knife away from her neck.
Haymitch blinked, staring intensely at the girl underneath him. He tried to force his foggy mind to focus on the present, studying the girl and comparing her to her deceased sister. Marigold possessed softer features like light blonde hair which fell like wisps into her face and high sweet voice. Maysilee was sharp edges and hard glares. Her features were bold and striking, commanding attention without trying. Despite looking similar, each girl had their own unique aura. Well, just one girl now. The girl in his arms didn't shy away from his intense gaze like everyone else in the District. She met it with her own unwavering stare.
"Do you know who I am?" She asked her tone softer than he ever heard. Haymitch stepped away, slipping his knife into his back pocket before releasing her. She rubbed the spot where he was gripping her arm tightly but kept staring into his eyes. It was like she was staring right into his soul. Haymitch didn't like the feeling. It was unnerving as he turned away, shrugging his jacket off.
"It's hard to forget you, Donner." He murmured, still trying to shake off the feeling like he seen a ghost.
"Which one am I?" She pressed, grabbing his arm and forcing him to spin around. Haymitch opened his mouth, ready to yell at her but the scene changed in front of his eyes. The creamy white walls of the foyer shifted into dark tones of green and brown like tall sturdy trees. Her outfit of sensible jeans and plain t-shirt transformed into a pair of dark cargo pants and a forest green t-shirt, both caked with mud and blood. Cuts and bruises lined her pale arms along with sweat matting her hair to her beautiful face. Her eyes, the same bright blue, stared at him with sadness and trust, it physically hurt. Her mouth formed the word run as the sound of tree branches snapping and a ferocious roar ripped through the air.
"HAYMITCH!" A bright light switched on, blinding the victor temporary. He was gasping for breath, leaning against the wall before sliding down slowly. A warm hand touched his arm as another one traced his face, brushing the long bangs out of his face. He blinked, eyes bouncing around taking in his surroundings. The smell and taste of copper receded. Maysilee sat beside him on the floor, worried evident in her deep blue eyes. "So this was what Luke meant." He heard her murmured before lightly grasping his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. It was the first physical contact anyone outside of his usual circle gave him. Everyone avoid him like he was a loose cannon waiting to snap. And they were right. "I'm Maysilee." She whispered, tipping his chin up so he would meet her gaze.
"I know." He replied back curtly, unconsciously moving away from the girl, reeling from the sudden memory. He glared at Maysilee, picking the miniscule difference between her and the Marigold he knew in the Arena. "Donner," the girl's eyes narrowed and he knew who she was in that instant. "What are you doing in my house?" He demanded in a clip tone. The girl's mouth parted slightly, surprised by his tone. It was clip and direct almost like his old self. She turned away, trying to fight off a tiny smile.
"Welcome back," she greeted in an equally clip tone, standing up and turn around to walk into his home. Haymitch finally noticed the lack of sound. His mother and Oliver were nowhere to be seen. Slowly, Haymitch stood up, following the girl into his home. He sat at the counter which divided the living room from the kitchen. Maysilee moved around it with ease. His gray eyes tracked her; afraid she might just be a figment of his imagination. "It's a favor for a friend." She answered, searching his cupboards for a kettle.
"You have friends?"
"Ha, ha, very funny." She replied sarcastically as Haymitch tried to hide his smirk that naturally curled his lips. He glanced around, staring at the white walls, clean kitchen and spacious living room with confusion. He was home or at least as close to home as he could be. He wasn't in the Arena, fighting for his life, watching his ally die and slowly losing his mind. Maybe I am still losing my mind, Haymitch thought as Maysilee poured warm water into a mug before setting it in front of him. "Here," she murmured, leaning across from him with her own mug.
"Why are you really here, Maysilee?" He asked, slipping the steaming tea, allowing it to warm him to the core. Maysilee shifted, looking down into her cup like the answer was there. She unconsciously reached up towards her collar, looking for something to play with. His gray eyes followed, noting the absent of a certain trinket. Her fingers instead curled around the cotton collar of her t-shirt. She looked vulnerable.
"You've been distant, more than usual. Luke is worried. It was my idea to ambush you. Nothing like a ghost from your not-so-distant past to jolt you awake." His gray eyes sharpened as he glared at her. Maysilee barely flinched underneath the heated gaze, instead smiling at him softly. "You're talking. You have to admit it." Haymitch grumbled underneath his breath and took a sip. "We both lost a piece of us in the game this year. Me, my sister. You, a peace of mind." She reached out, bridging the distance between them. Her hands were soft against his. "You're not the only one dealing with the aftermath of the Games. I have nightmares too. They're not as violent or vivid as yours but they're still haunting. Don't close yourself off to everyone. Let someone in."
Haymitch wanted to brush her off like he did with Sophia and his mother. There were horrors in his mind that no one should have to know, show have to experience. He wanted to treat her like shit but as Maysilee stared at him with striking blue eyes, not a pitiful but understanding look. He couldn't push her aside. She kept him grounded just by her presence. So sitting there as the sun dipped down, sharing silence and stories, a slow truce formed between two unlikely people.