I'm putting a trigger warning on this one.

Chapter 9
A rain of tears

Part six

You didn't talk about it so Cray heard but everyone knew he was Sophie's father.

It wouldn't be the last time he got someone pregnant and Greasy Sae always offered them tea with pennyroyal when they came to her. But Neoma. Perhaps the girl felt she couldn't after losing first her parents and then her two younger brothers in such a short span of time.

She had her baby, little Sophie Aurora Juliana. The Undersees who heard her story, soon hired the young mother as a maid and for a time it seemed like things would somehow work out for them. As well as could be expected.

But then one night, only six months later, Ms. Constance heard strange noises from the cemetery behind her house. It was already dark, well past curfew, but she got out a candle and went to check anyway.

And found Sophie. The crying child lay wrapped in blankets, left by one of the gray stones where her grandparents rested.

Neoma had thrown herself into the force field.

Mr. and Ms. Forrester came at dawn, as soon as they heard. They were brother and sister and almost never left the community home except for when an orphaned child was to be collected.

You sometimes saw them on the way to the Justice Building when there was a medal ceremony or the president's birthday, followed by a trail of hunched defeated, bruised children.

There were stories and if half of them were true it wasn't surprising Madam ended up doing what she did.

At least not to Haymitch.

Because of Neoma people talked about Sophie as Madam's grandchild rather than the adoptive daughter that she really was and from then on it was the two of them against the world, fighting every battle together.

Until she was reaped.

A victor from District 12 was unprecedented and that little Sophie would make it back, no one believed it. Not the Capitol, not the sponsors, not the people of Twelve.

The brand new TV host Caesar Flickerman even joked and said, when Sophie made it to the final 8, that her (not exactly photogenic mother) had performed some kind of witchcraft on her before she left for the Capitol.

"And even if she won't turn out victorious, he added, "the girl with the uncanny luck surely make for good television."

But she did win. She got to come home and the Capitol viewers were all swooning over how pretty and sweet and clean she was. The first victor of District 12! And they were fascinatedly disgusted by her beast of a mother whom they already knew from different televised events when it was mandatory she played with her choir.

They even made a program about her after Sophie's victory, where four grim-looking doctors diagnosed Constance with acromegaly disorder. Something they were actually right about, if nothing else.

By that time Cray had been second in command for over a year, with his mind set on becoming Head Peacekeeper when the Iron Maiden retired.

He hadn't cared if Sophie lived or died up until that point. No more than he would a cockroach, as long as it stayed under its rock. But after she won and her face was plastered all over the country she was fast becoming a thorn in his flesh.

The Seam girl with brown eyes, who looked more and more like him with each day.

If it was proved he had a child he'd lose his position. He would go back to being a mere "foot soldier" and be forever disqualified from the Head post he so desired.

Cray didn't care about much in this world but he cared about this. He needed her to go away.

But she was their precious victor, the one everybody adored and the Iron Maiden was still Head Peacekeeper.

So Cray brooded in silence. Watching. Waiting.

Back at the Victor's Village the last film crew had packed up and left and Constance was trying to get Sophie's life back to something that resembled normal.

On the screens Sophie was the perfect victor. What happened behind closed doors no one was aware of, least of all the Capitol.

It happened slowly. Small signs you wouldn't pay much attention to at first, not from someone just home from the Games. A slightly faster voice, an odd comment, laughter where there were no reason for laughter.

But when September turned into October it got clear to the people of Twelve there was something wrong with Sophie.

She started to cause scenes, saying things. Dangerous things about the Games, about the Capitol, about President Snow. It begun one day in the market and it ended with her catastrophe of a Victory Tour.

And Cray saw the chance he'd been hoping for.

Her reason faded like morning mist. You didn't really notice it until it was already gone and after her Tour Constance kept the girl away from the public as much as possible, using sleep syrup to try and stem the psychosis.

hen the president's birthday came around and like every other year the school choirs assembled in the auditorium all around the country to sing live in Snow's honor. As music teacher Constance were expected to play the piano but she didn't show up.

She'd neglected her job ever since Sophie got sick and you could cut through the anger and frustration among the authorities as the minutes ticked closer to the hour when they were supposed to air.

The children of the choir glanced at each other, one of the camera men cracked his neck, the audience didn't dare to utter a word but the head master was whispering more and more hurriedly with the Iron Maiden while the sweat on his forehead shone in the strong lights.

And then when it was less than five minutes left, a girl in the audience stood up from her seat.

Without looking right or left, least of all back at her father the 17 year old walked up to the Iron Maiden. She spoke in soft whispers. The head master looked bewildered but the Iron Maiden soon gave a curt nod and gestured for the girl to enter the stage.

And when the celebrations started it was Helena who played the piano for District 12. Her music filled the auditorium until you thought the roof might lift. Her face was on every television screen in Twelve and all across Panem together with the clips from other districts and the Capitol parties and speeches.

Afterwards Helena tried to get back to her seat but was surrounded by cameras and reporters asking her a million questions. What's your name? How old are you? Who taught you how to play? Will you play again?

She answered evasively, wanting nothing more than go back to her seat, despite her father standing there, pale with anger.

Later that evening the neigbours heard them quarreling. The windows were shut but their voices could be heard all the same. Helena who never disobeyed her father, who never talked back to him.

And he was hitting her and she ran out of the house.

Gone in the night she'd found Sophie.

What had happened? Had she woken up despite the sleep syrup? Had Constance drifted off during the worst of times after tending to the girl day and night? Whatever the reason Sophie was out, confused and alone in the dark and cold and Helena tried to get her home. Constance and she both, for the big woman soon came and together they tried to get the girl back to the Victor's Village unseen. Cray was only waiting for an excuse to take Sophie into custody.

The district swam with peacekeepers going their rounds. Two of them were nearby, They aimed a flashlight in their direction when they heard the screams but before they could spot Constance with Sophie, Helena sprang forward – and let herself be taken.

Her sacrifice bought Sophie a few more weeks. Cray had made sure to file reports against her ever since the beginning of her strange behavior. Who knew what was true and what was exaggerated? In the end and with her Victory Tour in fresh memory, authorities saw fit to send a party.

They came to take her to a facility in the Capitol who specialized in mental illness. Which was just a lot of fancy words for locking her up in a padded room and throw away the key.

But Constance, who knew they were coming, was already a step ahead of them. When they pushed inside the house with Cray at the head of the group it was already over.

"She'd put Sophie to sleep," Greasy Sae finished her story. "So they couldn't hurt her anymore."

xXx

The fall following Haymitch's 13th birthday Grandpa Harold caught pneumonia.

Helena had always had a hard time letting anyone else help her care for Harold so Haymitch looked after Amadeus and they both did chores around the house while ma did what she could for their grandfather.

Despite their complicated relationship you could see how much Helena cared for the old man in each and every one of her movements.

Everyone knew what a hard father he'd been. Growing up in the community home he'd thought the best way to raise children was with your fists. But she loved him. And in his own way he must have loved her. He'd let her learn how to play the piano. Worked extra hours at the woodshop so he could pay for her lessons with Madam up at the school. He wouldn't take any charity.

That's where they'd become friends? Haymitch wondered. Madam and Helena. During those lessons? And Sophie, perhaps the girl had wound up joining them one day when she came to walk her mother home.

Helena had played in Madam's stead in the auditorium so the peacekeepers wouldn't go to the Victor's Village; to keep Sophie out of more trouble than she was already in. She probably never anticipated what a scene her performance would cause.

But Harold knew.

You didn't want the Capitol to notice you and put your child's face and name on the big screens. Games had been rigged before so to have the Capitol love you was almost as dangerous as to be hated by them.

In his own brutal way Harold had tried to protect his still only 17 year old daughter and the children she might have in the future.

Was that what the fight had been about? Had she told him she wanted to become a music teacher? If she had, that dream died the moment she got arrested. Someone with a record would never be considered when they hired new teachers.

So she'd remained a seamstress like her mother and married Domeric Abernathy only days after she turned 18. Dom, who was a calm, gentle and open-hearted man, very much the opposite of Harold. Ma didn't say so but Haymitch suspected that part-reason why she'd married him was to get some distance from her own father. As a seamstress she'd have a difficult time earning a living by herself.

And Madam never forgot what Helena did for her family and how she got hurt doing it.

How many time hadn't he wondered why Madam took him under her wings - a boy she didn't even know. He'd thought perhaps it was out of respect for his father, for saving the two boys when the orphanage burned. Dom wasn't much more than a boy himself then but no one had ever forgotten it, least of all Harold.

But all along it'd been about ma. The old woman must have seen Helena in him when Haymitch came begging her to teach him how to play the piano. And when they were starving she hired him to do tasks around the house that she could easily have done herself, to pay off a debt she felt she owed.

To help Helena's family like Helena had tried to help Sophie.

xXx

Despite his daughter's tender care, Harold didn't live to see the snow stick.

They burried him in the cemetery dressed in the suit he'd married his beloved Violet in. Now he'd rest at her side forever.

Haymitch watched as his grandfather's coffin was lowered into the earth. He held his brother's hand in his and the wind ruffled their hair and the naked trees around them.

These woods had been kept inside the fence solely for the sake of the graveyard and the marks on the resting places all differed depending on what their loved ones could afford. There were the few tombstones with words on them and the iron crosses but mostly just regular gray stones picked from the Meadow or wherever you could find one and flowers, many of them, dug up and re-planted.

Words were spoken over Harold but Haymitch barely heard it. His gaze wandered to the wide clearing further in, separated from all the rest.

He couldn't even see where Sophie's grave was but those rows upon rows of white tombstones, glittering and smooth and stamped with the Capitol's seal, filled him with such despair and hopelessness he couldn't move when ma and Sae and the others were leaving, walking back into the district over the frost covered ground.

"Come Haymitch," Amadeus tugged at his hand.

Did his mother feel the same way, after what happened to Sophie? Had she told Harold they had to help her? And did he? Or did he just say it was already too late?

Their only victor, who survived the arena but died anyway.

Because nobody ever won the Games. Not really.

"Come Haymitch. Let's go home. Let's go home now."

The hour grew late but ma didn't usher them to bed that night. They sat at the table together. The scarce lamp light illuminated their faces while Ma mended a pair of socks and Haymitch helped Amadeus with his reading like most nights.

Haymitch had always had it easy in school. Everyone always said he was a smart kid. Ma and pa, grandpa Harold, even Mr. Branch. He'd been the first in his class to learn how to read. He didn't ponder much over if he was smart or not. He just remembered stuff easily. Could figure things out without much effort.

It was cruel that Amadeus had such struggles with the words when he was the one who loved stories and Haymitch had taken it upon himself to walk the 8 year old through his ABC's, meticulously and patiently and always there to comfort him when Amadeus wept over the letters that played such havoc in his mind.

Haymitch liked facts. He'd made up stories for his brother because he could but the books he read were the ones that could teach him something about the immediate world around him. Like which plants to eat or remedies to use when you got sick.

He'd come to enjoy poetry to some extent as an adult but Amadeus was the true book lover in their family. Back when Haymitch read to him at the Henderson's, Amadeus always talked about how he wanted to become a writer when he grew up. And Haymitch, who could never crush his little brother's hopes and dreams, let him believe that he could.

In secret he hoped Amadeus would get an apprenticeship at the bookshop when he got older. The Hendersons had no children of their own and they were very fond of Amadeus and his pure and passionate love for the written word.

It was a straw to grasp at and if it didn't work out he'd find another way. Because Amadeus would not work in the mines, not a long as Haymitch was here drawing breath and if he couldn't help his brother crack the reading code that's where he'd undoubtedly end up.

So Haymitch couldn't let himself fall into despair. Not when he had Amadeus to think about. Amadeus and ma and Tara. They were his family. The ones left.

The two brothers lay awake long after ma had turned the lights off that night. Amadeus had his head on Haymitch's arm as usual.

"Haymitch?" he mumbled.

"Mm."

"When am I gonna die?"

Haymitch's hand tightened around his shoulder.

"You're not gonna die," he said firmly.

"Everyone does."

"Not for a long long time", Haymitch said. "You'll be an old man with white hair and mustache like grandpa."

"No one know's when they're gonna die."

"I do," Haymitch said. "And I'm always right, yeah? Anything gettin' to you have to get passed me first."

Amadeus smiled a little and Haymitch felt the cold tip of his nose against his neck.

"Love you," the boy mumbled and Haymitch put his other arm around his small frame, like a shield.

"Love you too."

Outside the wind shook the naked trees. Cold stars, frozen in the sky looked down on the squat, gray houses of the Seam, the shops and stores in town with all the shutters up.

And The Victor's Village where nobody lived. The twelve empty houses with all the sleeping rose bushes that would soon be covered in a thick layer of snow.

Seasons changed, the Games began and the Games ended but the Victor's Village of Twelve stayed the same. Empty and waiting.

Until one day. One summer morning when the groundskeeper unlocked one of the houses and made a fire on the hearth. All the sheets covering the furniture were pulled off, bouquets of roses gathered from the garden and put on the tables.

For the victor of the second Quarter Quell.

The day of his homecoming the train station was filled with people and cameras documented his every step from when he was reunited with his mother, brother and girlfriend, to him stepping over the threshold to his new home where he would live out his days. Their handsome 16 year old miner's son with his dangerous gray eyes and snarky half-smiles.

The many film crews got stationed in some of the other houses in the Victor's Village and while the days were filled with photo shoots and interviews the nights were an endless feast.

The victor declined their invitation to partake and it wouldn't do with any dark circles anyway but the rest of them drank and sang well into the early hours, feasting on extravagant, many colored food shipped in from the Capitol.

Amadeus couldn't sleep in the bedlam that they caused.

It was the first time the two Abernathy brothers had their own rooms, their own beds but it didn't take long for Amadeus to pull away his luxurious comforter filled with bird feathers and cross the hallway to Haymitch's room where he crawled in with him even though they were big boys now.

Haymitch welcomed it.

Outwardly he played his part in front of the cameras, answered their questions, carried himself through their "A day in the life" documentary. Snarky, arrogant, indifferent, much like his first interview with Caesar Flickerman.

The nights were a different matter. In the past Haymitch had been the one to comfort Amadeus when he woke, scared and confused. Now it was the other way around.

The loss of Maysilee, the guilt over his childhood friend's death kept him up even when the parties outside didn't. And if he did manage to drift off, his sleep was filled with nightmares of dead children, candy-pink birds and Snow's eyes, promising retaliation.

It was a relief when the camera crews finally packed up and left and Haymitch spent all his time with his mother and brother and Tara who came to visit every day.

He never walked past school, didn't want to see the faces of children he might one day have to mentor and he avoided Leonore's house when he had business into town.

Only once had he seen her since his return. With Ollie Undersee by his rabbit hutches. She'd held one of the baby bunnies close to her cheek. The mirror image of Maysilee with her long blonde hair braided on both sides of her face and adorned with wooden hair beads. Ollie had caressed her back, speaking soft words to her.

Haymitch had wanted to say something too. Something, he wasn't sure what. That he was sorry? That he wished he'd done more? He used to be able to tell her anything but now all words sounded weak and meaningless in his head.

And he'd just stood there mutedly, a stranger, until he turned around and walked off before she'd even seen he was there.

And between his guilt and his bad dreams was the fear that he couldn't truly shake off himself.

The feeling like something bad was going to happen.

"It's OK," Amadeus said and hugged him. "We're gonna be OK. They're sendin' a camera crew to talk about your talent," he reminded him, like an assurance.

He asked what he was going to show them but Haymitch hadn't a clue. Didn't care either. Not playing the piano at least. No way. Maybe wood carving. Confirm the image they had of him.

There was a piano, he'd noticed. In the study. A grand piano made of some shiny, reddish brown wood he had no name for. Not that he ever planned on playing it.

But one day, two weeks after his return, he found Amadeus sitting in front of it. The eleven year old's forehead was crinkled in concentration, like always when he tried to read.

"What's it say there?" he asked and pointed to the sheet music placed on the music rack. "I can't read it."

"That's alright," said Haymitch. "It's all different letters. Not like in the books. But you read 'em and you know how to play."

"How? Can you read them? Play something for me."

A crease appeared between Haymitch's eyebrows.

"Please!"

"I don't…" he began but he never got to finish.

"Come now, Haymitch." They both turned around. Ma stood at the door. "After all those years playing with ms. Constance some of it must have stuck."

At the sight of Haymitch's startled expression she gave him one of her rare smiles. "Really boy, did you think you could keep something like that secret from me for so long?"

She walked over to them.

"So, what's it gonna be?"

"I want you to play," Haymitch blurted.

"Yeah!" Amadeus said, hopping where he sat. "Play us the bestest song you know."

Haymitch watched her, wondering if she'd get angry at him for knowing.

But she only shook her head.

"I haven't touched a piano in decades."

"So? Play anyway," Haymitch said.

"Yeah, ma!"

She came with more protests but they were the weakest ones you'd ever heard and in the end she took a seat on Amadeus's left side. Haymitch had planned on staying where he stood but Amadeus pulled him to them as well. It was cramped on the music stool and Amadeus climbed up on his brother's lap, even though he knew he was getting too old for it.

And Helena played for her boys.

Haymitch recognized it from the first tone. It was the "Hope" song. One of their old mountain airs that, for whatever reason, the Capitol allowed them to sing in music assembly.

Playing transformed his mother. Her hands moved over the ivories like they'd done nothing else all her life and the music filled the room, the house, their very souls. Amadeus soon joined in singing the lyrics in his sweet, clear voice while Haymitch was content with just listening. He smiled at his mother and she smiled at him.

This will be her piano, he thought. And she can play it now as much as she wants. Every day.

He leaned his forehead against Amadeus's hair, his arms wrapped around him as the boy sang.

Maybe it'll be OK, her thought. Perhaps things will turn out alright after all.

"We ought to get going now," ma said once she'd lifted her fingers from the ivories. "Tara and Gwen will be waiting."

The busy days that followed their moving to the Victor's Village hadn't given them time to fetch anything from their old house. As far as the Capitol was concerned there wasn't anything worth fetching there either.

Not that they'd owned much in the world but there were still some things ma wanted to get. The sewing machine for starters, her mother's old loom and some of the wooden crafts her father made including the kitchen sofa bed. Amadeus wanted his rock collection first and foremost. Tara and her mother had volunteered to help and then they'd all have dinner up at the Victor's Village, said ma.

"I gotta take care of something in town first," Haymitch said.

"Can I come with?"

Haymitch gave his little brother a one armed hug.

"Won't take long. Go be with Tara and Gus. I'll meet you there."

xXx

Mr. Henderson nodded hello when the 16 year old pushing inside the bookshop.

"How're your mother and brother today?" he asked.

"They're alright," Haymitch said. "Gettin' some stuff from our old place."

"And what can I do for you today?"

Haymitch lifted his bag up on to the counter and from its depths he got out the large, old decorated book filled with fairy tales.

"Can I borrow your fountain pen, Mr. Henderson?"

Come back to us, Tara told him when she came to say goodbye. She hadn't cried there in the Justice Building but her face had been pale and determined. Come back to us and I'll give you Amadeus's book.

Mr. Henderson handed him the expensive fountain pen along with a piece of paper.

"Better have a few practice rounds first."

Writing with it wasn't as easy as Mr. Henderson made it look. He had the most beautiful hand writing Haymitch had ever seen. How he did it was a mystery because when Haymitch tried, it got uneven and jotted and he stained both the paper and his fingertips with ink. But he wanted to write the dedication himself and after about 15 minutes under Mr. Henderson's guidance he did at least managed to write without blotting.

And so he opened the book and Mr. Henderson watched as he wrote the words on the cover sheet.

"I'm gonna give it to him after dinner," Haymitch said and blew gently on the ink to make it dry faster. "Thanks."

He wanted to pay the book seller for lending him the pen but the old man just waved it off and after bidding each other good afternoon Haymitch walked out.

And that's when he heard it. Far off cries, commotion. Somewhere a woman screamed.

"Fire! Fire in the Seam!"

"What is it? What's going on?" It was Mr. Henderson's voice but Haymitch didn't even hear it. He ran. Ran for the Seam that was an uproar. People running and screaming, pulling buckets of water.

Haymitch pushed himself past his neigbours without care.

"Ma!" Haymitch shouted. "MA! Amadeus! Tara!"

He felt the smoke, saw the flames high on the sky.

"Ma! Where are you!?"

And he saw. He saw his house.

"No!" Haymitch cried. His bag burst open on the ground and the book fell out as he ran for the door. The heat from the inferno hit his face like a wall and people grabbed hold on him, pulling him back. "Let go of me!" Haymitch cried, fighting them.

"It's too late, boy!" someone hissed in his ear.

"Let go of me! They're in there! They're still in there!"

And the flames shone off the ornaments on Amadeus's book as Haymitch screamed.

Author's note: Well, there you have it. This chapter got a life of its own but I felt Haymitch's story needed to be told before we return to the present timeline to which it is connected. What did you think?

Next chapter we'll see Effie again. Will she still be in Twelve?