RUINATION | FINNICK ODAIR

LIBEROSIS

"Finnick, can I speak with you?"

To their surprise, President Alma Coin herself had stopped by Lara's room. She not only wanted to check on her progress, but also stopped to discuss an important decision with Finnick.

She stood in the doorway with her hands folded behind her back. Lara was sitting on the bed with Finnick standing in front of her, holding her hands gently.

The two had been having a small, meaningless conversation to try and get Lara's bearings. They worked on remembering small stuff they'd done in the past; happy memories that would keep her anchored.

Finnick looked over his shoulder and simply nodded at the older woman. A sigh blew past his lips as he squeezed Lara's hands.

"Wait for me?"

She gave a curt nod before she let go. He reluctantly left the room, giving a final glance at her before following Coin to the command center.

She waited about a minute before slowly letting her bare feet touch the ground. She creeped to the door and poked her head out, sweeping the hallway for anyone watching.

Once she was in the clear, she stepped out and followed the signs that led to the medical ward. On the way, she twiddled with her medical bracelet nervously.

Her mission was secret. It had to be discreet. Not even Finnick could know.

She made sure to hide in the shadows as best as she could. She lurked behind corners as groups of district thirteen citizens passed by. But she wasn't as sneaky as she thought she was being.

Haymitch caught sight of her blurry figure skittering away. He furrowed his brows and followed after her.

It didn't take long to find the medical ward. Once she was inside the cordoned off area, she blended right in. No one needed to doubt that she was in the right place due to her matching medical gown.

She looked left and right as doctors and nurses blew past her. She followed a rumbling tray of supplies into a separate part of the room. It was more secluded and private. It contained all the drugs and anesthesia that they could offer.

A part of her sighed in relief; the other part wanted to punch herself. But her body betrayed her mind.

Her hands went scrambling. She was relentless in searching through every box, container, and vial. It was feral and obsessive behavior that ultimately led to a messy supply closet that piled around Lara's feet.

She didn't stop until her hands grasped a case of syringes. She set them down and checked each label until she found the one that was best suitable.

Morphine.

It was the closest thing to tracker jacker venom. Although it couldn't compare the pain levels, it brought the same amount of wicked relief.

She uncapped the needle and nearly put it in her arm, but a voice stopped her.

"What do you think that will do?"

She snapped around and saw she'd been caught. The needle no longer became her salvation; it was her weapon now. She held it tightly in her fist with her fingers curled around it.

Haymitch didn't look angry, but he certainly wasn't happy. His face was scrunched in an unfamiliar expression; he was trying to figure out what was in her mind. This was not the woman he'd known before.

He took a step forward and joined her in the supply closet. She had nowhere to run, instead having to face the confrontation.

"Make the pain go away?" he guessed, "Maybe make things a little easier to bear; a little easier to accept."

He tried to take it away with a quick snatch but she resisted. Her fist stayed curled and she pulled her arm back as he lunged forward. That's when his anger inflamed.

Lara could never gauge how strong Haymitch was nowadays. She'd only ever really seen him drunk or hungover. But he'd taken her down with an unknown amount of strength.

He pushed her into the wall behind her, holding her arms tightly so that she wouldn't fight. He needed her attention, which was hard because of her outburst.

"I need it!"

Her scream of desperation was the loudest one he'd heard yet. The begging was apparent in both her raw voice and the hot tears in her eyes. But his intensity closely matched her own.

"This crap isn't gonna save you!" he shouted. He pressed farther into the wrist that had the hand with the syringe, "It won't magically make all your problems disappear!"

Her cries turned into loud gasps of air as she tried to collect herself. She hated how easily she broke down now.

Haymitch tried to bring the discussion back down. His eyes glossed over with nostalgia and regret. The next words to come out of his mouth were from experience; referencing to his alcoholic and disconsolate nature.

"I wish it was that easy. But what you need is time."

Lara's eyes narrowed and her voice changed to a low tone, "Bullshit...we both know time doesn't help heal anyone."

Time didn't heal their trauma from the games. Time didn't make their wrongdoings forgiven. Time didn't care who never found peace.

Haymitch fell into a quiet rage, egging her to take action, "Neither does punishing yourself and poisoning your body...when instead you could heal and maybe be of service to the rebellion."

She scoffed, "Of service? By doing what? Katniss' little interviews?"

"By fighting."

His face was so close to hers. She surprisingly couldn't smell the usual liquor scent he carried with him. She met his eyes and his gaze never wavered away from her; both of them were filled with mutual regret of their past.

"You think you're already done; that you've lost," he spoke evenly, "But you're not dead and you're not worthless...so stop trying to convince yourself that you are."

He set his lips in a thin line and let go of his hold on her. He expectedly glanced at the syringe in her hand, extending his own for her to relinquish it. She followed his gaze and lingered on the substance.

She licked her lips and exhaled shakily. Every part of her body wanted to feel the cool fire of it. But her mind forbade her.

Haymitch was right. She'd been falling prey to Snow's trap; a trap he hadn't even needed to coax her into. Her undoing was her own fault if she continued the torture.

She slowly brought her hand down to his own and dropped the syringe in his hand. He nodded in satisfaction and brought it away from her eyesight by tucking it into his pocket.

He held out his arm and gestured for her to leave the supply closet. He guided her out with an arm loosely placed on her shoulder.

He maneuvered them around the doctors in the ward. But before they could leave, Lara took a quick glance back at the closet, unable to resist her urges.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Haymitch sent a small smile in her direction,

"Us victors have got to watch each other's backs, right?"

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