One Last Game -Haymitch Abernathy-

Chapter 62

Living in Snow's mansion was not easy. It didn't feel like home, but Amelia wasn't sure anything ever would again. The Capitol would never be her home, but District 12 was destroyed. There wasn't a place for her in the world, but that wasn't a problem for right now. Amelia had to focus on the present. They were going to execute Snow, but the when was unknown. It seemed there were a million things to do when rebuilding a nation. Executions would be televised. Peacekeepers, stylists, and anyone who supported the Capitol would be killed. Amelia would not watch them. She had seen enough dead bodies in her lifetime.

She spent a day inside the medical tent with Haymitch. It was enjoyable because the morphling made the world around her easier to bear. Now, she was off the medicine, but Haymitch remained by her side. When she arrived in their room in the mansion. The first thing she noticed was the glass bottle. It was empty. She never addressed it, but seeing the object hurt her.

He promised to get sober.

The memories were all there, but they were jumbled and out of order. Amelia wanted to work on fixing them. Dr. Martin had followed her from District 13. He was dedicated to helping her. She appreciated him.

She hadn't seen Katniss yet. Or Peeta, but she wanted to. Amelia had learned recently that Prim was killed in the second explosion. Katniss must have been devastated. She loved Prim.

Haymitch is speaking to her, as he had been for a while. Amelia had tuned him out, but not because she didn't care. He was reading to her. She was in the tub. It was large, white, and held up by golden legs. The water was incredibly warm, and it relaxed her.

There were bubbles. Haymitch added them, mainly as a joke. Amelia appreciated them. She would raise her arm, letting the suds drip down her hand. She did it over and over again, like a pattern.

There's a stillness in the room. It's just the two of them. Amelia glances at him, studying his features. He's concentrated on the words in the book, reading them to her. She isn't sure how she feels anymore. The love she has for Haymitch can't be formed into words. She'll never try. Her heart beats for him, but she isn't the same girl he's holding out hope for. The girl he fell in love with is gone. Amelia would never be that person again. She feared he was holding onto the hope that everything would be normal again for them. That he was waiting for her to come back.

Haymitch had noticed her gaze a few minutes ago but ignored it. Finally, he caught her eye. "What is it?"

"You're sober," she blurts. "Is that real?"

"It is," he confirms. He was sober.

She tilts her head to the side. "Then why is there an empty bottle in the other room?"

Haymitch sighs, closing the book. "I didn't drink it." Amelia remains silent. "I was going to when," he cleared his throat. "When I thought I lost you again." He blinks a few times, staying composed. Even the idea of losing her upsets him. "I was just about to when I learned you were alive."

It's a lot for her to take in. She realizes Haymitch feels the same way about her as she does him. As if the other is oxygen, and they're standing in a fire. "Stupid," she mutters. "I would have come back out of spite just to lecture you."

He laughs faintly, remembering all the lectures he got in the past for his drinking. "I'm just happy you're alive." That's all he wanted.

She smiles at him, her lips pressed together. There are a few droplets of water on her face. Her hair is tucked over the edge of the tub. Effie would have a fit if it got wet, claiming bathwater damaged hair. "I used to be afraid of water," Amelia suddenly says. "And then I crawled through the sewers and realized that isn't so bad when the Capitol is not using it to torture me."

Amelia didn't think much about her words. She was scared of water. Now she's not. That's the end of the story. To Haymitch, it's so much more than that. Not once had she opened up about what happened in the Capitol. In the past, she skated around the topic, but now the response came so naturally. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Amelia confirms. "Did they execute the people who," her words faded.

"Not yet. They will soon."

"Good," she says. "They were assholes. One of them smelled really bad. You'd think he'd shower more considering he lived in the Capitol." Again, the words came out so easily. As if it was an afterthought.

The progress wasn't recognized by Amelia, but it was by Haymitch. He now had hope that she could overcome what happened. He knew she wouldn't be the same. He never expected her to. All Haymitch wanted was for her to be happy. "I'm going to get us dinner. Are you okay in here?"

Amelia nodded, "I'll be fine."

"Okay." Haymitch leaned closer, placing a kiss on the top of her head. Amelia watched him leave, a smile on her face.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Amelia was right. Nothing would be okay for her, at least not for a long time. She wanted to heal. If Peeta could do it, so could she. Dying in the war was no longer an option. Amelia had to live. She had to live for her family. For her friends. For Haymitch. But most importantly, for herself. "Hey, gorgeous," the familiar voice of Johanna fills her ears. "Miss me?"

Amelia's head snaps in her direction. "Oh my god, Johanna." Johanna extends her arms, doing something along the lines of a bow. Amelia pushes away from the window, crossing the room quickly. 

They hadn't seen each other since Finnick's wedding. Thinking about it is too hard. She hopes one day it won't be. Amelia embraces her. "Wow, you really missed me, huh?" But Johanna hugs her back tightly.

"So what if I did?" Amelia pulls away from her, offering a smile. "Your hair looks good." It had grown out roughly an inch.

"I know," Johanna crosses her arms. "You still look like shit." The words don't bother Amelia. At least someone is honest with her. "What, was storming the Capitol not everything you dreamed it would be?"

"No," Amelia whispers. "It wasn't."

Johanna hums, inspecting the room. It's a sitting room full of extravagant chairs and tables. There's a single bookshelf full of books. It was covered by a thin layer of dust. A clear indication it was entirely for show. "Because you came back alive? Pity. Now you're just like the rest of us. Alive. Miserable. Depressed."

"Finnick died." It's the first time Amelia says the words. They're like a slap in the face. Finnick is dead. Johanna stops moving, her finger resting on the spine of a book. "Out of all the Victors, he's the one that wanted to live the most." It was cruel. Finnick deserved to be here.

"That's the point, right?" Johanna turns around. She was hurting from the loss as well. "The brutality of war. How unfair death is." Unfair was the right word. Why was she alive and Finnick wasn't? "Nothing we can do except to keep living. That's what he would have wanted."

Amelia wants to argue, but she can't because Johanna is right. Finnick wanted her to live. That's why he took her nightlock pill. He wanted her to live. She had to live. She had to live for Finnick. Johanna approaches her. "I know."

"Cheer up, gorgeous." She taps her chin. "You still got me."

A faint smile appeared on her face. "Yeah." She always had Johanna. It seemed she always would.