ghosts that we knew: A mockingjay fanfiction

Chapter 2

HAYMITCH POV

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 2

Haymitch

I truly thought the kid was pulling my leg.

Had I known she was not aware that she royally screwed herself and the rebellion over by getting knocked up, I would have packed a much lighter punch. I take a swig of copper colored whiskey from my flask and suck in a deep breath as I watch Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire, begin to internally combust at the sudden news of her pregnancy.

"But I can't be-it's impossible. Peeta made that up in the final interviews. The pregnancy bit was fake. And we only...," she trails off. Her knees finally begin to stop quivering under her. Her jaw begins to unhinge itself from its clenched position, and she whispers, "it only happened once."

The laugh that comes from my throat is laced with acidic scorn. The girl is smart. And I don't mean book smart. She's incredibly street smart. She outwitted the Capitol and managed to figure out the kinks in Plutarch's arena without a second thought to any of it. When it comes to this topic, however-a touchy conversation her mother should have had with her years ago instead of leaving it to me and President Coin, I may add-the girl is about as jaded from reality as the yuppies of the Capitol.

"Once is all it takes, Sweetheart," I reply.

Katniss looks like she is about to stumble backward and Finnick Odair rushes to her aid, standing at attention behind her.

I decide not to chide her any longer. I don't even bother asking about the baby daddy. If Hawthorne punching a wall when the news was delivered wasn't enough of an indication that the baker's bun was literally in Katniss' oven, I would have pried for more information just to hear her admit to the act. With enough sleepless nights of screaming fits, pattering feet traveling back and forth, and hearing almost every strained conversation through thin walls during two Hunger Games and a Victory Tour, I was able to use my context clues quickly after the discovery of the child as to who the father was.

What I cannot figure out is my error. When the nightly routine suddenly deviated from its usual course and the walls suddenly became thicker, where I failed as a mentor and an involuntary stand-in parent to protect them from growing up too quickly.

Well, I add to myself with unpleasant hostility, the way that normal teenagers that aren't coping with post-traumatic stress grow up, that is.

One thing is for certain. Whether or not she loves that boy as much as he loves her, especially the night of that fateful "once", the stakes of finding Peeta and returning him safely have been raised beyond their already-drastic level. That fact has been eating away at us, at me, ever since we were unable to rescue him in the arena. I had been hoping, praying that by the time Katniss woke up, we would have a solution ready for her. Time in Thirteen, however, seems to be secondary to strategy. I have nothing to offer her.

And here we are, a month later, with no Mellark and a girl whose job description is about to go from 'revolutionary' to 'mother' in a matter of months.

I huff in frustration, the alcohol amplifying my confusing thoughts. As if the odds weren't in our favor already, let's throw in an extra, infant-sized bundle of baggage.

Katniss blinks wildly and turns her gaze upward to avoid breaking down and shattering her wall of bravery, which has been pitifully beaten to a pile of rubble since her awakening. Finnick's tears are free-falling, splattering against the tile of the control room with a sickening splat. The alcohol has numbed me, yet something pangs in the back of my mind as a reminder that the entire situation should be upsetting.