ghosts that we knew: A mockingjay fanfiction

32

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N #1: This chapter goes out to Elephantsneedwater, who is doing her THANG and had asked me to get out the next chapter before she went away. Unfortunately, as much as I wanted to get this next chapter done and out to her and you guys, I was too slow and school sucks and I couldn't get it out to her in time. Hope this makes up for it, Elephantsneedwater!

Chapter 32

Haymitch pov
•••••••flashback•••••
One minute.

It takes the kid one frickin' minute after that broadcast to make his way over to my house. I've barely wrapped my fingers around the neck of a liquor bottle before he's pounding on my door like a madman.

I'm drunk, alright. But not enough for this.

I almost don't recognize him when he barrels through the threshold without waiting for me to answer. He stomps over to where I've seated myself, surrounded by empty bottles and reclining at my kitchen table.

He pulls one wooden chair from beneath my propped up feet, forcing me against my will to sit upright. The kid plops himself down into the chair he has stolen for himself. This boy-no, this man...there's a look in his eye that surpasses boyhood by a long shot-stares directly at me, catching my gaze and keeping me from dropping it.

"You know you're going to save her this time. You know that, right?" Peeta jumps on the opportunity to speak before I can even utter some witty remark about the speed he's gained since getting the prosthetic leg. "I know you chose to save her last time, but I want you to do it again."

The word churns the acid in my withering stomach. He's right. I chose. And I chose Katniss. What the kid here managed to do was scrape by, only after I had changed the rules to include him in my choice as well.

What he doesn't know is that I have no choice this time around, regardless of whatever reprimanding he thinks he's giving me. Katniss is 'the mission', according to Heavensbee. She needs to get out of the arena no matter what.

And as for Peeta...well, he's not 'the mission'. At least not anyone in Thirteen's mission.

Which means I have a choice of an entirely different matter.

It's him or me. The young man with the promising future who will toss it away in a heartbeat to gladly and nobly take the fall for his love, or the miserable drunk with no future whatsoever whose death will bring about the loudest cheer this nation has seen yet.

So it's a tough call, really.

"You're talkin' as if you're already in that arena, boy," I slur, downing a mouthful of liquor so great that I make sure he hears the audible gulp as it slithers down my throat.

"Well," Peeta replies with a bitter laugh and a sardonic smirk. "The odds aren't really in my favor."

"Your odds are better than hers. Trinket could pull my name out of that bowl."

He nods solemnly, his lips pressed hard into a thin line.

Peeta Mellark may be able to get away with fooling the Capitol, but he can't fool me.

We both know that if my name is called, he'll volunteer. He'll throw his immunity on the line without thinking twice, if it means that gets to stay by Katniss' side and protect her.

The kid's hard-set in his chivalry. One look in his eyes, still so damn kind under the layer of tough façade that he has glazed over them, is all I need to know that he isn't going to make my choice easy.

It makes me want to hate him. But I couldn't hate him, not even if I tried.

Which is going to make losing him that much harder.