I realize this is very short, but that's fine. It's just a little oneshot, exploring Haymitch's darker and moodier side concerning Katniss and the post-rebellion scenario.
Sometimes being snarky just isn't enough. Sometimes, when I know I'm alone, I let the drama seep through….
I watch the little boy as he laughs and plays, but I don't smile. Son of the mockingjay. Is he ever going to know, going to understand?
I know about the book, of course. I've helped to fill it. But I don't think that it will ever work, really. How could he ever really know what it's like to lose everything and keep living? To have no hope, and yet be unable to give up? And to have to bury your soul under drink and sarcasm?
He'll never know. Especially since his parents hardly do.
They think they know pain. But do they really? No. At least, not as well as I do. Sure, they went through the Games and the rebellion, but so did I. And they've never mentored- never, after watching 46 of their tributes die, had to ask themselves time and time again, could I have done something? They've never had to live with that guilt. And besides, they've had each other. And I've had nobody.
Because time brings back no one for me. Not my family, not my friends, not the tributes I mentored. The pain- no, I lie, it's numbness now- will always be with me. It is just me, the memories, and the drink.
But that matters to no one, because I am no mockingjay. I am just Haymitch, that wayward, snarky drunk who is too steeped in his own memories to realize what fortune has come to his world. Ha. If only. I thought for a while that Katniss would always understand me, but I now see that I was wrong. After all, the rebellion gave her those children. She is the glorious mockingjay, loved by those around her. She will find happiness in the arms of her family, while I live next door and raise geese. While I watch in jealousy. While I live with my pain constantly, nothing to distract me.
She will be happy while I lie washed up on the shore of memories, a bottle of spirits in my hand, forever watching an empty horizon.