Chapter Text

Chapter One: Dirty Work 

“On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that two of their number died for every Capitol citizen, each district will send twice the number of tributes. However, as a token of the Capitol’s generosity and kindness, two victors may be crowned, one male and one female, if they originate from the same district.”

(Haymitch)

Just us two now, me and Maysilee. I tried so hard for Lou Lou, tried to keep her alive but clearly the gamemakers had other plans. I wonder now, if it were a choice between me and Wyatt who she’d ally with. I hope she’d’ve picked Wyatt, because even though we’re the only duo left, I still don’t think Snow’s letting me walk out of this alive.

“You can sleep now if you want. I’m not tired.” Says Maysilee, smoothing out the small tarp on the ground.

The circles under her eyes say otherwise, but I’m fading fast.

“Okay, but wake me anytime to take over.” I secure my flint striker around my neck, spread out my hammock on the ground and stretch out, watching the tongues of fire dance.

“Works better if you close your eyes.” She says.

“Yeah.” I shift positions, but something seems unfinished. Like I never really thanked her for today. No, I did. With the juice, but that doesn’t begin to cover it. What do you say to the meanest girl in town who’s become your friend? No, more than a friend, really. A Newcomer. A person who you know will do anything to go home with you, and who you’ll do anything to go home with, because you owe it to each other, because the thought of living with this burden alone is unbearable.

“You need to sleep while you can, Haymitch.”

“I know but… what I’m thinking… you and me… after everything that’s happened, you know 

I’d die for you. Would you die for me?”

There’s a pause before she answers, but when she does her words are without falter.

“I would. I really would, Haymitch.”

I reach out my hand, and she takes it in hers, and for a moment we’re one being, one force hellbent on painting our poster together.

“Just you and me, against the world.” I say, letting sleep take me. 

***

When we collect the find the career’s packs and eat our fill of nut butter and banana sandwiches I manage to steer us north again. I feel like such an asshole, I need to let her go, I need to cut Maysilee loose before we find the generator. There’s no path that leads to its destruction and our mutual survival, but at the same time, I can’t bear to do this alone, and I know she can’t either. What would I even say to her? What words could possibly explain why I have to abandon her?

When we return to the hedge I rationalise that I don’t need to go it alone until we make it to the edge. Who’s to say how long the arena goes on past this maze? And there’s no sense in going it alone until I absolutely have to.

We ready out blades, and count down before we strike the hedge simultaneously, but as we slice through the foliage a swath of the holly berries pop off their stems and swarm up our arms. Our shouts muddle together as we try to brush them off. 

“What the hell are these?!” I exclaim.

“Ladybugs! Says Maysilee.

Ladybugs? I lift my hand to examine one. It’s a ladybug, all right, or pretty near. All up and down my arms, the creatures latch on to the flesh. Within seconds, they inflate to the size of acorns and begin exploding, splattering my face with blood. 

We’re out of the hedge in a flash, yelling and screaming both. We try to claw the things from our skin, but once they’ve attached those tiny hypodermic needle mouths, they’re stubborn as all get-out.

“Pluck!” Maysilee orders me. “Pluck!” 

And I do, following her lead as we pinch each ladybug and yank it from our flesh.

“Bug by bug… bug by bug… bug by bug.” I mutter, pulling things off myself until I’m largely vermin free, before I go to work on Maysilee, who sleeveless, has had the worst of it. 

“Bug by bug… bug by bug…” She joins in my chorus.

When all the visible ones are gone we strip down to our underwear, and pluck the things off of each other. Either due to the blood loss, or perhaps the pure absurdity of the whole thing I find myself desperately trying not to look at Maysilee’s body, because despite the suction marks and dirt from our encounter and days spent in the arena, I’m becoming transfixed with her form. 

I think she’s in the same boat, because when I catch her eye I see her trying to avoid my boxers, pulling her eyes away each time they dart down to my crotch. If she’s feeling it too it’s definitely deliriousness from the blood loss, I shouldn’t even be looking at her at all, with Lenore Dove at home, who I love like all-fire. What would she make of me eyeing Maysilee in this state of undress, would she understand? I can only hope.

When I pull the last few ladybugs from off her lower back, and she’s cleared me of mine I feel a sharp pain from above my crotch. I look down and see beneath my boxers that a pair of the things have made it beneath the fabric.

“Fuck’s sake.” I say, reaching in and pulling the things off, silently grateful that they have spared my manhood. When I look up I say Maysilee red in the face, trying to suppress a laugh. 

“Laugh away.” I sigh, because deep down even I can recognise the humor of the thing.

“I’m sorry.” She says through panted breath, failing to stifle her howls of amusement. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” 

I can help but smile, and I take a mock bow, which turns out to be a bad idea because with my sudden lack of blood I almost fall over from the effort. 

This snaps Maysilee mostly back to reality, and we both slump to the ground as she pulls water and food from our packs, splitting it fifty fifty as usual. 

“I’m sorry, this was my fault. Talking big like I knew what was in there. I swear, none of them bothered me yesterday.” I say between bites of olive and leftover sandwich.

“I don’t think the gamemakers want us going through that hedge.” Maysilee observes.

I nod. “Message received.”

***

Hull and Buck die later that day, and the Newcomers are reduced to three, me, Maysilee and Wellie. It’s late afternoon and ostensibly we’re still on the search for my last dove, but once again I try to steer us back north, back to the hedge, but Maysilee doesn’t let me get off as easily this time.

“You’re wrong. Wellie would stand a much better chance in the meadow than she would up here. Little thing like her, she could disappear into that grass. It goes on for miles. Lay low and look for food at the Cornucopia. They’d never find her. And even if she did come to the woods, she’s too smart to let herself get penned in like that. You know that. But you’re taking me north again, Haymitch. Why?” She folds her arms and waits.

I’m going to have to tell her something or it’s all over.

“The hedge. I think we should give it another look.”

She shudders. “Ugh, even if I had one quart of blood to spare, why on earth would we do that?”

I hold out my hands to indicate the arena. 

“Because it has to end somewhere, right? The arena can’t go on forever.”

“What do you expect to find?”

“I don’t know, but maybe there’s something we can use.”

“You mean, like something mechanical? Electrical?”

“Maybe. Or if not that, maybe we can collect those ladybugs to use as a weapon ourselves. I just think if we’re smart, we can use it for our own means.” I lift my brows, trying to telegraph that I can’t tell her everything but it’s imperative.

“I don’t know Haymitch.” She says, less sure of herself.

“Please May.” The nickname slips out involuntarily, and she raises an eyebrow at it but doesn’t comment.

“I need to think about it, let’s rest for a minute, I’m starving anyway.” 

It’s not a no, and so I resign myself to eating a slice of dried beef as we sit side by side, resting against the trunk of a wide oak tree.

“I’m not sure about this Haymitch.” Maysilee says as she finishes her beef. “I just don’t see there being anything useful at the end.” 

I’m losing her, and I know I should use this as a wedge to get her away from me, away from my fate in these games but something inside me won’t let that happen.

I lean over and whisper in her ear, almost silent but undoubtedly picked up lip-read by a hundred different Capitol cameras. “We need to talk, privately.”

She looks at me puzzled but doesn’t object as I pull a tarp from out of my pack and drape it over us, concealing our faces from Panem. I figure if we talk quietly enough our conversation will stay private.

“What are you planning Haymitch?” She demands.

“Listen, before the games Beetee recruited me to sabotage the arena.” I say, my facade gone completely. 

“What?” She says, eyes wide.

“The plan was to blow the water tank, flood the Arena’s computer. Ampert and I used the tokens to make a bomb.”

“Did it work?” She asks.

“Yes and no, we blew the tank, and it put the arena on the fritz for a bit, triggered the volcano, but it didn’t destroy it completely.”

“So you’re trying to finish the job?” She says, putting the pieces together before I have to explain it. 

“There’s a generator at the edge of the arena, if I can destroy it… who knows.”

“And you’re just telling me all this now? I could’ve helped you know?” She says, the anger clear in her voice. 

“I’m already dead May, because of the reaping and Louella, you still have a chance to get out of here alive, see your family again, don’t waste that on my half-baked plan.” 

Despite my explanation I can see she’s hurt. Upset I didn’t trust her enough to put her in the loop.

“Once we get to the edge, we have to split up. Whatever I do, it’ll make me an instant target, and you’ll need to be far away from it.”

“No way!” She says, too loud, and one of my hands shoots up to cover her mouth before I can even think.

She gives me a look and I let my hand fall away.

“Sorry.” I mumble.

She ignores me and soldiers on with her rebuttal. “We’re not splitting up Haymitch, either we go home together or we die together, end of story.”

“But May-”

“No, I’m serious, we’re in this together, remember? You and me against the world.” Her eyes are fixed on me and I know there’s no convincing her otherwise.

“You and me against the world.” I repeat.

Our conversation concluded, I go to remove the tarp but she stops me. 

“Wait, don’t you think it’ll look suspicious that we’ve been hiding under this thing? They might suspect something.” She says.

“Shit, I hadn’t thought of that.” I say.

I see her eyes searching for a minute before they lock back in on mine, an idea in her head. 

“Kiss me.” She says, so casually I think I must’ve misheard her.

“What?” I laugh.

“Two tributes under a tarp, wanting privacy from the cameras, they come back with flushed faces, maybe some messed up hair…” She walks me to her point. 

“Sure but… you know I have Lenore Dove at home and-” I begin.

“Don’t flatter yourself Haymitch, it’s a misdirect not a seduction.” She says, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, fine.” I say.

With my invitation she leans forward and our lips meet, I make to kiss her slowly, like the thousands of kisses I’ve had with Lenore Dove but Maysilee is fierce in our embrace, and I realise she’s trying to make our excuse as obvious as possible to the cameras. And so I match her intensity, feeling her lips against mine hot and wet, devouring her like I can’t get enough. When her tongue enters my mouth I feel it meet mine, and I revel in the ecstasy before my mind can bring me back to reality and I pull away.

“I think that’s enough.” I say, quiet and breathy.

“Yeah.” She says.

She reaches her hands to my head and for a second I think she’s ignoring my words and going in for another kiss but no, she reaches for my hair, tossing my golden curls around, trying to mess them up worse than they already have been by the games. I match her motion and run my hands through her long flowing platinum locks, making more of an impression of unsettledness on her, as her straight hair lends itself to neatness. 

We finish and observe each other, satisfied with the posters we’ve painted for the capitol audience.

“Who would’ve thought,” she says as I reach for the tarp. “Itchy Itchy Haymitchy, a decent kisser.” 

“Shut up.” I grin, pulling the tarp away and exposing us once again to the cameras.

***

At night we see one more face in the sky than we expected, Maritte. Did Silka turn on her? Or was she taken out by mutts? Either way it leaves only four now, us, Silka and Wellie. With our pact to destroy the arena sealed, we decide that Wellie must be this year's victor. She alone must be left to paint her poster.

We set out again at first light.

“The way I see it, our best bet is to get through the hedge, scope it out, then maybe lure Silka back to the edge.” I say.

“Sounds good to me.” Maysilee agrees.

With the blowtorch from Buck’s pack we make quick work getting through the hedge, toasting the ladybugs that gave us so much trouble yesterday. When we finally make it to the end, we stumble through the singed leaves onto a flat expanse a few feet away from the edge of a cliff. 

About a hundred feet down I can see a machine nestled between the rocks, the generator, so close and yet so very very far. 

“So, did we reach the end?” Asks Maysilee.

“Yeah,” I say. “This is the end of the road.”

She joins me as I stare down hopelessly at the generator, willing it to just explode on its own accord.

“There’s nothing here.” She says.

“I know.”

I kick my foot aimlessly, losing a pebble that falls down toward the generator.

“I guess that’s that then, sorry Haymitch.”

Just as she’s finishing her sentence the pebble soars back toward me and hits me square on the forehead.

“Ow!” I cry, taking a step back.

“What was that?” Asks Maysilee.

“The pebble, generator must have some kind of forcefield that repels objects.” I say, clutching the welt on my head. “Lucky for me.”

“Oh quit crying you big baby.” She says, pulling my hand away from my head and examining my injury. “It’s nothing.”

“Easy for you to say.” I mumble.

As she’s pulling her arms away I catch a glimpse of one of her necklaces in the corner of my eye. It’s gold, cord wrapped together that attaches to a medallion, but parts of it… parts of it are rubbing off on her outfit, leaving black spots. 

“And if Ampert fails to show, we’ve also replaced the…” 

Beetee’s last words to me, cut short at the buffet. This must be the backup, and Maysilee’s had it this whole time. I take it in my hands, and she’s slightly taken aback. 

“Where’d you get this?” I ask, transfixed.

“My mother…” She says, suspicious.

In an instant I remember our situation and let it fall back against her chest. 

“It’s pretty.” I say, trying to seem disinterested. 

“Thanks…” She says, unconvinced. 

I need to find a way to communicate with her the gravity of her necklace, what it means for the plan. But how? How can I in this hall of cameras and microphones? Another tryst under the tarp? Would the audience buy it? Would Snow buy it? Before I can suggest it I’m interrupted by a high pitched scream coming from beyond the hedge. A young scream, Wellie’s scream. 

We don’t have to confer with each other, and before we know it Maysilee and I are running, out of the hedge, through the woods, towards Wellie, but it’s too late. The cannon fires, as we run into a clearing, to find Silka, hunched over. She turns around as we stumble through the greenery, and in her hand she holds Wellie’s severed head.

I could live ten thousand lives and never forget this sight. Wellie’s head is so small in Silka’s hand and her tiny lifeless body lies crumpled to the side.

“What did you do?” I hiss.

“She attacked me!” Silka roars, holding up Wellie’s head defensively.

“She was a child!” Maysilee cries.

“Aren’t we all…” Says Silka quietly, dropping Wellie to clutch her ax tighter.

“You’re sick.” Maysilee spits.

“Call me whatever you want, it won’t matter once I’m home.” Says Silka.

“Oh, you’re not going home Silka.” I say.

In a flash Maysilee has loaded her dart gun and shoots it at Silka, who drops to the ground as the dart whistles over her head. I run forward, knife in hand and manage to slash her across the eye as she scrambles to her feet. She cries out in pain and grabs me by the ankle, pulling me to the ground. She raises her ax above her head, prepared to strike before the telltale woosh of one of Maysilee’s darts forces her to roll to the side. I pull myself up and thrust my knife forward, slicing her upper arm. It’s a deep cut but she acts as though she doesn’t even feel it, grabbing her ax and slamming the blade into my side. 

“Haymitch!” I hear Maysilee cry.

My vision blurs, the pain so severe, and I have to force myself to my feet, stumbling back toward Maysilee as she fires another dart toward Silka, who moves out of the way just in time, the dart missing her by less than an inch. 

“We have to go… back to- generator.” I get out, and Maysille nods, pulling one of my arms over her shoulder as we run away from Silka.

“I only have one dart left.” She says, panic in her voice. 

“I’ll distract her- you… you just get a clear shot.” I groan.

We hear Silka’s roar from behind us and I let go of Maysilee, turning around to face the oncoming fight. The adrenaline must be kicking in because when Silka catches up I’m able to get a good stab in her shoulder blade while she misses me completely. I pull the knife out and Maysilee kicks her, hard, giving us a few feet of buffer to keep going. 

We manage to get all the way to the cliff before she catches up, bloody and vicious. We stand at a stalemate, Maysilee’s last dart loaded in her gun, aimed squarely at Silka who stands in the singed hole of the hedge, a step away from the cliff. She holds her ax, ready to throw it at me, waiting for a chance as her eyes dart between me and Maysilee. I can feel myself slipping and I have to clutch at the gash in my side, blood leaking out in droves. My only hope is that she throws that ax, and so I ready my knife. I hold it one hand and catch Maysilee’s eye, giving her a nod before I hurl my knife toward Silka, she dodges it and throws her ax at me, but I fall to my knees and let it fly over my head. Maysilee shoots her last dart, and it catches in Silka’s sleeve as she moves to dodge it, our last hope gone. Or not, because I hear the telltale bounce, drop flat against the ground and hear Silka’s cry as her ax flies back up from the forcefield and lodges in her head.

The canon fires, and in my mind, somehow I realise we have won. But it feels wrong, and I remember Beetee’s comment,

“If I had known, I could have killed myself, and Ampert would be safe at home. That is how Snow works.” 

If I live, Ma, Sid, Lenore Dove, Burdock, Blair, Hattie and maybe even Maysilee, are all dead. And so I have to die, but I have to die with a bang. 

“Haymitch!” Maysilee cries, running to my side, pressing down hard on my wound to try and stop the bleeding. 

“We don’t… have much time, your necklace, need it to- paint my poster.” I groan.

She doesn’t hesitate, pulling the necklace off of her and handing it to me, watching as I pull the blasting cap from the medallion.

“You need to go- or else, Snow… He’ll kill you- your family…” I say as I work on my bomb.

“I already told you Haymitch, we go home together or we die together.” She takes my hand in hers.

“You and me against the world.” I say.

“You and me against the world.” She agrees.

And so when I finish the bomb, she takes my knife and holds it to her throat, and I can see the hovercraft above us, hear the yelling of the gamemakers. And when I light the fuse with my flint striker and throw the explosive toward the generator, I look at her, watch as she slices open her throat. And I hold her hand.

And we die, happy.