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Burdock could never give up on Haymitch entirely.
Haymitch tries his hardest to force his hand. He’s impudent and crass, and he hits the bottle harder each day.
He hurts Asterid.
He has to let go when there’s blood pouring down his girl’s face. Not all the way, just a little, he can’t run uphill forever. It still eats him up inside.
Burdock finds Haymitch in the forest calling Lenore Dove’s name.
“If you want her, come on.” He tells him. His words come out harsher than his intentions. Haymitch follows.
Burdock shows him the graves of the Covey. Lenore Dove’s grave is still shining. He doesn’t want to leave him there but he has people to feed. He turns the collar of his jacket up against the cold and trudges back to the Hob. He regrets not saying another word. Not hugging him one last time as did Blaire.
Burdock sees him in the Hob on occasion. Haggling over liquor more often than not. It must be only from habit instilled in him by his mother, Burdock suspects. Haymitch could afford triple the set price now, barely making a dent. He tries to catch his eye, but when he sees Burdock, Haymitch gives into the higher price and hightails out of there.
Burdock isn’t a fool, he’s sure he doesn’t know half of what Haymitch did in the arena. He is also sure that Haymitch’s family and Lenore Dove were no accident. Maybe Haymitch is just trying to protect him, or just trying to make sure he can’t be hurt by another death.
So he sings in the forest and hopes Haymitch hears the hitch in the mockingjay’s songs and they carry the tunes to him.
Katniss is born and she’s the most beautiful thing in the entire world. She’s got the Covey voice, but she’s a hunter through and through. He tries to make sure she’s got everything she’ll ever need.
Primrose follows a few years later, and he’s terrified for them to have to make their way in this world, but they bring light into his life like nothing else ever could.
Haymitch ages along with him. Every year on the screens from the Capitol, or the stage at the reaping he sees him. He gathers wrinkles and grey hairs faster than Burdock, but that’s really no surprise. The only time the cameras focus on Haymitch is when he’s drunk, being played for laughs.
He hasn’t talked to Haymitch in the better part of two decades when he finds him blackout drunk on Lenore Dove’s grave.
He’s hanging onto a half empty bottle in one hand, curled into himself on his side. Burdock hasn’t been this close to Haymitch since he was sixteen. Haymitch is thirty five now, but he looks closer to fifty. His skin is paler than it should be and his face blotched and wrinkled. His hair is matted and streaked with grey, his beard similarly unkempt. He smells foul, like vomit and white liquor.
“Haymitch.” Burdock said, shaking his shoulder. “Haymitch!” He tries again a little louder. Haymitch stirs a little, but doesn’t wake.
Burdock can’t leave him there. Perhap he should leave him. Nineteen years is enough to have any love waver, any affection fade.
Yet, it hasn’t. So he somehow manages to rouse Haymitch enough to be hoisted to his feet. He’s lighter than he should be, burdock can feel his ribs through his shirt. At least this makes it easy to drag him through the depths of the wood back to the fence.
Somehow he manages to pull him under the fence, with only a smattering of dirt over Haymitch’s face being shown for it. Burdock sticks to the edges of the district, as far out of sight as possible as he hauls Haymitch towards the Victors Village. He counts himself lucky the door even opens.
He finds the nearest bedroom, and lays Haymitch on the bed, pulling away.
A clumsy hand weakly clutches to the sleeve of his leather jacket. If he tugged again, the hand would fall away, but he can’t bring himself to. He doubts Haymitch will even remember this tomorrow, but thats rather not the point.
Instead, Burdock starts to sing.
“Deep in the meadow, under the willow
A bed of grass, a soft green pillow
Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes
And when again they open, the sun will rise.”
Perhaps it’s a selfish indulgence. Nevertheless Haymitch is, without doubt, to be his biggest regret. He wants his last words to him be kinder than a cold directive.
“Here it's safe, here it's warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you.”
He does still love Haymitch. Somehow he thinks, if the worst happens, if one of his girls is reaped, at least Haymitch would be with them till the end.
If the world was kinder, his and Haymitch's kids and his would’ve been raised together. He doesn’t doubt that for a second. If Haymitch ever wished for forgiveness, for anything, all he’d have to do is ask.
“Deep in the meadow, hidden far away
A cloak of leaves, a moon beam ray
Forget your woes, and let your troubles lay
And when again it's morning, they'll wash away.
Here it's safe, here it's warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you.”
Haymitch’s hand falls away, and he drifts off to sleep. Burdock has no better words to leave him with.
–
Two days later Haymitch hears Burdock Everdeen’s name among the victims of a mining accident. He drinks so hard he throws up twice. He has no idea how, or what provoked the execution all these years later, but he knows the blame is on him.
–
Haymitch starts seeing the girl at the Hob by herself. She wears her dark hair in two braids like Louella, and haggles with her determination too. She wears a jacket a near replica of her father’s to add to Burdock’s likeness. She has no splashes of colour to adorn her outfits and Haymitch has never heard her sing, but he can see the Covey in her.
She’s twelve, then sixteen, and then it’s the seventy-fourth Reaping. He always drinks more on Reaping day, the days when the memories are harder to forget. He’s in a daze and all he hears from Effie is Primrose Everdeen’s name being called.
Maybe it’s punishment for hunting, maybe it's the one in a million coincidence, or maybe even this is Haymitch’s fault, but he hears the name, and all he can think of is Beetee and Ampert.
He’s not surprised when Katniss volunteers. He should be, perhaps. He wonders if he would have for Sid or even Burdock. One more name to add to his death toll. One more reason Burdock has to hate him.