Everyone in Panem is. They have to watch it every year. And Finnick had been mentoring for ten years. That's sixteen dead tributes from District Four, and two victors. Tributes he'd mentored, or been involved in the strategy for as his partner mentored them. Tributes he'd seen die live on television in front of the whole nation.
But not like this.
Peeta's dead too, Haymitch says, and the bottom drops off the world.
Peeta's dead too, and Finnick had gambled everything he had left to lose on Katniss and Peeta, on the hope that an unwillingly charismatic teenager whose story had captured the nation could sweep up the districts in a rebellious wave, and it had always been made clear to him: Katniss without Peeta wouldn't work. It had to be both of them. He had to save both of them. That was going to be his job, in the Quarter Quell. Look after Katniss and Peeta. Make sure they survive, because without them, there's no revolution.
No hope outside of this place, if this place even is hope when a mutt has just killed one of the people on Snow's hit list.
The sense of the world crashing around him doesn't abate; it swirls around him until he can barely stand, leaving him stunned and staring, sinking onto the edge of the table because his legs don't want to hold him up any more.
Peeta's dead too.
"I'm sorry, Haymitch."
Sorry because he can't imagine losing a victor he'd nurtured through the Games. Sorry because he didn't do what he'd been assigned to do.
Sorry because aside from everything else, he'd liked the kid.
Sorry because now that's seventeen kids he'd been responsible for dead.
cw: child death, trauma
Everyone in Panem is. They have to watch it every year. And Finnick had been mentoring for ten years. That's sixteen dead tributes from District Four, and two victors. Tributes he'd mentored, or been involved in the strategy for as his partner mentored them. Tributes he'd seen die live on television in front of the whole nation.
But not like this.
Peeta's dead too, Haymitch says, and the bottom drops off the world.
Peeta's dead too, and Finnick had gambled everything he had left to lose on Katniss and Peeta, on the hope that an unwillingly charismatic teenager whose story had captured the nation could sweep up the districts in a rebellious wave, and it had always been made clear to him: Katniss without Peeta wouldn't work. It had to be both of them. He had to save both of them. That was going to be his job, in the Quarter Quell. Look after Katniss and Peeta. Make sure they survive, because without them, there's no revolution.
No hope outside of this place, if this place even is hope when a mutt has just killed one of the people on Snow's hit list.
The sense of the world crashing around him doesn't abate; it swirls around him until he can barely stand, leaving him stunned and staring, sinking onto the edge of the table because his legs don't want to hold him up any more.
Peeta's dead too.
"I'm sorry, Haymitch."
Sorry because he can't imagine losing a victor he'd nurtured through the Games. Sorry because he didn't do what he'd been assigned to do.
Sorry because aside from everything else, he'd liked the kid.
Sorry because now that's seventeen kids he'd been responsible for dead.