It was the day of the Reaping for the second Quarter Quell, but if you were around Haymitch Abernathy, you wouldn't know that. Haymitch had a bit of a reputation for being carefree. At his age why shouldn't he be?

Like most other 16 year olds in District 12, Haymitch had bigger worries than being Reaped. He was being primed for work in the mine, a field that wasn't particularly safe, but unless you were born into a family with an established practice, that's all there was to look forward to in 12. So Haymitch was making the most of his youth.

This was evidenced most in his relationship with his girl, Grace Thorne. More often than not, they'd be caught stealing kisses in the back of their classes at school, or quickly dashing out of a janitorial closet, their clothes rumpled. Grace would blush appropriately, but Haymitch would just smirk, shrug, and saunter away.

So it was no shock to anyone that the day of the Reaping Haymitch showed up to take his place among the other boys his age with grass stains in very inexplicable places while Grace's braid was now more of a tangle of hair. He turned his head toward her and winked, mouthing, "It won't be you. Don't worry."

The Capitol representative, old Jewel Hanover, called out "Ladies first!" before sticking her hand into the large fishbowl looking container. She called out a name Haymitch didn't recognize, and he was saddened to see she was just a 12 year old. Bracing himself for the men's selection, he was shocked when Jewel revealed the special rule to this year's Quell: "And the second female tribute will be Maysilee Donner!"

Haymitch felt his face drain of color. Maysilee was Grace's best friend, along with Allison Golding. They'd met because Allison had asked Haymitch to set her up with George Everdeen, and in doing so, he and Grace quickly bonded with the two girls. He turned to see Grace crumple to the ground, sobbing, and wanted nothing more than to run over and comfort her, but couldn't, seeing as Jewel was just about to select the men to be competing. Bracing himself yet again, he watched a 14 year old boy he was fairly certain he recognized from school head up to the stage. But it was what came next that shook him to his core and made him truly realize what the Reaping meant-"And the second male tribute in this year's Quarter Quell is Haymitch Abernathy!"

Any remaining color in his face left, and he felt as if all oxygen had left the earth. He heard Grace's wail of desperation and with one thought in his mind, he threw a smile on his face and marched to the stage. He shook the hands of his fellow competitors, giving Maysilee's hand a gentle squeeze and he turned to catch Grace's eye. He kept the grin on his face and nodded at her just once.

Before he knew it, they were being taken into custody to say their goodbyes before being taken to the Capitol for the event that, in all likelihood, they wouldn't return from. First came in his mother and younger brother. His mother was uncharacteristically calm, while his brother, Thatcher was crying silently. Haymitch kept the smile on his face that he put on in the arena and pulled his brother to him.

"It's okay, Thatch. I'm the oldest one in there along with Lee. Maybe I have a shot," he said softly as his brother clung to him. He was maintaining eye contact with his mother, silently communicating to her that she had to keep his brother hopeful, even though they both knew Haymitch had as good a chance winning the Games as District 12 did overthrowing the Capitol.

His brother finally got himself together and stopped crying, and Haymitch reached out to his mom, holding her tightly, knowing it was probably the last time he'd do so. "I'm sorry I wasn't a better son. But I taught Thatch good, he'll make you proud," he whispered.

His mother pulled away and gave him a look that was an odd mixture of scorn, pain and haughtiness. "You were just fine as a son, Haymitch, and you've always made me proud. Don't you ever think otherwise, do you understand me?"

Haymitch nodded, his eyes beginning to prickle at the corners. It was at that moment that the Peacemakers came in to take his family out. "You've got one last visitor, Abernathy. Then I'm afraid it's time to go."

Grace entered the room, her face empty of any of the joy that was present only hours before. Tears were pouring ceaselessly from her eyes and she rushed to Haymitch, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I don't know what to say, Mitch," she murmured into his neck. "I want you to come home to me, but I can't bear the thought of you killing Lee either."

Haymitch gripped her as tightly as he could, and replied quietly. "I know, Gracie. I know. I'm not going to promise you I'll win, because I don't intend to kill anyone. I don't want to. S'pecially not Lee. But I promise you, no matter what happens, I love you. No matter how this ends, I love you and if I die, I'll die loving you."

He pulled away from her and pressed his lips to hers softly just as the door opened once more.

"I'm sorry, but that's all the time we can give you. Mr. Abernathy, if you'll just go down the hall to the left, they're waiting to escort you to the train."

Haymitch squeezed Grace one last time and started down the left hallway as she went down the right. At the last possible second, he turned around, whistled for her attention and made a signal with his hand. He placed the three middle fingers of his right hand to his mouth and lifted them toward her. She mirrored the movement, and they both turned to leave.

It was an old gesture in District 12 that originated in the Dark Days and was hardly used anymore, but still taught. He and Grace both knew its significance and its meaning. It meant thanks. It meant admiration.

It meant goodbye.