Chapter One

The beautiful sound of the same song sung by a little bird started the day in District Twelve. From some of the houses you could already hear the noise of people awaking and beginning to rush things in, before going out to work. By 6 a.m. from almost every house you could hear men showering while their wives were preparing them breakfast.

Someone from the outside would admire such synchronization, not only between husband and wife, but also all those men of the District; someone from the Village of the Victors, like Haymitch Abernathy, would call it robotic, mindless, thoughtless.

But someone like Haymitch Abernathy would be lonely, full of nightmares of people belonging to the past, not to the beautiful and hopeful future.

Differently than the barbaric, drunk victor, people were building their future, the life they could have as the time would pass by and actually, after almost three years from the end of the war they were having some success. They all had already made progress in rebuilding houses and, most important of all, the only hospital in District Twelve.

Apparently, Haymitch didn't care about them all; he only thought of his own life which basically, in the moment, was alcohol, to drown the ghosts of the past in the night, and geese, to occupy himself with something during the day. And, in Katniss' opinion, those geese were diabolic, rude and noisy, but it looked like the old drunkard cared about them. He didn't mind being the rude, dirty, old rebel of the village. He was not like Peeta or Katniss that, after they got along, they married and lightly, slowly hided the scars of the past, truly believing that the future would bring the best; he didn't believe in a future nor he wanted a woman to run around his house to tell him what to do and what not to do. He wanted his peaceful, drunk life which would and should not be disturbed. Or at least he thought so.

Unfortunately, for his sake, someone else didn't.

The rhythmic knocking on his door woke him up from his new nightmare. He sat on the edge of the bed, but he realized soon it wasn't the best idea, as his hangover made him fall on the sheets again. But the knocking didn't stop and he understood that the only way to make it stop, was to stand up and see who it was.

"I'm coming..." he muttered, trying to get on his feet, feeling the headache go through his mind and he was sure that, no matter who it was, he would punch the person standing in front of the door, still knocking as it was some kind of a machine, not a real, living person.

When he was already down, that his loud steps could be already heard outside of the door, the knocking became stronger, as if to rush him up. Haymitch was not used to it; Peeta and Katniss had the keys of his house if they needed him and for what he could remember, he hasn't had any other visitors since the war was over. He shook his head, regretting it the exact moment he did it, and he stood in front of the door. He took a sharp and loud breath, before he finally opened the door.

"Finally!" exclaimed a familiar voice, but looking at the person standing in front of him, he could not recognize her. It was a beautiful, breathtaking woman with blonde hair and blue, icy eyes. She stared at him raising an eyebrow, as she couldn't understand why would he look at her in such a shocked way. He noticed there was something familiar in her, something in the way she put her hands on her hips, the way she curled her lips and she raised her eyebrows . She looked way too familiar, but he couldn't relocate such woman in his memory. "Are you going to look at me as you wanted to eat me or you're going to let me in?" she asked, her voice so high, at least six times higher than any woman from District Twelve and Haymitch thought she might be from the Capitol; yet he couldn't remember any Capitol friend, outside of Plutarch, Fulvia and... Effie Trinket! "Sure, you never were the kind of a man that would let any person come in – ", she started babbling and he realized now he knew that woman.

"Trinket?!" he shouted, shocked. He has known that woman for years, he has worked as a mentor with her on his side as an escort for almost ten years, yet he didn't recognize her. Now, looking at her better and with some kind of other eyes, he realized that she really looked, somehow, like the escort he knew. She was different, sure, but she still had the same nose and the same eyes and Haymitch insulted himself in his mind for thinking of her as beautiful. He could not think of her as beautiful and if he had known from the very first moment he saw her it was really Effie Trinket, he would not have thought that.

"Oh, don't look at me as if you've seen a ghost!" rated him Effie, lightly smirking, when she noticed he was embarrassed. She could swear that he was and she noted in her mind to keep that moment in her memory. "Now, will you let me come in, or I am supposed to stay here, in the cold, because you haven't enough manners to invite me in?"

He shook his head, his right hand on the door, his fingers tapping on the wood, but no word did come out of his lips: no inviting, no telling her not to come in, either. She raised her eyebrows waiting for an answer and for the second time in that ten-fifteen minutes, he noticed how much she still looked like the old Effie, even if she didn't wear those weird wigs, that amount of make-up as she did before.

"So?" she asked, irritated. She was willing for an answer, but he looked like he didn't want to give her one, only to freak her out; someone from the outside would also admit that if that was his intention, he was doing a very good job.

"Let me tell you one thing, sweetheart. I didn't tell you to knock on my door and wait for me to let you come in in the first place, so what makes you so sure I will ever let you come in?" he grinned, feeling her gaze on him, but he averted it, knowing well that he hasn't crossed the line yet and she wasn't even that angry. So he continued, "I don't know if you have noticed, but it's been already... How many years has it been since the end of the war?"

"Almost three, Haymitch", she gritted, her voice at least four times less high than usual.

"That's right! Three years... So, as you said, it's been almost three years since the end of the war- " he looked at her for a while, controlling if she was listening to him and if she was angry and when he noticed she was, he continued, "So it's also been at least three years since the last time we've talked and if I am not wrong, you weren't really willing to talk to me; after all, I saved you from prison, but you thought I was the reason you were the- ". It was rapid, the slap he got on his face and he could still feel on his cheek hurt, even after the palm of her little hand was already again on her hips.

"Enough! Before you ask the right question, I tell you: I'm here because Plutarch sent me, but as I can see, it would have been better if he sent me to another house. I'm not useful here, not if I'll have to deal with you for at least one month!" she yelled, her hands closing in fists, still laid on her hips, her eyebrows wrinkling dangerously. She looked very dangerous in the moment and Haymitch knew he has overstepped the line. He has freaked her out in about twenty minutes and he wasn't quite sure what to do. He had not really meant to insult her; he just wanted to point her out that after all that time of not talking, after years of working aside arguing all the time, she was not welcome in his house and he would not let her come in. At least not before he would know what would bring her there in the first place. "Now, may I come in? I'm not happy as much as you are for having to stay here for at least one month, so do not think I want to be here. Just let me in, let me tell you what Plutarch told me to tell you, let me do my job here and then I'll just leave and you'll be back in your normal, drunk life. I stay here for a month without disturbing you and then I go back to the Capitol, and you'll pretend I've never been here. Do we have a deal?" she asked, biting her lower lip, angry but less than a minute earlier.

"Alright, deal." Haymitch grinned, making a step on the right, letting her come in. "Just one thing: I don't have coffee here, nor I have nothing to eat, so you'll probably have to- ".

She stopped him, walking past him and showing him the bags to carry, "I know the way you live here. I've been here once each year to deal with you for at least two weeks, there's no need to tell me stuff like that."

"I see, sweetheart, you hadn't changed a bit from the last time we've... truly spoken", he noticed and it didn't pass unnoticed by him the way she looked at him, the way she curled her lips and bit her inner cheek. He looked at her, waiting for an answer, but she averted his gaze, trying to concentrate on the document she was holding.

"The last time we've truly spoken was the day when you decided to go to District Thirteen leaving me to my own path. Yeah, well, I was really, really, the same way I am now." she said calmly, but very dangerously.

"Well, aren't you, princess?" demanded Haymitch, playfully. She crossed her arms, up to say something as sarcastic as his comment, but he stopped her, raising a hand. "I'm just kidding around, sweetheart. You look different, but from the way you act you are the same. The only thing that has changed is your look. You look better without all that make-up and those stupid-" he gestured with his hand around his head, "-wigs. But I guess you still have those funny schedules and you're still wearing those killer heels with which you could stab someone..."

"You're wrong. I have changed a lot and still, even if I haven't, it's not your place to say that. You're no psychiatrist." She noted, turning around to show him her bags, "Take them to the guest room, please, and... Do you still have your kind of office?". He nodded, muttering to himself about her being always the same and taking her bags. "Great then! After you're done, we can talk about what Plutarch told me. We don't want to waste time, now do we?" she moved forward the stairs and then she turned to him as if she remembered something, "Oh, and I noticed your geese. I see there is something you care about... Your days weren't enough busy that you needed them, huh?". The moment her words were spoken and she turned to the stairs again, going up, Haymitch realized that she really was not the same. Effie Trinket has changed and it was quite a surprise to the old man.

"She's been here only half an hour, bossing around and I already am tired of her", he muttered, taking one of her bags and going up the stairs to reach the guests room.

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After he was already done with taking her bags to the guests room and she was done with her own stuff, they sat in the sitting room, waiting for each one of them to start a conversation. Haymitch was not good in small talks and Effie was not really up to one, so they both sat quiet, awaiting.

Outside the weather has become quite wet, as they heard the rain clapping on the windows. Haymitch knew it meant Autumn was coming and with it the cold and people who worked down at the Seam would have to work in the rain. He didn't care much; he had enough money to live the way he did, so he did not need to work. He could hear his geese complaining about the weather because, no matter if they had their pen or not, they still felt the cold and the wetness.

He tapped his fingers on his thigh, thoughtful. He stood up, ignoring Effie and he went to the kitchen to take himself a bottle of whiskey; he didn't care to ask Effie if she wanted some wine, it was not in his normal attitude to do so and he decided to follow his normal one. Once he took the bottle, he untapped it and took a long, noisy and loud sip, turning to the sitting room, still with the bottle of whiskey in his hand.

The one to break the silence was Effie, who decided to speak once Haymitch returned to his sit and he comfortably threw himself on it, not paying much attention on how to do it properly.

"I mentioned you earlier that Plutarch sent me here and it's now, probably, my place to tell you what for", she started, her arms crossed under her breasts, her breath irregular, her eyes on her thighs and her eyebrows wrinkled, preoccupied. "So... I'm here, because", she unwillingly bit her lower lip and before she could add anything else, she just showed him the document she's been holding earlier. "Just read it!"

"Can't you just tell me, throw it off and then let me check on the geese and drink on my own?" he asked, not really willing to read all those papers.

"I can" she murmured, averting his gaze. She let out a breath and she reached out for his whiskey. Haymitch raised an eyebrow, but he handed her the bottle, which she took and after a while of staring at the liquid horrified, she sipped it and then shook her head and handed him the bottle again. "Alright!", she said, more certainly. "Ugh, than was terrible, Haymitch", she admitted tasting the taste of whiskey on her tongue again, "But surely strong!".

"Are we going to reach the point or?" noted Haymitch growing increasingly bored since the only thing he was willing to do in the moment was sit on the couch and drink until he would lose his senses.

"Sure we are!" she agreed, glaring at him disappointed. "The point is that Plutarch sent me here to do my usual job, which is a paper work. I checked out already all of the other eleven districts. Each month one district and now I've come to the... Well, not exactly last one. This is the last district I will check, but you don't care about what else I will check so.. Anyway. It's easy: I stay here for a month, I interview every single habitant here, I check if there isn't any trouble around and after a month of being here, I send a report to Plutarch and, in this case, I go straight back to the Capitol", she said. It really was as easy as it sounded, but Haymitch understood perfectly why was she worried and embarrassed to tell him. She was a reporter, and also a paper worker. Effie Trinket, the escort he has known for years, surprised him, becoming such a person. He knew perfectly what were her worries about: she didn't know how people would react at such things.

"And I assume you want to start today", he said, taking a long sip from his bottle of whiskey that was already half empty. She nodded, no word spoken. "Good, is there something I need to know, or I'm allowed to go to drink alone?"

"Actually, there is. As long as I don't disturb you with your drinks, you don't disturb me with my paper work, alright?" he nodded, grinning. "And... well, nothing else, I guess. I better go to see Peeta and Katniss now."

"Peeta and Katniss?" he asked, surprised. Haymitch didn't expect her to go and see them too, but thinking about it, he realized it was the right idea and he was quite sure she didn't want to do it only to interview them.

"Yes. The kids. Not only to interview them, I just want to visit them a bit, it's been so long since the last time I've talked to them in person", she explained, tapping her left index on her left thigh.

"Alright", he muttered. He showed her the stairs and she stood up, giving him a disappointed glare. "Go, take something to write on, probably and just go. I don't want you in my house during the whole day!"

"As you wish", she gritted, moving forward the stairs. She wasn't willing to argue nor to continue their conversation, so she decided to keep her mouth quiet and Haymitch accepted it with a mocking smile. He raised his hand, the one holding the bottle and sneered when she coughed and left him alone in the sitting room.

"Annoying woman" he said to himself, sipping for the last time from the bottle. He realized it was the last sip, only when he tried to sip again and he found, disappointed, nothing in the bottle anymore. He stood up again and he went to the kitchen taking four or five bottles of liquor. That was what he usually did. When he came to the sitting room, he realized he still didn't feed the geese and he shook his head frustrated.

Haymitch was not the kind of man that liked to do any kind of things, but he promised the kids he would do at least one thing in his boring life, that he would care at least about one thing, so he decided to buy those geese.

He told Peeta and Katniss he would take care of two geese, and they looked at him, laughing surprised. "Haymitch Abernathy, when I told you to take care of something, I meant you would go into gardening or even start a job; you surprised me, I must admit!", said Peeta and Haymitch feeling offended left their house, back to his and he drank until he lost consciousness. The next day he was woken up with someone knocking at his door and when he went down, he found two geese in front of his door. This way started his feeding geese that in time became twenty, instead of two, as he once said: "They could be four in one day and the next day already eight and I would not be surprised."

In time he admitted he liked feeding them because he could do something during the day, instead of only drinking; sometimes happened, of course, that he decided to drink and he almost forgot to feed them, but he quickly found out that if he didn't feed them, they still lived.

Today was the exact day in which he didn't really want to feed them, but since he didn't do it the day before either, he thought it would be a shame if one them died because of hunger; and to be totally honest something like that happened in those three years.

When he was already in the pen, Haymitch noticed there was no food to feed the with, so he came back towards his house and he almost clashed with Effie that was just going out of the house.

"Watch where you step, sweetheart", said mockingly Haymitch, grinning. The woman looked at him disappointingly rolling her eyes, her hands on her hips, while her notebook fell to the ground.

"Maybe you- oh, get over it! I was willing to go to see Peeta and Katniss properly and I don't want to argue, so can we just go on our roads, instead of this?" she asked, irritated. He shrugged and nodded, going past her to go into the house. She took her notebook from the ground and moved towards the kids' house.

Haymitch closed the door after him, he went to the kitchen and he looked for some vegetables in the fridge. After years of feeding geese, he knew perfectly what was their favorite food and when he found the lettuce, he took it and he went back to the pen to feed them.

It didn't take him a long time to finish all the feeding, and when he was already done, he went straight to his house, to the sitting room. He sat comfortably on the couch and he started drinking.

It was a good feeling for him, the alcohol burning down his throat, the warm feeling of liquor in his body and he closed the eyes to enjoy the feeling better. He was a drunkard and he liked liquor, even if he knew that whiskey was stronger.

But Haymitch didn't drink only for fun or for the burning feeling of the alcohol in his body; he drank because he needed to swallow and drown the ghosts of his past. He knew that when he would lose his senses, he would not dream, so he would not have nightmares either. Speaking of which, his nightmares were always different, but still similar. In them he always found himself back in the Arena, but instead of the Tributes, there was his family, killed by him.

After years of being a drunk, he knew, also, that drinking would not wipe his pain away. Drinking helped him to forget it for a while, to burn it, but the day after drinking, he would wake up and feel it again. He would drink again; that's what he did during his years of mentoring tributes until Peeta and Katniss came. Now it consisted still in drinking, yes, but only after feeding geese. He didn't mind this life and he found it even amusing. It was an unusual way of living and if he told his twenty-old-self that besides drinking he would also feed geese, he would laugh and not believe until it would actually happen.

Haymitch was not stupid either: he knew that drinking too much would kill him; of course that was his dream when he was younger, but after the end of the war, even if he didn't take full advantage of the end of it, he didn't want to die. He wanted to live, with his nightmares and geese. Stupid idea of life, but truth be told, Haymitch believed, deep down, the kids loved him and he didn't want to leave them alone. But he would never admit that, of course. He was a proud man and stubborn and drinking made him forget even that.

So he drank. He took one sip, then another and another one again; he drank even after his sight became blurred; he drank until he lost his senses and his last thought, even if he didn't realize it was: A month...

Hey everyone!
This is my first story about Hayffie and just the second one in English, so I hope I didn't mess up anything.
I wanted to explain a few things, before I leave you here, so please, pay a bit of attention at what I say: In the FF you will find lesbian sex, violence-mention, rape-kind stuff and death threatens. That's all!
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and you found the characters at least a bit IC! Love y'all, reviews are love!
Agni x