AN: Finally! The time has come to share our contributions to last fall's MoreS2SL.
I want to thank everyone who contributed in some way to this wonderful cause. We have an amazing collection this year. So, make sure to head out to mores2sl (on Tumblr) to find all the entries.
You won't regret it, I promise.
Now, this was supposed to be a shorter fic. But, as I kept writing, I realized there was a lot more to the story. So, I decided to break it into two parts.
Each part is divided into short chapters, which I'll be posting once a week.
For those of you who read this story on MS2SL, thank you for your support and for your patience. I'm sorry to keep you waiting for P2 a little bit longer. I promise to update regularly.
For those of you who are familiar with the "Americans" universe, part 1 is more like an introduction. It has more from THG than it does from TA. Part 2 is the actual spying part, with Katniss and Peeta living in the Capitol.
Alright! Enough about me. Hope you enjoy.
PART 1. Young Rebels.
Chapter 1. The Girl.
Haymitch Abernathy winced. Ripper's white liquor was stronger than usual, the new batch felt like liquid fire burning a path down his throat. He liked it.
It was an ordinary Sunday morning. The Hob was bustling with activity. Vendors and traders exchanged their wares between laughter and jokes. Small children tagged along with their parents and swapped pieces of string, lengths of ribbon or pale marbles. Haymitch could hear them haggling as they followed their parents' example and tried to get the best end of each deal.
One voice, musical and sharp, traveled over the ruckus. "She's still small, but mark my words, one of these days my little girl's gonna give you a run for your money," the man said with a loud chuckle.
Curiosity struck. Haymitch stretched his neck and turned towards the voice. The victor's eyes landed on Dashiell Everdeen, he smiled. The miner was always bragging about his girls.
First, he had talked about his wife, Lillian, who had fallen so hard for his charms she had forgone a life of comfort and security as the town's apothecary to go live in a small sooty house in the Seam. Then, when his first child was born, the man had driven everyone crazy talking about her perfect little fingers and her ability to show her displeasure by scowling. The newest addition to the family, a tiny blond infant he walked to school every morning, was always on the tip of his tongue. Apparently, the youngest addition to his family had inherited her mother's skill as a healer along with her merchant blue eyes.
Haymitch craned his neck to get a better view of the prodigy who, according to her father, had the might to threaten another man's livelihood. She was small and thin, her dark brown hair was parted in two tight braids, and she smiled happily, beaming under her father's praise.
The victor shook his head as he chuckled to himself. The girl didn't look any different to any other 10-year-old from the Seam. She'd certainly have to be a prodigy with the bow and arrow if she was going to take over her father's hunting business one day.
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Winter began, bringing short cold days and long nights of nothing to do but sit in the dark and think about the past. Even with Ripper's liquor flowing through his veins, the old victor couldn't escape his ghosts. They followed him wherever he went. They hid inside cupboards and under the bed, jumping up at him when he least expected it.
His companion that particular morning was Mayselee, the blond girl who had died in his arms because he hadn't been quick enough to stop a vicious mutt from skewering her.
The memory of her laughter as she'd taught him how to use the weapon she'd assembled to protect herself had him running out into the cold winter chill.
Warm tears fell down his cheeks as he gasped for air.
I can't do this anymore, he thought, I can't spend another year going through the motions, allowing death and destruction to rule. I can't keep ignoring their voices, they deserve to rest. I owe them that much.
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Spring was shy that year, and the long, harsh winter overstayed its welcome.
The district was in mourning. An explosion at the mine had killed hundreds of men, and their families were still trying to recover from their loss.
Haymitch was on his way back to Victors' Village. He had taken the long route, walking alongside the electrified fence to escape the Peacekeepers' prying eyes. Spring was in the air, and he smiled as he thought about the two bottles of Ripper's finest liquor he held in each hand.
Suddenly, he heard a rustling noise.
He stopped, frozen on his spot, and waited for the sound to come again. Almost a minute went by before he heard it, a telltale crunching of dry leaves followed by a childish curse word which made him smile.
Slowly, Haymitch turned on his heels. His eyes widened when they landed on the foul-mouthed noise-maker.
The girl was small and thin, her dark brown hair had been woven into a messy braid which hung limply over her shoulder. Her olive skin was pale and dry. Dark bruise-like circles sat bellow her eyes.
She looked sad and lonely, just another Seam child who had been left behind.
The light coat of dirt which covered her clothes peaked Haymitch's curiosity, so he took a moment to consider the evidence in front of him.
The old victor shook his head, unwilling to accept what his gut told him to be true.
Very few grown-ups ventured out into the woods. It took a special kind of courage to sneak under the barbed wire fence and risk the dangers of the unknown. Even the toughest of men forbade their children from going out into the wilderness on their own.
So, who was this girl who had the courage to sneak, unsupervised, under the fence?
The menacing scowl she was currently wearing was her calling card.
"You're Dash Everdeen's kid, right?" the victor asked.
The girl's eyes hardened with the pain of grief and she nodded.
"Sorry about your Pa," he said.
The girl lowered her eyes, the mention of her father making her features soften.
Haymitch watched her shoulders slump as a deep sadness settled over them.
She was just a girl, small and fatherless. And, if the rumors were true, she'd soon be motherless too.
When was the last time this girl had a meal? Haymitch wondered. Even by Seam standards, she was in bad shape.
"What have you got there?" he asked, directing his eyes toward the satchel she carried across her shoulders.
"It's just a squirrel," the girl murmured as she clutched the bag's strap protectively between her bony fingers.
Haymitch nodded. "I'll tell you what," he said, "next time you catch something furry, bring it over to me. I'm in the third house in Victors' Village. I'll pay good coin for whatever you bring."
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AN: I want to thank the incredible Akai-Echo, for creating such a beautiful banner for this story.
Reviews are as sweet as Peeta's shy smile. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks!
You can also find me on tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!
The Hunger Games Trilogy is the property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.