I read Catching Fire a few months ago again after a long time and I was really intrigued by the relationship Haymitch and Mrs. Everdeen had - like they knew more than the book was telling. So I decided to expand on this feeling I had like there was a previous uprising among the districts (or at least 12) that centered around Haymitch and had something to do with Mrs. Everdeen. Basically this is the story of the Hunger Games the younger years. Enjoy!

Disclaimer:

Chapter 1: Brothers

"Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day! - Effie Trinket, The Hunger Games

Haymitch Abernathy wasn't sure whether to clock Jonah over the head for being such an incompetent fool or dump a bucket of ice cold water on him because of how drunk the young man was. Both seemed reasonable, plausible ideas, so he didn't know which to pick. He crossed out the water when he realized that Jonah was more hungover than drunk. However, Haymitch also came to realize that Jonah's head was probably hurting more than any punch he could administer. With both of his initial responses omitted Haymitch decided that yelling at him would be a suitable alternative.

"I thought that you said your sister was only on an overnight trip!" he roared at the somewhat still sleepy man, who was nursing his head in his hands.

"Mitch, calm down, it's only, like, four in the morning, and I sure as hell ain't awake yet," Jonah hissed, rubbing his eyes, in which sleep was still evident.

"Sorry for the inconvenience," Haymitch retorted. He opened his mouth to keep going when Jonah interrupted, seeming to sense he would be in for a very long, loud, and angry lecture about his responsibilities as an older brother and Haymitch's friend.

"Look, you know how Bekah gets. She'll say she's only gonna be gone a few days and doesn't come back around till the next month. You can't blame this one on me."

Haymitch snapped at the comment. "Yeah, well, do you even know where she was going?"

Jonah scratched his head as though his fingers could dig up the answer. No such luck.

After a few minutes with no audible response from the young man Haymitch started talking again. "Of course you have no idea," he muttered to himself, sitting down on the only chair to occupy the room and assumed a rather dejected state as he ran his hands through his wavy, dark blonde - almost brown - hair.

"Relax, Mitch," Jonah mumbled, swinging his legs over to the side of the bed he had only minutes before been sleeping in and giving the small, dilapidated, and creaky back bedroom a once over before looking into the face of his oldest friend, Haymitch Abernathy. "She'll come back. She always does. And you and I both know no one could have stopped her from leaving, so that mean's no one can keep her from coming back."

Jonah looked up at his friend who was slightly younger than himself as he spoke. Haymitch was just about to turn eighteen where as Jonah was pressing closer and closer to nineteen. Yet, even though Haymitch was still a youth, right then he looked years older.

The older boy frowned at the deep worry lines criss-crossing the lightly tanned face and the sadness in those trademark seam eyes. Jonah rubbed his eyes again. "I'd like to seem 'em try anyways."

Haymitch snorted at his friend's bluntness. It was probably true, though, that Rebekah had just lost track of time as she so often did when she was "traveling." The girl had zero sense of time and would often believe that it was time for dinner before everyone else had even considered lunch.

"She'll be fine," Jonah repeated getting up and going to the front of the little shack he and his sister had called home since their birth. It was composed of exactly four rooms. Two bedrooms, one kitchen, and one living room. The entire place was in a state of disrepair, along with pretty much everything in it. An outhouse was leaning over to the side not more than a rock's throw from the place. There was no consistent running water or electricity (only a few hours in the evening if they were lucky) which constituted for the array of candles and matches all over the place.

Jonah walked, or rather stumbled, into the kitchen and proceeded to dunk his head into the large (and at this time full) sink. Haymitch leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, as he watched one of his oldest friends try to wake up. Apparently one time didn't do the trick as Jonah lifted his head gasping for air, then decidedly plunged it back into the icy water.

Haymitch just shook his head and went to see what he could scrounge up for breakfast.

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As Haymitch set weak coffee, bland bread, and some blackberries onto the table, Jonah finally emerged from his room where he had retreated after trying to wake himself up by dumping his head in freezing water.

Jonah was now dressed in a long-sleeved cotton shirt, pants made of what Haymitch though was denim, and a dark brown, leather jacket. For the most part he looked awake and alert. The only thing that hinted Jonah had been asleep not fifteen minutes before was the tousled, jet-black hair that was wet and shining along with sticking up every which way.

Haymitch narrowed his eyes and frowned trying to make sense of something he had heard on his way over here as he studied Jonah. A pair of miners had been talking before they had to go to the mines, and he had heard them mention his name.

"Isn't that Ms. Abernathy's boy?" one had asked, nodding in my direction.

"Yep," replied another one, "'spect he's going to visit his brother."

"Brother?" the first asked. "I thought his little brother lived at home with him and Ms. Abernathy?"

"I'm not talking about his little brother but his older one."

"I didn't think she had more 'n two."

"Ah, well, I dunno if they're blood, but they sure as hell act like it."

Brothers. Haymitch mulled over this idea in his head as he surveyed Jonah. In a way, they were, but you would have had to see them together to make that judgement. Looking-wise they couldn't be more different. They were both about six foot but the similarities stopped right their. Haymitch, however strange it was being from the seam, was a dark blonde, Jonah had raven black hair. Haymitch had seam gray eyes. Jonah's were a washed out green. He had olive skin where as Jonah was almost pale. Their faces were relatively different along with their builds. Jonah's a wiry with only slight muscle while Haymitch was more a just muscle. The funny thing was Haymitch was probably more fearful of what Jonah could do to him rather than the other way around.

"Oy," Jonah said loudly. "You in there, Mitch?"

"Yeah," he muttered gruffly, as he took a seat at the rickety wooden table that looked like a knife had bee taken to it multiple times. Then, realizing whose house he was in though it was very likely a knife had been carving up the kitchen table rather than the food.

"Then please share what it was you were so deeply contemplating," Jonah demanded jokingly, taking a seat across from his old friend.

Haymitch just shook his head and dug into the measly breakfast. "Just something I overheard on my way here."

"What?" Jonah asked, his interest piqued. "Wait," he said, holding up his hand, "if it was about the reaping I don't want to know."

Haymitch grimaced, knowing Jonah's annoyance with anything Hunger Games related or come to think of it . . . anything to do with the Capitol.

"It wasn't anything to do with that," he assured his friend.

"Then what?"

"A couple of miners were up earlier than normal and saw me. I started eavesdropping when I heard my name. Apparently one of thought we were brothers." Haymitch shrugged. Jonah, however, laughed.

"Was it the blind guy?" he asked.

"No. Ol' man Fuller doesn't work in the mines, Jonah. He's blind."

"Oh yeah, forgot."

Haymitch just shook his head.

"Who then? Cause anyone with eyes can see that there's no familial similarities in our looks."

"Dunno," he responded, taking a sip of the weak coffee.

"Well, I guess it doesn't really matter," Jonah conceded, popping the last few blackberries into his mouth and tossing his cup into the now drained sink. He stood, and continued to walk to the front door and grab a game bag off the hook that sat next to it.

With a flick of his wrist the door flew open, hit the outside of the shamble of a home and went on to rip from its hinges and fall off the frame with an obnoxiously loud noise. I jumped back at the sound, but Jonah didn't even flinch. He simply looked at the frame then door and finally back to Haymitch.

"You know I guess it does kinda matter since your practically in love with my - oh, sorry, our - sister," he snickered.

Haymitch threw his last berry at Jonah's head but merely grazed the top of his hair as Jonah ducked.

The dark-haired boy kept chuckling to himself as he went to retrieve the front door to his and his sister's house. Haymitch grudgingly followed.

The blonde stared as Jonah hefted the wooden, slightly dry-rotted front door and attempted to reattach it to its hinges.

"That'll do," Jonah commented as he as Haymitch stood next to him, both eyeing the propped up door that was wedged into its former place.

It was Haymitch's turn to snicker.

"What?" Jonah asked, a slight irritation reverberating in his tone.

Haymitch shook his head. "Just be glad you don't have anything worth stealing," he told his friend as the door came crashing down again.