Author's Note: Wow, it's been, like, a month since I last updated O_O

Sorry, guys, but I'm studying for finals and other projects that have been just killing me. But, here's a little short of a pair that I wished had more time in the books. I'm actually not sure if this counts as romance or not, but I'll categorize it romance just for kicks.

Enjoy!

"HAYMITCH!"

Her terrified screams washed over him as if she were still at his side. His head snapped up. She wasn't beside him, she far away. Too far. She screamed again. Before he knew it, before he even knew what was happening, he was running, sprinting, to her. He could make it. Her voice sounded as though she was only steps away, but he couldn't see her. And yet he could hear everything. The tearing of flesh, flapping of wings, sounds of struggle. He pushed his legs to move faster, faster, faster still. He could make it. She couldn't have been that distant from him. It had only been a few minutes before he heard the first yell. He could make it. He had to make it.

"MAYSILEE!" he roared into the trees.

He cursed the trees, the bushes, everything that was in his way. He abandoned his back pack; it was only dead weight to him at that moment. Knife in hand, he readied himself to join combat. Adrenalin pumped through his veins. Senses heightened, he could see the roots, bushes, rocks and pits that tried to catch his feet; he couldn't afford to trip now. Not when he was so close. But how far was so close? Obviously not close enough, obviously too far.

And then he saw her. The trees thinned and through them, he could see the scene lay out before him. Candy pink birds swarmed her, her blond hair caught in their talons. She used her blowgun to hit the birds as she would with a bat, but there were simply too many. Their talons and beaks slashed at her jacket, tearing at her exposed skin. She screamed for him again. Her voice brought a new surge of energy for his aching leg muscles. He continued to sprint, feeling his wound in his side open. Already, he could feel blood seep through his jacket. He didn't, wouldn't, relent in speed. But no matter how hard, how fast he ran, she didn't seem to be getting any closer. It was as if he were on a treadmill, sprinting in the same place. Her blowgun was broken in half now, the birds becoming less concerned on her limbs but on her vital points. He could hear her panting as if she were running next to him; she was running out of energy.

"MAYSILEE!"

Instinctively, she looked in his direction. In that instant, he knew he shouldn't have called out to her. A single fluffy, candy colored bird took advantage of her distraction. It was so quick that she didn't even get to scream one last time. There was a flurry of pink, and the birds departed, their job done, and her body fell onto the ground along with their droppings and feathers. Suddenly, he was no longer on a treadmill track. He was able to reach her side with only a few steps. Panting hard, wheezing, he kneeled at her side. The knife dropped onto the ground and he clutched his bleeding side. He trembled at the sight of the fatal damage in her neck. In the distance, he could hear the candy pink birds squawk in unison; mocking them.

"Maysilee…"

Her face was streaked with her blood and tears. He knew she couldn't speak; she was drowning in her own blood. Her hand, shaking also, groped around on the ground, searching, reaching out. Immediately, he grasped her hand. She squeezed it so tightly that his knuckles grinded together. He knew she must have been in such terrible pain and his eyes fought to keep off of her wound. There was no use in looking at it, like his stare would be able to heal her. Instead, he trained his cloudy gray to her bright blue. In those eyes, he realized there was no winning, even if he managed to become the victor. As she choked, blood trickled down from her mouth and he knew that there was no forgiveness in watching her die, watching her life drain from her eyes and turning into blue marbles of nothingness. He was angry. But he had no one to point his fury at. He couldn't even get revenge because what killed her wasn't a tribute, but an animal, a mutt, an entity of the Capitol. Pointless rage and sadness swelled in his chest.

But there was someone. Someone to take blame. Coming out to the edge of the arena had been his idea. If he didn't bring her out there, she would have been alive. She knew that he had caused this; her eyes gave it all away. He could hear her voice, even though she couldn't speak, couldn't move her lips, talking to him. It was only a sentence, but it physically hurt. It was only three words, but it hurt more than the wound in his side. He gasped and choked on his breath as if he too had a gaping hole in his neck. As her eyes looked beyond him, her head lolled to the side and her trembling subsided, the one sentence echoed through the trees, repeating itself, growing louder each time it was recurred over and over until his entire body shook with its vibration. He wanted to cover his ears, but her dead-man's-grip on his hand wouldn't allow it. His ears felt like they were bleeding, his head felt swollen and as if it were going to explode.

He doubled over; gasping and mouth open in scream that was left unheard in the thundering of the three words that rattled his eyeballs in its sockets.

"This was you."

Author's Note: So I really like Haymitch, so expect more stories about him XD Actually, I came up with this while writing another short about Haymitch and someone else, which may or may not be up soon.

But tell me what you think =3 Do you ship Haymitch and Maysilee? I totally do.

Again, I'm sorry for the delay! *bow*