Chapter Two

The six months after his win was pretty uneventful, and he liked it that way. He was willing to try to move on with his life and forget about the games, and he might have succeeded if not for the Victory Tour. The day he dreaded had finally come, when he was forced to relive all the things that happened in the games, meet the families of his victims, and go back to the Capitol where it all started.

He woke up that morning with the smell of pumpkin pie on his bedside table and a note from his younger sister that said, "Enjoy the tour! Love, Indica ". He chuckled at her obliviousness but also knew that he couldn't blame her. He would not in a million years let her know how excruciating it was to be a victor. She was too happy and contented with their new life for him to bother her with his inner demons. He just hoped that it would stay that way because, for the next four years, her name would still be in the reaping.

After a quick warm shower, he climbed down the stairs and found his sister in the kitchen experimenting with a new recipe. They could now afford to buy fresh meat and other ingredients, the food she cooked was worthy of the Capitol. He knew he was going to miss her cooking during the tour. "I thought the train leaves at six?" exclaimed his sister, clearly surprised that he got out of his room so early.

"Yeah! But I want to bond with my little sister before I go, and make up for ignoring her these past few months," teased Haymitch. Indica smiled widely at the first declaration of his affection ever since he came back from the games.

"Did someone wake up on the right side of the bed?" She turned her back on him and continued to stir the soup she was making.

"No, your pie was to blame," said Haymitch with a hint of suppressed laughter in his voice. His sister ignored his statement.

"As for bonding, the only bonding activity I could do with you right now is here in the kitchen. Taste everything I'll cook and you'll be forgiven." She poured some soup in a bowl and handed it to Haymitch.

"Just the bonding activity I was looking for," he said, patting his stomach. He took the spoon from her and indulged in the soup she had prepared.

By three o' clock, his prep team arrived. Indica invited them in and offered them few snacks she had cooked up. Haymitch was grateful for that; he needed some time alone before he became a Capitol tool again.

By the time Haymitch was leaving for the train, his father had returned from the coal mine and his mother from the dress shop where she worked. They had never left their work in spite of all the money he got. He never asked them to. If he had the choice, he would much rather have worked in the mine himself, rather than be a coach for the Games. He thought that the luxury they had now was not something to be thoroughly enjoyed. The same cannot be said for Indica; there was a silent agreement between Haymitch and his parents to give her all the best she can have.

There were no goodbyes with his parents. They didn't need them; they understood him well enough. He hugged his sister just to reassure her that everything was fine.

Once he boarded the train, he met up with Greta. She was in charge of the tour and read him his schedule. He half listened to it and busied himself looking at the bar. The amount of alcohol neatly stacked in there was just so inviting. It is color coded, with different labels on it. Though he wouldn't be of legal age to drink until a few weeks after the victory tour, he wondered about the effect of alcohol in someone's body. He had always been curious about why a lot of people seemed really cheerful drinking it, despite of its bad smell. He missed being cheerful. He had never managed to laugh ever since his victory except that morning with his sister. He wanted to feel happy again.

He heard Greta snort something incomprehensible. Finally, she gave up and just reminded him to join in the dinner in about an hour.

He walked into his room, the same room he occupied when he was taken to the Capitol for the games. The familiarity relaxed him a bit. He picked out a shirt from his closet, laid it out on his bed and decided to take a quick shower, hoping that every tension and worry would be washed away with all the complicated shower buttons that could also devastate him.