Hello again, dears :D First, a big hug to you who reviewed! Allow me to answer you now so I don't have to PM you each. I'm lazy. Very, very lazy. 4darwin, kopycat101, fludernutter01, and GunRecon 11! Oh, and of course, Sasuka :D

kopycat101: I'm going to reveal that soon. For now, I can assure you it's not the kid of any character we know. And totally not Haymitch's daughter. But you'll see. Oh, and about Katniss: yes, yes she is. I've been dying to write pregnant Katniss! Poor Peeta's gotta put up with that xP

SasukaKira: School's been tought D: Luckily, I've got a whole week off after tomorrow. And I'm glad you read the HG series! I totally LOVED it, and like you, I finished it in a week xD We're quick. I was also disappointed that he didn't fall off the stage in the movie...but Haymitch was still hilarious! The audience loved him. BTW, I sent you an email MONTHS AGO, but you never answered!

fludernutter01: Yes, right away. I HAVE DONE WHAT YOU HAVE ASKED.

Okay, comments on the actual fic are on the bottom AN. Anyway, enjoy chap 2!

Of Whiskey and Ribbons

Chapter II

Katniss Makes Me Laugh

"Papa Haymitch?" There's the source of my confusion, with those big eyes staring into my very soul. Like a horror movie.

"You see the kid too, right?" I hide behind Katniss, staring wide-eyed at the dark skinned girl staring up at us. Katniss nods slightly. "So, I'm not hallucinating?"

"I don't think it's a figment of your imagination," Katniss mutters. We're frozen in place. The little girl's big green eyes are boring into mine, as if staring into my very soul. I don't like it. Don't like this one bit. Wonder what this kid is doing here.

"Um…lady? Why's your tummy so large?" an innocent question comes from her. She can't be older than five. No taller than three feet. No child of a District 12 resident.

Katniss dislikes the question and is immediately pissed. "Are you implying that I'm fat?" She says, inhaling deeply to control herself. The little girl frowns and looks down.

"Sorry, lady. I didn't mean to," she sniffles. I'm about to curse, because I know she'll start crying. I'm not good at comforting. Especially when it comes to kids. So, in comes Peeta to save the day.

"She's adorable!" Peeta says, suddenly appearing beside me. "Hey, doll," he squats down to make eye contact with the kid, though she's looking down. "You're not a hallucination, are you?" He pokes her lightly in the stomach and she giggles. This man, this annoying man, this ridiculously charming bastard has a way with words. "My name is Peeta. What's yours?"

The kid puts her hands behind her back and thinks. Seriously? Do all little kids need to think to remember their names? "Aretta," she says.

So now we know her name, which isn't exactly helpful. It just proves that I'm not crazy and the kid is real. That makes things worse. I feel like someone's hammering my brain from the inside.

"I need to lie down," I groan and rub my temples. I retreat to my room, surprised that nobody tried to keep me back there. I throw the covers over my head and grab the bottle of whiskey beside my nightstand. After it's empty, I fall asleep.

When I wake up, I can't remember if I had any dreams. All I know is that the little girl Aretta is staring right at me, sitting on my chest, her nose inches from mine. With that huge smile on her face, she freaks me out, and I start. I'm on the floor tangled in my sheets, hearing her giggles as she bounces on my bed. Then I'm angry. Furious.

Just as I reach for my knife to scare the kid, just scare her, really, a fork flies out of nowhere, passes right between my knife and my hand, and ends stuck right on the wall. My heart just skipped a beat.

"Haymitch, we need to talk." Katniss shouts from the doorway, baring a spoon, a butter knife, and another fork in her hand. She motions me outside.

"Alright, alright, sweetheart," I groan, trying to free myself of these blasted covers. It takes about five whole minutes, while the girl giggles at me, no less. This is not my day. I make it out to the living room, not caring about leaving the girl in a room that reeks of liquor. Well, to me, the smell is completely normal. I don't mind.

I sit with Katniss at the round lunch table. Peeta's in the kitchen wearing his apron cooking lunch for everyone. Said apron is light green with the picture of a strawberry cupcake among smaller ones, looking quite smug, and under it reads: 'Cupcakes may be sweet, but not all are tiny' Oh, the double-sense…

"Well, what do you want to tell me, sweetheart? Thought of how to get rid of the brat?" I ask. She frowns and shakes her head.

"This may be hard on you," she grabs my hands, "so you must be strong." I perk a brow, and she inhales deeply. "Haymitch," I should slap her for taking so long to answer one simple question. "Aretta is your daughter."

I burst out laughing. It's been some time since she's told me something funny. "That's a good one, sweetheart! I needed a laugh," I say. But Katniss isn't smiling.

"It's no joke. The girl, Aretta, is your daughter," she continues. "Apparently, you adopted her last night."

"Not funny," I growl. "Quit messing with me."

"Lunch is ready!" Peeta chirps from the kitchen. He brings us plates and silverware, a juice pouch for Katniss, and beer for me. He serves the food as Katniss glares at me. "It'll get cold. Eat," Peeta glowers at us, because he hates people wasting his food, and starts eating from the pot like no one's looking.

I eat whatever's on my plate, which isn't enough to replace the taste of liquor from my mouth. Katniss finishes quickly. Too quickly. She has skills. "Alright," she says after cleaning the table and sitting back down. "Consult it with the pillow. Darline will be home from school soon so Peeta and I are leaving. I'll be back tomorrow to check on your daughter."

"That joke is so ten minutes ago," I scoff. "Take the kid, will you?" I shout. Peeta's already outside and Katniss just rolls her eyes at me from the doorway.

"Goodbye, Haymitch," she slams the door, and my neighbors conclude their visit. I look at the clock. It's six. Hazelle was supposed to be here eight hours ago, but I really don't mind if she took the day off. Not like the house is too dirty. She works here every weekday.

The house is silent. Maybe those two really took the kid with them. Maybe my day will get better. I'm used to lone nights at home. Just me and a few bottles. Sometimes, though, I go out, to the store, to a friend's house, to the bar. The bar, I think. This morning, I woke up wearing my going-out attire. Shoes and everything. Did I go out to the bar last night? And just how much did I drink? I don't remember a thing, yet I've had way worse hangovers.

I spend a couple of hours trying to hit an old target on the wall with my knife. Peeta put it there years ago for me to practice in case I was chosen at the reaping for the Quarter Quell, but I've only managed to get a bull's-eye twice. I keep throwing and drinking until I hear tiny footsteps. My knife ends up stuck to the wall just two inches from the face of the little girl.

She holds back a scream. Becomes sweaty. I stare at her, disappointed. Katniss and Peeta really left me to deal with this; those selfish bastards. I'm completely tired of running from this insignificant child, of trying to avoid dealing with the problem. So I get up, retrieve my knife, and toss a napkin her way to wipe that sweat from her face.

"Okay, look," I start, sitting and putting my hands on my thighs. "I don't know who you are, or why you're here, but it's clear you don't plan on leaving," I say, and the girl nods. "So we'll do this: you will sleep here, eat my food, and use my water. And tomorrow, I'm finding explanations. Got it?" The girl seems to be trying hard to understand me, but that's normal. I simplify a little. "Go to bed. We'll talk tomorrow."

She nods. "Okay!"

"What was your name again? Agatha, Amy, something?" I'm sure it starts with an A.

"Aretta," she states slowly, pronouncing loud and clear with pride. Well, it's not as bad as I thought it was.

After that, I lead the little Aretta down the hallway to an empty bedroom that I would say is for guests, but nobody wants to stay over with me. Not like I care. The bedroom is still clean thanks to my housekeeper. It consists of a single bed, a wardrobe, closet, a tall lamp, a ceiling fan, pallid walls, and one round window.

I beat the dusty, green covers against the bed and replace the pillow case for a fresh one. "Okay, hop in," I say. But the little girl is too short, and despite all her stretching, she can't get on the bed. Then she looks at me, pouting, and extends her arms toward me, begging me to help her up. I sigh in exasperation and lift her up.

At her request, I'm tuck her in. She asks me for a glass of water, to turn on a nightlight so that the monsters will stay away, which is hilarious, and tells me to make sure the closet door is shut tight. Because apparently monsters hide there. However, I'm too tired and annoyed to assure her the only monster she has to worry about will be knocked out in a few minutes after a nice, cold beer.

I'm done. Everything is set for annoying little Aretta to fall asleep. I'm at the door, about to flip the light switch, when I catch her stare, and she makes the most ridiculous request so far.

Lame cliffhanger is lame.

Okay, so first off, remember this is post-Mockingjay, before the epilogue, so spoilers will be everywhere. However, in canon, 15 years passed before Katniss and Peeta had a kid. In my fic, I'm reducing that time, not because that'd make them old (32 is young), but because Haymitch would be WAY too old for this to work! In the series, he's 39 years old. After the epilogue, he's over 50, maybe 60! Nope. Couldn't work. So, the ages are different here! It took Peeta only 4 years to convince Katniss to have kids! Here, their daughter is five years old, and their son, well, ._. So, Haymitch is now 48.

That's all I have to say, because I don't like my author's notes being too long. More info coming next time! Again, thank you for reviewing, I love you all, especially Sasuka! :D So, yeah. I will update chapter 3 after 3 more reviews...and after I write it. Yup. R&R!

ALL HAIL DA QUEEN!