Author's Note: So here's another chapter, yet another. I think there's going to be maybe 4 more or something. I think I'll write a few chapters before posting anymore, because I really have to pick up some loose threads before some of the inconsistency gets out of hand, haha.

Hope you like it!

H. You should destroy this letter thoroughly and immediately after reading it. My identity is not important to you as of this moment, but it will be clear in only a few days. I don't know which district this letter reaches you in, but I know you will have noticed the changes. They are here in the C. as well. Whispers have told me of your situation with E. and I have a proposal for you, considering this. We are planning to make this the last game. Sounds interesting? Meet up where it all started when the dinner is over.

This letter was given to him by a peacekeeper during the Victory Tour. Or at least someone dressed as a peacekeeper. He'd gone to the control room of the games after they'd finished dinner after the Victory Party. Plutarch had told him of the rebellion and mentioned a few names of the people he was thinking about inviting to this … exclusive club. Effie looked up at him after reading it. Her eyes flickering between him and for some reason the lamp. Perhaps she thought that was where the bug was situated. She sent him a look obviously questioning his motives. Haymitch nodded slightly to let her know his reply. She sighed, not content with that response. Their tense, silent conversation was broken by a loud swear from his hallway. A woman's voice.

"What's going on?" Effie mumbled and ran a hand through her hair, freezing halfway realizing she was wigless. It'd been a long day, Katniss trying on wedding dresses and for each dress, she'd felt more and more nauseous. It wasn't because Katniss didn't look beautiful in the dresses and hairstyles, the Capitol had voted for her. It was just the reminder that there was still somehow love in this stupid world and she was stuck in a limbo where she wasn't allowed to feel this herself.

"It's just Hazelle," Haymitch replied as the Seam woman came in. She was so unlike Effie in looks that both women stood still for a moment looking at each other.

"Sorry I dropped the mob – Oh … Hello Miss Trinket," she said her voice echoing the same accent that Haymitch spoke with, but with less kindness.

"Mrs Hawthorne," Effie said shortly with a voice that matched the coldest, harshest winters he'd ever experienced living here. Haymitch had mentioned having Gale's mother as a housekeeper, so he didn't understand the sudden change in the escort's mood. He would've understood if there was just some strange woman coming into his house.

"You better get rid of this trash, Haymitch," Effie said and gave him the letter back though Haymitch suspected she didn't talk about the piece of paper at all. It was undeniably a bit cute, but he also didn't want Effie to go for Hazelle's throat, no matter how nice it would feel to have that kind of recognition. He took her hand, as her blue eyes didn't leave Hazelle, who'd probably brushed off Effie's unpleasantness as a stereotypical Capitol trait, and started working on dinner.

"You didn't say she was pretty," Effie breathed the sentence out like he was never supposed to hear it. He looked at her with amusement while his hands left hers to rip up the letter.

"Doesn't take much compared to you, princess," he said and patted her cheek with the stack of pieces from the torn up paper, before he got up from his comfortable chair to throw them in the fire. Her felt her eyes burn through him as he walked closer to the woman intruding on her property. As an added bonus he decided to thank Hazelle for making them dinner as he watched the remains of the letter burning up. He heard Effie let out the biggest insulted sound he'd ever heard and her chair scrambled as she left the kitchen, heels clacking demonstratively loud as they made their way to the guest bedroom where she kept her things.

Haymitch smiled and left Hazelle to tend to the fire and start cleaning.

"Go away Haymitch," Effie said as soon as he stepped inside the bedroom. He couldn't help but laugh. He of course did not even consider doing what she asked him, instead he went up and wrapped his arms silently around her where she stood, her back turned to him looking out the window towards the Everdeen house, where the Capitol people still swarmed around packing up the final things.

"You go away, it's my house,"

"She is really pretty," Effie said reluctantly.

"Hazelle is keeping my house because she wouldn't take Katniss' money. She's Gale's mother,"

"Katniss' cousin?" Effie asked.

"He's not her real cousin," Haymitch said with a slight chuckle in his voice, "More like part time lover,"

"And Hazelle?"

"Hazelle's my housekeeper, Effie," She turned towards him after his reply. She nodded and suddenly blushed.

"I'm sorry, I'm such a bitch, I … I should go apologize to her,"

"Hazelle is tough, she can take it," Haymitch said and kissed her, leaving her without a chance to insist. He gently took her hands and pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck, inhaling her scent and tasting her skin. She answered his endearments by digging her nails into the back of his neck, while he allowed himself to release her from the green blouse she was wearing. Letting his hands slip under the open blouse he didn't let his lips leave her skin for a moment. He made half a pirouette with her, so she now stood with her back to the guest bed, which hadn't been used … ever. A slight push sent her out of his embrace and down onto the bed. She was quick to pull him along though and soon the bed could never be described as 'unused' again. It wasn't hard to notice the vast difference between the way too rough fucking when their relationship started to the passionate love making they could get away with now. It lasted longer too.

"Oh God, Haymitch!" she screamed and hit her tiny clenched fist into the bedframe. Her breathing almost stopped for a second and she tightened her every grip on him. He didn't last long after that.

"Shit, princess,"

"Hazelle's still downstairs isn't she?" Effie suddenly burst out between her heavy breathing. Her damp body lay beside him still allowing him to touch her wherever he wanted, but this comment made him stop everything. Poor Hazelle.

"For her sake, I hope she went away when you tried killing her with your eyes, nobody should have to listen to that," he laughed. No matter what, it felt good to not think about all the troubles and the oncoming rebellion. Not thinking about the games or the deaths it had caused.

"I did not-"

"Sshh… Let's get dressed," Haymitch said with a smirk, "If we're lucky you could look decent in only a couple of hours,"

"You broke two buttons of my blouse,"

"I guess you'll have to go naked then,"

"I'm not going to go into your kitchen naked, no matter how good of a job that woman does on your house keeping it would still be a health hazard, I'm not even sure if I should be naked around you," Effie snapped at him, but she didn't manage to keep the silly smile of her face to back up the pretend-seriousness she tried to put into her voice. That woman. Still a bit jealous. Haymitch snorted. What was a man to do to convince this frantic woman of her exclusive right to his heart?

"Yet here you are princess, so how's that plan working?" She punched him and got out of the bed looking for something to wear. He stayed put observing her. Maybe this rebellion could give him the chance to offer her safety. But it would be a long road and Effie was probably very opposed to the thought of a revolution. There was still a slight chance though and when in a situation like his, why not take it?

"But what if I draw your name," Effie asked frightened. She'd been delighted to see the nice photos from Katniss' shoots, but when the Quell was announced her smile had crumbled into nothing. They had of course known that Katniss and Peeta were somehow getting back into the arena. That had been Snow's plan all along. This made no sense. There was a fifty-fifty chance for Peeta or Haymitch to go back in. Katniss was a no-brainer.

"I don't know, Eff," Haymitch answered truthfully.

"I'm not going to do it," she said resolutely.

"You're not going to not do it, princess,"

"Haymitch, I don't know what I'm going to do if I draw your name," she said. His house was completely silent for a few moments save for the creaking of wood stretching to accommodate the stress put on it. He sometimes felt he was part of the house, settled into it only to be ripped out once a year to go to the Capitol. Never getting a chance to settle properly along the other wood.

"You're going to read it out loud and lead me to where the tributes say goodbye," Haymitch said with slight irony, "Then we go on the train and Peeta tells us to stay alive and you watch both Katniss and me die. Just like always,"

"You're a bastard,"

"Yeah," Haymitch said. Normally he would have said something back to her, but he shared her fear. Going back into the arena would mean that the tiny bit of hope, he'd allowed himself to feel last night would be gone before it had even found a place to grow. Going back in would mean he had to kill people again. He thought about it. There was a chance he could win, but if he did he would never be able to look at himself in the mirror again. There were already 47 deaths on his conscience, plus the added tributes who'd died in front of him and of course his family. Come to think of it, would another 23 crush him or just add to the bottomless pit of sorrow inside him. She seemed to be reading his thoughts.

"Could you win?" she said it so coldly she reminded him of himself. Right now she wasn't a woman crying for the eminent loss of her lover, but a woman planning a strategy for an almost impossible game. They're still as stupid. His opponents were not stupid this time, but some of them would be old. But so was he. He wasn't the snarky 16-year old anymore. The Careers would still be Careers and some of them were probably lusting to get back into a fight. The slight confidence from before left him.

"No, probably not princess," She nodded silently. Her face was turned towards the screen, but Haymitch was sure she was crying.

"It's for the better, even if you pull out Peeta's name I should volunteer," Haymitch started.

"No!" Effie almost yelled the word out in blinding anger, "You're not leaving me! I won't let you!"

"I'm old… Peeta should have the chance to live his life,"

"So should you. You just haven't started yours yet,"

Haymitch let out a sigh. The weakness Effie showed physically was always compensated by her stubbornness.

"You could win, Haymitch,"

He could barely breathe after the run Katniss and Peeta had forced him out on. He stood leaned against the back wall of his house, while Katniss darted past him and shot a target with her bow at the exactly right moment, without losing much momentum. No, he was definitely not ready for the Games, but then again last time it wasn't his lacking physical skills that had saved him, but his wits. Trouble was that it still wasn't a pack of stupid kids he would be facing this time. A loud crash sounded as Peeta had thrown a large rock at the same target, where Katniss' arrow had hit. He couldn't help but feel that the rock hit him.

"Haymitch can I talk to you?" Peeta asked as Katniss continued shooting for the targets. She didn't seem to notice anything around her and Haymitch couldn't help but admire her skill and dedication to the art.

"Now?" Haymitch asked. He owed Peeta a lot, for even though Katniss and him never came further than a mutual acceptance of what he thought of as an alliance, Peeta had helped him with a lot of things, both during the games and after. It was Peeta who'd wiped off his vomit when Effie was too mad to even care about him. It was Peeta who'd snuck in a bottle of whiskey to him on the Victory Tour and told him thanks. Sometimes Peeta was the only one who seemed to completely understand him.

The baker nodded and Haymitch followed him to the other side of the house to sit down on the edge of the patio.

"What's with our escort?" Peeta started.

"What?"

"Effie. She called our house last night, because she was worried she couldn't get a hold of you,"

"What, why?"

"She said she'd tried calling you several times, the phone went dead after about a minute,"

Haymitch let out a chuckle when he realized. The Capitol must have cut the connection, so she could get scared. So none of them could exchange soothing words to each other before the reaping tomorrow. Not that they did such things very often, as they both knew it wasn't going to end well. There was no use in lying about it. He shook his head though, to drown out any thoughts the boy might have.

"It's not like it isn't obvious Haymitch," Peeta assured him.

Haymitch ran his tongue over his teeth picking at a piece of carrot stuck there before he spoke:

"Effie and I are in a bit of a twist. I can't explain it to you, but … You and Katniss weren't exactly the only ones to suffer the consequences of both of you winning," he said in a low voice, though the methodical thumbs from the other side of the house told him that Katniss hadn't left her spot in front of the target. His heartbeat almost matched the rapid pace she shot the arrows in.

"She looked so tired at the photo shoot," Peeta said.

"She nearly killed Hazelle too," Haymitch added.

"Huh?"

"Never mind,"

"What's going on Haymitch?"

"Well, right now she's probably dead scared that she's going to reap my name," Haymitch said.

"That shouldn't be a problem, I'm volunteering for you if she does," Peeta said without missing a single beat.

"No, Peeta," Haymitch said and leaned his head back, "No, listen… It's better if you just,"

"I'm not going to let you in there with Katniss,"

"You don't trust me, do you?" Haymitch asked and looked back at the boy with wonder.

"I trust that you want to survive just as much as many of the others," Peeta said shortly.

"Well you certainly have me figured out, haven't you?" He couldn't help but getting a bit angry with the boy, basically sitting there almost accusing him of killing Katniss. That Katniss and him had an agreement on getting Peeta out alive this time wasn't relevant – he wouldn't kill her. And if the plan Plutarch and him were working on went as arranged …

"No I don't, that's what I'm afraid of," Peeta said calmly "But I know you well enough to know that if you have something to fight for, you don't care about the fight you're picking,"

"And you think I have something to fight for?"

"Which brings us back to the little Capitol lady calling our house in despair," Peeta sighed and looked at him with eyes filled with sorrow and determination. Haymitch couldn't stand looking back, so he focused on his dirty fingernails instead, trying to make sense of what Peeta wanted him to do – or more so how he could find a compromise, that sounded fair to the boy, but mostly valued his own interests.

It was rushed. The whole thing, but it still made room enough to torture her Haymitch thought as Effie climbed the stage, staggering across to get to the microphone and the reaping balls. She had said his name in many ways in the past. Lovingly, tenderly when she kissed him and calmed him down after nightmares. Mockingly when she had the upper hand in a situation, him lying on the bathroom floor vomiting up what felt like his very intestines. She had yelled it out in anger when he'd taken an insult too far or hissed it in irritation when he burped at the table. There was even times when she had screamed it in passion as their bodies became one. But he had never heard her say it like this. He hadn't even heard a person ever speak like this before and he couldn't decide if she had consciously drained her voice for emotions – all emotions, or if he just couldn't figure out what sort of emotion she was expressing when she stumbled over the words.

It was gone in a flash though as Peeta loudly yelled that he volunteered and Haymitch saw her – along with the rest of Panem – take a deep breath of relief. He could have slapped her. Didn't she see how all of this was wrong? She was just thinking about herself when she almost celebrated a young boy basically giving his life to save this old drunk, who could barely dress himself decently for a reaping. Maybe it was the lack of alcohol, but he suddenly couldn't stand looking at her. Why did he ever fall for her? This creature, standing there as a foreign object in the starved district, probably full on coffee and bread rolls from her breakfast on the train getting ready to fall back into the role of escort whenever the Capitol wanted her to. He despised her. He hated her. Her eyes locked with his and the rage he was building up inside disappeared instantly. She wasn't happy, she just smiled. There was not much else to do. Haymitch could have kicked himself. She wasn't supposed to understand all the things she already understood about the districts. She was probably already swaying on the edge of where Snow found it permissible. A light shake of her head sent him on his way towards her as the people around him started breaking up and leaving the square. Peeta, Katniss and himself were taken directly to the train, no goodbyes. There was not much left. He grabbed her hand to reassure himself about the fact that what he wrote on that paper crane last year was true and the well known feeling of heart flutter did little to disprove him.

"You have to do it, Haymitch," she said in a whisper as they stepped closer to the train "you can save them again,"

It took him a moment to understand what she was talking about. The rebellion. Effie Trinket. Not something he thought would ever mix. He nodded at her and placed a hand on the small of her back as he guided her up the steps and into the train.

"Thank you," he whispered back at her, casually walking past her to the bar. Sobriety was overrated.