I take my bow, telling Peeta that I'm going hunting as usual, but instead of going through the fence to the woods, I'm going to visit Haymitch. I'm coming up behind his house so Peeta won't see me just crossing the street to Haymitch's house. If Peeta sees me visit him, he'll ask questions, and I don't want that. Not this time.

I wonder in which state I'll find Haymitch. It's kind of hard to know these days, with the alcohol supply being so unreliable. I knock on his back door, and walk in. I find Haymitch by the kitchen table, and clearly he's just gotten a new delivery from the last train that came here with supplies.

"Katnissssss! The girl on fire!" He is all smiles, offering me a drink, which I decline. I'm not using chemical substances to numb the pain, not anymore. I've learned my lesson. "So what's up?"

"Nothing," I shrug. "Do I need a reason to come visit you? You're my mentor. Just stopping by to be nice."

His eyes narrow. "You want something."

I roll my eyes. He knows me too well. Besides, we are too much alike. There's no fooling him.

"So what is it? Goat's ill? Want a few bottles of gin? Are there problems in paradise for the star-crossed lovers of District 12? Do you need contraceptives?" He guffaws when he sees me going deep red from embarrassment.

"NO!" I hiss.

I sit down by his kitchen table, accepting his offer of a glass of water. I bury my face in my hands. Haymitch pours himself another drink. Not water, obviously. I don't know where to begin, or how. Haymitch must have sensed that something is wrong, even in his early morning drunken state. When I finally look up, his eyes are calm and serious, not mocking me anymore. The smile is gone from his lips.

"What's wrong, Katniss?" The question is sincere this time.

I lick my lips. "I… uhm, this isn't easy to… talk about," I begin, hesitantly. "But I don't know who else to turn to. There's no one I can… talk to about it."

"So you can't talk to Peeta?"

I shake my head. No. Definitely not Peeta.

"So… Peeta is the problem?"

"Yes." I take another sip of water from my glass, trying to win myself some time. How do I balance between telling Haymitch enough to actually give me useful advice, and betraying Peeta's trust? "It's… about the hijacking."

"Oh. He's still having nightmares, isn't he? That's to be expected. Perhaps for the rest of his life."

That's not reassuring at all, thank you very much. "Yes, he's still having nightmares. He hasn't told me about them, though… Not until last night. But yesterday he told me that… They were about me. About us, having…" I can't finish my sentence, but my blushing and avoiding to meet his eyes clearly tell Haymitch what my mouth just can't say.

"Ouch."

"Uhm… yeah. That about sums it up."

He lifts an eyebrow. "And how does that make you feel?"

I can't find an answer, so I don't say anything. I just look down at the glass in my hands.

After a long while, he says: "Did they implant those memories in him when he was hijacked?" As usual, Haymitch cuts straight to the core.

I nod. "Yeah. And the venom…"

"Have you ever done the dirty deed?" I blush again, shaking my head vigorously. I look down at the table, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't. When I finally find the courage to look up and meet his eyes, I'm surprised to see that his eyes are brimming with tears. "I'm sorry they managed to destroy this for you, too, Katniss," he says, taking my hand from across the table.

Yeah, he really does cut to the core. I'm relieved that at least he understands.

I have to ask him. "When you… When you were victor. Did they… Sell you? Like Finnick?"

He releases my hand, pouring himself another drink. A large one. He gulps down some more alcohol, before he leans back, looking me in the eye. "Yes." His voice is steady, not betraying any emotions. "I was 16 the first time. Just a few weeks after I won."

I'm feeling sick.

"It wasn't too bad in the beginning – at least I didn't think so at the time. I didn't fully understand what I'd gotten myself into until later. I was 16, I just thought it was great to, you know, have sex with anyone. This was 25 years ago, I think things changed later, and not for the better. From what I've understood from Finnick, they were a lot more direct about it with him. I wasn't sold as openly, at least not in the beginning. 35-year-old women with surgically altered perfect bodies who wanted to have sex with me seemed like a brilliant idea. I was living a life of parties and glamour in the Capitol. Everyone loved me. I was the pet of Panem. It took me some time to realize that I didn't really have a choice, though. That there was money involved. And that someone would get hurt if I didn't do it."

"What happened?"

"I fell in love. Not with one of… them."

"And?"

"They killed her." His glass is already empty. "She was 17." He fills it up. "They even made me identify the body, just to make sure I'd gotten the point." I feel sick.

"That's when I started drinking." I can kind of understand that. "It helped numbing me. After a while, it helped making me less desirable. Fewer women would be interested in paying for my… services. Win-win. In the end the offers, or should I say demands, stopped coming."

So that's the reason he's never had started a family. Living alone with all his bottles. I hate myself for all the times I've laughed at or ridiculed his drinking, for thinking he's weak.

"So, there you go. Did that little bedtime story make you feel better?"

I shake my head.

"Yup, thought so. So how do you think that story is going to help you out in your current situation with Peeta?"

Good question. I had already suspected what he's just told me, and that's one of the reasons why I came to him in the first place. But why?

"Listen, Katniss, our situations are different. I was being sold, but at least I was more or less sober, at least in the beginning, and I was as free as, well, a victor can be under the circumstances. They didn't try to break me. With Peeta, they've been messing with his head. Bad. They did it specifically to hurt him. To hurt you both. I can't tell you what to do, because obviously I didn't manage to fix myself. I mean, look at me!"

I look at him from across the table. Half dressed, unshaved, his hair too long, five empty bottles on the table, his glass full, at nine in the morning. No. He hadn't.

"I think Peeta's going to be your best guide here, Katniss. Try to talk to him, do this on his own terms. And yours. Are you sure?" He looks at me intently. His scrutinizing eyes make me divert my own, back to the table.

After a long pause, I whisper: "Yes".

He chuckles. I'm mortified. "Oh my, the many tasks of a mentor! I didn't know giving sex advice to teenagers would be one of them!" I just want to sink down through the floor. I'm starting to regret going here in the first place.

"Look, I have something for you. Your mother gave it to me before she left for District Four." He rummages through some drawers in the kitchen, until he finally finds what he's looking for. A small box. Before I really understand what he's doing, he's given me a shot in my upper arm. It hurts.

"Ow! Haymitch, what are you doing? What was that?"

"Contraceptive shot. Lasts a year."

Now I'm really regretting going here. My mother gave him that? The implications are making my head spin. If she gave Haymitch that shot, to give to me, then she must've thought that… The very idea of my mother planning me sleeping with Peeta makes me want to hit the bottle myself.

"Your mother's not stupid, you know," he laughs. "She's been young and in love herself. She gave it to me just in case. Bringing a baby into the equation is a pretty bad idea, all things considered, the way things are now – agreed?"

I nod, still flushing. I just want to die.

Haymitch turns serious. "What if he never comes around?" I don't know what to answer. "Do you stay?"

I nod slowly. I can't leave Peeta. Not again.

"There is a chance Peeta is damaged beyond repair. You may never be able to… be together. Really be together." His words are such a contrast with his recent action, giving me a contraceptive shot, that it makes me feel sick.

"I know," I whisper.

"Give him time. Be there for him. You're the best therapy he can have. He loves you. He's always loved you. Perhaps it would've been easier if he hadn't, but there you go. Do you love him, Katniss?"

"Yes." Finally, there's no reason to hesitate when being asked that question.

He nods approvingly. "I knew you did when I saw your reaction when Peeta was brought back to life by Finnick." Well, he and the rest of Panem, including President Snow, knew that. "This is a heavy burden to place on the shoulders of an 18-year-old girl with, as I understand it, very limited experience." I fight the urge to throw one of his empty bottles at him. "Unfortunately, you've had way too much experience in other arenas of life."

I fight the tears now. To my surprise, he actually gets up, walks over to me and gives me a hug. Now that's something I never expected from Haymitch. "Good luck."

He walks over to the kitchen counter, opening another bottle. "All this exciting sex talk is making me thirsty," he laughs, and he's back to being his old, annoying self. "Will you do me a favour and film it when you make him screw you?"

I throw the bottle after him. He laughs when he ducks, and the bottle smashes into the wall, shattering into a thousand pieces. I missed him on purpose – I'm a hunter, after all, if I'd really wanted to hit him, I wouldn't have missed my target.

He's still laughing when I leave, blushing deeply, through the back door.