10.

Haymitch ventured outside with his bag of crumbs and grains under the pretence of feeding the birds he had neglected during the past few days. In truth, he wanted to keep an eye on what was happening in his neighbors' backyard.

Finn was running around between the pen and the house, his chubby little arms extended on either side of his body – playing at being a hovecraft maybe – under Johanna's watchful gaze. Or, at least, Haymitch mused as he reached the pen, it would have been watchful if she hadn't been so busy spying on the Everdeen/Mellark household just like he had planned on doing. He dumped the content of his bag in the pen, rolling his eyes at the cacophony of reproachful honking, before joining Johanna who was casually leaning against the corner of the house – best angle to see Katniss and Peeta's garden.

He watched as Peeta shook Gale's hand and then went back in the house without a backward glance. Katniss lingered longer, exchanging a few words with her former best friend before hugging him. Haymitch narrowed his eyes but there was nothing suspicious to the hug. Gale's hands remained wisely on her shoulders and the embrace itself was short if not brisk. The girl flashed him a curt smile and walked back inside, leaving the soldier to climb into the black truck waiting for him.

Haymitch couldn't say he was sorry to see him go.

Gale had announced his intentions to go back to Two as soon as Haymitch and Johanna had shared the good news that they were safe once more. While most of them had enjoyed a lie-in – in proper beds this time – Gale had sent his men packing.

"That went better than I thought it would." Johanna declared, her brown eyes following the truck's retreat.

"She's all grown up." he shrugged, a little wistfully.

Johanna's smirk was amused. "Don't sound so fucking thrilled."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be stupid. I'm happy for them. It's just… They don't need me anymore."

He wondered what had made him admit that much aloud when he had carefully been munching on it for months now. He had seen it coming. Katniss getting better, Peeta finally starting to properly recover… They had each other. They didn't need him. They probably had never needed him, really.

"Poor useless old man." Johanna cackled.

"Shut up." he grumbled. "You're not rushing back to Four, yeah? You're staying a few days?"

Despite the circumstances, it had been good to see Jo and Annie again. Haymitch realized he missed them – and, yeah, of course, it was his damned fault for not picking up the phone more often but now that they were there…

"Aren't you the social butterfly now." Johanna taunted. "Trinket's influence?"

The question was probing and Haymitch chose not to humor her. His relationship with Effie was complicated enough without Johanna Mason butting in.

"How is Four?" he asked.

The younger victor shrugged, her face becoming sterner and her eyes falling back on the little boy running around and, he hoped, exhausting himself – it would give the kittens some peace, Haymitch was having a hard time convincing the kid they weren't toys.

"Lot of water." she replied after some time. "You know how I love water."

"Nobody said you had to stay there." Haymitch pointed out.

"Sink or swim." she chuckled darkly. "I learned to swim again. Beside, Finnick was my best friend, I can't let Annie down."

"Is it that bad?" he frowned.

Since her arrival, Annie had been the same Annie he remembered : sometimes a lively firecracker of a woman and the next second a shell they couldn't breach. She would start rocking or singing to herself, locked in her head. She was a dedicated mother and she loved Finn very much, nobody could doubt it but when she was having one of her episode, even the kid couldn't quite reach her. He couldn't imagine how that would have worked out without Johanna there to keep an eye on things.

"No." Johanna snapped defensively. "Most days are good." Her eyes narrowed on the boy who had bent in two to pick up… "Finn, don't fucking touch bird shit, that's yucky!"

Haymitch's lips twitched but he just knew he would end up castrated if he snickered like he desperately wanted to.

"What are you laughing at?" she growled.

"That kid will swear like a sailor before he's four." he replied.

"Good thing he lives with sailors then." Johanna retorted. They watched the boy play for several more minutes. It was impossible to look at him and not think of Finnick. He had the same hair, the same eyes and the same peacock smile – except his was still innocent. "You ever wonder how we ended up like this?" Johanna asked suddenly. "You, raising geese and cats, and me, co-parenting a kid? I would never have bet on you and I being the ones left standing."

He wouldn't have either.

He would have bet on Finnick and Chaff or even Seeder because they had always been the sensible ones in their little group of friends.

"Fate is a fickle bitch." he offered because life, in his experience, was unfair. Finnick should have been standing there, next to Jo, not him.

"Not for everyone." she argued. "Look at your kids, they're going to make it, and it even looks like you got your escort back after all. 'Didn't see that one coming."

"We'll see." he spat cautiously.

Johanna studied him and then shook her head. "Don't fuck this up again, Haymitch. She says she forgives you. You know what they say… Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"Not until it bites?" he snorted. "She doesn't remember."

"She remembers most of it." she countered. "I think you're being a coward again."

"And I don't remember asking for your bloody opinion." he grumbled. "Since when do you play matchmaker anyway? Two days ago you told me to stay clear of her."

Jo shrugged but was saved from answering by the timely arrival of Peeta, hands deep in his pockets and an amused grin on his lips. Haymitch knew he wasn't going to like the next part.

"The ladies have decided a picnic is in order." he announced.

Jo and Haymitch let out two perfectly synchronized groans.

There was no deterring Effie, Katniss and Annie from their idea – and yet they tried. A hovercraft landed in the meadow just as they were about to leave for the lake – because, obviously it was the best place to have a picnic in late autumn – and Plutarch, who had come to update them about the situation, was abducted and ordered to share their lunch.

He summed up the past days events on the way and reaffirmed that all danger had passed and that they were all perfectly safe again.

Haymitch was panting like a dying animal by the time they reached the lake and he had to endure Johanna's and Katniss' restless teasing about him being out of shape. It put him in a sour mood but Effie's hand sliding in his halfway there lifted his spirits a bit. He still continued to grumble, even if it was mostly for show.

It was cold on the lake shore but nobody seemed to mind. Finn was having a blast, Annie was laughing, Jo was trying very hard to hide her grin faced with the little boy's cute antics… Katniss and Peeta were all lovey-dovey again – as lovey-dovey as Katniss would ever get anyway which mostly consisted of shared smiles, quick glances and stolen kisses when the kids thought nobody was watching. Plutarch expressed several times his relief at being able to relax and thanked them for forcing him along and Haymitch simply leaned back on his elbows on the picnic blanket and watched his makeshift family.

When she was done putting away the leftovers from lunch, Effie stood up and joined Annie at the water edge. She was immediately brought along in Finn's game that consisted on climbing small clutters of rocks and jumping on the nearby adults. The wind had knocked down her stylish bun and she had tied her curls in a neat ponytail that kept swinging left and right when she moved, the pants she had borrowed from Johanna were tight and made for a great view when her back was turned on him, her cheeks were pink from the cold and the exercise, her eyes were bright and shining with mirth… She was so beautiful his heart was aching.

"You're staring." Plutarch commented, taking a seat next to him. "I can't exactly blame you. The view is appealing."

"I thought there was nothing glorious about Effie Trinket anymore?" he scorned, low enough that it wouldn't carry to the kids and to Jo who were the closest to them. Katniss and Johanna were busy arguing and Peeta was playing referee though, so he didn't think they would notice an elephant if it had flown by.

Plutarch's smile wasn't exactly a smirk but there was something sly in it all the same. "Sometimes, you need a push in the right direction, Haymitch. You can be quite stubborn."

"So what?" he scoffed. "You could have kept her safe in the Capitol, don't think I don't know what you were doing." He had had his suspicions from the start. Yes, Effie would have been safe in Twelve but there were tons of others, more legal, options. Haymitch hadn't been fooled for one second. Plutarch always had hidden motives. "What was the point?"

"Well…" the former Gamemaker laughed. "When I learned she was amnesiac, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity for you two to… Shall we say… rekindle the flame? And I knew you would protect her, of course, so there you have it. Two birds with one stone."

Haymitch didn't know what was the most aggravating : the casual way Plutarch was talking about his private life or that everything still seemed to be a game to him. Once a Gamemaker…

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Haymitch." Plutarch sighed. "You were miserable after she…"

"Yeah." he cut him off sharply. He remembered perfectly, he didn't need a detailed account. He also remembered Plutarch finding him wasted out of his mind one time too many and helping him. That alone was the only reason the man wasn't yet flat on his back with a knife against his throat. Haymitch didn't appreciate meddling.

"She looks well." the Capitol ventured. "And you seem to get along just fine."

Haymitch switched the topic to the consequences of the Training Center explosion and how the government had decided to handle things. Plutarch seemed saddened by the lack of gossiping but the Secretary of Communication could talk at length about politics and Haymitch was happy to listen to his ramblings, only commenting now and then.

All in all, it was a very good day. They were all cold and tired when they decided to head back but after the tension of the past few days, it was welcomed, needed even.

Yet, it was still a relief to let Jo and Annie steer Finn to the house they had claimed for themselves and see the kids leave for their own home after saying goodbye to Plutarch.

"A word if you please, Miss Trinket." Plutarch told Effie, right as he was about to leave for the meadow and his waiting hovercraft.

Haymitch lingered by the front door, pretending to study a crack in the peeling paint and very much eavesdropping.

"You remember Mr. Gracedull?" Plutarch asked her.

"I work for him." she nodded with a small frown that Haymitch had learned meant she was trying to remember something specific. "As a secretary."

"Yes." the former Gamemaker confirmed. "He asked me to tell you he would like you to come back to work on Monday if you're well enough."

"Oh." Effie's voice was flat. "Yes, naturally."

"Good, good…" Plutarch clasped his hands and rubbed them against each other. "I will tell him to expect you, then. I could give you a ride back to the Capitol right now if you're a quick packer…"

Haymitch's stomach churned and he purposely walked back inside, ignoring the welcoming mewls of the kittens. He fed them absent-mindedly, placing the dish of milk on the kitchen floor and watching them huddle around the plate. He wondered if she would take them with her. He found himself petting the black and white kitten almost frantically, the look it gave him wasn't impressed.

Hope isn't my forte, Princess.

I noticed. It is precisely why you could use the daily reminder.

Hope escaped his hand and went on the other side of the dish just so he could eat in peace. That was a perfect illustration of why hoping was never a good idea : hope was selfish.

He heard the front door close slowly – she never slammed doors and in the short lapse of time she had been there, the kids had learned not to carelessly shut the doors as they were used to – and her familiar footsteps but he didn't look up. He remained crouched next to the kittens, pretending to be fascinated by their meal. Mahogany finished first and started rubbing its little paw against its nose to clean its face.

"You heard."

It wasn't a question so Haymitch didn't bother lying. He shrugged. "You're going back right now?"

"No, if that's alright I will stay a few more days." she said. "I will take a train on Saturday."

He glanced up and he saw the escort mask looking back at him : the forced smile, the fake cheerfulness…

"I could come back and visit." she suggested tentatively.

He did look up then. Come back and visit…

It wasn't a conscious decision to stand up or to march on her. She stood her ground, she barely had time to drop the act and to let out a pained "Haymitch" before he was pinning her against the wall. His mouth found hers, devoured hers… He wasn't thinking clearly. All his reservations, all his doubts melted away into that kiss because if he was certain of only one single thing it was that he couldn't lose her. Not again. Not ever.

It would kill him.

"Haymitch…" she sighed against his lips, her fingers swiftly dealing with the buttons of his shirt. The second her hand made contact with his skin, he was lost. Although it wasn't entirely true. Perhaps he had been lost all this time and now, he was found.

His lips trailed up her jaw, down her throat… Her head hit the wall with a soft thud but her hands remained busy, torn between trying to push the shirt off his shoulders and exploring the newly exposed amount of skin. Her fingers curled over his left shoulder blade after he simply pulled her sweater over her head without pause, eager to go back to his own exploration. She tensed for a second and, attuned to her as he had become, he stopped, watching her with an inquisitive gaze.

Slowly, her hand left his shoulder to guide his to her side, right above her hip. It took him a moment to realize what she was doing. The scars. She was pressing his hand against a burn patch of skin, uncertainty was flickering in her eyes along with shame. He kissed her full on the mouth. He had no right to mind the scars when he was partly responsible for them in the first place.

The kiss seemed to shake away whatever spell she was under. Her hands went back to his body, roaming on his back, touching his chest… He wasn't a self-conscious man but he still winced when her fingers probed his less-than-firm stomach.

His hands caressed her sides, his thumbs feeling each of the bone of her ribcage on their way up to her bra. It was black and a bit lacy but still quite plain for her, like the rest of her clothes nowadays. He supposed fancy lingerie was as expensive as haute-couture. He didn't care much either way. She would have been beautiful in a trash bag.

He hadn't even made contact with her breasts yet when she hooked a leg around his, drawing him closer, her hands urged him to press against her. His instinct was to grab her thighs and lift her up but, instead, he drew back.

They had almost had sex a lot of times over the years – late parties, alcohol, despair, frustration… Almost every time it had happened, before one of them found their sanity back and pushed the other away, it had been up against a wall or another. He didn't want that. Not now. They weren't the escort and the mentor anymore. This wasn't about despair or blowing up steam.

He had had his little freaking out crisis over his feelings for her years ago, in Thirteen, when he had woken up one morning unable to breathe because he was missing her much more than he had anticipated. He knew what he was feeling for her – it didn't make it any easier to accept or admit and it certainly didn't mean he was ready to express it out loud but he knew.

And he didn't want sex to be a hurried affair that would be over before it could properly begin.

She didn't resist when he grabbed her hand and pulled her in the corridor. How they ever reached the bedroom he would never know. They didn't seem to be able to stop kissing each other. He certainly couldn't keep his hands off her. The stairs were tricky to manage and by the time they reached the top of the staircase, there was a trail of clothes behind them.

They crashed on the bed without poise or elegance. It was clumsy and she laughed when he bumped his head against the headboard. He muffled her giggles with his lips, torturing her mouth until her snickers turned to moans.

He explored her body like he had never taken the time to learn another woman's. He mapped out the scars with his tongue and his fingers, silently begging for a forgiveness already granted with every kiss… He had imagined having her in his bed countless of times over the years but he had never thought it would be like this. Making it last wasn't his thing – he had never seen the point and he had never cared for much more than triggering his own release – but it was different this time. It was different because he found a surprising amount of enjoyment in watching her come apart under his mouth and fingers.

Her blue eyes were dark with desire when she pulled him over her and ordered him in no uncertain terms to stop playing. He complied with her wishes, groaning with primitive pleasure when he finally gave in to his deepest urge. Her fingernails clawed at his back, she bit his shoulder but the sounds she was making… They drove him mad.

She arched her back, lost to her own bliss, but it was the ghost of his name on her lips that was his undoing.

For several minutes afterwards, all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears and his loud panting. She wasn't in a better state, out of breath and limp like a rag-doll. Her fingers tentatively tangled in his hair and he propped himself on his elbows to relieve her from his dead weight. They ended up kissing again. He rolled off her but drew her close, unable to let go of her.

Still now that his mind was clear of lust, he could feel the panic bubbling in. He clung to her, not even caring about how needy he must have looked.

"What's wrong?" she asked, nuzzling her nose against his neck. She kissed the tender skin of his shoulder where her teeth had left a red mark. It did little to help him relax.

"When you remember…" He paused, swallowing down his guilt with difficulties. Had he just taken advantage of her? Of her missing memories?

"Haymitch, I can't say I remember every second of the last few years but I remember enough." she sighed, shifting until she was straddling him and leaving a trail of soft kisses over his collarbone. "I wanted this."

There was no doubting that she had wanted this and that wasn't the question. The question was… "Are you sure you're done hating me, sweetheart?"

It was more vulnerable than he cared to be but there was no other ways to get the answers he wanted but to ask.

A flicker of annoyance flashed on her face but it was brushed away by the seriousness of her expression.

"There is one thing I remember particularly vividly about the last two years." she said, meeting his eyes. "I missed you. I missed you every second of every day to the point I couldn't breathe. I don't remember everything but I do remember this." They stared at each other and she must have felt it wasn't enough because she sighed. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." he reluctantly offered.

"Temper your enthusiasm." she muttered before shaking her head in irritation. "If you trust me you should know I wouldn't toy with you. I'm not saying this is going to be easy. It never was and it probably never will be but I'm willing to give it a try. Don't you understand?" Her eyes begged him to understand. "I love you, you stupid man."

He didn't have any good answer to that.

So he kissed her.

I upgraded the rating just in case. It's not really graphic but I thought better safe than sorry. Sooooo... What do we think? Three chapters left... what is going to happen? Let me know your thoughts!