A/N: Stayed up late to get this one up for you all. As well as I uploaded two of my other stories so check them out if you're eager for more reading material

*Update = I added another note at the end of this chapter*

Chapter 11

Nourishment

We must never stop dreaming. Dreams provide nourishment for the soul, just as a meal does for the body. - Paulo Coelho

HAYMITCH P.O.V (As mentioned beforehand there is cursing)

I sit in the solace of the night going over the message that appeared on the screen in front of me for about the hundredth time—We have the hovercraft and the full support of District 13.

I run my ruddy fingers through my hair, down my face and finally over my mouth and belt out a bilious cry of enthusiasm. It's too good to be true…too damn good! How did ol' Heavensbee manage it? The sly bastard, he's got a silver tongue, that's what it is. "Good grief!" I happily sigh, pressing my back against the hard surface of the coffee table.

"District 13, eh?" I say pensively, still stuck in a bubble of disbelief. I reach towards the sleek black remote for the large flat screen and start thumbing through the channels until I find the one I've committed to memory; the shot of the desolate 13th District. A dry, deserted wasteland that is continually shown as a visual threat: 'Stand up against the Capitol, and this will happen to you.'

But there is a bustling metropolis right underneath the very feet of the ruby-haired reporter who babbles on about the decaying land of the forgotten District. There are people, food, and weapons—weapons strong enough to defeat the Capitol with the right muscle handling them. We could actually do this I grin like a cheeky six-year old. We could actually take down that hellion Snow and all his fuckin' cronies.

I've been part of a small resistance group since I won my Games, and nothing this major has ever happened for us. We had our insiders working to overtake the Capitol's operative system and gather valuable information that could benefit us. Our numbers kept growing and we were learning about the going-ons of the Capitol, but little was happening. People would rather shit themselves than stand up against Snow.

Five years ago, Ol' Plutarch overheard a well-off Capitol dignitary flapping his gums about Snow being worried about the refusal of District 13 to tell the Capitol government of its population demographics.

It took Beetee, the tech wiz from District 5 employed as a security technician, every trick in the book to break into the communication mainframe of the buried District and broadcast a message that they would listen to. I'm talking months of us sending fuzzily worded messages and 20-second video calls to try to convince the District that we were on their side. But they wouldn't help us unless we built up our numbers in all the Districts across Panem. Rally the troops—easier said than done.

Hell, if I knew that all we needed was a kind-hearted baker, a saucy hunter and some berries to start the ball rolling, I would've shipped that idea a long time ago. Ever since then, rebellion has bubbled in the bellies of Panem citizens all over the bloody map. As of today, seven Districts have fully pledged their loyalty to overthrowing the dictatorship of President Snow.

None of which include District 1 or 2. They're a bunch of ass-kissing, mangy mutts. They'd licked the cruddy soles of Snow's feet if he asked them to. Though it would be ideal if we had them on our side since most of the Victors are from 1 and 2, not to mention all the Peacekeepers, we can't dwell on what we don't have.

Our previous plan was to use the recruited Districts to pulverize the Capitol from the inside out, but we needed to make Plutarch Heavensbee the Head Gamemaker to do so, something we thought would take another five years. Katniss' defiance and Crane's death unhinged plans a bit, causing everything to move at an aggressively quicker pace. Not that I'm complaining. Another five years of the Bullshit Games would have turned me into a blazed morphling, doped up with a constant wad of spit seeping from my mouth.

Still, even with all this good news, we are still balls deep in a stifling pit of shit.

I gotta' hand it to the ol' white devil, I don't think any Victor would have ever fathomed that they would end up back in the Hunger Games. And I doubt the thought ever crossed their minds; I know it didn't cross mine. And why should it? Victors are heroes, celebrities, Capitol fuckin' gold.

You couldn't even joke with someone about that shit, they would damn well rip your esophagus from your throat before you even finished speaking. But of course, Snow is a gambling man and he likes to play real dirty. That's ol' snake eyes for ya, always keeping it bloody interesting; fabricating ancient regulations on the spot.

A large percentage of Victors will be muddling about in the Games, so we have to find a way to use that circumstance to our advantage. We have a hovercraft now, thanks to that busy-brain Beetee, we just need a team of defiant, bloodthirsty tributes. If Plutarch would tell me what the friggen' arena was gonna be like, my job would be ten times easier, but the nut says he can't disclose it. Something about the Snow keeping tabs on him and wiretaps or some inexcusable nonsense.

But still, we have a hovercraft. I smile to myself as I close my eyes and let sleep overtake me.

I awake to the sound of a light knock on my door. Sliding one eye open I peer around me and notice I'm still perched on the ground of the sitting room with my back against the coffee table. No wonder why my back is screaming bloody murder. The knock sounds again capturing my attention. It's gotta be at least 7 in the morning, the sun hasn't even started to creep through the blinds yet. I begrudgingly rise to my feet and grumble irritably all the way to foyer to open the door.

"What!?" I growl, forcefully tugging at the handle. There on my doorstep is a rucksack, and by the mouth-watering scent that is wafting towards my nose, its gotta be filled with several loaves of bread. And I am talking all kinds.

"Geez, the kid's tryna turn me into a butterball," I shake my head in amazement. "There is enough bread here to feed a small village." My eyes stop on a torn sheet of paper held prisoner by the coarse cord securing the bag. I recognize the smooth penmanship and the sprawling loops, it's definitely from the boy.

'I was at the bakery all night' it reads (no surprise there). 'Normally on Sundays I deliver loaves of bread to the families in the Seam. I couldn't today so I need you to do it.' "For fuck sakes," I grumble. "So the kid actually expects me to feed a small village."

'The loaves are already wrapped, just leave them on the doorstep and knock on the door. They already know what to expect. Sae will probably invite you in for a cup of tea and stew—don't decline.' The note advises.

I roll my eyes. So now I am the designated delivery boy and I have to share a bowl of scrap meat with Greasy Sae...brilliant. I'm about to testily shove the note in my pocket when I notice a scribbled line near my thumb. 'Give some to Katniss too,' it says.

Heh, of course, might as well bring the girl some bread while I'm feeding the rest of the Seam. I guess this officially puts me in the middle of their relationship. I snicker to myself, unknowingly at first, and then it hits me. While the rest of us are under blankets, passed out in dreamland—the boy's elbows deep in dough, rolling out loaves of bread to place on the doorsteps of the poorer folks of District 12. Is this kid for real? And why the fuck can't I be more like him?

I'm proud of him I think, grinning like a loon. I'd never tell him that of course, but I am proud of him. He's a lot stronger than I give him credit for. Sure, he's not as forceful when it comes to going after what he wants, but I guess that's just the way he handles things. And in the broader scope of things, it's a lot better to nurse heartbreak by providing nourishment to the Dristict than to wallow in self-loathing with a glass of spirits by your side.

I heft the sack over my shoulder and decide now is a better time than any to give Katniss her share of the grub.

I wrap the door with my knuckles and lean against the smooth stone wall waiting to see who might be up. I must look like a real tool, I chuckle to myself, Standing on her porch with a sack filled with bread like a bat-brained Santa Claus.

I'm in the midst of throaty chortles when Katniss swings the door open with an unreadable expression on her face.

"What's the matter? Were you expecting someone more brooding and filthy with coal dust?" I question, and her face contorts into anger.

"What do you want, Haymitch?"

"Got a bag of goodies dropped on my stoop early this morning. Thought I would share the spoils." I swing the bag off my shoulder and place it in front of me so she can see what I am referring to. Her eyes move towards the brown sack and the anger ebbs from her face. She stares at the package like it's filled with all the hopes and dreams from the poor bedraggled souls of people across Panem.

"Should I give you and the bag a minute?"

Her eyes look at me, but I can tell her mind is still searching the far plains. "When did he come by?" she asks in a forlorn voice.

"Couple minutes ago."

"Did he say anything?" Her brow furrows and she starts to chew on the right side of her cheek, a bad habit which probably has the inside of her mouth looking like a war zone.

I shrug my shoulders unsure of what she expects me to tell her. "He was gone before I even answered the door," I tell her honestly.

Her lips purse to form the world 'Oh' but it never leaves her lips. Instead she sighs and her eyes languidly drop back towards the sack of freshly baked bread. "So he didn't tell you to give me some?"

I rub my forehead with the palm of my hand. I can't handle this. Not this early in the morning. I can't help the irritating scowl that appears on my face. "Here," I push Peeta's note in her direction and she eyes it apprehensively. "Do you want the bread or not, sweetheart?"

She doesn't answer me, doesn't even lift her head to look me in the face with those steely grey eyes of hers and glower at me in annoyance. Her hand reaches out and she handles the note as if it's fine china. I watch as she skims over the baker's scrawl. Then she shifts her weight to the side and leans against the molding of the door frame providing enough room for me to pass by her and walk into the foyer. I do so silently, heading directly towards the kitchen table with a heap of bread on my back and a sullen hunter following my heels.

"Are you fine with whatever I pull out of the bag?" I ask as she comes to stand beside me.

She shrugs her shoulders and goes to stand by the window near the sink. "Give me whatever."

Geesh, you would think she's the one that got her heart ran through, I observe. What's she got to mope about? I reach my hand into the bag and pull out what smells like a hearty loaf of banana bread and quickly deposit it, pushing it into the far left corner of the bag, hoping the girl didn't notice my jerky movements. Banana bread is a rare sight, and normally costs a couple of toes to get at the bakery.

Why should 'mopes' be the one to get the good stuff?

I neatly arrange four wrapped loaves on the Everdeen table before tying the bag back up. I reluctantly handed over a nice slab of corn bread. I stare at it longingly. Would she even appreciate corn bread? Geez, the smell alone is enough to have me drowning in my saliva…

"So…" Katniss interrupts my food rambling as she toys with a loose string on the bottom of her ragged green sweater, "he hasn't said anything to you about…" she wraps her arms around herself and inclines her head, motioning that she means her uncomfortable relationship with Hawthorne.

I tear my eyes away from the bread and stare at her. "Listen," I place my hands firmly on the smooth oak table and lean forward, hoping to add a little more severity to my words. "I'm not a messenger. It's bad enough the boy's got me going around the Seam today, delivering bread like I'm a bootleg Kringle. I refuse to pass messages between you two. Re-Fuse, got it?" The statement comes out extremely gruff, but I don't regret the tone of my voice. I revel in it, arching my brow to top it off with a bit of hostility.

"Fine," Katniss sighs, and she throws her hands up in frustration.

"Just ask him," I plead with her.

"I can't," she insists.

I suck the back of my front teeth in frustration. "You can. You're letting your pride get in the way."

"It's not pride!" she growls, fixing me with a malicious glare.

I just shake my head. I guess now is as good as a time as any to talk to her about her relationship with tall, dark and filthy. I shudder at the thought. If I didn't promise the boy I would (and my life wasn't at risk due to her senseless coupling) I wouldn't bother. Hell, I'd rather face a whipping from Thread than sit down and ask Katniss what her motives might be with Hawthorne.

"I think we should take a walk outside," I tell her as I stride towards the window.

"I don't want to," she huffs sourly.

"I think you do," I order and pull up the windowsill, ensuring there is enough room for me to wiggle through.

"There's a backdoor, you know."

I wave her off before I slip through the window. "That would take all the fun out of it," I call back as my feet sink to the ground. I peer around her backyard in admiration. Sure looks a lot more presentable than mine. I notice a strip of soil surrounded by large grey pebbles with tiny roots poking up from the rich dirt. Probably a place for Aster Everdeen to grow her herbs.

"I don't know what you expect me to say," Katniss' voice sneaks up on me from behind. I didn't think she would follow me so soon. To be honest I thought I would have to go by the window and coax her like one of lover boy's snares.

I turn and peer into her wide eyes. "What's your plan, Katniss?"

She raises a thinly curved eyebrow at me, "Plan?"

"Plan," I repeat. "You know, the steps in place to make whatever it is you're doing with coal boy work out in the most favourable way?" She stays silent and begins to chew anxiously on her bottom lip. I roll my eyes in aggravation. She's not this naïve, is she? "Do you know what you're doing, and I mean really know what you're doing?"

"Yes," her monosyllabic answer lacks conviction and she doesn't feel the need to elaborate. I feel my pulse starting to gradually increase.

"Well?" I aggressively raise my brows, pushing her to say more. To say something...anything that would show she's at least put in some precautionary thought into her relationship with Gale Hawthorne.

"Well what?" she replies, feigning confusion.

"Give it up, sweetheart. Do you really want me to start?"

"You're the one who seems overly concerned about it," she retorts defensively like a spoilt child who isn't getting their way.

I vigorously rub at my forehead like I'm trying to rid myself of a bad memory. "Good grief, kid! Are we really gonna' do this? I know you didn't forget about what happened yesterday after watching that damn tape. And you have nothing to say about?" I ask incredulously.

She starts to shift her weight from one foot to the other. I expect her to realize she's wrong. I expect her to stop acting like a brat and realize why her being with Hawthorne is troublesome. I don't expect her to say "Peeta would've found out eventually" – words she probably picked up from the miner himself.

I know she is repeating the cold declaration because she doesn't know what else to say. The guilt is probably having a field day gnawing away at her intestines. But I can't manage to muster up any sympathy for her. The words rub me like a rough rag.

"Seriously, sweetheart!" my voice rises in irritation and I see her shift, bracing herself for the climax of my reproach. "I didn't pin you for a total numskull. Do you even know how dangerous your relationship with Hawthorne is for the rest of us!?" My hands wildly swipe at the air, making her flinch when they come within her direction. "What do you think is gonna' happen between you and lover boy, huh? You think you'll get together and live happily ever after? He'll make you forget all about the Games and you can feel like a normal teenager again. Smarten up, sweetheart. This isn't Oz, it's District 12. Nothing's roses here."

"I should be able to choose," she tries to answer commandingly, but the fire is lacking from her words.

"Choose? You lost that opportunity the minute that pink-haired prima donna pulled out your sister's name and you volunteered. It isn't just your life that's on the line now, you have to think about your sister, your mother, the boy's family; everyone that you've ever said two words to!"

I start to pace, lacing my fingers through the tangles in my hair and pulling them to keep me from exploding. "Do you know what happens when you blatantly disregard what the Capitol wants?" My voice is raw with emotion and it hits her like a bat to the chest. She can no longer look me in the eye.

"You wanna' hear what happened to Kezzy Erwin after he won his Games?" I whisper.

"Haymitch, don't," she shakes her head, but I continue.

"You've heard about the training facilities in 1, 2 and 4," I say. "Well when a Victor from another District has a particular talent that helped them survive the Games, the Capitol recruits them and sends them off to the training facilities to try to instruct the kids there," She gasps as I relate this information to her.

"It's really not that surprising," I smirk. "Think about it. You're a Capitol idiot and you know that Districts 1, 2 and 4 supplies you with the nonsense that keeps you looking like a flashy ass; you'd want to try to give them the upper hand. It's politics, sweetheart—messy, cutthroat politics."

"And Kezzy Erwin could run like the wind and leap like a friggin' frog, so the Capitol recruited him to instill some of his knowledge on the Careers."

If Katniss wasn't considered such a threat to Snow's dictatorship, she probably would've found herself in one of those training facilities. The Girl on Fire would be stuck passing on her knowledge of archery and plants to the Careers that would later use it to murder the people of her District. It's a sickening circle.

"Problem was," I continue, "After Erwin won his Games, like most of us, he wanted nothing to do with the Capitol, and wouldn't even move into the Victor house given to him. He had the guts to refuse outright. Just think about how ol' Snow felt about that," I narrow my eyes at her and she uncomfortably digs her toe into a mound of grass.

"So when Kezzy went on his Victor's tour, something that cannot be avoided, good President Snow sent word to round-up his family in the cabin where they've lived for centuries and burned it to the ground; making it seem like an accidental fire from a poorly kept fireplace."

I notice as her knees start to shake and she has to place her hands on her thighs to stop herself from keeling over. "I've heard that story," she wheezes. "I...I thought it was just a rumour...and that he was the one who died."

"Every rumour stems from some truth," I huff. "Erwin came back to a pile of charred flesh and ash. He lost his parents and two younger brothers in that fire; along with the sister he lost in the Games beforehand. Needless to say, it was either morphling or suicide."

I step closer to her, placing my large hands on her slender shoulders; letting the pressure physically symbolize the weight of the question. "So I will ask you again, do you know what you're doing?"

I feel her body heave as she fills her lungs with air to stop her mind from reeling at the news I just bestowed upon her. We stand in silence for a long time—a very long time. The hard edges around my eyes start to soften as I watch her, panting like a wounded puppy. She whimpers softly and I can see her grey eyes growing misty.

"I...thought I did," her voice is quiet, broken, undoubtedly confused. "I know better than to make anything that happens with Gale public, you don't have to worry about that. If the Games never happened, this is how things would be. Right?" Her eyes lift to search my face for confirmation.

"But they did happen, Everdeen." I don't give her the comfort that she's looking for. Even though her statement is one I repeated to Peeta just the other night. The way that it tumbles out of her mouth takes on a different meaning; especially since she isn't even sure if she's making the right decision for herself. "The Games change you. Everything that you know gets flipped on its ass and you gotta' figure out how to turn it right-side-up again."

I reach my right hand up to playfully tug on her braid to put her mind at ease. Something I'm sure that her dad must've done when he was alive to do it. I'm not sure what makes me do it now...perhaps this mentoring business is really starting to get to my head.

"It's okay to want different things, Katniss. You're not the same person. The sooner you accept that, the easier things will be for you. It took me two fuckin' decades to come to terms with what I am now, and look at how well I turned out," I grunt and I see a slight smile tug at the left side of her face.

"I know what you want," the tone of my voice is unnatural. I don't expect to take on the nurturing drawl of a father wanting the best for his child, but that is what tone spills from my chapped lips. "You don't want to feel like you're going along with what they picked for you. You think that being with Peeta means you've surrendered." I'm taken aback at the sound of the boy's name coming from my mouth; I rarely ever say his name. "You're mad and you have every right, but you have to ask yourself whether your decision to date Hawthorne is because that's genuinely what you want or because it defies the Capitol."

"Isn't that what I need to do!?" she retorts, shrugging off the hold I have on her shoulders. "—Defy the Capitol. I did what they wanted me to and they still threatened my family and threw me back in the Games."

I take in a deep breath and my eyes regain the hard edge they had when I first crawled through the open window. "I'm not saying you should follow at their heels like the pampered pedigree mutts they are so fond of, but I am saying that you gotta' be smart about what you're doing. I get that you feel like you won't make it out of this Quarter Quell, but you can't let appearances slip up when you're in public because then it's your family that's going to reap the rewards. You know Snow's watching you; don't give him another reason to come back here."

Katniss sighs and covers her face with dry, slender hands.

"There's something I'm missing," she mumbles between her fingers. "Something I'm not seeing."

"It's something you refuse to see," I tell her, gently patting her on the shoulder and walking past her. I'm not gonna' stand there and force her to admit that loving the baker scares her. She's gotta' figure that out on her own time. Maybe time away from him is what she needs—I don't really know. I only ever loved one person, a long time ago, and she's 10-feet under now. So I wouldn't say I'm the ideal choice for relationship advice.

I said what I had to say, it's up to her to take it into consideration.

I squeeze through the open window and pick up my sack from where I left it on top of the table, swinging it over my back and headings towards the door. From the corner of my eye I notice Aster coming down the stairs, her blond hair cascading across her shoulders.

"Haymitch?" she questions. "You know you're welcome to stay for breakfast."

"Can't Aster," I reply. "Got some bread to hand out. I'll talk to you later," I tell her, and before she's able to say any more, my hand grips the doorknob and I see myself out. I take a deep breath before I head off to the Seam to play delivery man.

A/N: I took a little longer to get this chapter up because of some important decisions I had to make about pacing. Things are gonna get wild from here. Next chapter will go back to Katniss' P.O.V

A/N UPDATE: Oh my geez, well I've received a lot of feedback (which I appreciate) from eager readers expressing their view about whether this was a Galeniss fic or not. I have no problem with fanfics that put Gale and Katniss together, I am quite fond of one called "Love, Thorns, and Fire" written by the lovely Ellenka. But I thought maybe my motives were a little unclear and this is just a way to further explain myself.

My aim is to focus on Katniss' feelings more so than just a pairing. And as a result I am trying to flush out the reason Collins ended up putting Katniss and Peeta together at the end of it all. There are hints scattered all over various chapters which allude to what eventually will happen in this fic. But I first wanted to talk about Katniss learning to care about someone else who isn't a family member. I am not trying to paint Katniss as someone who is insensitive and fickle and flits between the two guys. She's just a bit in denial right now. So-with that said my lovelies, if you choose to keep reading I am very humbled and grateful if you do stick around. If not, then that is your choice and I respect it. As always, I like to hear what you think. Until the next update my dears =)