Yo yo! I'm back again! America was literally amazing and now it sucks just a little to be back in the real world, but back to business! The next few chapters are going to be key, so please let me know what you think :D

Liz xxx

Chapter 21 - The Preparations For The Reaping

For the rest of the time before the Quell, Haymitch lived with us. Nothing was ever said – agreement set up or contract signed. But he stayed. For a few days Mother and I had to wait on him, coax him back to life and get rid of all the decay and disease in his soul. It was tough – my mentor not wholly accepting the process – but eventually he relented. His drinking however, was something that could not be curbed overnight. Mother suggested we try cold turkey, but I knew this would only cause more problems. Haymitch was allowed to drink in his room, previously my room, or outside. If he brought liquor anywhere near the children he would be kicked out immediately. But he could get by. Eventually we reached a happy medium – Haymitch still keeping his vices, but building slowly towards redemption.

As we all sat at the dinner table eating breakfast, there was a strange silence over the room. Stacey had been less than pleased with the arrival of our new guest – especially with the state he had been in. We had fought over the decision, but Mother had backed me up and insisted that he stay. Everybody knew the sacrifices Haymitch had made to keep me alive, the way he had cared for me when others had not. My sister had grumbled, and for several weeks said nothing to our friend, but eventually things had settled to a quiet dislike. Stevie had no real idea who Haymitch was, but accepted him into the family like he was our own.

"Would you like some orange juice?" The question was simple, but brought back a distant memory from the Games. Something about a breakfast we had all shared in the home building. Maybe it was before training, maybe it had been the day of the Games. I couldn't quite remember, but immediately my eyes flicked towards Haymitch. He had recognised the significance too and we shared a smile between us. Mother gave me a look of confusion, but I simply shook my head and she went back to her eating.

"Yes please." I smiled at Haymitch's use of manners – something I had never really seen from him before now – and watched him take the jug from Stevie and pour the liquid into his own glass. The reaping was three weeks from now – Mike, Tobias and I had been preparing for a long time and I was now in the best physical condition I could be in. Haymitch had managed to pull himself together and would surely pass for a mentor again. There was still the chance however that he would have to compete.

"Do you want to come with us to training today?" I asked, halfway through a mouthful of toast. Mother frowned at me and I realised my mistake. Since his induction into our household I had started to take on many of the traits of my makeshift father again. Haymitch sighed, taking a bite of his own toast.

"Do I have to?"

"It will do you good." Suddenly Mother spoke. Both Haymitch and I stopped what we were doing, turning to her in shock. It was very unlike Mother to participate in any of our conversations, mainly because they were usually too sarcastic for her to understand.

"Get you out of the house…" She continued, realising our surprise at her comments. Haymitch's mouth popped open and closed like a goldfish for a few seconds, before he turned to look at me. Was this an order? An order from my mother?

"What are you doing today?" He asked.

"More combat training. Mike found some metal pipe that we made into a sword – it's pretty good." Stacey and Stevie had gallantly carried on eating, but the rest of the table sat still, almost stunned. Haymitch cocked his head to the side, as if pondering a great question of life, and then nodded.

"Might as well give it a go."

As we walked up towards the mines, I glanced across at Haymitch with interest. Something had changed between him and Mother. They never really interacted that much, but the fact he had listened to her… I knew Mother cared greatly about her patients, and that she had worked tirelessly to ensure Haymitch's recovery. But…

"What?" Haymitch had noticed my gaze. I smirked, looking down at the floor and kicking a piece of coal that had managed to travel all this way down from the mines.

"You never agreed to anything that fast when Effie said it." For a second my mentor didn't understand the reference, then he scoffed.

"That's because Effie is an idiot."

"Still…" We walked in silence the rest of the way, until Mike and Tobias came into view. Although the training had been designed for me, the strength and skill of my two helpers had also grown significantly as a result. Mike looked almost like a tribute himself, and Tobias – combined with a head first dive into puberty – had grown into a chiseled and handsome man. Occasionally I found myself looking at him, searching desperately inside myself for any of the feeling that I felt when I was with Blaine. But it never came.

As the pair greeted me I saw the makeshift swords lined up against the target wall. Mike had made three, so that him and Tobias could come at me at the same time – like a group fight. They seemed surprised to see Haymitch and my mentor looked around with intrigue as we reached the site.

"Very impressive…" He murmured under his breath. I nodded at Mike and saw him turn to my friend, almost holding his breath like he was about to greet a celebrity.

"Hello Mr Abernathy." It was sometimes hard to remember that Haymitch was a familiar face on TV – being a mentor with District 12's tributes for years. Of course, many people viewed him as something of a drunken joke, but he had won a Hunger Games. The fiftieth Hunger Games, with twice as many people. That had to garner him some respect. Upon receiving the greeting Haymitch's nose scrunched up in disgust – he picked up a rock and threw is casually against the target wall – watching it hit directly in the centre of the number 1.

"Oh please…" Tobias stared on, his eyes wide with wonder and fear. I hoped he wouldn't say anything to my mentor and thankfully he didn't.

"So, what have you boys been doing then?" Mike explained the purpose of the makeshift swords, and how we had been using them to recreate battles. A package had been sent to my door a month ago with tapes showing the different winners of the past fifty Hunger Games, so we had studied them and even recreated some of the battles – working out the best moves and practising them. Haymitch seemed impressed with our work, nodding his head and adding in little comments here and there. When we went to demonstrate he looked at me like a father about to watch his son compete.

"Let's see if you lost any of that fighting spirit." He said in a teasing manner, making me scowl at him and grip my sword even tighter.

I could take on both Tobias and Mike with ease, ducking and diving away from their shots and bringing my sword crashing down on theirs so the vibrations shook through their bodies. Occasionally one of them would make a hit, but I would respond with three more, pinning them to the ground and forcing them to concede. Eventually they became so tired it was too easy.

"Come on!" Haymitch shouted. I was currently battling against Mike – Tobias having dropped out to catch his breath. Sweat dripped down my forehead, almost blurring my vision, and a few light cuts on my arm stung in the faint breeze. Suddenly I heard a yelp, and saw that Tobias had been pushed to the side by Haymitch. He grabbed hold of his sword and launched himself into the fray, battling against me and Mike. Mike quickly realised what was happening and backed away so it was just me and Haymitch. I was surprised with the skill and power that my mentor handled the blade – maybe he had been practising in his spare time, or maybe reflexes didn't die even with years of slumber. I increased the speed and power of my lunges, trying to get into the zone again – the one that made me unbeatable. Eventually I made a twist at the right time and sent my sword hurtling towards Haymitch's gut. He let out an oomph and feel to his knees, winded.

For a second I felt the high of success – adrenaline coursing through my veins – but then I realised what I had done and dropped down beside my friend.

"Are you ok?" I asked, sounding concerned. Haymitch was struggling to breathe, but he pushed me away roughly and then staggered to his feet.

"Well done." He said after a while, looking up at me and smiling. "That's my boy."

Haymitch trained with us for the rest of the time – teaching us things we couldn't have learnt ourselves, honing my talents and pushing me as far as I could go. Like a father. I noticed he would occasionally join in with the fighting, but tended to simply focus on me. This was my fight. These would be my Games.

At home we focused on the tapes. Haymitch recounted previous winners - their tactics and skills. People that we had miscounted as only small threats he reestablished as big ones and I watched as tribute after tribute died on the screens.

"How can you live through this?" I asked him after a while. A boy called Laker was currently strangling a tribute with a piece of wire, the choking sound echoing through the room. Many of the victims in these tapes had been from District 12 - I couldn't imagine what it must be like to train people, only to have them fail miserably in front of you. Haymitch sighed, bowing his head and playing with the next tape in his hands.

"You don't." He replied. I nodded my head, seeing the tribute fall to the ground motionless and Laker raise his arms to the sky in celebration.

Winter turned to Spring. The snow melted away and leaves began to grow on the trees – small little green shoots that signalled the beginning of new life. My life hung in the balance, but I was ready.

I was ready for the reaping.