Willow stumbled as she fled down the stone steps. Helpful hands reached out to assist her but she avoided them, and threw herself into a waiting car. It wasn't the one she and Vinnie had arrived in, but she knew which ones belonged to the Training Centre. The soft leather interior brought a chill to her arms, and she belatedly realised that she'd left her wrap, and Haymitch, behind.
"The Training Tower." The short command was all Willow could force out. She knew that if she tried to talk more, she'd simply end up screaming, and she couldn't do that here. Not in the Capitol. That was something that would have to be saved for the safety of home.
The driver nodded, and Willow wondered vaguely if the chauffeurs were avoxes, because she couldn't recall ever hearing one of them speak. The man glanced at her several times in the rearview mirror, with something approaching concern in his pale eyes. He was around the age her father would have been, Willow decided, had he still been alive, and she looked away as tears filled her eyes, the image of the bright city blurred as the car zipped silently along.
How could it have come to this? Willow asked herself. She'd left home the previous morning with such excitement in her heart, such hope that she'd be able to relax in Caesar's embrace, even if it was only for a few moments, such a need to hear his voice as he spoke to her and her alone.
Is there something wrong with me? Something wrong that men can't resist other women even though they claim to love me? Willow thought back to the moment that she'd found Lane Collins seated at their foreman's desk, head thrown back and legs splayed, a plump and very naked brunette bouncing up and down in his lap, and her nose wrinkled in distaste. That had hurt, a lot, but it had been nothing compared to the hurt she felt now, and she pressed a hand to her heart as an unbidden image of Caesar with a faceless female flashed into her mind.
The car door opened, and Willow found herself looking at the entrance to the Training Centre. They were back already? She felt a numbness settle on her as she slithered across the seat to step out of the vehicle, and as soon as she slid her foot out into the open, her pump dropped to the ground.
"Here." A familiar sinewy hand caught her ankle and slipped the shoe back onto her foot. The touch was none too gentle, but neither was it cruel, and Willow looked anxiously down into the face before her, trying to keep her tears from falling. Her driver was nowhere to be seen, and there was nobody else within earshot. It was just them. "I think it's time for you to tell me that story now."
"I can't, Haymitch."
"Come on, Willow. I know it involves Flickerman."
The tears she had been trying not to shed spilled over at the mere mention of Caesar's name, and she continued to sit on the edge of the seat, wanting to go and hide away in the privacy of her room, but at the same time not wanting to be in a place that reminded her so much of Caesar.
Haymitch didn't beat about the bush. "Were you sold to him?" he asked. "Did he buy you? I hear that happens a lot with victors."
Tears staining her cheeks, her eyes reddened from crying, Willow's head jerked up. "No!" she exclaimed. "No, that's not it."
"So what then? You're close to him, or at least you have been at some point. I could tell that from the way you were dancing with him."
Willow's eyes dropped back to the pavement beneath her feet. "I can't tell you," she whispered thickly. "He'll kill them if he finds out I've told you."
"Caesar?"
"Whatever he's done, I don't want him to die because of me."
"You're not making any sense at all, Willow."
A deliberate shuffling of feet announced the return of the chauffeur, and Haymitch held out his fingers to help Willow from of the car.
"Let's get you upstairs," he said, tucking her arm into the crook of his own and holding it there firmly.
She allowed him to lead her into the lobby and across to the elevators. With him gripping her hand, she didn't have much choice but to follow him, and she was surprised when he pressed the button for only the seventh floor.
The District 7 apartment was in darkness when Haymitch, still holding Willow's hand, pushed through the door.
"Don't your stylists stay to help you after the Ball?" he asked, feeling around on the wall for a lightswitch.
"Our stylists are always invited to the Ball," Willow explained, wafting her hand over a control panel. Light flooded the room.
"The perks of being in a richer district..."
Willow untangled her arm from Haymitch's grasp, ignoring him as he gazed about the room with little interest.
"It's decorated differently to the penthouse," he said, but when he turned around again, Willow had disappeared and silence was the only reply he received. He wandered along the back corridor of the apartment, searching for some indication as to where his friend was. He looked in two empty rooms before he found her, and only then because he heard her shallow breaths through the blackness.
When he finally managed to turn on the light, Haymitch still couldn't see Willow, and he thought for a second that he'd imagined hearing her. It was only when he turned to walk out of the room again that he caught sight of her. She was sat on the floor behind him, knees drawn up to her chest, her elbows on her knees, forehead on her fists, and tears were running down her cheeks.
"So, who's going to kill who if you tell me?"
"I can't, Haymitch," she whispered hoarsely. She wanted to tell him, she really did. She wanted to utterly unburden herself to him. He would be the only person she had ever told if she were to do so. There were people who loved her who knew about Caesar, certainly, but she'd not physically told anybody herself, not in all this time.
"Come on, Willow. You've already as good as admitted this is all to do with Caesar Flickerman. And you never denied you've been intimate with him. So what is it?"
"Please, Haymitch. If Snow finds out I've told anyone, he'll kill them... I can't tell you."
"You can trust me." His words were an echo of her promise to him a year ago, when he had shared his deepest secret with her, and Willow felt her resolve slip the moment he spoke them. He sat on the foot of her bed, directly in front of her, his forearms resting on his thighs, fingers interlaced, listening to her silently argue with herself.
"Did you watch my interview?" Her voice was gruff when she finally spoke again. "The first one."
"Yeah, who didn't? Two sets of interviews for one lot of tributes... Caesar must have been beside himself!"
"I danced with him that night."
Haymitch nodded, recalling the long-winded televised debates about Willow's tactics for the Games. "Hmm, and he kissed you afterwards. Nice job, by the way, don't remember anyone using that ploy before."
"It wasn't a ploy, Haymitch. I wasn't playing out some strategic gameplan. Caesar and I... There was a mutual attraction, let's say."
Haymitch's mouth dropped open for a split second before his face became impassive again. Whatever he'd been expecting to hear, that certainly hadn't been it.
"He sent a white rose to the Training Centre the following morning, and he turned up that same night. My mentor was a little reluctant, but she let us see one another, and it, ah, it went from there, really... It wasn't a walk in the park but by the time I entered the arena, I knew I was in love with him. And he said he loved me... I spent two weeks in the hospital here after I came out of the arena, and he was with me the entire time. He told me before I went home that he'd made an appointment to see the President, about me moving to the Capitol..."
"And had he?"
"Yeah, but Snow cancelled it at the last minute. So Caesar got on a train and came to 7 to see me. And that's when it all started to go wrong..." She began to suck in deep breaths, trying to stop the sobs she knew were coming. Haymitch sat still, saying nothing, completely blown away by the revelations. "The peacekeepers came the next morning... They took him away, brought him back here... Snow came to see me, sat with me whilst I watched a broadcast Caesar was making, one that was designed especially for us... They'd hurt him, I could see it in his eyes... Snow told me my relationship with Caesar was over, or he had some new torture devices to test out on him, with me as the guest of honour... So I had to let him go. Only I didn't, not really. And Caesar didn't me. Snow knew. I guess it was obvious, really... But he sent Caesar to ask me to dance at my Victory Ball, and every single one since..."
"So what happened tonight? You were so happy to see him, and then minutes later, you were just gone..."
Willow balked visibly as the memories of her most recent encounter with Caesar resurfaced with a terrifying momentum, and she ground her forehead against her fists as though to push away some image or other that was paining her.
"Caesar - " She stopped, sucked in a few breaths. "When he first started hosting the Games, he developed a drinking problem... They dried him out, obviously, couldn't have their Master of Ceremonies in his cups all the time, could they... And he never touched another drop. At least not until the night he had to announce Acacia's birth to Panem, or that's what he told me just now, anyway..."
Haymitch breathed out long and hard as he realised: "She's his - Acacia?"
Willow simply nodded, not even looking at her friend now.
"Is he drinking still? Is that what's upset you?"
"No. No. That I could have handled."
"What then?"
"One night Snow requested he be brought to the presidential mansion, and... and there was a woman there." Willow's head bowed. "One who looked like me..."
"Oh, shit... Willow, I'm - "
Her head shot upwards. "Don't tell me you're sorry, Haymitch. Don't you dare say that to me." Her eyes glittered fiercely. "I didn't tell you for sympathy."
"I know you didn't. So, he... and her...?" Haymitch couldn't quite find it in himself to openly describe the act of betrayal in words.
"He said he couldn't remember, but that she said they did..."
"Do you believe him? That he can't remember it?"
"I don't know. He wouldn't be the first person to have lied to save face, though, would he?"
"I guess not. But Snow did put him in there with her. I'm not defending him, but it's not as though Caesar went looking for it."
"He did the one thing he promised he would never do to me! He swore to me he would never do that. It's like I have a sign on my head telling men to cheat on me..."
"It's happened to you before?"
"Yeah." Haymitch waited but she didn't elaborate. Lane Collins was nothing in the light of this new betrayal.
"Like I said, it's not as though Caesar went - "
Suddenly Willow was on her feet. "If he doesn't remember, who knows what he might have told that girl. About me. About Acacia. Everything that we went through to keep her, and each other safe. He risked everything, Haymitch, because he decided he couldn't get through this without a drink!"
Haymitch remained silent, deciding now was as good a time as any to let her rant if she wanted to. He could understand her feelings. He guessed if he were in the same situation, he'd feel a similar way. The trust had still been broken, regardless of who was at fault.
The two victors regarded one another. There it was, laid bare. They now knew one another's deepest, darkest, most dangerous secrets.
"What a pair we are, huh?" Haymitch's smile lacked any amusement or joy. He rose from his position at the foot of Willow's bed.
"What a pair, indeed."
When Haymitch held out his arms, Willow walked straight into them, and they both knew the act sealed the understanding between them. She wrapped her arms tight around his waist, and he pulled her in close, resting his cheek on her hair, neither of them wanting to let go.
The slam of a door along the hallway was what eventually broke them apart, and Haymitch stepped away, towards the door, to head back up to his own apartment.
"Don't go," Willow asked. "Don't leave me alone with my thoughts tonight."
She looked so young, so vulnerable and unsure of herself, that Haymitch couldn't say no. He settled himself wordlessly on the bed, his shoulders propped up on the pillows, legs stretched out in front of him, arms folded across his chest. She leaned against him, her own arms crossed, her body tilted towards him just enough for her to be able to comfortably rest her head on his shoulder, and soon he heard her breaths become shallow as she fell into a restless slumber.
He was still there when Willow awoke a few hours later, his position unchanged.
"Did you sleep at all?" she asked dryly.
"No," Haymitch replied. "What were your nightmares about?"
"The usual stuff." She sat up. "How'd you know I was having nightmares?"
"You thrashed around a lot."
She nodded, feeling suddenly ashamed. Haymitch had been through so much worse than her. "You must think I'm so stupid. My problems are nothing compared to what you've been through."
"Willow, any problems I might have had to face died along with Mom, Ralph and Perrie. It may sound harsh, but it's true. All I have to do is keep me alive. You've got your daughter to protect, and Caesar, even if you do hate him right now. Your job is ten times harder than mine's ever gonna be." She gazed at him, considering the point for the first time. "Anyway, I'd better go. I'll see you at the Games."
"Bye, Haymitch. And thankyou."
He nodded as he slipped from the room, ignoring the open-mouthed surprise of Vinnie, Chilton and the District 7 style team as he strolled through the main living area and let himself out of the apartment without saying anything.
Willow didn't go through for breakfast, and despite several raps on her locked door by Juno, she didn't appear until the very last moment before it was time to to leave for the station. The young mentor couldn't stand the idea of admitting what had happened with Caesar, regardless of what her colleagues might be thinking about herself and Haymitch.
There were the usual jostling crowds at the station. Willow looked instinctively around, trying to spot the familiar dusky pink pompadour before she remembered that she wasn't supposed to care anymore, and she tried, unsuccessfully, to force the memory of Caesar from her mind as she stepped onto the train.
Time to go home, she said to herself. Time to try and forget.