6.

The hotel door opened on his third knock.

Haymitch looked at the woman up and down, not quite impressed by what he saw. She still looked pale and not quite steady on her feet. Magical hangovers did that to a person, he supposed. It didn't stop her from looking hot though and that was a problem because it wouldn't help him not remember the heated exchange in his classroom. The short pink skirt and the striped black and purple blouse with its big collar was a little ridiculous but he had the feeling it also cost more than his house. It also showed off her legs.

"So what was the plan?" he mocked. "Blending in by not wearing the tweed uniform?"

All the people at the Watcher academy used to wear tweed. Not that he had stayed there for very long. Not his scene at all.

She pursed her lips with obvious displeasure but stepped aside to let him in. It was the first time he entered The Capitol's penthouse and he looked around curiously. It was all see-through furniture and expensive appliance…

"As far as spies go, you're lousy." he continued. "Figured your game out the moment I met you."

"And yet there you went thinking I was a succubus." she deadpanned. "Imagine that."

He shot her an amused look, unable to suppress his smirk. He didn't need to say that maybe he wouldn't have mistaken her for a sex demon if she hadn't looked so fucking hot. First because it was too much of a compliment and then because it was probably written all over his face.

She looked a little amused herself.

"I do not know if I should be flattered or offended, to be honest." she added, gesturing at him to take a seat. The living-room part of the suit was nice enough if a little impersonal – but then again The Capitol was a hotel, he wasn't expecting personality – there were two white leather couches, a big flat tv screen and bay windows that offered an open view of the meadow.

He didn't take a seat. He placed his helmet on a small table, almost knocking off a vase, and slowly made his way to the liquor cart in the corner. He poured himself a drink without asking first or waiting for her to offer – and given her obsession for manners, she would probably have offered anyway but it was all about taking the upper hand here. Establishing who was in charge. The hotel had the good stuff, he decided when he inspected the bottle of whiskey, that wouldn't hurt.

"Why, please, make yourself at home." she huffed. "Your rudeness knows no bound."

"Bold of you to settle here." he commented, bringing his glass of whiskey to the window. He stood there and surveyed the meadow, his grey eyes eventually stopping on the dark silhouette of the burned tree in the distance. "You do know there's a Hellmouth in your backyard, yeah?"

"I thought it might be useful to keep a close eye on it." she sighed. "And I did not know if I would be staying long enough to make the hassle of searching for a house worth it."

"Thought it was me you were keeping a close eye on?" he challenged, turning back to face her. "Or is it my Slayer that the Council's spying on? Always hard to keep track with them."

She took a seat on the armrest of the couch. It made her skirt ride higher and he wasn't sure it was entirely accidental. She was distracting and he had a feeling she knew how to turn that to her advantage.

"I was not sent here to spy." she argued. "I was sent here to observe."

"Potayto. Potahto." he taunted. "You got scolded for getting caught?"

"President Coin was not pleased." she admitted and she didn't sound pleased either.

"I bet." he snorted, taking a sip of whiskey. "That woman's a bitch."

"Mind your language, would you?" she chided, lips pursed. "We came to the agreement that sooner or later I would have had to reveal myself to you, either way. She certainly would have liked me to… observe a little more but…"

"What do you want?" he snapped. "Cause I didn't ask to be called to play Watcher again. Coin contacted me. She dragged me back. Every fucking time she drags me back. So now what? You're worried I won't do my job right?"

She looked a little hesitant and lowered her eyes.

"There were concerns." she confessed. "There are a lot of… rumors about your fondness for liquor and you did send a few letters of resignation before…"

"They were ignored every time." he pointed out.

"Because you are the best." she retorted, looking back up and straight at him. She held his eyes for a moment. Tension built in the room. Mostly because she sounded genuine and he was torn between accepting a recognition that was his due and his personal disillusion about the whole thing. The Council's approval meant nothing. It was corrupted and was only interested in its Slayers so far as they were obedient. He had learned that the hard way.

"Careful, sweetheart…" he said slowly, taking another sip of his whiskey. "I'm gonna start thinking you have a crush on me or something…"

She barely batted an eyelash.

"You are a legend for the rest of us, Haymitch, like it or not." she retorted. "One of the youngest Watcher ever appointed to a Slayer… Your girls vanquished some of the oldest demons and that is without mentioning your own past exploits… You have one of the highest surviving rate when it comes to Slayers…"

"Tell that to Annie Cresta." he spat, turning his back on her.

The sun was setting over the woods, bathing the meadow in reddish hues. His eyes went back to the tree in the distance again. He hated that tree. He hated that meadow. He hated The Capitol. He hated the fact that his Slayers always died.

"The Cresta situation was unfortunate." she admitted. "Nevertheless…"

"Why did the Council ship me here if they have concerns?" he cut her off. "Coin knew I was a drunk way before Katniss was even called."

There was a long silence behind him. He wasn't sure if she was trying to figure out what to say and what to hold out – because he was certain the Council was sitting on some information – or if she was thinking about how to deliver the information he probably didn't want to hear.

"Because three Slayers have been called in The Seam before Katniss and you were involved with the three of them." she finally answered. "Because you know the town and a Watcher's duties better than anyone. And because…" There was a franc note of hesitation, then. "There is no easy way to say this, Haymitch."

"Cut the flattery crap and get to the point, then." he advised, leaning a hand against the glass.

He already knew what she was going to say, of course. Cashmere had hinted at it and there was this feeling of dread in his guts, a feeling that had never gone away in twenty years.

"The vampire you were trying to identify… Cashmere." Trinket said. "She is part of a group of four vampires who call themselves the Careers. They are old. Roman empire old. They used to be gladiators."

"Never heard of them before." he commented. He was a little surprised

"You wouldn't have. They have been diligent in avoiding dealings with Slayers or the Council. They broke ties around fifty years ago, around the time Snow started getting obsessed with Slayers, and flew under the radar until they reformed a decade or so ago." she explained. "They are… highly dangerous."

"We killed Cashmere." he pointed out. But if the vampire had really been that old, they had been lucky. No wonder he hadn't found any clue in the Watcher journals though… He hadn't been looking far enough.

"And that is very commendable, however that leaves you with Cashmere's brother and two other dangerous vampires who will probably want revenge." she replied. "There is something else. They were sired…"

"By Snow." he finished for her, tired of beating around the bush. It wasn't a huge leap to make. Roman empire… That was when Snow had been at the apex of his power and he had always had a thing for gladiators. Arenas, deadly games… That had been his trademark. "And they want to free him from the hell dimension he's trapped in."

"You will understand why the Council is concerned. You are the expert on Snow but President Coin is also aware of just how personal it could become for you. It is common knowledge you would have preferred the vampire slain instead of merely imprisoned." she added. Then her voice softened. "I am sorry."

"Why?" he snorted. "'Cause they need me but don't trust me or cause someone wants to release the demon who destroyed my life?" It wasn't a real question and he didn't leave her time to answer it. "So what happens now? You become Katniss' Watcher and I become a consultant?"

That might be fun to watch. Mostly because Katniss would snort a big fat no if she didn't kick her ass first. He had spent half the day trying to convince her that witches weren't evil unless they started killing people or unleashing demons upon the world – which he was relatively confident Trinket wouldn't do. She was more Glinda than Baba-Yaga.

"I am to continue observing and to lend my expertise if needed." she offered.

He turned to face her, a little surprised. "Why?"

"Because, believe it or not, I completed my Watcher training and passed with flying colors." she deadpanned. "I have outstanding managing skills and I excel at research. And this without mentioning my dabbling in defensive magic. I can be useful to you and your Slayer."

He was certain she had misunderstood the question on purpose and he wasn't going to let her get off the hook so easily.

"Why didn't you tell Coin you'd do a better job at being a Watcher than me?" he insisted. Knowing Alma, he was pretty sure that she must have asked Trinket's opinion on the matter.

She studied him for a long time, her hands clasped in her lap like an exemplary little girl, her legs crossed at the ankles.

"I told you. You are a legend for the rest of us." she answered eventually if a little too flatly. "I look forward to working with you." He opened his mouth to order her to cut the crap once more but she was quicker than he was and her voice was softer. "Mags told me a lot about you."

His heartbeat increased a little. "Mags."

"She taught one of my classes at the academy." she explained. "We remained friends."

"Did she send you here?" he asked. He finally walked away from the window to take a seat on the couch opposite hers.

That was something Mags would have done. Not challenge the Council outright but remain one move ahead. Control the chessboard, let the opponent think they had the upper hand…

"I honestly do not know." Trinket offered. "There were other people with more seniority and more experience who would have been more suitable to the task and I never go the feeling President Coin particularly liked me so I was the first surprised to be appointed for this mission…"

It could be Mags. That was something she might do… Knowing someone would be sent to spy on him either way… She would insist to place someone who was loyal to her. To help him. To protect him. Was that stroke even really a stroke? Had she upset the power in place too much? Coin didn't like her authority to be threatened…

Did she know she was in danger? Was he in danger? Power play inside the Council had never been his scene. He preferred to stay as far away from that snakes pit as he could be…

If she had sent Trinket though…

"I am an ambitious person, Haymitch, and I make no apologies for it, make no mistake. I would love to get assigned a Slayer and, after seeing her fight, I believe that with some discipline, Katniss will be a great Slayer…" the woman declared before he could get it into his head that she was entirely disinterested. "It would have been a honor to be her Watcher."

"You could have had her." he pointed out. "All you had to do was tell Coin I wasn't up to do the job."

She swallowed hard and averted her eyes. "The last time I saw her, a couple of weeks ago, Mags said… She said that you were a good man and that you would need help soon and I find… I find I am willing to help if you are agreeable." She glanced at him and away again, embarrassment flushing on her face. "You will think it flattery again but I do admire your work." She paused for a second and then she was smiling one of those polite distant smiles again. "Of course, I was disappointed to find you are rude, a little too sarcastic for my taste and not as handsome as they say but legends often do not hold to reality... This being said, it would be a privilege to work with you. I am certain I would learn a lot and, who knows, I might even teach you a few new tricks too."

That formulation of new tricks she might teach him had his mind crashing straight into the gutter. The way she used her tongue in a kiss…

He pressed the rim of his glass against his mouth, studying her just as intensely as she was studying him. "Not as handsome as they say?"

When she looked at him, this time, her eyes were sparkling with amusement. "Well, I would not have mistaken you for a sex demon. Tell me, has no one ever introduced you to a razor before? I am surprised they would let you teach into a school when you look like a hobo. Shabby simply isn't in style."

"Didn't hear you complain when you were sitting on my desk, Princess." he countered.

"We are never talking about that again." she informed him haughtily. She stood up and crossed the room to the liquor cart to pour herself a glass of wine. "You jumped on me. How inappropriate. You should consider yourself lucky I did not simply knee you. It would have been deserved."

She clucked her tongue as if she was scolding an unrepentant kid.

"I was trying to get you to turn into a demon. What's your excuse?" he chuckled. "You know… Seeing as I'm not as handsome as they say."

"A small case of hero worship that vanished as soon as I met you." She grinned and came back to sit on the opposite couch. She smoothed creases off her skirt with her free hand. "What will it be, then? Are we to be friends or enemies?"

He took another mouthful of whiskey just to delay his answer and then slouched a little against the back of the couch. He studied her. The way she moved, the way she held herself, the way she kept doing a visual sweep of her surroundings as if looking for a threat…"You were a Potential."

He wasn't entirely sure. He was certain that there was no Watcher family named Trinket and the job tended to be inherited regardless of personal ambitions. To each their legacies. It wasn't entirely unheard of for a former Potential to be hired by the Council as a freelance agent or, if they were more scholar than demon hunter, trained as a Watcher, though. Assuming they had a Watcher willing to vouch for them.

A lot of resources were devoted to finding potential Slayers. It involved magic, astrology, far too many spells, deals with oracles and various minor demons… An entire department of the Council was devoted to it and they still didn't always get it right. Haymitch had always found it a little stupid, mainly because fate wasn't something that could entirely be predicted. So sure, once in a while, a girl was called and that girl was a Potential so she was more equipped than most to deal with the burden… But for one Potential who turned into the Slayer, there were dozens of others from the same generation left without nothing. They were taken away from their family to be handed to people who often lacked the parental strike and who trained them to be soldiers and little else, some as young as babies. And there were expectations, of course. A Potential who was called was the Council's champion. A rogue, like Katniss and each of Haymitch's Slayers, never really belonged – which suited him just fine because he had never really belonged to the Council either. He was the American anomaly to their world empire of tweed and tea.

"That's personal." she snapped.

And that was an answer in itself, wasn't it?

"How much do you know about my life?" he snorted.

It was a rhetorical question.

All the Watchers knew every little detail of his personal tragedies. They were public knowledge. They were written black on white in seven separate Watcher journals.

She took a sip of her white wine with composed grace. She was used to having her every move watched and scrutinized, he decided, but she didn't have the sharpened edge of a seasoned warrior. She couldn't have been a very promising Potential. She lacked the taste for violence. He wouldn't have said she was soft but…

"If Maysilee Donner hadn't been called, I might have been." she offered. "Perhaps you would have been my Watcher, then."

That would have been a nice disaster in the making.

And improbable. The only reason they had sent him back to the Seam to mentor Maysilee was because he knew the town and he knew Snow. He had just finished passing their useless exams when he had been appointed the first time. By Coin herself.

"You'd be very dead by now." he pointed out.

And without Maysilee, who knew if Snow would even have been stopped? Fate was a bitch and he had no faith in it half the time but… Sometimes it got things right.

He tried to imagine a teenage Effie Trinket battling the worst evil the Earth had ever known and he couldn't picture it. When he tried, all he could see was a blond doll with a delicious pout and a lack of talent to handle a stake. He hadn't been attracted to Maysilee despite their small age difference and he had still been grieving Mabel at the time. Given how much she affected him, he wasn't sure he would have had the same restrain with Trinket.

What a mess it would have been…

"Don't be sorry it wasn't you." he spat, a little bitterly.

"It would have been an honor to be called." she retorted a little too aggressively. She washed that out with a mouthful of wine and flashed him a bright cheerful smile that was in total contrast with the anger she had just displayed. "Being the Slayer is a sacred duty."

There was bitterness and anger in her voice but no regret. Maybe she wasn't as stupid as she looked.

"Being called is a curse, not a gift." he objected, sounding exhausted to his own ears. "So… How do you get from being Potential to being a Watcher witch?"

"I am not a witch." She gritted her teeth but kept on smiling. "And I would appreciate it if you would not mention the display from yesterday to anyone."

"Ah…" He smirked. "They don't know you're that powerful… Explains it. Never heard of a woman Watcher with real magical powers before… They usually ship those to wiccan covens… Ever noticed men don't get the same treatment ? Though the Watcher club doesn't really like parity, yeah?"

"You are a man." she pointed out.

He shrugged. "I'm an American, that's worse in their book."

She pursed her lips and tilted her head but she was fighting a smile, as if she wasn't sure if she was annoyed with him or amused. After a second, she offered an explanation. "My mother practices. I only inherited a fragment of her power, I really am not as powerful as you seem to think."

He wasn't sure if she was playing at being modest or if she really wasn't that confident in her own power. What he had seen when they had been fighting that succubus told him she had a lot of potential to grow though.

"Doesn't answer my question." he reminded her, finishing his glass of whiskey. "How do you go from Potential to Watchet? Why not become a freelance demon hunter?"

It must have reminded her she was still holding her glass of wine because she drank some more and then placed it down on the glass coffee table.

"Suffice for you to know I was never really good at physical encounters." she told him.

"Doubt that." he mocked.

She narrowed her eyes and shot him an irritated glare but left the double meaning unaddressed. "I would have made a pitiful Slayer. I have the training but I never really developed a talent for handling weapons. Magic comes more naturally to me." She stood up and he stared at her with lifted eyebrows, his lips stretching into a smirk that she answered by pursing her lips and placing her hands on her hips. "I am sure you are anxious to get back to your Slayer…"

Which was a polite way to say he had overstayed his welcome.

"I gave her the night off." he answered.

He was half-tempted to remain right where he was just to see how much he could push her but there had been enough information for the night. His head was aching with them. He stood up too, a little slowly because the wounds on his chest bothered him, and reached for the helmet he had placed on one of the small tables.

He tapped his fingers on it twice without picking it up.

"Finnick ain't calling me back." he said casually.

"The doctors are very optimistic as far as I know." she offered, her voice softening again. Mags had that effect on people. "As for Finnick… I believe he is angry with you."

"Thought he had cut ties with the Council." he remarked.

"With the Council, yes. With Mags, never. And we are good enough friends. I tutored him when he was still at the academy." she sighed. "If I learn anything more about her condition, I will let you know."

"Thanks." he nodded.

He didn't look at her.

He didn't want to look at her.

He hated the idea of being as vulnerable as he felt right then in front of anyone. Mags was special, always had been, always would be.

"She said your mother was the best Slayer she ever trained." she whispered, a little sadly.

Had she read the journal Mags had kept about Iris Abernathy? Probably. Certainly. His whole childhood recorded for public consumption.

His mother had been a hero, that much he had always known.

And he barely remembered her. He had been five when she had died. All he had left were hazy memories he wasn't sure he hadn't invented.

Mags could have dropped him and his baby brother off to the closest orphanage after her death but she had kept them, she had raised them. She had made him his heir, brought him into the Watcher business, given him a purpose when he had floated adrift… He owed her for that. He loved her for that.

"Allies." he said in the resulting silence, answering the question she had asked half an hour ago. "For now."

Not friends.

Not enemies.

Allies, though, he could try. Just in case she was Mags' latest attempt at watching over him.

It didn't mean he had to like it and it certainly didn't mean he had to like her but he could test the water.

There will be a last chapter for this epilogue next week! We learned a lot to day... What did you think?