Thank you so much to Ro-Lee, Randommmfanatic, and my guest reviewer!

Wrath

"No."

The kitchen table between her and Haymitch seems miles long. "You're joking."

"I'm serious. No." He grabs the nearest half-empty bottle and begins to chug.

"Snow himself came to warn me, Haymitch."

"Snow can go fuck himself. Look, sweetheart, I'm sorry that Snow decided to pick on you instead of me, but I'm done playing their games. We won, Maysilee. It's over."

She slams her hands on the table. "How can you be so stupid? It's not over. It'll never be over. We gave them the star-crossed lovers, and we'll have to keep giving it to them for the rest of our lives."

"No offense, sweetheart," he drawls in a tone that tells her he definitely wants to offend her, "but didn't you come up with that brilliant plan in the first place? You started it, so it's up to you to fix it."

Maysilee clenches her jaw. "You didn't complain about the plan when it got us sponsors. When it got us out of the arena with our lives."

Haymitch scoffs. "Some life this is. If that's everything, sweetheart, you can show yourself out. I have a ten o'clock date with some sweet, sweet tequila."

She knows a lost cause when she sees it. Maysilee returns to her house and sinks onto the couch, head in her hands. I tried, she thinks, as if Snow can hear her. Who knows? Maybe he can, thanks to some new invasive Capitol technology. I tried. I did my best. Please.

Snow must have bugs in Haymitch's house—and her own, she's sure—because somehow, he does know exactly where to place the blame. Later that day, Larkspur is found dead on the path leading to the Victors' Village, a stab wound in her side. No witnesses. The Head Peacekeeper declares it a mugging gone wrong and makes a half-hearted search for the culprit before deeming it impossible.

Haymitch storms into her house, tear tracks and grief staining his face. "You told him, didn't you? You went and tattled to Snow."

"I didn't—"

"You little traitor. After all we've been through, you go and stab me in the back—"

Maysilee slaps him, hard. "Never," she says coldly, "call me a traitor again. And you're stupider than I thought if you don't realize that our houses are bugged. Now get out, clean yourself up, and go help Larkspur's family with the funeral. It's the very least you owe her after making her deal with you in this state for so long."

The people of District 12 are smart enough to know to keep quiet about Larkspur, if they value their lives. So when the Capitol's reporters and cameras swarm to the district for the Victory Tour, they never pick up on any story about Haymitch's secret girlfriend and her tragic death. But even their best makeup people and lighting tricks can't hide the toll that Haymitch's dependency on alcohol in the past half year have taken on him. At least his clear alcoholism provides a convenient excuse for why Haymitch isn't as cuddly with Maysilee as one might expect of the star-crossed lovers. Maysilee does her best to make up for Haymitch's lack of affection, and the Capitol is eager to continue to believe their fairy tale.

And Snow seems satisfied that Haymitch has learned his lesson, because Maysilee receives no more threatening messages or visits, and as far as she knows, neither does Haymitch. But Snow won't be satisfied forever, and his specter lingers in Maysilee's mind as she does her best to give Haymitch distance and time to grieve, while she anxiously eyes the days flying by. It might be selfish, but she doesn't want to be taught a 'lesson' as well.

Haymitch's mother isn't an idiot. Mrs. Abernathy knows there is ample foul play at work, and she seeks out Maysilee. "Haymitch isn't well," the older woman says gravely. "He's still angry about Larkspur. But I'm worried that in his anger, he'll put his brother in danger." Tavitch is several years younger than Haymitch, a wide-eyed boy whose cheeks became less gaunt and his limbs less skeletal after his older brother's prize money began to pour in.

Maysilee stews with discontent. Mrs. Abernathy and Tavitch don't deserve to suffer because Haymitch thinks he's somehow sticking it to Snow by continuing to rage about Larkspur, after even her family have ceased publicly mourning. But Maysilee's, Mrs. Abernathy's, even Jon and Dell's pleas for him to use his brain and think of his loved ones, Haymitch continues to remain deaf to any and all requests to do what Snow wants.

It comes as little surprise when Mrs. Abernathy and Tavith are found dead in Haymitch's big house—carbon monoxide poisoning, supposedly—but Maysilee weeps no less for the woman who just wanted her sons to be well and for the young boy who had done nothing wrong.

Also unsurprising is how Haymitch no longer has any desire to return to his house. Maysilee finds him slumped on her porch one evening, surrounded by several bottles that he likely emptied as he waited for her to return.

"What do I have to do?" he asks wearily.

Anger flares in her heart, but not at Haymitch. He has well and truly learned the lesson Snow wanted to beat into him. Never again will he allow his temper to place his loved ones in danger. No, her anger is for Snow and the Capitol. They broke this boy who is now a shadow of his once brilliant, arrogant, laughing, clever self. They broke this boy who once smelled of the forest but now smells of liquor. They broke this boy who saved her life in the arena.

Now she's going to save him. No, more than that: she's going to fix him.

Maysilee sits down beside him and wraps her arms around his shoulders, bonier than they used to be—he hasn't been eating well. After a moment, he leans into her. Another moment later, he's sobbing against her neck, begging for forgiveness from Larkspur, from Mrs. Abernathy, from Tavitch. All the while Maysilee holds him, murmuring empty words of comfort, stroking the messy curls on his head.

So broken, she thinks. She shudders to imagine what would have happened to him if he were alone and had no one to help him piece himself back together. But he won't be alone.

I won't be alone.

And Maysilee knows that even though they're going to pick up the star-crossed lovers again, even though Snow is going to be pleased he seems to have cowed them both, he's going to regret the day he got the idea to teach a lesson or two. She doesn't know exactly how or when, but she's going to make the old man rue everything he's done to them. And Haymitch, if he's willing, will be right there beside her.

Thanks for sticking with me for yet another chapter! Reviews are love, and I'll send you a very short preview in exchange!