I have made Haymitch more optimistic in my fic compared to the actual Hunger Games; because he is younger in mine and hence hasn't watched as many of his tributes die though, it still has had a toll on him - voila, the drinking, he still hasn't succumbed to despair. :)
Chapter Ten; Bright Lights and Late Nights
The continuing festivities of the Capitol people could be heard dimly long into the night. The thought that she was surrounded by people who so openly rejoiced in death did not bode well with Stephanie. Sitting silently cross-legged on the plush bed, Stephanie plaited her hair in an attempt to soothe herself.
A few tears slid down her cheeks despite her attempts to stop them. She wiped them away hastily with the sleeve of the makeshift, white nightdress she had fashioned. She had made it from one of the dresses in the wardrobe after Haymitch had left; anything to keep her mind from tomorrow's 'event', and ripping the Capitol dress apart viciously had strangely made her feel better.
She secured her plait with a ribbon and sighing she slipped from the bed. A shiver ran up her spine as her feet touched the cold floor.
Usually if she couldn't sleep at home she would go and climb in with her sister and Eldi. She and Eldi would snuggle close, giggling softly trying not to wake the others, and her sister Weisna would plait their hair by the soft light the moon provided.
However here in the Capitol Stephanie suddenly felt so much older or rather was forced to be. She couldn't be a child anymore – she would be expected to kill in a matter of weeks. She couldn't still be depending on others.
Stephanie tip-toed lightly over to the door and opened it quietly. She gave a hissed curse as the hallway immediately flooded with harsh light automatically. However nothing stirred.
Stephanie darted across the hall to where she knew Frenkin was and cracked the door open a sliver. A strip of light spilled across the room illuminating the bed. He was huddled under the blankets sleeping soundly. Stephanie gave a small sigh and felt another tender tug at her heart. She forced herself to shut the door.
Stephanie frowned deeply. She had hoped a little guiltily that maybe Frenkin would still be awake and she could sit with him. If anyone could understand how she was feeling, it would be him, she had reasoned. However, seeing Frenkin had only troubled Stephanie even more. Unwittingly, the small boy with the oversized glasses had whittled his way into her heart, and she thought of him as a little brother and a comrade of sorts. It only made it harder for her to come to terms with what they were to eventually face.
With nothing better to do and feeling slightly paranoid under the glaring fluorescent lights, Stephanie made her way down the hallway towards the main room.
The room was well-lit by the light the floor-length windows provided. Walking her fingertips along the back of the sofa she approached the windows warily.
Pressing her nose to the cool glass she gazed at the city that was teeming with life, loud and bright below.
"Can't sleep?"
Stephanie gave an ear-splitting scream, spinning on her heel to face the source of the sound.
"Jeez…sweetheart! If you do that in the arena at every sound, you won't last the first night," Haymitch said. He was standing barefoot, a half-empty glass in his hand. His hair was dishevelled and he was just in his white shirt and trousers. He could look somewhat handsome in a roguish kind of way, she thought, and then was snapped out of her thoughts.
"You nearly scared me to death!" she shouted angrily. The sound of a door banging harshly somewhere not too far away made her voice drop.
He rolled his eyes and turned to walk in the direction of the kitchen. She hesitated for a moment and then followed him.
He sat down in one of the chairs and motioned for her to do the same, kicking out a chair for her to sit on.
She sat down with her legs tucked underneath her and began to fiddle with the ribbon at the end of her plait.
"So…" Haymitch began.
Stephanie glared at him. Haymitch ignored her and continued.
"What has you up?"
"Nothing," she snapped back.
He rolled his eyes. "I need you fresh-eyed for the morning," he reminded.
"I can't sleep," she said quietly.
"No kidding, sweetheart," he replied in a snarky tone.
She made no reply, her gaze focused far off. He sighed deeply and leaning forward gave her a nudge.
Her eyes snapped to meet his.
"I hate this feeling…" she said quietly.
Haymitch frowned, setting his glass on the table, "What feeling?"
"Of not being able to do anything…of being powerless. I remember when I was young…about ten. I remember now, because it was the first year my brother was in the clear. He felt bad about Weisna having to go to the Reaping alone. He's a real protective older brother type," Stephanie gave a shaky laugh.
Haymitch remained silent, listening to her intently. "He stole something stupid…a pendant or something of the like, to try and cheer Weisna up, and of course – he got caught. They strung him up immediately, fifty lash whips. My mother had told me to go straight home but I snuck back and I saw it. That was the first time I really felt powerless. The first time I really felt a reason to hate the Capitol. Sure I lived starving, but I knew no different. I hated the feeling…knowing that no matter if I was right or wrong, that my very life could be decided on the whims of someone I never even met…" Her voice trailed off into silence as her hands trembled, but it wasn't with nerves but anger.
Haymitch took her trembling hands in his, running his thumbs over her scarred knuckles soothingly.
"When I was in the Arena…there were so many times I just wanted to give up. I felt that there was no point in fighting, because when it came down to it, with the push of a button the Capitol could ultimately decide who would win…" Haymitch paused looking down at their hands. "But I discovered that there were some things that the Capitol couldn't control," he spoke quietly.
Stephanie had felt the tears begin to prick at her eyelids and she refused to look at him, instead looking down at her hands still grasped firmly within Haymitch's.
He tilted her chin up gently to meet her eyes like he had done before. Her eyes were burning brightly with emotion and he offered her a small smile.
"Well then, what is it?" she said thickly, trying to swallow the tears.
"What's what?" he asked in confusion.
"What is it the Capitol can't control? Because believe me, sitting here miles away from all that I know and everyone I love, it seems like they control everything," she said a little bitterly.
"If you want to win badly enough the Capitol can't take that want away from you, and if you allow yourself to hope that you can win the Capitol can't take that hope away from you. Stephanie, if you believe you can win then you have a chance," Haymitch insisted.
The faint scent of alcohol still clung to Haymitch's cool breath as it washed over her face. Stephanie looked up scouring the depths of Haymitch's grey eyes for any doubt or any hint of a smirk. She found none.
Stephanie gave Haymitch's hands a grateful squeeze.
"I have always been taught to make the best of things…you know if life gives you lemons make lemonade. But this…this takes things to a whole new level," she said, doubt still lacing her voice.
Haymitch shook his head, "I'll teach you how to survive and get you sponsors, Isa will teach you how to be a Capitol doll and Ficen will dress you like one. But there is no point in me giving my all if you aren't willing to fight, to at least try. That's all I'm asking. You have to meet me halfway Stephanie, or what is the point?"
She stared at him long and hard.
"And what about Frenkin, doesn't he get a shot?" she said in a small voice.
Haymitch sighed deeply. "I'll give Frenkin the same opportunities that I give any that I mentor, including you…" Haymitch's voice trailed off, a mournful look in his grey eyes.
"But…" Stephanie's voice was barely above a whisper.
"But…" Haymitch echoed softly. They exchanged a knowing look; a stare of horrible understanding.
But…no one expected Frenkin to survive, perhaps not even Frenkin himself.
She tore her gaze away from Haymitch's when a particularly loud chorus of cheers erupted from somewhere in the Capitol. She sighed, feeling the new emotion of hatred pulse through her veins, and what disturbed her even more was that it was becoming oh, so familiar.
"So, how bad is this 'event' likely to be?" she tried to sound nonchalant.
"Sweetheart, a party with free booze can never be considered bad," Haymitch said, and releasing her hands he leaned back once more on his chair. She gave a wan smile but an empty feeling settled in her stomach which she pushed away with a frown.
"So…who will be there?"
"Tributes, mentors, stylists…" Stephanie interjected with a groan at the thought of Ficen watching her every move.
"I guess that means there's no chance of going barefoot?"
"Afraid not sweetheart. There will also be general Capitol people – those are the ones you want to impress – they're the ones who can get you that drink of water that could save your life in the arena."
"Hhmph," Stephanie rolled her eyes and received a stern glance from Haymitch.
"And the Gamemakers will also be there," Haymitch added, without bothering to hide the tone of disgust at their mention.
"Well, I suppose it will be nice to put a face to my murderers," she replied sarcastically.
"Hey!"
"Yea, yea I know, positive thinking and all that."
"You never know, one of them might get drunk and let something slip."
"Or hopefully slip themselves and crack open their skull."
"As much as that would be a truly pleasant sight to see, make sure it isn't your foot they trip over," Haymitch warned sternly.
After pouting stubbornly and childishly for a moment she finally conceded, admitting weakly in her own mind she probably wouldn't have the nerve to do it.
"Fine. Anyway, there is more chance of you slipping and cracking after you have hit the bar."
"Well, it would be right after you sweetheart in those high shoes of yours then, wouldn't it?"
She grimaced, thinking of the contraption Ficen was most likely preparing for her as a punishment.
"Will there be more events like this? I mean, what is the rest of the week going to be like?" she asked.
"Busy," he answered, tactfully avoiding her questions. Not a good sign.
She was about to demand answers when Haymitch glanced at his arm, and tapping the face of an imaginary watch gave a long whistle.
"Well, Sleeping Beauty it is high time you hit the hay."
She frowned, before reluctantly getting to her feet. She fell back onto the chair after discovering her legs had fallen asleep because of her sitting on them for so long.
She glared when Haymitch found it highly amusing.
Outside there was an explosion of fireworks, as a shower of vibrant colours lit the sky for a few moments before disappearing silently into the night with a few whispers of smoke. Stephanie couldn't help but feel a bit like one of the fireworks.
She would shine brightly on the screens of every television in Panem for a little while and then when she died in the arena, she would disappear into nothing. The Capitol only ever remembered its Victors.
And maybe it was because she felt that death really was on her young doorstep, or maybe because it just seemed like a natural thing to do when fireworks were exploding above you in the sky, accompanied by the sudden grateful companionship and understanding she now felt for Haymitch, that inspired her actions.
Stephanie leaned across and kissed Haymitch softly on the lips. It lasted but a few seconds before she pulled away and got up, walking out of the kitchen.
"Night Haymitch …and thanks," she called over her shoulder and for once in a long while, Haymitch sat completely stunned into silence.