Chapter Thirteen; Needed Comrades

Stephanie paused mid-step with her back to him.

Haymitch waited for her to turn around. After observing her sour mood all morning and concerning the genuine topic of her 'training', he had decided a talk was necessary.

Stephanie's heart was pounding in her chest. Now what did she do? She almost wished she hadn't kissed him to begin with. Almost.

Without turning around she answered him. "I don't know," she admitted lamely.

"Sweetheart…" Haymitch began in an exasperated tone that just seemed to irk her and she whipped around sharply, eyes blazing.

"What?!" she shouted.

Haymitch looked at her. His eyes hardened again at her outburst. "Well sweetheart the Capitol men will just love you, if you kiss people for absolutely no reason," Haymitch stated sarcastically.

"It was a thank-you," she shouted back.

"The words usually suffice darling."

"I just...couldn't help thinking of how I wouldn't be around for much longer…"

Haymitch's face softened for a moment.

"I thought you said you would try?"

"I know and I will, but…I still can't help feeling like I'm heading for my death, like every day is one of my last. At that minute I just thought…"

"A sort of live for the moment kind of thing?" Haymitch suggested helpfully. He knew the feeling. Stephanie felt a flare of warmth in her heart at the words…he understood. And surrounded by stylists who couldn't understand why you had never thought to curl your eyelashes and Capitol nonsense in general, that was rare. She had missed it.

"Yeah. I feel alone here. You and Frenkin are like…my family or comrades or something,"

"Or it could be just that I'm irresistible?"

"Yea, and the Hunger Games will end one day," she added sarcastically with a roll of her eyes.

"Well…" he breathed, meeting her eyes.

"Yea," she agreed, even though she had no idea what she was agreeing to.

And then she smirked.

"Truce?" she held out her hand.

"Truce," he agreed.

"Although I get the whole comradeship, mutual comfort thing you have going on sweetheart – I wouldn't kiss Frenkin. You might traumatise him before he gets to the arena," he said as he knocked back another glass.

She laughed despite herself. "Shut up and let's get this over with."

It turned out that Stephanie was horrible at this Capitol 'flirting and fawning'. Everytime she tried to give a compliment, it would be followed by a sharp retort under her breath that would completely undermine it.

What made matters worse, is that Isa and Frenkin had called in and Isa had proclaimed Frenkin to be a natural, much to Stephanie, and she suspected Haymitch's, surprise.

While Stephanie was getting a drink she caught Frenkin alone.

"Pssst, Frenkin. What did you do?" she whispered.

"I don't know. Nothing really. I just answered her questions truthfully," he said seriously, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

"Right sweetheart, let's try this again," Haymitch said, running a hand through his hair in barely concealed frustration.

She trudged over to him with a scowl.

"Sweetheart, with a face like that it will be a wonder if anyone approaches you."

She gave a sugary sweet smile.

"Hello, how are you finding the Capitol sweetheart?"

"Will they call me sweetheart?"

He gave a long, hard look and she dropped her question.

"It is truly amazing. I mean the whole city is breath-taking. Well, what little I have seen of it being from a little District…" Haymitch nodded in encouragement as she continued.

"Yes, the Capitol and their people are so much more refined and civilised…it must be a real tough act to keep up especially when you're butchering kids on a live show – "

Haymitch cursed. "That's it! We tape her mouth shut and tell everyone she is dumb. I know I will have a better chance at selling the mute tribute than this."

"I am not being sold!"

"You are to the sponsors!"

Stephanie gave an inarticulate sound of rage. "It's not easy!"

"Stop acting so immature. I thought you said you would fight!"

"I am not and I will fight."

"Then stop being so difficult. You know which things to say and which not."

She scowled at him but made no argument because she knew he was right.

"If you can't get rid of that pride, I can't work with you."

…

Stephanie had stormed from the room shortly after that and had refused to come from her bedroom, even for Frenkin.

As Isa was teaching Frenkin proper table manners Haymitch found himself outside Stephanie's door with a bottle of vodka and picking the lock. There was no sound from within the room and Haymitch guessed that she was asleep – well, not for much longer, he thought.

The lock was a little harder to pick than he thought, but that might have had something to do with the now empty bottle sitting on the floor beside her door. Finally with a resounding click he was able to open the door and true enough Stephanie was curled up in a ball on the bed sound asleep.

He walked quietly over to the bed and then with a swift tug he pulled the blankets off her. Unfortunately, Stephanie liked to wrap herself in a cocoon of blankets and when they unravelled she found herself on the floor.

Stephanie sat up quickly with a murderous look in her eyes to find Haymitch reclined on her bed.

"Was that really necessary?" she managed through gritted teeth.

"It was effective, wasn't it?" he answered.

Stephanie dragged herself up off the ground to stand with her hands on her hips glaring down at Haymitch.

"We need to talk sweetheart, so you may want to make yourself comfortable."

"I thought we already talked."

"Yea well, we're talking again."

Stephanie didn't move and Haymitch rolled his eyes at her stubbornness, "Fine."

"You sweetheart are…proud, stubborn…"

"What is this? Just a list of all the bad things about me," Stephanie interrupted.

"You didn't let me finish – another habit of yours."

She bit her tongue and remained silent.

"Being proud can be a good thing but not in this situation."

"I can see that."

"Then why do you insist on it?"

"Well I'm sorry I don't find it so easy to grovel," she replied, sarcasm dripping from her every word.

Haymitch grabbed her fiercely by the wrist and pulled her down to sit on the bed so he could be at eye-level with her.

"I told you last night that you had to want to win," he said fiercely, all traces of Haymitch's usual nonchalant and sarcastic tone gone.

She looked at him coldly. "Of course I want to win," she said sharply.

"Yea well, wanting to win counts for nothing if you have already signed yourself away as dead, because then you clearly don't want it enough," he dropped her wrist watching her closely as his words sank in.

"I'm not strong."

"I know."

"I don't know how to use a bow or how to fight in hand on combat."

"I know."

"I haven't the most pleasant personality."

"Oh believe me sweetheart, I know."

She swatted his arm before turning to face him seriously; eyes burning brightly, hands trembling slightly.

"You still believe I can win?"

Haymitch held her gaze for a few moments. "Yea."

In less than a minute she had thrown her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder as the first few tears escaped. After recovering from initially getting the wind knocked out of him Haymitch wrapped his arms around her, simply holding her.

After a few moments he felt the trembling in her shoulders cease and he chanced a glance down; her face was still hidden.

"Sweetheart, just a warning; you ain't walking away from this one casually."

Stephanie pulled back to face him, eyes red rimmed and brow creased in confusion.

"After you kissed me you pranced out without a word of explanation. What was the hug for?"

"Because you believe I can win. That's bigger aspirations than I had for myself," she admitted.

He leaned back casually.

"Plus…I already explained to you. The kiss was a sort of thank-you and because I felt like I was practically dying and I felt alone here in the Capitol where no one understands me," Stephanie's voice rose in volume as she dealt Haymitch a swift punch to the arm.

"I don't know about being good at combat but there's definitely something to work on there," Haymitch said rubbing his arm.

Stephanie gave a small smile feeling a little proud of herself; of course until Haymitch interrupted it.

"Are you sure it hasn't anything to do with you not being able to resist my rugged looks?"

Stephanie arched an eyebrow at him but before she could answer Isa popped her head in the door.

"Oh Haymitch pet there you are and Stephanie, what a surprise, you're up."

Haymitch and Stephanie looked to her expectantly. Isa as usual was oblivious…as she was to most things around her.

"Is there something in particular you wanted Isa?" Stephanie prompted.

"Oh yes, we have just got the footage of all 99 of the Hunger Games! So we can watch them and take notes, you know all the technical side of things. Very serious business. I'll go get the popcorn!" Isa said excitedly before skipping down the hall.

Stephanie sat silent, a hollow feeling in her stomach. She didn't want to watch what would be her in a few weeks. As if reading her mind Haymitch spoke, "I'll get her to delay until tomorrow." Stephanie nodded in weak thanks.

Somewhere a clock chimed; Stephanie was shocked that they would have something so…old in the Capitol. She glanced at the alarm clock beside her bed. It was 2:50.

There would be another light meal and then more practicing before Ficen would arrive to help her with her dress and then…the event.

She looked up and was momentarily surprised to meet Haymitch's keen, grey eyes.

Stephanie felt an understanding with Haymitch and he for her; one that could only be born between those who had felt what it was like to face your own death and the anger in knowing that you would die for nothing and couldn't stop it.

Stephanie had no great expectations for anything spectacular in life, just the normal; something like what her sister had and yet it had been cruelly snatched away from her.

It had been her last year and then she would be safe from the Hunger Games forever; but no she had been chosen. A stroke of luck…of cruel irony.

That was why she kissed Haymitch, because in a world of painted faces she was lost and he was the only thing that reminded her of a future that was now lost to her forever in her mind.

And Haymitch…well he might have won but he had still lost. Unable to forget and move on, he might as well have died he had thought, as a growing list of faces haunted his dreams until even when his eyes were open he could still see them.

In ways that they didn't fully know themselves they needed the other. She was his redemption…if he could save her, then maybe the faces wouldn't haunt him anymore. And she needed someone who believed she could be saved, for despite her basic human instinct to survive, when she looked in the mirror all she saw was a dead girl.