Chapter Fifteen; Red

Haymitch scooped Stephanie up, ignoring Ficen's angry rant and carried her to her bedroom.

He sat her on the bed and went to get some water.

At last she has a reason to fight, he thought as he lifted the glass of icy water and walked out of the kitchen; by-passing the bottle of vodka on the counter.

He walked in to her bedroom. She was coming to; she had only fainted.

"Here," he handed her the cold water when she propped herself up on her elbows.

She took it soundlessly and finished it off in one go as Haymitch sat down on the edge of the bed.

Haymitch was about to speak when she cut across him.

"I will fight."

He looked at her. She was as pale as death but her eyes were sharp, determined.

He watched her walk out of the room once more, down the hall and towards Ficen. She barely glanced at the television.

The girl who had got on the train, who was angry at the Capitol for hurting her brother and had never really experienced the full force of the Capitol's cruelty was gone; replaced by a new girl, who was still angry but who now would do what it took to survive. And as Haymitch watched her he couldn't help but feel sad, a sense of loss even though he knew that sooner or later that the Capitol would take her spirit. It still didn't stop him wishing he could get back the girl who had kissed him under the fireworks.

…

After a loud rant from Ficen she had finally forced Stephanie into her dress and got her ready. In usual Ficen style her preparation took hours and once or twice Stephanie felt faint from the lack of sustenance but she steeled herself against it each time.

When she was finally finished Ficen directed Stephanie to practice walking about in her dress to get the 'feel' of it.

"I have been wearing it for the past three hours. I'm pretty certain I know how it feels," Stephanie bit back.

"Walk about. Do not eat, talk, drink or do any other idiotic things that may ruin the dress before the party," Ficen insisted threateningly.

"How about I just stop breathing, do you think the dress would be safe then?" Stephanie shouted.

"No…" Ficen trailed off with a callous smirk. "Save that for the arena," and she stalked out of the room.

Stephanie couldn't muster the strength to even glare after her. "I hate her," she said through gritted teeth. And she felt misery weigh heavier in her heart at her words. It wasn't because there was any great love lost between the stylist and the tribute.

Growing up Stephanie had had one enemy that she hated – the Capitol; some unknown force that she didn't understand, only that she knew she hated it. But now ever since she had arrived at the Capitol her hate had grown steadily; a list of names and faces to hate individually; Ficen, Bright, Lashes, Silver, Isa, President Snow, Career tributes she didn't even know…the list went on and it weighed on her.

Even worse sometimes the lines of hatred were blurred and unclear, like with Isa. Isa was just doing her job and someone that naïve couldn't possibly be intentionally bad – Could they? And yet she was part of the Capitol that Stephanie had always hated.

She gave an acrimonious laugh. She had hated Haymitch when she had first met him and now…well she wasn't exactly sure what she felt about Haymitch now but it wasn't hate. She wondered for a brief moment if she had of met Haymitch under different circumstances; like bumping into him in her District when she was still a naïve, little girl what the outcome would have been.

Glancing in the mirror she noted that she wasn't a little girl anymore. The crimson dress hugged her figure – the padding creating fake curves where she had only jutting bone – to her mid thighs and then flared out so that when she turned quickly it would fan out. It was sleeveless – an attribute she didn't like. She felt so exposed though she was grateful that Ficen had let her wear her hair down. Lashes and Bright had laboriously curled it so that it fell in soft brunette waves about her shoulders to her waist. Growing up haircuts hadn't exactly been a priority. She tugged at it experimentally to test if it was a wig. She had never seen her hair looking so …healthy and glossy?

Ficen had gone with minimalistic but sultry make-up this time, much to Stephanie's relief. Stephanie was afraid that after the silver paint at the Opening Ceremony that Ficen had a thing for the dramatics. Her lips had been painted/dyed/coloured (she hadn't been paying attention) the same colour as her dress. She met her eyes in the mirror like she had on the screen at the ceremony. There was a hardness in them that wasn't there before. No; she was most definitely not a little girl anymore.

Stephanie left the room and walked gracefully down the stairs. She was still barefoot. And she smiled when it made her think of Haymitch.

She entered the kitchen to the delighted squeals of Isa. Frenkin looked at her with wide eyes. He wore a light blue suit that matched his eyes with a yellow bowtie and his sandy hair had been slicked back.

"I knew you would suit red Stephanie. I just knew it! I was the one who recommended it to Ficen!" Isa beamed. "Haymitch look – isn't she a complete doll?" Isa enthused.

Stephanie turned as Haymitch entered in a satin, black tuxedo and tamed hair; looking every inch the Capitol gentleman. He gave her a weak smirk, "Very nice sweetheart."

"Red is the colour of love and passion!" Isa exclaimed dramatically as she pranced about the room.

"No," Stephanie said suddenly. Haymitch glanced up to meet her gaze. "Red is the colour of blood."