Chapter Twenty-Two; The 16th Hunger Games

(Stephanie's POV)

A whining sound ringing in Stephanie's ears was the first thing to wake her as sunlight began to filter through the curtains and make dancing patterns on her closed eyes.

Groaning she turned over and knocked the alarm clock to the ground. She still didn't know how to turn it off and found that simply dropping it usually did the trick.

With a satisfying thud the alarm clock fell silent and Stephanie opened her eyes.

Stephanie slipped from the bed and ran into the bathroom, thinking to get a shower to give her time to organise her thoughts before going to breakfast.

The warm water washed over her shoulders easing the tension from having to keep her shoulders and back straight all last night. Ficen had been sending her glares when she had tried to slump and relax for a few moments and so she felt like a plank of wood was attached to her back all night. Thankfully Ficen hadn't bothered to approach her and actually Stephanie couldn't remember seeing her after the Seneca Incident.

The Seneca Incident. That was all she had dared to call it. When Seneca had practically told her that she would die no matter what in the arena, and then of course Haymitch vowing that she wouldn't and later then…then the kiss.

Stephanie allowed her fingertips to brush against her lips as she recalled it, a faint dusting of pink colouring her cheeks. Oh, how I wish I could ask Weisna for advice right now… Stephanie felt a familiar pang at her heart as she longed for home and her family.

"Well Haymitch Abernathy, it's you who has to do the explaining now."

…

(Haymitch's POV)

Haymitch was sitting in the living room, an untouched bottle of vodka on the table in front of him.

He had one arm draped over his eyes, so he couldn't see Stephanie when she entered the room, but he could hear her and he felt the sofa beside him dip when she sat down next to him.

The scent of vanilla drifted to him and he peeked at her from under his arm.

Her hair was wet and she was drying it with a towel, staring off into the distance.

As if sensing his gaze on her she turned to look at him.

"What was the kiss for sweetheart?" She couldn't help smirking when she said it and he gave a small laugh shaking his head.

"Comradeship?" he offered.

She laughed lightly, a few droplets of water running down the curve of her neck. She fell silent after a moment, and she looked at him, waiting.

"I guess I like you more than I thought," Haymitch said simply.

She smiled softly at him and her eyes seemed to brighten for a moment.

"And what about you? I don't exactly remember you offering much protest" he prompted.

"I guess I like you more than I thought too," she replied, dropping the towel into her lap.

Then Isa appeared to disturb the moment.

"Breakfast!" Isa announced cheerfully and then upon seeing Stephanie gasped loudly. Isa scurried over to her and whipping the towel from Stephanie's hands began to scrub Stephanie's head with it.

"Ah ISA! Your nails are like claws," Stephanie said, trying to duck out of Isa's grasps.

"Well maybe if you would use the hairdryer to dry your hair," Isa replied, seeming a little offended that Stephanie had referred to her nails as claws.

Stephanie shifted a little. "I don't like the hairdryer."

Isa of course didn't think this a viable excuse and stalked off with her nose in the air.

Getting up to follow her Stephanie paused at the arched doorway.

"Aren't you coming for breakfast?" she directed her question to Haymitch.

Haymitch passed her with a smirk, after catching her frown when he backtracked to collect the bottle of vodka from the table.

…

(Stephanie's POV)

After breakfast it seemed that Stephanie couldn't get out of having to watch the footage of past Hunger Games.

She reluctantly seated herself between Frenkin and Haymitch. Isa was still annoyed at her and had made a fuss about sitting beside her until Frenkin had swapped.

"Well what year do you want to start at sweetheart?" Haymitch asked nonchalantly, flicking on the TV with the remote.

Stephanie threw a glare at him, regretting eating so much at breakfast as painful reminders of her last occasion flashed across her mind.

"Any preferences kid?" Haymitch directed his question to Frenkin after Stephanie had remained silent.

"16," Stephanie said quietly.

Haymitch glanced at her curiously before with a few button pushes the 16th Hunger Games came to life on the screen.

First off it was the Reapings. Districts One and Two. Then District Three.

It was a male escort for District Three for the 16th Hunger Games. He had jet black hair that made her thoughts involuntarily go back to Seneca for a moment.

Then the voice of the escort sounded clear. "Sam Trindlesworth!" A young boy, younger than Stephanie, with thick blonde hair stepped forth determinedly. The camera focused in on him and Stephanie caught a glimpse of the eyes she had inherited from her ancestor who was Victor. Looking at the resigned stance of the boy on screen, one would never imagine that he would go on to be Victor.

"Trindlesworth?" Haymitch repeated quietly, turning to her.

Stephanie looked at him out of the corner of her eye; her throat suddenly felt tight.

"My great great grandfather," she answered his questioning gaze.

Understanding registered on Haymitch's face and Stephanie returned her gaze to the screen as the Reapings continued.

She felt it first, a slight clumsy nudge that she thought nothing of. And then Haymitch took her hand in his firmly and securely. She squeezed his hand tightly as a sign of gratefulness, glancing down to see her fingers entwined with Haymitch's. She looked up at him but his gaze was trained on the screen as the Reapings drew to a close.

The videos were brutal and she felt like she was wearing a permanent grimace as she blanched at the sheer ruthlessness. But everytime she felt like just leaving the room she would feel Haymitch's hold tighten ever so slightly, radiating warmth, reminding her that he was with her. But you won't be there in the arena, Stephanie thought sadly.

…

(Haymitch's POV)

As if sensing what she was thinking; after all Haymitch had been there himself, he turned to her.

Frenkin's eyes were as wide as saucers as he tugged nervously at the hem of his shirt, twisting the material between his hands.

Isa of course was oblivious, gazing at the screen and providing the appropriate 'oohs and aahs' when a tribute died.

Haymitch watched Stephanie carefully. Her jaw was tensed and her eyes were glazed, her pupils trembling slightly.

"Sweetheart…" Haymitch whispered softly.

Stephanie flinched a little, startled, but she didn't turn to face him, her eyes trained as her great, great grandfather went in for the winning kill.

Haymitch lifted his other hand and forced her to face him.

Stephanie's eyelashes were already damp, her features strained with holding back.

He gave her a weak smirk. The sounds of fighting could still be heard. He traced her lips with the pad of his thumb, stopping her from instinctively turning her head at the sound of the kill blow.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Frenkin staring at him with an unreadable expression but the boy quickly looked away with reddening cheeks when Haymitch glanced at him. Isa was thankfully still oblivious; preparing her applause for the end.

"I thought I needed to watch this," Stephanie said weakly.

"There are other Games you can watch," he replied quietly.

She nodded in silent thanks, leaning briefly into his hand before the sudden sound of Isa's applause brought them back to reality.

"I present to you the Victor of the 16th Hunger Games, District 3's Sam Trindlesworth!" The commenter's voice boomed across but Stephanie didn't look around. She didn't need to anymore.