Chapter Forty-Two; Alone

(Stephanie's POV)

Stephanie almost staggered back to the prepping room. She received suspicious glances from the guards and attracted many curious stares from those that they passed.

Walking blindly with a vacant expression and red streaks down her pale neck; she was bound to raise a few eyebrows.

When Ficen seen her she had immediately dismissed Bright, Lashes and Silver, her own eyes widening in horror while her nostrils flared with anger.

Behind the cover of the screen she forced Stephanie to sit, styled nails or what few remained digging into her skin.

Stephanie sat, her gaze far off, feeling incredibly numb.

"What the hell do you think you are playing at? Are you deliberately trying to draw attention to yourself?" Ficen's vicious whispers went unheeded by Stephanie and it didn't seem as though Ficen wanted answers.

Ficen went about her work, applying a poignant gel to the scratches at her throat, not bothering to clean up the traces of blood, but smearing it generously.

Stephanie wrinkled her nose at the strong scent and raised her hand to scratch it when she felt the dampness of her cheeks, and she realised with a start that she was crying.

And then Stephanie felt the sobs build up in her chest and when Ficen turned to her again, armed with brushes and creams she found Stephanie with a steady stream of tears blotching her cheeks, biting her knuckles to try and choke back the sobs.

Ficen's left eye twitched slightly in annoyance as she pursed her lips.

Stephanie spared her a glance. Ficen was infuriated. She had no time for Stephanie and her tears.

Stephanie hated feeling so pitiful in front of Ficen, who she knew would only look on it another sign of her weakness. But try as she might…Stephanie couldn't stop.

Stephanie choked back another sob and sniffled pitifully. Ficen slammed her gathered accruements down on the nearby table with a muttered curse. It only made Stephanie want to cry harder.

She had never felt so alone.

So desperately in need of someone. Anyone. Haymitch.

What she wouldn't give to be back home in District 3 where she could run into her mother's arms where even now as a grown girl, even after all that she had seen…she would still feel safe.

She felt her chest constrict painfully; restrained sobs making her lungs burn. Her vision was blurred over but she couldn't see anything anyway, because her head was lowered, her forehead almost touching her knees, one arm around her own waist in attempt to hold herself together.

"When you stop your whimpering we have a photo shoot to get to!" Ficen growled harshly, her fist tightening and loosening in an attempt to stop from striking Stephanie.

There was a knock at the screen and without waiting the person came on in. It was Alba, Frenkin's stylist.

"We are ready for the joint photo shoot, how…" Alba's voice trailed off as his sight landed on Stephanie. "Oh, well this won't do at all. What's the matter with her?" Alba directed his question to a highly annoyed Ficen.

"Stephanie!" The familiar fair head peeped around the screen, wide blue eyes flooded with concern.

Frenkin rushed over to Stephanie, hesitated briefly for a shy moment, cheeks tinting pink, before he gently forced Stephanie into a sitting position and wrapped his arms around her.

Stephanie gratefully buried her face against Frenkin's waist, giving as she remained seated and he standing.

Frenkin simply held her, dropping a chaste kiss on her head, like she had done to him so many times before.

Alba gave a whining warning of how Stephanie would ruin Frenkin's outfit before Ficen cut over impatiently, managing to keep her voice at a reasonable volume so as not to draw attention despite her obvious rage.

"Alba take Frenkin to the photo shoot and tell them that Stephanie cannot make it."

"No!"

Ficen looked shocked for a moment at Frenkin.

"I won't go to the photo shoot without Stephanie." Frenkin was determined, his voice small yet defiant as he tightened his hold around Stephanie.

"What's this?" Isa appeared looking slightly flustered, eyes landing on Frenkin and Stephanie worriedly.

Ficen balked as she glanced about the now crowded cubicle. They were drawing too much attention!

"Out!" Ficen hissed. Her gaze was livid but there was also a slightly panicked edge to her whisper.

Isa flinched, and then pouted, looking very childish.

Ficen pushed both Isa and Alba out despite their protests. She leaned against the screen for a moment, before throwing a glare at Frenkin and a now calming Stephanie.

"Have her ready by the time I get back or you will be sorry," Ficen warned before she left the cubicle, closing it off behind her.

She could be heard giving some guards nearby orders to watch them. Stephanie rolled her eyes, as if they could ever hope to escape from here.

The thought threatened to make Stephanie lapse into another fit of tears again so she desperately pushed it away.

After a few moments of hushed reassurances Frenkin gently pushed Stephanie away from him by her shoulders to look down into her face.

Stephanie hastily scrubbed at her cheeks. Frenkin pulled up a nearby chair to sit perpendicular to her, waiting patiently.

Stephanie finally looked up, and took Frenkin's hand in hers, giving it a grateful squeeze accompanied by a watery smile.

Frenkin gave a half-smile in return, not so easily pacified.

"I'm okay Frenkin, just…"Stephanie glanced about almost desperately. Where did she begin? She was terrified; constantly filled with dread at each turn, with the crushing fear that her actions may result in something more than her own death. There was the added guilt, the painful longing for home, the familiar, the safe. The panic at knowing that she was practically heading to her death soon and knowing she could do nothing to stop it. How it wasn't just her family that she would be leaving behind anymore…but Haymitch; wonderfully annoying, perfectly drunk Haymitch who she was aware of more than ever how much she loved him. And Seneca just adding to everything with his confusing actions that held the power to destroy all she loved. It was all overwhelming, it was all too much…Stephanie wavered slightly where she sat, her gaze becoming unfocused.

Frenkin immediately reached out to her, an arm wrapped securely around her waist, his little face creased with concern.

"I know…you miss Haymitch," Frenkin's voice sounded so much older and wiser than his years.

Stephanie looked up at him and Frenkin gave her a knowing glance and a small smile.

Stephanie dropped her head into her hands again as Frenkin rubbed her back soothingly.

She felt the need to apologise to Frenkin but felt the words choke in her throat. Apologise for what? I'm sorry you will die…?

But then what did it matter? The way things were looking, it seemed as though she may be joining him.

"Haymitch doesn't seem so concerned. If he was, where is he?" Stephanie's tone was bitter and childish but she couldn't help it. However there was also a hint of desperate pleading to her voice. It was plain and simple: Stephanie needed Haymitch.

Frenkin just looked at her with sympathetic, blue eyes that only made Stephanie feel even more childish. Here she was whining and blubbering and Frenkin was comforting her!

Frenkin no doubt had a family back home who he was missing terribly and who were missing him. And then there was the added…Frenkin's dismal chances of returning hanging over his head at every moment. It must seem that no one cared if he died. Even his own mentor was with the other tribute! Stephanie choked back sobs, cursing herself for deciding that now was the time to get so damn emotional!

And even though Stephanie had told herself not to, she threw her arms around Frenkin, crushing him to herself. "I'm sorry Frenkin…I'm so, so sorry." Sorry because she couldn't save him. She couldn't even save herself.

Frenkin after his initial shock patted her on the back, returning the fierce embrace. After a few moments they both pulled back. Frenkin's huge glasses were misted over slightly and he removed them bashfully, cleaning them with the corner of his blazer.

Stephanie sniffling, wiped at her own eyes.

"They let you wear your glasses," she remarked with faux cheerfulness.

Frenkin nodded. "They say I look more innocent with them." And he placed them back on and looked up at her with a shy smile.

Stephanie felt her heart rip apart; innocent? He did look innocent. But how then could the Capitol want to destroy something so completely innocent. To build him up to show the endearing, kind-hearted, shy boy that he was just so they could watch him be tore apart like her heart was being.

Stephanie nodded jerkily, dropping her gaze to her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

"I'm sure he is doing something important that will help you," Frenkin said reassuringly.

Stephanie glanced at him puzzled.

"Haymitch," Frenkin clarified innocently.

Stephanie smiled weakly, feeling the tears rise again. Trust Frenkin to always be thinking of someone else.

"Maybe you should get changed before Ficen gets back," Frenkin said, gesturing to the waiting outfit.

Stephanie nodded and got up shakily, Frenkin following suit, hands outstretched to steady her if need be.

Stephanie changed quickly, not bothering to take care with the delicate material.

She glanced in the mirror briefly. The dress was completely white, embellished with mother of pearl and other creamy gemstones. It was made of lace and silk; all the finest materials.

It was like a wedding dress.

Stephanie felt hatred leave a bitter taste in her mouth, her eyes hardening. But the Capitol had taken that chance away from her, like they were taking it away from Frenkin, and so many before them.

Frenkin handed her the veil and with gentle hands helped her secure it into her hair.

Stephanie grasped his hand as he finished fixing the veil at the back. She held them tightly, willing her voice to steady before speaking. "Thank-you," she said the words with as much sincerity as was possible, her eyes willing him to see how much she meant it; not just for today but for all the times he had held her hand. For Stephanie suspected strongly that she needed him much more than he had needed her.

Frenkin gave a small smile, a faint dusting of pink colouring his cheeks before he nodded.

Ficen entered brusquely then. Her gaze glanced over Stephanie then for a moment, before she wordlessly began to apply make-up to cover Stephanie's blotched cheeks, the gel having made the scratches on her neck all but non-existent.

Leaving the cubicle to go to their joint photo-shoot Stephanie and Frenkin without a conscious thought, simultaneously reached for one another's hands, and when they met they shared a small, fleeting glance.