Chapter Forty-Six; The Brand of a Tribute

(Stephanie & Haymitch's POV)

"Haymitch… Frenkin is taking a while, isn't he?" Stephanie remarked.

"Sweetheart, I'm not sure now would be the best time for Frenkin to come in." Haymitch's bright gaze lifted to meet Stephanie's where she was straddling him.

Stephanie's cheeks tinted red and he smirked, but they both remained still for a few moments.

Stephanie's gaze was locked on the door, head tilted slightly to the side as she listened.

Haymitch's smirk widened.

She quirked an eyebrow at him in silent question.

"You look like a dog when you are trying to listen," he said.

She scowled and punched him dead on the chest.

He immediately grasped her hips tightly and moved so that before the yelp could even leave her throat their positions had been changed, and their lips were once more foisted together.

She broke away as he began to move down the column of her neck.

"This isn't a good idea," she said breathlessly.

"You started it," he countered, paying particular attention to her pulse point.

She inhaled sharply as she clawed at his back.

"You are using unfair tactics again," she replied, shivers running down his spine as her fingers delved into his hair.

He didn't answer her, just continued his ministrations. However gradually his kisses grew less fervid and her grip lessened.

With a growl he propped himself up on one elbow to frown down at her.

"What did the kid say he was away to do?"

She frowned back at him.

"Weren't you listening?" she countered.

"I was busy sweetheart," he answered.

"Yes, I know. I cannot believe you stashed alcohol in my room without me knowing!" She tried to fold her arms but he pinned them above her head with a smirk.

However her expression remained unrelenting and so he released her and rolling his eyes, sat up.

"They kept 'cleaning' my room. And why is it that we ended up on the floor again?"

"It was you who fell off and hit the floor," she replied.

"You are damn well right it was sweetheart. You, on the hand, cushioned yourself very nicely from the fall…with me."

"I didn't hear you complaining."

"I hadn't the chance sweetheart."

"Oh so you wanted to complain?"

"Why are you always so difficult?"

"It isn't my fault you lost your balance because you were drunk."

"I didn't lose my balance sweetheart. You tackled me."

"Frenkin said he was going to get a glass of water." Stephanie said her words slowly as she narrowed her eyes.

"Could you make up your mind sweetheart? One minute you are tackling me to the floor and the next you are glaring at me…"

Stephanie gave an inarticulate sound as she leapt to her feet; somewhere between half-exasperation and half-rage or frustration.

"I am going to get Frenkin," she said, storming over to the door and tearing it open.

"Stephanie," Haymitch called her, his tone serious.

Stephanie turned to face him as she paused in the threshold of the door.

"Could you get me a glass sweetheart?"

Stephanie glared.

"Fine. I will get some ice as well, because believe me, you will be needing it when I get back."

Haymitch smirked, swigging generously from a bottle of alcohol as Stephanie left the room.

…

Stephanie stormed down the hallway muttering under her breath.

Damn it! Haymitch can be so annoying sometimes… But despite her apparent anger with him, a smirk was playing on her lips and there was a slight blush still present on her cheeks.

She was so lost in her own musings that she almost walked completely past Frenkin as he came down the hall.

She started slightly when she saw him, frowning and then her expression softened and her throat felt tight.

Frenkin looked up at her with a small smile. But one look and Stephanie knew he wasn't fine.

His face was pale and blotchy as though he had been crying. Further evidenced by his red-rimmed and puffy eyes. But not only that, his blue eyes that had been sparkling with mirth a few minutes ago had changed. They now looked up at her listlessly.

She could almost see how his eyelashes were still damp, darkened by his tears and clumped together.

Frenkin's smile was a little too forced, too hollow and without conviction.

Stephanie said nothing. She didn't need to.

She reached out immediately, pulling Frenkin into her embrace.

She pressed a kiss firmly against his head, his small face buried against her shoulder, his slim arms wrapped around her waist as his hands clutched the shirt she had changed into.

Frenkin's shoulders trembled slightly and Stephanie held him tighter, but all was silent in that hall.

Apart from the hot tears that wet her shoulder and the slight quaking of his small frame, it was almost impossible to tell he was crying.

"You don't have to hide this from me, from us…we're here for you Frenkin." Stephanie's own voice had become thick, her own eyes fast filling, as she rested her cheek against the top of Frenkin's head, one arm about his shoulders and the other holding the back of his head, stroking the hair there soothingly.

There was a muffled sob in response that was quickly swallowed.

"You aren't alone Frenkin," Stephanie whispered against his honey hair, her voice hitching and breaking slightly on his name.

There was a few hiccupping cries and then Frenkin's shoulders began to jerk violently as he sobbed brokenly against her.

The force of the emotion almost had Stephanie keeling over. The cries so pained she couldn't imagine someone as innocent and young as Frenkin ever having felt such agony.

When she glanced up at the slight noise her eyes were so misted over that she almost couldn't make out Haymitch as he came out into the hall, alerted by Frenkin's sudden outburst.

The watery film in front of her eyes broke and the tears spilled freely down her cheeks, dampening the top of Frenkin's hair.

Stephanie cried because she felt so helpless. Because the beautiful, sweet boy in her arms didn't deserve the pain and no words or anything she did could ease it for him.

Stephanie thought of how only moments ago they sat laughing and now look at them.

Haymitch didn't approach them. He made no move from the door for a few moments.

He met Stephanie's gaze for a split second.

His eyes were sharp and keen. There was understanding in them and pity and guilt. But there was also something hard, something dangerous in their gleam, something that was also evident in the firm line of his clenched jaw and his mouth that was set grimly.

Hatred. Hatred for the Capitol; that poisonous Capitol that destroyed everything. Happy memories could not even be enjoyed because it was too painful to recall that which would never be again.

He said nothing but turned down the hall towards his own room. He didn't intrude. That may have once been him, but he had won his Games.

Haymitch couldn't bring himself to go and stand before Frenkin: him; a past victor, to go and offer words of false reassurances to the kid when one only had to look in Frenkin's eyes to know that Frenkin himself knew he wouldn't win. The words would stick in his throat. He got into his room, immediately looking for something to drink to try and quell the upsurge of hot anger and blind rage.

Stephanie watched Haymitch disappear into his room as Frenkin continued to soak her shirt right through with his salt tears.

She could feel the dampness of his tears press against her skin, chilling it.

How many tributes had cried brokenly against the shoulders of their partners? For the families and loved ones they left behind and would never see, for the futures they would never have?

Stephanie imagined she could feel the tears seep into her skin, marking her; a permanent stain as a reminder for as long as she would live.

How many victors survived now with these invisible marks; the tears of fallen friends, comrades, enemies upon their shoulders?

Only they could feel their crushing weight that burned like a brand; the memories sharp and unforgettable. Because although the pain was different; in many ways it was worse than an actual scarring brand. The pain was worse and it lasted for longer without any hope of relief; the fear and helplessness at the time of its infliction would be felt again and again and again.

It was invisible to all, except to those who were marked likewise. And hollow eyes would harden suddenly in unbridled anger, as their pupils trembled softly with memories of the one who had trembled just as softly against their shoulder with their anguished tears, marking them with the brand of a tribute.