Chapter Sixty; Beneath it All

(Haymitch's POV)

Haymitch pushed past the attendant and into the small, side room just in time to see as the needle was shoved into Stephanie's arm.

Almost immediately her eyes flew open wide and stark with fear and she bolted up to sit rigid on the bed, spluttering and coughing as though she had been underwater.

She reached for him immediately and despite the small room being full of other people, he took her hand tightly. It wouldn't matter now. No one would suspect a thing between them after Flickerman's fantastic performance.

Stephanie opened her mouth to say something and then stopped, closing it again as her eyes flickered about the room, subconsciously taking in the people still loitering there.

A man dressed in clinical white came up to her. His eyes were the colour of slate steel; cold and assessing.

He shone a small light into Stephanie's eyes. Stephanie flinched immediately from the onslaught and Haymitch gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

The man studied Stephanie for a few more moments and then seemingly satisfied he stepped away. "It just fainted."

Haymitch saw Stephanie's eyes widen as she did a double-take of the man. She may have just come to, but she didn't miss that the man had referred to her as 'it'.

Haymitch squeezed her hand in warning.

Those who had been waiting nearby, a little too eagerly it had to be said, armed with all sorts of medical equipment left the room then disappointed, seeing as there was no more for them to do.

The man looked Stephanie up and down once more, scrutinising her. Stephanie for her part, glared darkly at him the whole time.

Then with a grunt, the man turned towards the door. But just then there was a commotion in the hall, a high babble of voices and just as the man opened the door he was almost pommeled to the ground as Isa burst into the room with Bright, Lashes and Silver in tow.

Isa practically leapt on top of Stephanie, her bright green eyes still rimmed with tears.

"Oh you poor pet…I had no idea!" Isa exclaimed. The stylists behind her added similar comments.

Stephanie sat muted and pale on the hard bed.

"Isa, Frenkin will be on stage now. I'll stay with Stephanie," Haymitch cut through Isa's reassuring babbling.

Isa turned to him with wide eyes before she nodded vigorously, swiping at her tears.

She pursed her lips together and stood. "Right well Haymitch, I'm leaving you to look after our poor pet Stephanie here. Don't let me down! And I will go and take care of Frenkin. I will try and cheer even though poor Isa doesn't feel much like it." Isa stood determinedly for a few dramatic moments as though she had just made a life decision and expected to be commended for it.

"We will need to stay and fix up her make-up…" Lashes began addressing Haymitch.

"The interview is over, she won't be going in front of the cameras for a while yet. When you're needed you will be sent for," Haymitch answered her.

They had stalled for a few minutes, making excuses, but Haymitch could see it in their hungry faces. They wanted to know the inside story, ask Stephanie questions but Haymitch wasn't going to let them get the chance.

Eventually with much reluctance the three stylists and Isa had left the room, leaving Haymitch and Stephanie alone.

Haymitch had almost expected Stephanie to lunge on him with a tirade of her own questions and calling Flickerman and every other Capitol inhabitant the foulest names she could think of. Haymitch was thinking of how he could stop her quickly, no doubt the rooms were bugged.

But it turned out he had no need. Stephanie didn't launch into a verbal attack but sat quietly and stiffly on the bed.

Haymitch frowned.

"How long do I have to stay here for?" she asked him despondently.

Haymitch calculated quickly in his head. Her interview with Flickerman was well and truly over now. Even if Flickerman offered to let her come on again Haymitch wouldn't let it, the crowds would be upon her immediately. Plus they needed all the time they could get to try and figure out what to do about the newest disaster. Sending her straight back into the field without a strategy would be mayhem.

Haymitch took Stephanie's hands in both of his to stop them from curling into angry fists. Everything had been going well…okay not well, it had been pretty disastrous but they had a got a plan to sort it, to fix it and once more things had gone awry. Haymitch had his own suspicions but he didn't want to raise them yet until he was sure.

"I'll take you back now," he told her.

She looked up at him gratefully, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She glanced about the room.

The room itself was nothing more than a tiny dressing room that had been turned into something of a first aid station.

A mirror surrounded with bright, gaudy lights was still fixed to one of the walls. The only other additions had been the small, low, hard bed that Stephanie and Haymitch were sitting on and a small table with a vase of wilting flowers on it.

Stephanie stood up, Haymitch standing nearby. She still looked pale.

They walked to the door and Haymitch made to drop her hand for when they would go out into hall, but Stephanie clung to his hand suddenly with both of hers.

Haymitch turned to face her, confused for a moment. Stephanie closed her eyes, and just leaned in towards Haymitch, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Haymitch placed a kiss on her hair and tilted her head up so he could see her face.

Stephanie looked a million things to Haymitch in that moment. Frightened, frustrated, angry and drained, make-up miraculously smudged (Ficen was losing her touch) and her hair was in one big mighty tangle on top of her head.

After she had fainted nothing short of pandemonium had broken out. Flickerman's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his skull. It didn't seem like a tribute had ever fainted during an interview before with him. Nervous and jittery tributes yes, but for a tribute to faint during a live interview; that was just suicide. No sponsors would take a fainting tribute. Hopefully they would think it was some part of a love-struck act that Flickerman had started with the appeal. The crowd had thought it real enough though and had sprang to their feet immediately, and surged towards the stage in one big mass.

Haymitch had wasted no time, racing down the stairs. But by the time he had gotten there, guards and attendants waiting in the wings for mishaps had already picked Stephanie up and carted her off backstage and away from the cameras, as Flickerman stammered out a few meek lines trying to make light of the situation. Haymitch had never seen the man look so shaken but Haymitch had bigger things to worry about.

After the attendants and a whole other horde of people had played a game of pass the parcel with Stephanie while they argued where to bring her, hence accounting for her dishevelled appearance, someone had finally resolved on the small room they were in now.

But somehow even though Stephanie looked all of those things; a trembling, terrified mess she still looked brave, determined and beautiful in Haymitch's eyes. Haymitch had found that it didn't matter anymore, no matter how much paint Ficen plastered on her face, no matter what fake smile Stephanie put on for the cameras or when the cruel reality of their situation came crashing down around them…he could still find her beneath the tears and cosmetics; the girl he had fallen in love with.