Chapter Eighty–Three; Harsh Reality

(Haymitch's POV)

Haymitch ran an exasperated hand through his hair as Stephanie wolfed down food obliviously.

He had known that Stephanie's experience in fighting was non-existent, but he hadn't expected it to be quite so…dismal.

In the past few hours all other thoughts had been chased from his mind except for one rather chilling one; Stephanie couldn't fight.

And with each muffled thud as Stephanie dropped her weapon, each flicker of fear in Stephanie's eyes, every counter stroke from Stephanie that was just that tad too slow, confirmed it.

Haymitch sighed, running a tired hand over his face.

What was he going to do?

Feeling completely helpless wasn't a new sensation for Haymitch. He had to watch Seneca brutally butcher his tributes the past five years in the Games knowing he could do nothing about it. Heck he had to face the murder of his family and his childhood sweetheart; four people he had cared immeasurably for.

But time did not ease the bitter feeling or make it any easier to bear.

He felt that compressing pressure again on his heart, simmering rage in tense muscles, nerve endings completely frayed.

But there was nothing he could do about it.

Glancing over at Stephanie he could tell that she was trying her best. She wasn't a fighter, had never trained to be one.

No, Haymitch thought vehemently. He would train her right up until the Games and plus the Capitol professional training – she would be ready.

But Haymitch had always been a realist. He may have drunk to escape reality sometimes but he wasn't stupid enough to try and shun it completely.

Even with all the training, Stephanie still wouldn't stand a chance against a Career.

…

(Stephanie's POV)

Stephanie felt the trembling in her muscles abate as her body received its energy from the sustenance.

She took a few long gulps from her water bottle, eyeing Haymitch curiously at where he stood brooding silently a few metres away.

Stephanie was just at frustrated by her own ineptitude as she was sure Haymitch was.

But she also had the added fear of knowing that every time she dropped her weapon or jumped back with a cry of alarm instead of lunging in with a counter attack, that in the arena her actions would most likely lead to her death.

Stephanie got to her feet, wincing slightly at the soreness in her limbs, dreading the agony she knew tomorrow would bring.

She wandered over to Haymitch, pausing in front of him with a hesitant smile.

She was at a loss at how to approach the given situation; given that she was not so much resigned to her death with a quiet acceptance, as more she expected to die and was not at all accepting of the situation, but doing her best to ignore it.

However trying to ignore the fact that she would be dead in a few weeks was not easy and as such it was constantly on her thoughts.

"I think I'm ready to do some more training," Stephanie suggested quietly, studying Haymitch's contemplative expression when he had remained silent.

Haymitch blinked rapidly a few times, his keen grey gaze focusing on her after a moment as though he had been woken from some reverie.

"Give it another ten minutes. The last thing we need is for you to decorate the floor with your breakfast," Haymitch said.

Stephanie rolled her eyes slightly. She scuffed her shoe against the floor, crossing her arms as she let her thoughts wander off on trivial matters concerning the material of the ground.

A moment of silence stretched before Stephanie became aware of it and when she looked up unsure, she saw that Haymitch had taken to brooding again.

Stephanie frowned. All this moody silence was not exactly conducive to inspiring hope.

Stephanie suddenly had an idea. It wasn't hope-inspiring, but while they had the time she considered it would be as good as any.

"Haymitch about what happened last night, I need to tell you…mmphf!"

Haymitch clapped a hand over her mouth as he shook his head slowly.

Stephanie understood. It wasn't safe here to just go spewing off anything.

Stephanie nodded her understanding and Haymitch removed his hand.

Gasping Stephanie sucked in a lungful of air, glancing surreptitiously about the room, looking for hidden cameras of some sort.

Haymitch caught her gaze and shook his head, pointing to his ear.

Realisation dawned. The room was bugged for someone to listen in but not watch.

Stephanie groaned, letting her head fall forward to hit Haymitch's shoulder. It was tiring having to forever be alert and aware.

She had never been good at keeping secrets. Back home in District 3 her family never entrusted her with the 'surprise party' secrets, because they knew she would only be able to keep it for so long.

Innocent secrets like that back home brought a fond smile to Stephanie's lips; of not being able to hold in the secret about Weisna's pregnancy and blurting it out much to Weisna's chagrin, as she yet to even tell her husband Dar, wanting it to be a surprise which Stephanie effectively ruined.

Stephanie's eyes took on a forlorn light as she thought of the hair pin she had been making in secret for her mother. She had been proud that she had managed to keep it a secret for so long. Well, not entirely. She had already told Weisna, her brother, Weisna's husband Dar and her father.

And then Stephanie's eyes darkened. Her smile took on a slightly bitter twist as she thought of the secrets she had been forced to keep since arriving at the Capitol.

They had festered and burned away in her brain, causing horrifying nightmares so that she feared to sleep at all.

It wasn't until Haymitch had practically forced it out of her that she had confessed all, and then every secret had come pouring out.

Secrets were essentially a way of life here in the Capitol; secrets kept to protect, to blackmail, to survive.

Stephanie felt Haymitch chuckle slightly as he wrapped an arm around her waist pulling her closer.

"Tired already sweetheart?" he teased slightly, but there was a heaviness to his voice.

Stephanie lifted her head as she wrapped her arms around Haymitch's shoulders.

She looked into Haymitch's storm-grey eyes and the words died on her lips.

There were a million things she wanted to tell Haymitch in that moment and it was more than just the fact that the room was bugged that stopped her.

She wanted to reassure him she would be fine. But she couldn't, because that would be a lie she couldn't believe herself.

She wanted to tell him all that had happened last night; about Dess and Fas and Ficen and then Seneca. But it wasn't safe here to speak of such things openly.

She wanted to tell him she loved him, but the Capitol was a place that didn't understand something as precious and selfless as love. They saw it as something only to be exploited and sold.

So without words Stephanie leaned forward to press a tender kiss against Haymitch's lips.

He accepted it readily as he returned it, his arms encircling her waist.

And Stephanie considered that sometimes you didn't need words.