Chapter Ninety-Eight; Hope

(Stephanie & Haymitch's POV)

"If you chew them off, you are not to complain to me when Ficen forces you to get new ones," Haymitch commented over his shoulder.

Stephanie scowled but relenting, stopped biting her nails and dropped her hand to drum an irritated beat on the table.

Haymitch leaned against the countertop, a glass in one hand as he glared at her silently.

Stephanie arched a brow. "It's not my fault we're sitting about waiting!" she exclaimed and then grimaced when she realised her words.

Haymitch sighed, rolling his eyes before he went and kicking out the chair facing Stephanie, he dropped himself into it.

No one had yet to return. Isa was rushing about trying to find out about events, Frenkin, poor kid, was still being fashioned by Alba, and any and all stylists were pulling out their hair in wild panic over outfits.

Stephanie almost smirked. Everything or at least a good half of things in the Capitol seemed to revolve around clothes.

I suppose with not having to worry about working, food, the Games – surviving; there is little else in the Capitol to actually care about, Stephanie thought ruefully.

Stephanie glanced up at Haymitch and could tell at a glimpse that he was brooding…again.

Stephanie sighed. She couldn't blame him.

With everything that had happened…she had a list of enemies – none of them other tributes for crying out loud!

Stephanie got up wearily before she walked around the table and dropped herself unceremoniously into Haymitch's lap.

Haymitch instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist to stop her from near falling off.

She shoved his shoulder when she caught the flicker of amusement in his eyes.

Stephanie never had been graceful. She was lucky if she didn't fall over her own feet half the time.

A wistful smile ghosted over her lips, a slightly embarrassed flush rising to her cheeks as her thoughts drifted back to memories of home.

She remembered the river that ran through District 3. They usually used it for dumping chemicals from the factories in it and pumping the water back into the factories as a coolant.

But there was a slight tributary that ran off from the main river. It was mostly clean as the current usually carried most of the waste further downstream bypassing the tributary.

She remembered she was eight and had been trying to show off leaping across the stones to cross it, shouting out to her elder brother.

"Fen! Fen! Look what I can do!"

Her brother had warned her and warned her. Of course she hadn't listened.

Cue a few moments later could be heard a huge splash.

Her brother fished her out of it spluttering and flailing wildly, given that she couldn't swim. Most in District 3 couldn't – Why would they? They had no need to.

Unfortunately the chemicals in the water had turned her hair an almost luminous green that for three whole months had maintained its almost radioactive glow. Her mother had fretted it would never come out and they had teased her about it to no end at school, until finally it had begun to lose its vibrancy and washed out.

Stephanie chuckled under her breath and Haymitch looked at her curiously.

Given their extremely dire circumstances she was behaving a lot more cheerful than expected; given that she wasn't fainting or having crippling attacks of panic and fear.

A thought suddenly occurred to Stephanie though and she turned – well as best she could, being seated in Haymitch's lap – to him with an expression of shock, but her eyes held a brightness to them.

"What?" Haymitch asked warily.

"Haymitch Abernathy!" Stephanie exclaimed loudly.

Haymitch winced. Given she was seated on his lap she was close to deafening him.

He gave her a deadpan look obviously waiting for her to continue.

Stephanie was grinning widely from ear to ear as she looked at Haymitch.

Haymitch arched a brow at her, implying that he had no idea why she was grinning like a maniac at him.

"When I was eight I fell in a river. You know the one back home, the small one kids leap across using the stones?"

Haymitch snorted slightly. Of course she would fall in it. Before he looked at her entirely baffled now, not having the slightest clue why Stephanie was telling him this now with such a wide grin.

"Yea, I know it." Haymitch decided to humour her.

"Well, when I fell in the chemicals and all, they turned my hair green – bright green! I had to go to school for three months with fluorescent, green hair!" Stephanie finished, her huge grin still in place.

Haymitch stared at her for a whole minute, wondering if she had maybe lost it.

"Sweetheart, I don't…" Realisation dawned on Haymitch as he looked to Stephanie and she nodded vigorously when she saw the look on his face.

"You were the kid that fell in the river and came out with green hair!"

Stephanie nodded in confirmation. "That group of older boys were picking on me and then – Haymitch Abernathy told them to beat it!"

Haymitch chuckled incredulously before he looked at her with a smirk. "I didn't really. I said you had some kind of poisoning from the chemicals and that if they got too close they would catch it," Haymitch informed her with a look that was far from apologetic.

"Ah!" Stephanie shoved his shoulder indignantly though her eyes were bright and laughing. "I wondered why no one would sit by me for weeks!" She tried to frown and sound angry but failed miserably.

Haymitch laughed before he shook his head still slightly in disbelief and then his gaze became suddenly wistful.

"I was sixteen," he remarked quietly.

Stephanie looked down as she entwined her fingers with Haymitch's. She knew what came next.

Haymitch Abernathy, the boy who had chased away the bullies for teasing her for her green hair, two weeks later would be in the Games…

The Games; they intruded on everything, destroyed everything.

It was strange to think that Haymitch had once been just a normal sixteen year old boy before the Games.

She had only been eight, but she had understood enough to feel the absolute shock that resonated through their whole district that someone from their district had won. And not only that, but a mere sixteen year old boy.

Haymitch had disappeared after that Stephanie realised. She hadn't noticed at the time, being only eight she only knew Haymitch as a Victor.

By the time she was old enough, Haymitch was nothing but a recluse that stayed holed up in the eerie Victor Village with nothing but a constant supply of alcohol going in.

Stephanie leaned in against Haymitch silently, squeezing his hand tightly in her own.

She hadn't meant to resurface memories for him. She was sure he suffered enough being forced to mentor every year for the past ten years.

It had been ten years since Haymitch had won his Games, Stephanie thought. She wondered if it got any easier with time or did the fear, the pain, the horror of the Games ever abate.

Would she live to find out?

Haymitch had promised her life. So had Seneca.

But there was only one Stephanie was willing to live for.

Stephanie traced patterns against Haymitch's shoulder.

She had come to the Capitol with no expectations to live, hoping against hope that it wouldn't be a painful death for both herself and her family's sake.

But Haymitch had told her long before that he believed she could win, had told her he would fight for her long before Seneca had waltzed in with his grand promise and gestures.

Haymitch had given her hope that there was life beyond the Games that she would live to see.

Stephanie felt her heart swell with love and sympathy as she looked at Haymitch.

What had he had returning home from the Games, only more heartbreak and pain?

Stephanie suddenly felt a surge of anger at the familiar Capitol for all they had taken but also herself.

How many times now had Haymitch been convincing her that she would win, telling her over and over again that he would do all in his power?

It must have hit him each time her hope had failed her.

Haymitch deserved hope just as much as she did, Stephanie realised.

Hadn't Haymitch told her that the Capitol couldn't take hope away?

So saying Stephanie looked determinedly to Haymitch, meeting his storm grey gaze.

A blush bloomed darkly on her cheeks but her eyes held that light that had become so familiar to Haymitch now, and told him she was going to go through with whatever it was she was determined to do.

Haymitch looked at her curiously, expectantly.

"Haymitch – marry me?"