DOUBLE UPDATE!

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Eighteen; Blood on My Hands

When Ficen arrived in the room, there was already a sneer on her chapped lips and a knowing look in her violet eyes as though she had expected this.

She took one look at Haymitch and Stephanie standing together and something entirely seething flared in Ficen's eyes.

The lilac-haired woman smiled sympathetically at Stephanie and with a last poorly concealed grimace she placed Ficen's silver case on the ground and turned and left the room.

As soon as the door closed the atmosphere in the room dropped a few degrees as Ficen finally fixed Stephanie with a burning hateful glare.

Stephanie was almost taken aback by the sheer malevolence in that look; it almost rivalled that of Slena's hateful eyes only in Slena's there had been an edge of desperation, of heartfelt sorrow for the cousin she had lost.

But with Ficen it was simple hate and it was directed pointedly and primarily on one source; Stephanie Trindlesworth.

"Well, she wasn't lying – you do look a state," Ficen sneered at Stephanie.

Stephanie kept her expression smoothed as she returned Ficen's stare, "you don't look so well yourself," Stephanie replied icily and Ficen's smug expression faltered slightly.

But Stephanie hadn't got Ficen here to banter back disparaging insults with the stylist; she wanted answers.

"Ficen what did you tell Slena?" Stephanie demanded, her voice steady. Somewhere along the way, Stephanie wasn't sure where, her fear of Ficen had lessened. She suspected it had something to do with finding out Ficen's motives; the stylist's unrequited desperate love for Seneca. Stephanie remembered the fevered look in Ficen's violet eyes in at the Chandelier Rooms when only Seneca's name had been mentioned. But she couldn't feel pity for Ficen's delusional and obsessive devotion to someone who clearly cared so little for her. Ficen had hurt too many people in her cruelty including Stephanie that she was beyond Stephanie's pity.

Ficen barked out a harsh laugh at Stephanie's question and Haymitch's face paled further in anger.

"Ficen what have you done?" Haymitch spat harshly.

Ficen laughed again, the expel sounding like it had been ripped from her throat.

"Oh this is precious," Ficen drawled sneeringly as her gaze flickered between Stephanie and Haymitch. Haymitch shifted ever so slightly instinctively so his shoulder brushed against Stephanie's as he moved in front of her protectively.

Stephanie realised then that Ficen irrefutably knew about Haymitch and her. Stephanie inhaled deeply because if Ficen her stylist knew than she had no doubt that Seneca Crane with his many resources as Head Gamemaker and the President's son knew about Haymitch and her.

Stephanie repressed the shiver knowing that in the vicinity Seneca Crane was waiting for her in that private box.

"What did you tell Slena that made her attack me?" Stephanie repeated, her tone less composed now.

Ficen scoffed as she rolled her violet red-rimmed eyes.

"What did you say that Slena thinks I am responsible for her cousin Fas's death?" Stephanie demanded, hating the edge of desperation that irrefutably coloured her tone.

Ficen laughed mockingly, "oh very good – you've figured out the Clearwater family shame. Fas' uncle and his disgusting district wife and their offspring Slena Clearwater. That idiotic fool Fas thought he could actually help her!"

Stephanie clenched her teeth together, curling her hands into angry white fists still smeared with red, "what did you tell Slena?!" Stephanie almost shouted.

Ficen's scathing gaze snapped to Stephanie, her gaze livid and uncontrolled once more as she bared her teeth.

"The truth!" Ficen cried.

"If you told the girl the truth then why does she believe Stephanie killed her cousin Fas?" Haymitch demanded as a cold suspicion began to chill Stephanie's very blood.

Ficen was opening her mouth to ready a reply when Stephanie spoke across her, "where were you this morning?"

Ficen met Stephanie's gaze unflinchingly and suddenly Stephanie knew.

The question had been tracking itself through Stephanie's mind relentlessly since the identity of Slena's cousin had been revealed as Fas.

How could Slena have come to the conclusion that Stephanie was responsible for Fas's death?

Obviously Stephanie had not dealt the kill blow per say; she had not placed the poison in Fas's morning coffee or whatever had killed him which left the possibility that someone had killed Fas for Stephanie…?

"I was talking to Seneca," Ficen began, stepping threateningly towards Stephanie, "and he told me how you went crying to him about Dess, Fas and I that night at the Chandelier Rooms." Ficen's gaze bored holes into Stephanie as Stephanie's breaths wavered unsure upon her suddenly numb lips.

And there it was –

Haymitch looked to Stephanie with an inscrutable expression.

"You ratted to Seneca about us and now Fas is dead – "

Stephanie swayed uncertainly but Ficen continued on callously.

"Come on now – don't be shy!" Ficen shrieked with that same manic gleefulness that had infused her tone when she had cried 'she's here' to Slena, "take credit where credit is due – you finally have grown some backbone I didn't think you possessed! But little Miss Fainting Tribute pretending to be oh so helpless why are you so shocked and shaking now? Hmm?"

Ficen continued on maliciously, the light in her violet eyes was almost luminous in its intensity as she stalked forward, locks of ice white hair falling across her face unheeded.

Stephanie staggered back until her legs hit the chair and her already knocking knees gave out from under her. Haymitch caught her about the waist before she could hit the ground though, hauling her onto the nearby chair, her heart felt like it was beating right out of her chest.

Haymitch looked to Stephanie and for the first time Stephanie saw something in Haymitch's eyes that almost rendered her undone; it was faint but it was there; the dimmest flicker of doubt, of suspicion.

"Come on!" Ficen shrieked again, "you asked Seneca to get rid of Dess, Fas and I – you cried on his shoulder like the pitiful excuse you are and told him to kill Dess, Fas and me! – I spoke to Seneca this morning and through his good mercy and knowing my devotion to him he spared my life despite your pleas – Fas was not so lucky and I don't doubt that we'll be hearing any moment now about Dess Landa being found in his apartment dead with no apparent cause!"

A scream shattered the air and Stephanie only realised when Haymitch clapped a hand over her mouth that it had been her own.

The doors burst inward and the Capitol guards stood ready to apprehend anyone they saw as a threat.

Ficen whirled round with a manically pleased expression on her face, "oh no need boys – the stupid girl got a little too excited when I tried to clean her up and touched her neck," Ficen lied effortlessly.

The guards still looked dubious taking in the unusual scene before them with tribute, stylist and mentor all in some stage of evident upheaval.

"Look there's no need for all this fuss!" Ficen enforced again, a note of her usual imperiousness seeping back into her tone. After a few moments wavering from the two guards they retreated back out of the room and closed the doors.

Ficen whirled around a smirk crawling across her lips, "I told Slena Clearwater the truth about her cousin Fas; that he had been murdered by Stephanie Trindlesworth," Ficen spat pitilessly.

Stephanie's heart was beating so fast within her she felt sure there should be a bruise on her chest; waves of subsequent sickening dizziness kept crashing over her as tremors made her teeth chatter.

Ficen laughed again; an incongruous girlish giggle and Stephanie fleetingly realised that Ficen had lost it too on some level; that manic light in Ficen's violet eyes had yet to dim.

Ficen opened her mouth to speak again when Haymitch spoke silencing her, "get out."

Ficen looked to him with a smugly triumphant look on her face as though she had been expecting it. Her gaze flickered between Stephanie and Haymitch again like it had done when she first entered the room. Her expression was still filled with that seething hatred, but there was a cruel amusement reflected in her expression that made the hatred there all that more chilling.

"Gladly," Ficen spat quietly as she turned sharply. She didn't even bother to pick up her silver case as she cast the doors open wide before disappearing through them.

The doors closed again leaving only Haymitch and Stephanie once more in the room, only this time the atmosphere was that much more different.

"I didn't, Haymitch I swear…" Stephanie began speaking before Haymitch had even the chance to formulate words.

"I…" Stephanie hung her head low, hot tears finally burning their salt tracks down her cheeks, "I did tell…Seneca about...about Dess and Fas and Ficen," Stephanie spat the stylist's name out hatefully as she took a deep breath to steady herself, "but I swear Haymitch I never told him to…kill anyone. Yes perhaps I was stupid enough to tell Seneca in the first place but never once did it cross my mind that this was what would happen. I never intended to kill anyone…I n-never asked…"

Stephanie's words trailed off feebly as her conviction weakened with it.

Stephanie bowed her head even lower, a few tears splashing onto her bloodied hands and she thought fleetingly how not even the cool breeze could cleanse her anymore; this blood was on her hands…Fas's blood was on her hands.

Stephanie raised a hand to angrily scrub at her teary eyes but Haymitch curled a hand around her wrist tugging the hand concealing her face away.

"You aren't responsible for Fas's death," Haymitch said quietly.

Stephanie looked at him as she shook her head.

Ficen had been right, Slena had been right, she was a…murderer.

"I told Seneca about – "

"You didn't tell him to kill Fas."

"No? – What did I seriously expect Haymitch; if I had of even stopped for a second to think I would have asked myself what I seriously expected Seneca to do with the information I was giving him? I knew what Seneca was like, I should have known that confiding in Seneca – "

"Stop saying his damn name!"

Stephanie fell silent immediately as Haymitch stood abruptly striding across the room as he ran a hand agitatedly through his hair, breathing out heavily through his nose.

Stephanie felt numb shock settle over her as she watched the harsh line of Haymitch's tense shoulders.

"I didn't ask him to kill anyone for me," Stephanie said in a hoarse whisper.

Haymitch whirled around swiftly, "I know," Haymitch said quickly, "I know you would never ask that – of anyone."

Stephanie felt relief tremble through her as she studied Haymitch's expression in the ensuing silence.

"I didn't mean to tell him Haymitch, you know that – he was just…there."

"And I wasn't," Haymitch countered stiffly.

Stephanie frowned, "it wasn't like that," she said firmly.

Haymitch shoved a hand through his hair again as he averted his gaze away from her swiftly and Stephanie felt her stomach sink even further.

"Do you blame me for Fas's death?" Stephanie asked.

Haymitch's gaze snapped to her immediately, already frowning, "of course not. I already said – "

"You said you know that I didn't ask Seneca to kill anyone; that you know I would never ask that of anyone," Stephanie said as she stood drawing strength from the emotion that was building inside her, "that isn't the same thing as saying I'm not to blame. I told Seneca, however innocent my intentions Seneca would never have known of Fas's involvement without me having told him. Fas would not be dead now if I had not told Seneca."

Haymitch's held Stephanie's gaze unflinchingly, "do you blame me for Fas's death?"

"Do you blame me for Lark's death?"

The question from Haymitch's lips was so unexpected that Stephanie's mouth fell open in shock but Haymitch continued undeterred.

"I thwarted the rules and most importantly I bested the Capitol and Lark died as a result. Is Seneca right to blame me, should – "

"NO!" Stephanie cried, unable to let Haymitch finish, "never!" she added vehemently, "you could never be to blame for what happened to Lark. You were just trying to survive the Games, you had no intention – "

"And you were just trying to survive the Capitol and you had no intention of seeing Fas dead."

Stephanie closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she silently conceded Haymitch's point.

"Intention has a great deal to do with accepting blame," Haymitch muttered as he approached her once more, "you never intended for Fas to die so you can't be to blame."

Stephanie opened her eyes when Haymitch was in front of her again, "are being to blame and being responsible for something not the same thing?" Stephanie asked quietly, "Seneca is undoubtedly to blame for Fas's death since he orchestrated it but me – am I responsible? Without me telling Seneca about Fas Seneca would never have known."

Haymitch sighed his grey gaze stormy, "no more than I am for Lark's. If I had of just died in the Games then there would have been no reason for Lark to die and if you had not have told Seneca then Fas would not have died."

Stephanie met Haymitch's gaze as she swallowed thickly, feeling that something new now haunted their eyes, something that felt like an icy wedge between them and Stephanie knew what.

Seneca Crane.

They both now bore blame; Seneca had projected blame onto Haymitch for Lark's death and Stephanie had taken Seneca's blame onto herself for Fas's death.

Haymitch's head dipped minutely, "are you angry with me?" Stephanie breathed.

Haymitch looked up at her as he sighed deeply, "no," he conceded quietly, "no not you," he added a little firmer before his whole expression darkened, "him."

"I was stupid to tell him – "

"He is a manipulative ba – "

"I should have known better." Stephanie said firmly, cutting across Haymitch's brewing insult.

Haymitch sighed as he shook his head, "don't beat yourself up. There's been too much blame wrongly placed on others because of him."

Stephanie studied Haymitch's expression for a moment in silence, "do you feel responsible for Lark's death?" Stephanie asked suddenly and Haymitch looked to her, his expression suitably surprised. "No," he replied immediately without the slightest sliver of doubt and Stephanie nodded her head satisfied.

Stephanie knew with complete certainty that Haymitch was in no way responsible or to blame for Lark's death because in the arena Haymitch had had no choice. And that was the point that Stephanie was hung up on – she had had a choice. The choice to tell Seneca or not and whether or not it was impossible for her to know Seneca's intentions it would not have taken a genius to work out that ratting the sleaze reporter out to Seneca Crane; Head Gamemaker and the President's son would not have led to anything good.

Blame? Responsibility? Stephanie wasn't sure what or even if there was a difference between them anymore. All Stephanie knew was that she shared some small part in whatever was being dished out for Fas's death.

Seneca Crane had made her a murderer.

And somehow the fact that it had happened without her knowledge was so much worse than if she had of knowingly became a murderer, had of willingly asked Seneca to kill Fas.

It sickened her to think that not so long ago she had thought about her alliance of the innocents when all along there had been blood on her hands.

And then there was Haymitch.

Stephanie looked towards her mentor that she had fallen in love with irrevocably.

She knew he didn't blame her, didn't think her responsible for Fas's death but it was…Seneca. And though he wouldn't voice it Stephanie knew Haymitch was annoyed at her if even a little for telling Seneca. She had told Haymitch of course about the entire incident at the Chandelier Rooms but Ficen's deliberately provocative words had taunted him and the thought that Seneca was in a position to try and protect and retaliate on Stephanie's behalf while Haymitch could not had riled Haymitch.

And there was a green-eyed thought that hissed at Haymitch; that demanded to know why Stephanie had spoken to Seneca? It produced an image that went perfectly with Ficen's taunting words of Stephanie crying upon Seneca's shoulder.

He knew it wasn't wise to pay much attention to such a notion but the more intrinsically linked Seneca became with everything to do with Stephanie and henceforth Haymitch made the idea all the more harder to ignore.

DOUBLE UPDATE!