DOUBLE UPDATE!

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Sixty-Four; Ugly Business First

The car's tyres had practically screeched against the tarmac, as the driver pulled away from the curb as fast as humanely possible. Stephanie and Haymitch stood outside the familiar penthouse building, watching the car speeding down the road with mildly amused expressions. Stephanie suspected the driver was making sure there was no possible chance of him possibly having to face Electra again.

"Ellen clearly left quite the impression," Stephanie remarked wryly, as she looped her arm through Haymitch's.

Haymitch smirked. "She always aims to," he replied.

Stephanie chuckled slightly, giving Haymitch's arm a companionable squeeze against her own.

Her eyes were itchy and red-rimmed from crying, her make-up predictably splotched and her hair looked like it had never seen a brush before. But Stephanie didn't care about her appearance, she rarely really did. She felt, despite her chaotic outward appearance, strangely…content? Maybe content was pushing it a bit far, but she definitely felt more at ease with Haymitch than she had in a long while.

The unspoken wedge, the building wall of ice between them had been addressed. Stephanie had thought that not mentioning Seneca Crane, ignoring him and somehow pretending that he didn't exist to Haymitch, was the right thing to do. She had thought and hoped it would fix things between her and Haymitch. But it hadn't breached the distance. Ignoring things rarely did. The only thing that could possibly cross the ever-widening divide between Stephanie and Haymitch had been to actually talk about it and why it was happening. They had had to talk about Seneca Crane.

Stephanie thought admitting to Haymitch, that she had feelings for Seneca Crane would utterly destroy anything she and Haymitch ever had or ever could have. But ironically, admitting to Haymitch that she was attracted to the blue-eyed Gamemaker had helped bridge the distance, not widen it. Well, in some ways.

Haymitch and Stephanie still weren't together.

Trying to pretend Seneca didn't exist with Haymitch had been a naïve idea, Stephanie realised. It only made it seem to Haymitch, that she was keeping more than she actually was from him. Obviously, Haymitch wasn't pleased to say the least, about the idea that Stephanie felt anything for Seneca. That fissure of distance still lay between them; Stephanie's feelings for Seneca. But at least now they had a name for it. Unlike before, at the racetracks or trying to desperately avoid one another since, making up excuses instead of addressing the real reason. Not Stephanie's ineptitude or Haymitch trying to protect Stephanie from potential blackmail, but him. Seneca Crane.

Stephanie's father had once told her something that came to mind now. It was when he was teaching Stephanie how to drain the ulcers that plagued the shoddily stitched open wound where his arm had been ripped off, during the explosion at the factory. It had been a grim lesson, and Stephanie had looked a little green by the end of it, but she had insisted on learning how to help her father. Her father had told her that for something to truly heal, you had to get all the ugly stuff out first. You couldn't just bandage over it and hope it went away itself. You had to get down to the ugly business to start, the things you wouldn't want to do, and only then could the healing start.

Stephanie felt that she had done that. She had told Haymitch what she considered the worst thing she ever could have to tell him. She had grown feelings for Seneca Crane; the man that had ruined Haymitch's life. And now, perhaps, they could start healing.

It would be a tentative process, Stephanie knew. And like Haymitch had said, whether he had meant it or not; the Capitol wasn't the best place for relationships. But Stephanie was determined to give it her best shot. She loved Haymitch, and he loved her, even if Stephanie thought she didn't deserve it. Everything else, including any burgeoning feelings she may have for Seneca could damn well wait.

There was a comfortableness between her and Haymitch again, that Stephanie had sorely missed. Even though they weren't together, it didn't mean they couldn't show they still cared about one another.

Stephanie was rudely ripped from her thoughts when a harsh voice sounded in her ears.

"And where have you been? The other tributes returned to the penthouses over an hour ago!"

The guard looked angrily at Stephanie and Stephanie frowned, biting her tongue.

"Hey! She's here now, isn't she? And she obviously hasn't been trying to escape either, so lay off," Haymitch said sharply, immediately jumping to her defence.

The guard glared steadily at Haymitch and Stephanie let her fingers press into Haymitch's arm with a sting of caution.

But the guard merely stepped back, muttering darkly under his breath insults about district dwellers that both Stephanie and Haymitch ignored, as they made their way towards the tribute's penthouse building.

Stephanie craned her neck backwards as they walked to look up at the towering building, fully trusting Haymitch to guide her steady.

Most of the floors were in complete darkness, or had one muted light on, that suggested a lonely tribute avoiding sleep, looking upon the brightly lit-up Capitol below. The District 3 penthouse was most notably in darkness and Stephanie hoped that Electra had gone to bed, so Stephanie could check on Frenkin and then collapse into bed herself. Hopefully for a dreamless night of blissful sleep.

Now that she and Haymitch were on more easy terms with one another, Stephanie had a lot to speak to him about. She wanted to discuss her alliance with him again without the suffocating awkwardness that had been there the first time. She definitely wanted to readdress the issue of Prall Underling. She didn't care what Electra said. Stephanie was sure that once she explained things properly to Haymitch, he would agree that Prall was just too untrustworthy to keep in the alliance.

There was also the more imminent need to discuss Stephanie's indiscreet behaviour that night. Especially considering Stephanie was now convinced, that Prall Underling and Astara Thorne suspected something strange about her as regards Seneca. Stephanie could curse her own stupidity. She should have realised that casually referring to the Head Gamemaker and President's son by his first name would raise a few eyebrows. Every other tribute, including the Careers, had only ever thought of Seneca Crane with the impersonal fear and hate of a tribute against a Gamemaker. But ever since Haymitch had told her what Seneca had done to his family and tributes, Stephanie couldn't just view Seneca so impersonally. The man loved her and had damn well kissed her, and she had feelings for him! It would feel like a farce to suddenly go about calling Seneca, "Mr. Crane," or the titled "Head Gamemaker."

However, as Stephanie practically staggered tiredly into the lift, she resolved to put any discussions off until morning. At this rate, she was going to fall asleep standing up.

Stephanie swayed on her heels, chin almost dipping to her chest. Familiar, warm hands steadied her, resting securely on her hips before she could topple over, unbalanced as she was.

"Don't tell me you got drunk as well, sweetheart?" Haymitch teased, as Stephanie sighed in contentment, leaning into his soothing touch.

She snorted. "Maybe it's a District 3 thing," she muttered in reply and Haymitch chuckled. "No, it's the shoes," Stephanie explained, hiking up her dress slightly for a more visual display of the needle-thin heels Ficen had forced her into.

Haymitch looked down briefly, smirking. "The infamous shoes," he mused. Stephanie grinned as she swatted him lightly, "Walking in heels is ridiculously difficult!" she protested.

"Or it could be you just have no coordination," he shot back with a deepening smirk. Stephanie rolled her eyes but her own grin remained firmly in place. "Well, there is that," she conceded, just as the lift reached their darkened penthouse.

Haymitch's hands slipped from her hips and Stephanie's hand caught his as he moved towards the hall. Haymitch glanced back at her, a slight smile tucked into the corners of his mouth as he gave her hand a squeeze.

"That was the first event I didn't have you by my side," Stephanie remarked meaningfully suddenly, as she glanced down at her hand entwined with Haymitch's.

Haymitch smirked a little. "I think you did alright though."

Alright?! – Denying murder allegations, insulting the President's son publically, possibly alerting her alliance partners to the fact that things between her and Seneca were a lot more personal…admitting she was attracted to Seneca Crane?!

Stephanie chuckled incredulously. "If that is what you call alright Haymitch, I'd hate to see what you'd call bad!" she replied ruefully.

They were just walking into the main room hand-in-hand, when Stephanie heard Electra's voice tight with irritation, rise suddenly.

The blue-haired woman turned around as Haymitch and Stephanie entered the main room. Electra had her phone, the one that Stephanie had hidden under her bed, up against her ear.

"…Yea, yea I heard you," Electra muttered irked, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly to Haymitch and Stephanie.

Stephanie smirked lightly. Haymitch let go of Stephanie's hand as he made a direct line for the bottles of alcohol Electra had most likely been indulging in before they came in.

Light from the still brightly-lit Capitol outside shone through the wall of windows in the main room, casting everything in sporadic showers of coloured beams.

Stephanie turned to go to her bedroom; to scrub the gritty make-up from her face and try to introduce a brush to her hair. She knew from experience that if she left it until the morning it would hurt like hell.

"Trindlesworth!"

Electra stopped her before she could go though, hand outstretched wordlessly in a stalling gesture.

Stephanie glanced back with an impatient look, while Haymitch looked up from the large drink he was imbibing from.

Electra still on the phone, caught Stephanie's eyes.

"Yeah, I'll bring her down now," Electra said, before she lowered the phone from her ear, ending the call.

"Bring me where?" Stephanie asked immediately, eyebrow arched suspiciously.

Electra smirked widely. "Ficen. That necklace she put on you has to have a specialist removal or something else she was droning on about. I think she bolted it to your neck in case you got any ideas about removing it before the party was over. So, unless the feeling of wearing a collar has grown on you – then you best get down to the stylist's studios in the lift to get it removed."

Stephanie groaned, scrubbing weary hands over her face. "Fine," Stephanie agreed reluctantly and Haymitch shot her a commiserating grin, before taking another large swallow of his drink.

"But Ficen can damn well wait while I wash my face," Stephanie intoned uncompromisingly, already turning towards her bedroom, "I am not listening to her complain on again how I always ruin her make-up with my tears."

"Tears, eh?" Electra looked between Stephanie and Haymitch. "Well, you are both still alive so that's a good sign, and the tension is definitely gone which means I can actually breathe for once…" Electra trailed off, her gaze flitting expectantly between Haymitch and Stephanie. "Well, is everything alright now?"

Stephanie smiled slightly, catching Haymitch's gaze. "It will be," Stephanie replied quietly.

Electra raised her eyebrows lightly but didn't comment immediately and Stephanie turned again for her bedroom.

"The hell did you do Haymitch – wrestle with her? She looks a state!" Electra exclaimed and Stephanie smirked as she made her way down the hall towards her bedroom.

She couldn't resist sneaking a glance in at Frenkin. He was sleeping soundly, his little serious tuxedo from the party scattered haphazardly across the floor.

Stephanie smiled softly, as she shut his door quietly again, before darting across the hall to her own room.

Stephanie grimaced when she saw her face in the bathroom mirror. She hurriedly rifled through the mirrored cabinet for the specialised wet wipes Isa had introduced her to for removing make-up. Stephanie was grateful to the escort; previously she had been practically removing layers of skin trying to remove Ficen's make-up with simple soap and water.

It was as Stephanie was just finishing tugging the brush through her hair after many painful curses that Electra suddenly shadowed the door to her en suite bathroom.

"Stephanie," Electra addressed her sternly, "Unless that burning hatred you have for Ficen is all an act, then there is absolutely no bloody reason for you to be getting cleaned up to go and see the damn woman to get a necklace removed!" Electra finished impatiently.

Stephanie scowled at the blue-haired woman, rolling her eyes exasperatedly, before shoving the once more smooth cascades of her hair over her bare shoulders.

"Yea, well you don't have to listen to Ficen's rant everytime she sees me looking a mess," Stephanie shot back.

Electra folded her arms, "Come on then."

Stephanie's brows drew down sharply.

"You know tributes always have to have mentors or someone with them wherever they go," Electra answered in reply to Stephanie's silently quizzical look.

Stephanie twisted her lips into a bitter smile, at the reminder that here in the Capitol she would never have freedom.

Sighing, Stephanie followed Electra to the lift. She was still wearing her skin-tight party dress while she noted jealously that Electra had changed into more comfortable clothing. But Stephanie imagined that the only thing she would want to do after she wrestled her way out of the straitjacket dress, would be to collapse exhausted onto her bed. And she really wanted to get this necklace collar off first. As the party had worn on she had got used to the necklace. Not that the constant metal prodding into her skin had gotten any more comfortable, just that it became so familiar a sensation she almost forgot about it. Stephanie was more than eager now to finally get the thing off though.

The lift doors pinged open once more at the eerily empty maze of stylist's studios. The last time Stephanie had been here the place had been like a buzzing beehive with doors opening and closing and people rushing to and fro in all directions, the noise deafening. But now, all and any stylists were out in the Capitol still partying. Stephanie was honestly amazed sometimes at Capitolites stamina for partying.

If Ficen hadn't of gone home early from the party with a 'headache' she could have had the necklace off and all by now, Stephanie grumbled inwardly, as she made to step from the lift. However before Stephanie could, Electra had held her arm out stopping her.

"What are you doing?" Stephanie queried wearily as Electra poked her head out of the lift, glancing about the place as though looking for anyone loitering about. Stephanie was in no mood to indulge Electra her strange habits or whims tonight. She was too tired.

Electra lowered her arm, allowing Stephanie to pass by then. Stephanie stepped out of the lift, throwing one last disgruntled look over her shoulder at the blue-haired woman.

Electra remained in the lift however and Stephanie frowned sharply. "Now, what is it?" Stephanie demanded exasperated.

Electra rolled her eyes. "I am going back up to the penthouse. You are going to get your necklace removed; Ficen is waiting in the same room as last time."

Stephanie's frown only deepened. "I thought tributes weren't allowed to go anywhere themselves?" she questioned drolly.

Electra shot her a deadpan look. "Yes, which is why I checked – there are no guards about, so go on. Besides you will be with Ficen in a minute and I sure she will more than happily restrain you if you try to make a run for it. I on the other hand, am not in the mood to endure even one of Ficen's glares right now." Electra stated uncompromisingly.

Stephanie turned to shuffle off then, not having the energy to even argue with Electra tonight.

"I'll give Ficen your best regards then," she muttered sarcastically, just as the lift doors closed once more and Electra disappeared from sight.

Stephanie tried to dispel the slightly uneasy twisting in her stomach as she recalled the meandering way Bright and Lashes had led her before when she was down here.

The emptiness and almost complete darkness of the place was very disconcerting though. A shiver raced up Stephanie's spine as she shuffled along towards the District 3 stylist studios. She had kicked off the heels as soon as she had entered her bedroom, and as usual the floor beneath her bare feet was cold.

Stephanie sighed with relief as she reached the familiar door. The door was already slightly ajar, so she wouldn't have to knock. She remembered that Bright and Lashes had had to have a key card just to get into the stylist's studio the first time. A dim orange glow emanated from the room that was much more welcoming than the dark, deserted hallway.

Stephanie slipped gratefully into the room, shutting the door tightly after her.