Chapter 2

A/N: I want to thank all of you lovelies who have added this story to your favorites, alerts, and especially those who reviewed! Here is the second chapter, hope you guys enjoy

The Reaping was always an awful experience for Haymitch. This year Harley was training him to be a mentor, and now that the time had come, he felt completely unprepared. The two tributes were unremarkable, and it was hard to imagine them having a chance at winning. Both were 15, and he knew their families well. Sitting on the train to the capital, Haymitch knew he should be out with the tributes. Instead, he was sprawled across his bed, staring at the ceiling. Loud chattering from the dining box filled his room, and he dragged his body down the hall to join everyone.

The boy was eagerly telling a story, and occasionally shooting adoring looks at the girl tribute. Shanna, the girl's name is Shanna, Haymitch hastily corrected his thoughts. And the boy is named Trent. He should at least try to care. Everyone turned to welcome him as he slid into a seat near Harley, and then continued to chat. Some desserts were still spread out on the table, so Haymitch heaped some of the pudding directly in front of him onto his plate. It was going to be a long couple of weeks, he could feel it already. Nothing about him wanted to be there. He despised everything about the capital, and their horrific hunger games. Earlier while standing on the platform at the reaping, he had felt himself slipping into that catatonic state. Nothing mattered, nothing was real.

"Nice to meet you kids. If you'll excuse me, I need some fresh air" Haymitch blurted out in the middle of one of the stylists' stories, and quickly left the dining car. He felt out of control and numb at the same time. How was he going to do this on his own next year? What was the point in any of this? He turned his gray eyes out to the fields they were flying past, wondering if he jumped off how long it would take the capital to notice he'd left. As soon as the thought had time to form, he felt someone behind him and spun quickly, drawing his knife from his belt. The large, shocked green eyes of Effie stood before him, her hands up to show she was unarmed.

"Jackers, you scared me" he huffed, roughly shoving the knife back in its sheath.

"Do you always carry around that thing?" She slowly lowered her hands, her eyes indicating his belt.

Running a hand through his long dark hair, he let out a deep sigh. "I got every reason in the world to carry it, sweetheart" He thought of all the things he could say, and just let them weigh heavy on his soul. He turned back to facing the passing fields, the sun sitting low on the horizon. Watching him standing there, against the sunset, Effie felt her breath catch. He was kind of beautiful…in a dangerous, broken, dirty district way. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, but had no clue if that was at all appropriate. This thought was desperately squashed from her mind.

"Well, now that we're done with that nonsense, your presence is still required. We have the other reapings to go over, and Trent asked specifically to speak strategy with you afterward." If he had heard her, he gave no indication. She stood a moment longer, watching his broad tan face embrace the wind. "Haymitch, did you hear me? It is very important we set the tributes off on the right-"

"Oh, I heard you. Did I stutter when I said I needed some air? That's what I'm doing, or what I was trying to do before you came out here to stuff it all up with your capital crap" With a glare so cold, his lack of manners was the least of her concerns. Turning away quickly, Effie walked back into the train to get back to business. Once behind the safety of the train door, Effie leaned up against the hallway, one hand pressed firmly over her heart. It was beating so fast. How dare he act like this! The tributes needed him to set an example, to give them advice and hope…the broken look in his eyes flashed quickly through her mind. What had she gotten herself into?

The doors slid open, and a composed Haymitch strode through. He evaluated her posture, the frazzled expression and hand clutching her chest, and softened a bit.

"We better get in there before they suspect why you've really joined District twelve's team" he smirked, his right arm gesturing for her to lead the way back to the dining car. Her wide eyes scanned his quickly, searching for the true meaning of his words, and decided to ignore the implication. It was none of his business, and acknowledging the comment could just confirm it. The pair came back into the room, and it was like a brand new Haymitch.

The time passed quickly and easily, and before long it was time for the tributes to go to their rooms for the night. Haymitch felt the too familiar ache as he spotted the tributes lingering in the doorway of Shanna's room, the expression on Trent's face as brushed the hair behind her ear… this was going to be a very painful Games. Glad the day was over, he sulked into the media car to review the itinerary for the next day. Laughter was pouring out of the bar car, and Haymitch spotted a stylist perched upon Harley as he passed.

Being a victor made you one of Panem's top celebrities. Everyone knew who you were, what you were up to, and could easily find you by visiting the Victor Village in your district. For victors like Harley, there was a steady stream of female fans vying for their chance with a hero. Haymitch had his fanclub as well, though he couldn't understand why. If being selected by the capital to either die in front of the entire country or become a murderer made him appealing, he wanted no part of it. He despised everything about being a celebrity. He had always been a solitary kind of guy, wanting only to make himself comfortable and happy and leave everyone else alone. But every time he wandered into the town, there were girls throwing themselves at him. He had several regulars in the Hob who he had, on occasion, taken advantage of their offers. But it was never enough, and he hated himself afterward for doing it.

His feet had led him into the media room, where Effie was expectantly waiting for him, the itineraries spread out in front of her. She glanced up at him, evaluating his mood, and could sense he was slipping back towards downhearted. Better keep it brief and direct. She could feel him staring beyond her as she went through the plans, but plowed on through regardless. Harley had already met with her, so at least one of them was bound to show up tomorrow.

"Haymitch, do you want them to succeed?" She straightened up her stack of papers, clipping a few things together and placing them all into a folder near her briefcase. Her peripheral vision noted his eyes on her, his body stiffen in defense.

"Do you even know what you're asking me? Do I want them to succeed?" he let out a growl of a laugh. "Do I want them to succeed? Right there in that question is the problem. They cannot succeed, sweetheart. Only one person is getting out of those games alive, and it ain't them. Did you see District 4's guy? Or the girl from District 1? Now those kids, those kids might be our victor. Our sweet, innocent little Shanna? She doesn't have a shot in hell, darlin. And Trent might hold his own for a while, but he's no serious contender. He is in love with that girl, and once she's gone, he's going to lose his shit. There's no succeeding in the games, and its time you got that through that pretty little head of yours" he motioned one of the avoxes to refill the glass in front of him, and turned his cold gray eyes back on her. His hand was shaking as he lifted it to his lips, draining half the glass in one sip.

Her face was on fire. What was she doing here? How dare he speak to her this way! But most importantly, how had she ever thought she could get along with him? Her foolish heart, telling her to apply for this position to get close to him…she was beginning to see this was a terrible mistake. Haymitch stared at her, waiting for her to fight back, to defend herself, and noted how flushed she was looking. Pushing back from the table, Effie struggled to maintain control as she stuffed the folder into her briefcase.

"You, Mr. Abernathy, are not at all what I was expecting" She sniffed, and tried to exit the room as fast as she could before the tears started. Jumping up, Haymitch reached out and stopped her by grabbing her shoulder, spinning her to face him in the process. One tear had slipped down her face, leaving a shiny trail down her makeup. Something in him panged, seeing this emotion he had caused. What was wrong with this girl? He had EVERY right to be mad at the capital, these stupid games, and also at her. She had chosen this path for herself, where as he was thrown into it. He would give anything to go back in the past and take it all back. Give everything to have his family and friends and life back. The quivering lip and subtle trembling of the girl in front of him made all of this hard to focus on.

"What…what were you expecting? For me to be the gracious victor, ham for the camera like Harley? Because he's not all that he seems either, you know" His tone had softened considerably, as had the grip his hand had on her shoulder. It had slipped down to her shoulder blade, betraying him as it slowly rubbed her back. Her body let out a shudder as she gasped, fighting to keep from crying hard. He had the strongest urge to pull her into him, to comfort this pain he had caused. She refused to look at him, afraid of what expression she'd find on his face. His hand burned hot through her thin dress, and the foolish part of her that had led her here was ecstatic. Haymitch Abernathy was rubbing her back, and staring intently at her. Giving over to her lesser judgment, she raised her eyes to meet his, seeing something in his eyes she had refused to let herself hope for.