Mr. Janke was still asleep when I woke up. I quickly got dressed and made my way down to the main floor. I noticed the driver that was assigned to me waiting on the street. I climbed into the back seat, and he silently took me back to the Victor's Tower.

On the drive back my mind was filled with the thoughts of last night. I was disgusted. I felt dirty. The first thing I wanted to do when I made it back was shower. Actually, what I really wanted to do was burrow under the covers with Haymitch and forget the night even happened.

The car stopped and I stepped out, walking toward the door to the Victor's Tower. The door was held open for me by an attendant and I quickly made my way to the elevator. Once inside the enclosed space, I leaned back into the wall of the elevator. My eyes felt heavy and I rested my head in my hands, trying to think of anything but Mr. Janke's hands on me.

I stood straight as the doors opened, and I walked with false confidence into the District 12 suite. It is silent, no one is moving yet. I make my way to my room and the door slides open. I walk in and slip my shoes off, kicking them across the room . The room was untouched and clean. Too clean for me, since I could still feel his hands roaming over my flesh. I backed out of the room, and turned toward the one place I knew I could relax.

The door to his room slides open, and I am hit with the overwhelming scent of stale alcohol. I sigh, knowing how hard last night must have been on him. He is sprawled out on top of the bed, laying sideways with his shoes still on. There are a couple of empty bottles on the floor by the bed. He snores loudly as I step into the room.

I slowly climbed into bed, laying across it next to Haymitch. He stirs, and his bleary eyes gaze at me. "Mmm. You're back." He smiles lightly as his eyes drift shut again.

"Yes." I smile, "I'm back."

"Good. Missed you," he says quietly, eyes still closed.

I roll to my side and rest my head on his chest, "I missed you, too."

His finger roams up and taps my cheek, his signature gesture to get me to look at him. I lift my head, and my eyes meet his again, but this time, they are much clearer. "Want to talk about it?" He asks, his voice quiet.

I stare into his eyes for a moment, seeing the sincerity of his concern for me. I immediately start to cry. His arms wrap around me as I sob into his chest. His hand rubs up and down my arm and back, a comforting motion. "Hey, Darling," he whispers, and I look up at him again, my breathing now under control.

My face is hot from crying, and I just stare at him for a moment, "I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't have to," he tells me. "Just tell me, are you okay?"

I smile at him then, his sweet way of caring for me making everything okay in the world. "I am now," I tell him. I lean up and press my lips to his. His hands travel down my sides and rest on my hips, his lips taste of whiskey. This is Haymitch, caring and drunk.

He pulls away and looks down toward our feet. "Are we laying on this bed sideways?"

I laugh, "we are."

"Why?"

"You passed out like this. I just joined you." I smirk at him, lifting my shoulders in a shrug.

"Well, how about we get under the covers, make ourselves comfortable?" He asks, lifting an eyebrow.

"Sounds good."

I stand and strip out of my dress. Once I'm down to my underwear, Haymitch strips out of his clothes. We both situate ourselves comfortably in the bed, and I cuddle up to his chest. He pulls the blanket over us, and we quickly fall asleep.

The next few days in the Capitol pass similarly to the first one. Haymitch and I tend to spend our mornings and early afternoons together before I am carted away to yet another party. I am then escorted to a Capitolite's home where I spend most of the night. I always leave early in the morning so I can climb into bed beside a Haymitch who had passed out from all the alcohol that he had consumed during my absence.

I notice that when Haymitch and I are together, he never touches me. His hands stay firmly away from me until I touch him. He seems physically distant.

I am in my dress for the evening when I walk out into the living room. Haymitch is sitting on the couch, a smile forms on his lips as he looks at me. He narrows his eyes at me as I saunter over to him. "There is mischief in your eyes," he comments as I make my way closer.

I smirk as I kick my heels off and climb onto his lap, my knees on either side of his thighs. I place my hands on the sides of his head, his ears between my fingers, and pull his lips to mine. His hands slide their way up my legs, coming to rest on my hips.

I pull away and look at him for a moment before speaking, "You never touch me anymore."

His eyes widen, and an eyebrow raises, "I'm touching you right now."

"Only after I came to you." I look down, linking my fingers by my stomach. I stare at the spaces where I am missing two digits, "Do you not want this anymore? Now that I'm a – "

"Don't even finish that sentence." His voice is low, threatening.

My worried eyes meet his gaze. I see the worry, anger, and longing in his eyes. "I don't want you to feel like I treat you like they do."

My eyes widen in realization. Consent. He is making sure that I have that power here, with him. I run my thumb across his lower lip, smiling lightly. "I could never feel that way about you. I'm – Well, I am yours." I press a quick kiss to his lips before continuing. "You are the only person who understands me. You are my only friend. This is real, Haymitch." I look down again, "all the rest is a game, a game I have to play to win." I meet his eyes again, "You are real, Haymitch. You are mine."

His lips crash against mine, our hands roaming each other's bodies while our lips remain passionately locked. His arms wrap around my waist, and he pulls me closer to him until my chest is pressed against his. I pull away, my lips leaving a trail of kisses from his mouth, over his cheek, on his nose. I lean my forehead against his, "I want to know that the person I want wants me, too."

"I will always want you." He says to me.

His lips are on mine again, and time seems to slow. There is nothing but Haymitch and I. His hands leave blazing trails on my skin, and my fingers are wound in his hair.

"Oh, for heavens sake!" The shrieking voice of Velora pierces our bubble, and Haymitch's arms tighten around my waist. "This is a common area!"

I press my forehead against his and look into his grey eyes. "I think it's time for me to go."

He sighs, and his eyes close. "This is the last night. We go home tomorrow," he says, and I am not sure if he is telling me this, or himself.

I slide off his lap and slip my feet back into my shoes. I give him a small smile before I turn and make my way out of the room. This is not the last night. There are many more to come.

We arrive back in District 12, my family is there to greet me. I hug them, but all I can think about is all of the men and women that I have slept with since I left on the Victory Tour, and how many more I will have to sleep with as the years pass. My mother would be ashamed. Ashamed and concerned. Birch wouldn't be able to look up to me like she does if she knew.

Haymitch is always there for me. He tells me how strong I am. Always reminding me that I am playing the game and playing it well. "You're a survivor." He whispered to me one night after I had cried.

I am barely ever home anymore. Mom and I still work in the garden together, but I always head back to Haymitch. I help Birch with her homework, but I always head back to Haymitch. Eventually, I just pack up my things and move across the street into his house. He greeted me with a smile and open arms, this man who knows all my secrets and continues to care for me despite them.

We have been home for a few weeks, and President Snow sends me a letter. There is another series of parties he wants me to attend. So, I say goodbye to Haymitch and make my solo trip to the Capitol. I attend parties, go to the homes of those who had bought me, and make my way home again.

I hear all sorts of stories from the men with their hair plastered to their foreheads by sweat as their fluids are drying on my skin. Stories of President Snow. Some are surely made up, but others… Others make me want to scream, afraid of what he would do to me, to my family, to Haymitch, should I do something against his wishes.

When I make it back to District 12, Haymitch is waiting at the train platform for me. His eyes narrow slightly when he sees me, and he pulls me into a hug. "You've lost weight," he tells me, then presses a kiss to my forehead.

"I was kind of on a liquid diet for the last two weeks," I admit to him.

"You need to eat."

"I needed to block things out, more."

"Come on," he grabs my hand, pulling me toward the Victor's Village. "I am going to make you lunch."

The months pass with periodic trips to the Capitol. Every time I come home, Haymitch makes me a large meal, making sure I eat everything. It is obvious from the number of empty bottles that litter the surfaces of the house that he is eating as much as I am during our time apart, but I don't say anything. What is there to say?

The day of the Reaping arrives. My first Games as a Victor. Haymitch had started drinking as soon as we woke up, and I joined him for a little, but I remained mostly sober. I make sure he is properly dressed, and I wear one of my Snow Appointed dresses, the ones I wear any time I am televised or in the Capitol, and we head to the town square.

The lines of children signing in for the Reaping look different to me now. I know what they will have to go through. And I also know that most of them don't have what it takes to survive in the arena. Most of them are starving, or close to it.

I am standing near the stage, keeping an eye on a wobbly Haymitch, when I hear my name called from behind me.

I turn and see Forrest and his wife coming up to me, each smiling. Little Katniss is toddling along, holding her father's hand.

I return the smile. It is difficult to, considering that I haven't seen them much at all since I returned from my Games.

Forrest wraps me in a tight hug, and I almost cry from the love that I feel emanating from my friend. "We never see you anymore," he says into my ear before he pulls away.

I smile at him, "I've been a little busy. I'll invite you for dinner some night when I get back."

Everyone is quiet for a moment, the reminder of the Games hanging in the air. "I miss my hunting partner," he continues.

I look up at him, meeting his eyes. "I don't think I am ready for that."

He nods, "I understand."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Haymitch bringing a bottle up to his lips. I quickly step away from the Everdeens and place a hand on his arm. "I think you need a break."

His glazed eyes sweep over mine, and he relinquishes the bottle to me. I place the cap back on it and set it behind the stage. I get him sitting on the steps to the stage, running a thumb across his cheek. He looks up at me and smiles. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" He slurs, a drunken smile plastered on his face.

"You stayed sober enough to get me out." I run my hand down his hair and turn to face Forrest, again. Haymitch doesn't let me move far, wrapping an arm around my thighs and leaning his head into my waist.

I rest my hand on the side of Haymitch's head and talk to Forrest, "I mean it. I am going to have you all over for dinner."

"We would love it."

He looks at Haymitch for a moment, his eyebrows bunching together slightly, before giving me a smile and a wave goodbye. They head off into the crowd.

"When did I agree to having guests over?" Haymitch asks, still leaning into my side.

"You didn't," I tell him. "I made that executive decision all on my own."

"I need a drink." He states, not making a move away from me.

"Can you at least wait until we are on the train?" I ask him. His eyes meet mine, and I see that he is about to argue. I continue, "for me?"

His eyes soften, "Anything for you."

His speech cleared up to say that, and I smile. "Thank you."

My first Reaping as Victor went fairly smoothly, all things considered. Haymitch kept me busy, since I had to corral him up to our places on the stage and keep him from falling out of his chair in his drunkenness.

Two sixteen-year-olds were called, Ethelia Farflake and Blake Belldrop. They look terrified. And they should be. Haymitch and I make our way to the train. I begin leading him to his bedroom when he stops and lightly smacks my hand away from him. He turns and heads straight into the bar car. I smile and follow him.

He grabs a bottle and two glasses before settling into a chair. He vaguely gestures toward the chair for me to sit. Once I am sitting, he hands me a glass of whiskey and takes a large gulp of his own.

"You need to drink," he tells me.

"One of us should stay slightly sober," I tell him.

"They won't make it," he says before taking a large drink.

I sigh. I didn't feel right about drinking while these kids were depending on us. But I also knew he was right. They weren't going to make it.

I finish off my glass, and he is quick to pour me another. Well, as quick as a drunk Haymitch can be. After a while, we hear the door to the train open, and I can just make out Velora talking to her newest Tributes.

I stand and look to Haymitch. He is so close to passing out. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

I extend my hand to him, and he takes it. It takes him a moment to get standing, and I help him stumble out of the bar car. We are then out in the car where the Tributes are waiting with Velora. I instantly can see how disappointed she is in me, since I am not walking much steadier than Haymitch.

"These are your mentors, Raven Eversole and Haymitch Abernathy." She introduces us in her high-pitched voice.

I give them a smile, trying to be as comforting of a presence as one can be in these circumstances. "Hello."

They stare at me with wide eyes, obviously red from crying. "You won last year," the girl, Ethelia, states.

"I did," I maintain my smile.

"Darling, I think I might…." Haymitch's voice trails off, and I immediately reach over and grab a decorative bowl from a table. I stick it in front of Haymitch's face, and he promptly vomits into it.

"How undignified!" Velora huffs.

"I'd say the fact that he is still standing is quite dignified," I tell her. Once Haymitch is finished, I place the bowl back onto the table, and hike him farther up, pulling his arm over my shoulder.

"I am going to get him to bed," I say before slowly turning us toward the bedrooms and walking away.

Haymitch stumbles beside me, and I eventually get him into his bed. I make sure to remove his shoes and get him under the covers. He is quickly snoring. I press a kiss to his cheek before making my way back out to the others.

Velora and our Tributes are sitting at the table. I grab myself a glass of champagne before sitting across from them. I can see the fear in their eyes. Neither one of them has a spare ounce of fat on their bones, and virtually no muscle. I see why Haymitch drinks. District 12 will have no new Victors this year.

I stand again and head over to the table that is laden with all sorts of treats. I begin to pile up a plate of all of my favorite things. I set it in the middle of the table and sit down once again. I take a long sip of my drink and look up at my Tributes.

"These are some of the best sweets you could ever have." I gesture to the plate. "Try them."

They timidly reach forward, each grabbing something different off the plate. I watch their faces as the flavors from their pastries and chocolates shock their senses. No one from District 12 had had something so delectable. Only Haymitch and I.

This is how we spend our trip to the Capitol. I show them the best parts of being a Tribute. Of course, the terror of the trip is still on everyone's minds, but the kids do loosen up, enjoying the fine and fancy things that are offered to them.

I become progressively more drunk as the evening wears on. Velora finally ushers the Tributes off to their rooms, and I remain in my plush chair in the living area of the train. My shoes have been kicked off and I am leaning back in the chair, head resting back, when the door slides open. I don't open my eyes, hoping that whoever it is will get what they came here for and leave me be.

I feel my glass get plucked out of my hand and I whip forward, startled when I find myself staring into Haymitch's eyes.

He finishes off my glass of whiskey and sets the empty glass on the counter. He holds his hand out to me, "Come to bed, Darling."

I take his hand and let him pull me up. He leads me back to his room, and both of us undress and climb under the covers.

"How do you do this every year?" I ask him once my head is settled on his chest.

"Lots of alcohol," is his reply.

We make it to the Capitol, and Haymitch is barely coherent. I doubt he will be while we are here for the Games. I had told the Tributes what to expect from their stylists, and how getting the makeover will make the Capitol citizens more willing to support them.

Once they are gone, Haymitch and I are sitting together in the living room of our floor of the Tribute Center. I am laying on the couch, my head in his lap while his fingers run through my hair, when one of the attendants steps in and hands me an envelope.

Haymitch's hands immediately freeze when he sees the envelope. I sigh and open it.

"Snow has plans for me tonight," I inform Haymitch.

"I thought he'd leave you alone during the Games." His fingers resume their calming movements through my hair.

"I guess not."

I go to my room and get ready. Once I am dressed and ready for the evening, I go back to Haymitch. He is sitting with a glass of amber liquid in his hand. I climb into his lap, pressing kisses to his lips and face.

Sooner than I would like, I say goodbye to him. I make my way to the street and get into the car that will take me to my destination.

I arrive, and I walk up to the door and knock. This is someone I had seen before. The door opens, revealing my client. I give a smile, "hello."

"Ahh, Raven! I missed you!" The man pulls me into his arms, hugging me like he never wants to let me go.

"Oh, don't lie to me!" I laugh, hating how sincere I can make myself sound.

I am led inside, and I let my past experiences direct my behavior. It's like I am outside of my body, watching what happens, but feeling very disconnected. The client and I talk on the couch for a while, his hands roaming over every inch of skin that is available to him. The voice that speaks sounds similar to mine but is too high pitched to really be me. My movements are slow, my hips sway as I walk, and I have an ever-present smile on my face. This is what they have turned me into. I take control, which the client seems to enjoy, and lead him into his bedroom.

After, I lay on my side, bare to him. My arm is under my head, and the blanket is pulled up to my waist. His hand trails up and down my side, grazing my breast as he speaks. He talks of the Games. While he isn't a Gamemaker, he assists one. He tells me about all of the ways that they ensure the victory goes to the Tribute of their choosing, in most cases. Apparently, I was not the chosen Victor, but most of the Gamemakers were pleasantly surprised when I won.

This is when an idea comes to me. If President Snow wants me to play the game, then play it I will. Haymitch always tells me that I am a survivor. I will do what I must to survive, and right now, I have access to plenty of information.

Men and women alike have loose lips after an intimate meeting. Emotions run high after such activities, and secrets spill as heart rates settle. This is the perfect place to hear the things that people don't want you to hear.

Once the client has passed out, I slip from the bed. I quickly and quietly dress and leave his home. I make my way back to the Tribute Center, and up to Haymitch. He is, surprisingly, awake. He seems alert, his eyes following me as I enter the room, and shuffle through the drawers until I come across a notebook. I quickly write down what the client had shared with me, and stuff it deep into the small bag I had brought with me from home.

"What are you doing?" He asks me.

I only shake my head, "Shh."

He understands my meaning and stands. He grabs my hand and leads me up the stairs and to the roof. There is an area that has some windchimes hanging, where they create their music in the breeze.

"What is it?" He asks me once he is certain that no one can overhear.

I tell him about the things that get whispered to me, all of the terrible things that are believed that Snow has done, and the things I hear about the Games. The things I hear about the other Districts.

"You're a spy," he states. His eyebrows lift slightly.

"I figure I might as well keep a hold of this information. Never know when it will come in handy." I shrug.

Haymitch pulls me to him, "You are a devious thing, Darling."

I smirk, "I play to win, Haymitch."

"You do." He kisses me and leads me back down to our room. I pull him by the hand, leading him to the bathroom. We strip each other of our clothes and climb into the shower to wash my dirty deeds away before he leads me to bed.

A few days pass, and I am periodically called away. I barely see the Tributes. One morning, I come in later than usual. I did my best to put my hair into something respectable, but I am still in the same dress from the day before as I walk into the dining room. The Tributes are sitting with Haymitch, Velora is not here yet.

Haymitch smiles at me, and I can see that he has already been into the whiskey this morning. "I can't wait to see what they have you wearing for the interviews, tonight." He grins.

I smile, and before I can respond, the boy, Blake, speaks, "Oh, so you're actually going to be there for the interviews? Not going to run off to some Capitol boyfriend?"

My eyes snap to his, shame, hurt and anger all making me fight away tears. I inhale to speak, but Haymitch beats me to it, "How dare you?"

All eyes turn to him, and he is absolutely seething. I look at him through the tears that I refuse to spill as he continues, "do you have any idea what they do to us as Victors? The Games don't end! She still has to do what they say, whether she wants to or not. So, take a good look at her and at me and decide if this life is worth winning the Hunger Games."

The things he said, while true, could prove dangerous. So, before he can continue, I rush over to him and place my hands on his shoulders. I can feel his tense muscles move with every angry breath he takes. "Hey. It's okay," I tell him, leaning over his shoulder, letting my hands run down his chest. "We are all stressed."

I make him stand, and I lead him away from the table. Once we are in our room, I look to him, "You need to calm down."

"How can I when they look at you like you are their enemy?" His voice is loud, not yelling, but definitely not quiet.

"They know I'm not the enemy, but they're scared," I tell him. "You and I could keep our heads through the fear, they can't."

He stares into my eyes for a moment before I see his muscles relax. "I won't allow anyone to speak to you like that."

I smile and wrap my arms around his waist, his arms pull me to him, "You are the most wonderful person I know."

He huffs, almost a laugh but not quite. "You must not know many people."

"Shut up." I smirk, "you are my overprotective Haymitch, and I wouldn't trade you for anything.

Haymitch and I travel back to District 12 alone. Neither tribute survived the bloodbath. Once we make it home, I begin to remake one of the spare rooms in our home. I order workout equipment from the Capitol, creating a home gym.

I talk with a trainer for a while, figuring out exactly the things I should be doing to strengthen and tone my body.

Snow has made me see that I have a valuable weapon: my body. This body can be used for many things, but it has to be honed, muscle hardened, leaving the curves soft. My trips to the Capitol continue, and I take things into my own hands. I pick the client who will take me home, I use my body to entice them into sharing any information they possess.

Snow set the board, but I know how to play.