A/N: *shifts around awkwardly* okay, I know I'm the worst author in the world and that I have been gone for forever but please find it in your shipper hearts to forgive me! /3 I have been busy recently as I have just had my exams so now that they're over, I should have more free time on my hands (whoop, whoop) so I will TRY and update again either this week or next to make up on the lateness of the past few chapters. But anyhoo, you have waited long enough m'dears so here is chapter 21!

"Katniss, dining room – now!" is the first thing I hear when I wake up. I had almost forgotten how loud Haymitch can shout.

I sigh and throw my head back into the pillow. It is rare that I am the last person out of bed in the morning but today I feel drained both mentally and physically and I feel it a challenge to even swing my legs out of the side of the bed.

I meander over to the opposite side of the room and immediately recoil as I pull open the curtains suddenly becoming allergic to sunlight and sit down on the edge of my bed resting my elbows on my knees and my chin on my fists.

I sit and think of peculiar things for a while - an article I read in a paper a few weeks back, my mother and what colour lipstick I should wear today. I sit and procrastinate for what seems like an age but I snap out of it and realise that sitting in my bedroom all day would do myself nor anyone else any good whatsoever.

I settle on a cupreous tinted lipstick after much debate between that and a lovely silver shade – metallic is very in, you see – that goes perfectly with a deep green dress and of course my gold wig.

I must admit, I definitely feel better when I look better. The powder has done a wonderful job at concealing the bags under my eyes that have come from spending the last few nights tossing and turning instead of sleeping. I find rest eventually but not the heavy kind that my body and mind crave.

I head out of my bedroom, opening the door to whatever the day has to come and thoroughly wishing I was still wrapped in warm bed sheets instead of tight green organza.

I turn up just in time to see off Katniss and Peeta before their first day of training begins for the Quell, not that any of the victors really need it.

I am about to step into the elevator to take them both down as I did last year but Haymitch stops me. "Don't take them down this year; they don't need a babysitter sweetheart. They're the youngest victors down there, they need to look self-reliant."

I frown at his remark even though I know he is right. I settle for fussing over their hair, Katniss looks like she wants to bat my hand away but thankfully keeps her hands to herself. I press the button and smile contentedly as I have sent them off for a hopefully productive morning.

I sigh when I realise just how much I hate the training days when there is nothing for me to do. In my boredom I seek out Haymitch.

"Any word from potential sponsors yet?" I find him stood at the bar and he turns round suddenly.

"Jesus woman, you scared the shit out of me," he takes a breath before continuing. "And yes, I've had a few people enquire but nothing definite yet. Chaff reckons the takings are gonna go through the roof this time, more so than the last Quell."

"Understandable, what with the victors going back, they'll give everything they've got to keep their favourites alive." He nods in response and takes a sip from a glass of clear spirit.

"You watch – they'll be queuing round the block by this time next week for Peeta and Katniss."

"That's if they get a high score in training and don't do anything stupid." I say recalling the events from last year.

Haymitch snorts. "True, but I don't think it'll have a huge impact. Everyone has their minds made up nd besides-"

I tune Haymitch out as I begin to look around to see if there's a chair nearby, a sudden wave of nausea hitting me full on. I find an arm chair in the middle of the room and plonk myself down in it, feeling a small amount of relief from having the weight off my feet.

"Effie?" Haymitch snaps his fingers in front of my face and I blink.

"I'm sorry. What?" I ask drowsily returning my head to my palm.

"I said 'have you heard anything' and Christ, what 'smatter with you this morning? Has Princess been starting early?" He taps his glass for emphasis and I glare at him as he slumps down in a chair opposite.

"No, I just feel odd today." I put my hand on my stomach and begin to rub it round in a circular pattern in an attempt to soothe the internal churning. Haymitch looks disinterested and goes back to his alcohol. "And no to your previous question, I have not heard anything yet."

I smile to myself, a sudden thought occupying my mind.

"What?" asks Haymitch from the opposite end of the room, taking a sip of liquor.

"I was just thinking how nice it is that you're actually trying this year."

"Ouch."

I tut, "Oh come on Haymitch, of all the years I have worked with you I have only ever seen one sliver of hope and genuine work ethic from you. That was last year. Usually you take one look at the tributes and dismiss them completely. Why is that?"

"You of all people should know the answer – we're not meant to get attached. And besides, hope is over-rated."

"I just wish you weren't so cynical, my father once told me that it is often in the darkest skies that we see the brightest of stars. I think District Twelve is the prime example of that, they have three wonderful victors all of whom were considered underdogs until their crowning glories."

"That was very proverbial of you, sweetheart." He says, lacking in his usual sarcasm.

"I know." I smile proudly to myself and look down to my hands neatly folded in my lap.

"Hardly glory, though. You're still treated like shit and passed around the Capitol like some shiny new toy but I guess that's really all you are."

I know now that he is speaking of himself only. Pain flickers across his face and he clutches his glass tightly, probably trapped in some harrowing memory.

I speak from experience when I say that it is best not to interrupt his train of thought in this instance but I cannot help myself when I reach across the small space between us and place my hand atop his.

He remains in thought for a few more moments before turning his attention first to our hands and then to my face. I offer a meek smile but he does not return it, only inhales sharply before rising to presumably refill his glass.

Whenever he does have a moment like that, it only makes me more curious to know exactly what has happened to him –aside from his games of course. He very much keeps his pain and memories to himself and from time to time I really wish he wouldn't. I know better than to ask him about it–lord only knows what would happen if I did– and I suppose that if he wants to tell me he will.

Haymitch wanders back to his chair with, as expected, another glass of whatever he is drinking.

I kick off my shoes and tuck my legs underneath me but it only makes the queasiness worse. I huff and put my feet back on the floor. Haymitch sends me an odd look from the other end of the room probably thinking I have some odd branch of ADHD.

I feel restless now, like all I need to do is move around. I stand up and slip my shoes back on making an unnecessary trip to the bar to get a glass of water – again, no relief.

I lean against the wall and sigh placing my hand on my stomach, lifting the glass to my lips and letting a steady stream of water pass through. I feel it run down my throat all the way to my stomach and it only takes me a matter of seconds to realise what is going to happen next.

Moments later I am hunched over a toilet bowl emptying the contents of my stomach, made up mostly of bile. When I finish heaving, I slump down next to the toilet taking a moment to recollect my thoughts.

I see Haymitch lean against the door frame as he did not too long ago. He looks as if he is about to make some witty remark but before he has the chance I stop him.

"Don't. Say. Anything."

He smirks and throws his hands up in the air in mock defeat. "Did I speak, sweetheart?"

"You just did." I mumble pulling myself up from the ground by the sink. I wash out my mouth, managing to rid myself of the sour taste.

"I need to talk to you." Haymitch knows what I mean by this having done it on so many occasions already in the past week.

We end up, yet again, in the rooftop garden, the air thick with humidity and insufferable heat. There is no breeze either as there has been the past few days creating a somewhat unsettling atmosphere.

I walk over to the edge of the building and place my hand on the railing and grip tightly, my knuckles turning white.

I half expect Haymitch to come out with some snide 'what is it this time?' or something along those lines but it doesn't come. He stands and waits for me to speak though I find it harder with each second to find the right words not that they will at all soften the blow.

"Haymitch, I think I'm pregnant."

Suddenly he looks as if he is the one about to vomit. He stands for a moment, eyes fixed on the mountains covered in yellow wildflowers letting the words process in his brain.

"Are- are you sure?" he clears his throat still probably in some form of shock.

"I'm not certain but I think-" I trail off, uncertain how to finish the sentence. "It was just what you said yesterday and something clicked, everything suddenly made sense."

None of us speak for a minute or two afterwards after all; I'm not entirely sure what to say.

"Are you going to find out for sure?" he sounds distant still more like he would be dreading the outcome if it were 'positive' though the word would hold nothing positive at all.

"I don't know if I can. Either way someone's bound to find out and you of all people know how bad that would be."

"Yes I do." He nods in agreement still speaking quieter than usual. "Well, you're gonna have to do it at-"

"Yes I know," I snap and lean forward to look down at the street below. I sigh, "I'll do it tomorrow."

"You've changed your tune, sweetheart." He makes a light attempt at humour but neither of us laugh.

"I need to know." I say and exhale feeling a small amount of relief from sharing what's been on my mind all night.

"We'd better go back down, lunch'll be ready in a minute." Says Haymitch tiredly beginning towards the stairs leading back to the penthouse but I linger behind for a moment, drinking in the morning sun and dreading what will come tomorrow.

A/N: OH MY GOSH IT'S DONE! You have no idea how long I've wanted to write this end authors note for this chapter. Well, I hope all 1106 minutes of editing time have paid off but I'm not sure, what do you guys think? You will all be pleased to know that I have already written half of the next chapter so expect that sometime this week/weekend depending on how busy I get with school etc. Dear lord okay, I will stop there because I am tired and have spent all night on this so I think I will shut my laptop down before it overheats haha. Goodnight all! :)

Love you all heaps! ~ H x