A/N: Hello everyone! :) I apologise for the lateness, I did try to update before I went on my second holiday but it didn't happen. But I'm back for good now so I should be able to write and update a little quicker in the weeks to come. I don't really have anything important to mention so I will let you get on with chapter 24 (which has a nice fluffy start for everyone)!

The first time I'm aware that I am awake is when I am hunched over the toilet bowl throwing up the remnants of last night's dinner.

When I return to the bedroom, my mouth washed clean, I see that I must have woken Haymitch as he is sat upright in bed, his eyes heavy and lidded with sleep.

"Morning sickness is a bitch, huh sweetheart?" he half-smiles drowsily but I ignore him, not particularly wanting to have an argument at this time in the morning.

"Did I wake you?" I ask climbing back into bed. He shakes his head but I'm not sure if it was no you didn't or a yes but it doesn't matter.

He holds his arm up and I nestle into his side laying my head on his chest and my arm across his midsection, relishing the feeling of his warm skin against my own.

I could just lie here forever and gladly would if I had the option. This, for me, is a little piece of paradise, the thought of being able to close my eyes and knowing he would be there when I open them. I could drift back to sleep right now, the nausea having receded, but Haymitch speaks before I have the chance to.

"How far along are you?" he says like he has been thinking about it for a long while. I roll over onto my back and try to think.

"Ten weeks now, nearly eleven." I say before my brain can make the connection. When he doesn't say anything I look up at him. "Why?"

"Just wondered, has it really been that long?" he asks, seemingly perplexed.

"It appears so," I say with a sigh.

"Have you given it any more thought, you know – what you're gonna do with it?"

I shake my head no. To tell the truth, I haven't thought about it at all. "It doesn't matter, if I keep it or get rid of it the President will probably find out at some point. And either way, he would probably kill us." I pause, exhaling. "Of course I blame you for this."

"You can't blame me for this, you're equally guilty!"

"Well if you hadn't have left the dinner at the Mayors house-"

"If you hadn't have followed me home-"

"I didn't follow you." I say, disgruntled. "And if you hadn't have carried me up the stairs-"

"Which I did because you kissed me, and rather well I might add, and also if you hadn't have grabbed-"

I relent and hold up my hand before he can say any more. "Okay, okay. I don't want to hear whatever you were going to say at this time in the morning."

He chuckles heartily pulling me back into his side and placing a kiss on the top of my head. I get my wish as we lie there in silence for a few minutes before, yet again, Haymitch interrupts it.

"I guess we should get up and see Peeta and Katniss off."

I nod but I am less than happy to have to move out of bed. "Oh God," I say recalling just what day it is.

"What?" asks Haymitch pulling on his trousers from yesterday that lie halfway across the room.

"It's evaluation day," I say making an effort to get out of bed that fails as I end up back on the mattress.

"Yeah," He begins to button up his shirt. "That's exactly why I think I need to go give them a pep-talk."

"I'll be out soon." I mumble into my arms that are crossed over my face. I hear Haymitch laugh and cross the room.

"Sure, princess." The door shuts behind him.

After a few minutes of pure idleness, I pull myself up and examine the closet that holds all of the dresses I chose to bring with me. I flick through dress after dress in hope of something that will cover my stomach that overnight I appear to become conscious of.

"Not very practical of you, Effie." I scold myself upon seeing that the outfits I had chosen to bring with me are not exactly maternity friendly.

I finally settle on a light blue leather dress that draws a fair amount of attention to my chest rather than my waist or midsection – oh well, you win some, you lose some.

After making myself look presentable I head out of the room in search of a black coffee and the victors turn tributes, the latter of the two I discover have already left.

I find the remnants of breakfast still on the table and pour myself the last bit of coffee in the pot that is thankfully still hot. I take said coffee into the living room and sit down in one of the chairs opposite Haymitch.

"So what sunny advice did you give them this time around?"

"Don't fuck up."

My mouth falls open in horror. "I sincerely hope that was not what you told them!"

He laughs. "Effie, you're far too easy to wind up. And I just told them not to do anything risky that will get them into even more trouble. Whether they take that advice or not is up to them but personally, I would take my advice because it is good advice."

"God, you're so up yourself." I take a sip of coffee, clearly feeling less amused than Haymitch.

"You know what, that's exactly what I've been telling you for the past few years." Again, he grins.

I scowl at him and contemplate throwing something but the only thing at hand is the coffee cup and I wouldn't want to waste it on such childish behaviour.

The elevator doors open with a ping all of a sudden and we both turn our attentions to whoever is inside. A brunette male Avox steps out carrying a silver tray and Haymitch is on his feet before I even have the chance to put down my coffee.

"Thanks." He mutters as he takes the piece of paper from the tray. The Avox makes a prompt exit, taking the now empty tray with him.

"It's the Odds." Says Haymitch before I even have the chance to ask. I am up on my feet in an instant and position myself next to him so that I can see the print.

Each year the Mentor and Escort receive a copy of the current odds of each tribute's survival in the Games, the idea being to help make sponsor deals. Last year our odds weren't too promising and those alone wouldn't have been enough to secure the expensive gifts sent to them both in the arena but with the training scores and interviews combined, the star-crossed lovers of district Twelve had secured a place in the Capitols heart and luckily, in their wallets.

This year according to the Odd's – as of yesterday – Katniss has a 5 – 1 chance of winning and Peeta just below on 6 – 1, I presume because of his leg. They are good stats but Brutus, Finnick and Johanna are all standing tall on at least 3 – 1 and combined with the fact that they are some of the more popular victors this country has seen probably won't help our cause.

"They look good this year," I say indicating district Twelve's slots on the grid. "It should make it easier to get sponsors a bit earlier on."

Haymitch nods in reply, placing the paper on one of the tables. "Yeah, that's if they don't screw it up today or interview day." He moves to stand by one of the floor to ceiling windows looking down onto the busy square. "Shouldn't make much difference though, I think the audience have their minds made up."

I go and join him at the window. Just looking down at one square I can see at least three countdowns to the Quell and too many screens to count, most of which are showing recaps of past Games. I look down just in time to see Johanna Mason hatchet a thirteen year old boy which successfully turns my stomach. I turn away and pinpoint my attention to one of the countdowns, watching the time tick away.

"Was Peeta always going to volunteer in your place?" I ask, the thought springing to mind.

"Yeah,"

"And vice versa?"

He nods and I exhale.

"Why do you ask? The thought of losing me forever too much, sweetheart?"

I go to whack him in the arm but he sidesteps away from it. "It's quite strange to think that it should be you-"

"Thanks!" He says bitterly but with a hint of amusement.

"You didn't let me finish! I didn't mean it like that – imagine if you weren't allowed to volunteer, you would be downstairs right now preparing to be evaluated and-"

"And you would be crying your eyes out because I would be going into an arena in two days' time and that thought is far too much to comprehend." He pouts and I go to hit him again but this time I don't miss.

"Stop putting words in my mouth!" I berate him and walk away from the window. "I give up trying to speak to you altogether, you're impossible."

I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. "Yeah but isn't that why you love me sweetheart?"

I don't answer his question.

He walks past me but then, recalling something, steps back to speak to me. "Effie, remind me later I need to pay Johanna Mason a visit."

"Why?" I ask a little too quickly.

He continues past me. "I'll tell you later."

I don't bother protesting as I probably should - I just let him go.

I am in the bath when Katniss and Peeta are due to return but I don't make an effort to go and greet them.

For the first time in the last few days, my mind is not plagued by the thoughts of a baby and I find that in a way, not having Haymitch around permanently is also helping me to forget.

I trail my fingers over the surface of the hot water that was a little too hot when I first got in but now, after having time to cool, is rather pleasant. The room is filled with the aroma of raspberries and mint, an odd combination that should probably smell quite sickly but in fact is probably the closest thing I have found to freshness since I was informed on my pregnancy.

The whole ordeal has left me feeling stale. I also feel tired all the time deeming me practically useless in conversation as I quickly lose the flow and find it rather difficult to pick it back up again. Overall I feel completely counterproductive.

I'm not sure how long I've been in the bath for but judging the wrinkled state of my hands and feet I would say a while. I stand up and reach for one of the towels from the shelf and wrap it around myself, then take another for my hair.

I put on a different dress even though in a few hours' time I will probably be getting ready for bed. I tuck my still slightly damp curls under my gold wig, its colour matching perfectly to my dress of orange and red feathers.

On my way to the dinner table I keep telling myself not to be worried about what could have possibly happened in the Training Centre but when I notice Peeta's hands, stained with all colours imaginable, I can't help but get a little concerned.

Cinna and Portia are next to turn up, then Katniss and finally – in all his drunken glory – Haymitch.

Avox's bring round bowls of roasted squash soup that looks rather displeasing to the eye but tastes absolutely delicious.

"All right, so how did your private sessions go?" Asks Haymitch next to me, and everyone round the table instantly stops eating.

Katniss glances at Peeta. "You first, it must have been really special. I had to wait for forty minutes to go in."

I feel dread fill me once again, what could possibly take forty minutes?

He fumbles with his words, something I have never known him to do. "Well, I – I did the camouflage thing, like you suggested, Katniss."

I breathe a sigh of relief but he continues.

"Not exactly camouflage. I mean, I used the dyes."

"To do what?" Asks Portia, almost like she is unprepared for the answer.

A flash of realization crosses Katniss' features. "You painted something, didn't you? A picture."

"Did you see it?" Peeta asks.

"No. But they made a real point of covering it up." Replies Katniss.

"Well, that would be standard," I chime in. "They can't let one tribute know what another did. What did you paint, Peeta? Was it a picture of Katniss?"

"Why would he paint a picture of me, Effie?" snaps Katniss, irritated.

"To show he's going to do everything he can to defend you. That's what everyone in the Capitol's expecting, anyway. Didn't he volunteer to go in with you?" Out of the corner of my eye, I see Haymitch grinning into his glass.

"Actually, I painted a picture of Rue. How she looked after Katniss had covered her in flowers."

There is a lengthy pause at the table as everyone tries to take in exactly what he has just said. "And what exactly were you trying to accomplish?" asks Haymitch, blatantly trying to hold his tongue from saying something bad-mannered.

"I'm not sure." Says Peeta and I feel a lump form in my throat. "I just wanted to hold them accountable, if only for a moment, for killing that little girl."

"This is dreadful." I think aloud. "That sort of thinking… it's forbidden, Peeta. Absolutely. You'll only bring down more trouble on yourself and Katniss."

"I have to agree with Effie on this one," says Haymitch tiredly.

In the short silence that follows, a few people round the table, including myself, decide to return to the soup.

"I guess this is a bad time to mention I hung a dummy and painted Seneca Crane's name on it."

My spoon hits the side of my dish with a clink and I drop both my hands to my knees.

"You…hung…Seneca Crane?" asks Cinna after a moment, remaining in his constant calm manner.

I take one of Haymitch's hands in my own under the table as more of a comfort gesture to myself than to him.

"Yes. I was showing off my new knot-tying skills and he somehow ended up at the end of the noose," Says Katniss with absolutely no remorse.

"Oh, Katniss," I say in a hushed voice, not wanting to say too much in case the tears forming at the back of my eyes decide to fall. "How do you even know about that?"

"Is it a secret? President Snow didn't act like it was. In fact, he seemed eager for me to know."

Of course he did. I think, this time, thankfully in my head.

With Katniss' words still resonating in my head, I decide to leave the table before my emotions can reach a high and go straight to my bedroom, glad that no one will follow me.

At first I cannot work out why I am actually crying – whether for the consequences that will no doubt follow for Katniss either in or out of the arena, or for the memories of a close friend being brought freshly to mind.

Though I scarcely think of it, I can still remember the very day I met one Seneca Crane.

"Hey!"

At first I had ignored the voice coming from behind me as I tried desperately to engage myself in the conversation between my mother and a close friend we had bumped into on the street. Just as I was beginning to grasp what – or rather who, they were gossiping about, the voice came again.

"Hey!"

It was a boy's voice, but as I looked around for the source of the sound, I couldn't see just who was speaking to me.

I heard a small laugh as my invisible addresser seemed to enjoy my confusion.

Not one to give up, I continued to look and (eventually) found the boy perched high in one of the cherry trees placed every few meters along the boulevard.

"Hey yourself," I said just loud enough for him to hear as to not alert my mother. "I hardly think that is a way to address a lady."

He laughed and for the first time, as he jumped down from a branch, I could see him fully.

Jet black hair and cobalt blue eyes that seemed to outshine the sun, clad in a suit of red and black velvet.

"How old are you?" he asked, still amused.

I frowned at the question but stood taller, holding my head high. "Ten, eleven on Tuesday."

"Well then you're not a lady yet."

"Yes I am. Mother says that you are a lady when you put on your first pair of Marie Beauderst's." I had said gesturing to my extremely tasteful footwear. "And I put on my first pair when I was six years old so I have had four years' experience in the field of 'being a lady'."

He frowned but shrugged it off. "I'm ten too, eleven on September 18th, I expect a birthday present."

"We just met." I pointed out matter-of-factly. "How am I meant to buy you a birthday present when I don't even know your name?"

"Seneca Crane," he extended a hand which I didn't quite know what to do with, but after a while realised he wanted me to shake it. I did so cautiously, having never shaken anyone's hand before; scared I would do it wrong.

"And that's my brother Marcus." He pointed to a smaller frame, Seneca being four years his senior, up in the same tree he occupied only moments ago. I noticed that they had the same eyes and black hair that had to be a family feature.

I waved to Marcus but he hid away behind the pink spring foliage, clearly not as confident as his brother.

"I'm Effie, Effie Trinket." I said proudly and for the first time he smiled genuinely. His smile was cut short as a woman approached us.

"Seneca, where is your brother?"

Seneca pointed to the cherry tree, thoroughly landing his brother in trouble. Their mother, completely mortified that her son had been climbing around in trees in a public place, immediately whisked both boys away from any prying eyes sending me an apologetic glance.

After that day, it became the unspoken arrangement that we were in fact best friends. We saw each other a lot more during out teen years and when my father died, he was the only person I could bare to speak to. He had known loss too and completely understood me. My feelings towards Seneca were completely unromantic and at times brotherly but he felt differently. He had told me he loved me on so many occasions but I had ignored it. Sometimes I do wonder what it would've been like if I had loved him in that way too but it is really a waste of time – you can't choose who you love.

I wipe my eyes as I realise I have been crying the entire time and hastily reapply any smudged make-up, having been lost in thought for over five minutes.

As I do so, my thoughts are with Katniss and Peeta. No doubt they will have to pay for their actions, either in the arena with some particularly nasty happening designed to look like an accident or outside of the arena where all I seem to be able to picture is Katniss' little sister paying the price for her mistakes.

I wipe the morbid thought from my mind as I leave my room to re-join everyone around the television to get the Training Scores.

Everyone is on edge as Caesar Flickerman reels through the scores for each district, waiting to see just what the damage will be. There are predictably high scores for the careers and Johanna and the rest pull scores ranging from 3 to 8.

"Have they ever given a zero?" asks Katniss as they are mid-way through district ten's scores.

I can see that Haymitch wants to come back with some snide remark but Cinna replies before he has the opportunity. "No, but there's a first time for everything,"

Eleven passes by quickly, Chaff scoring a 5 and Seeder a 4, and soon Caesar is announcing Peeta's score.

"District Twelve's Peeta Mellark, with a score of… twelve!" he announces, elated though everyone else in the room isn't quite as overjoyed. This is bad.

"And last but certainly not least, our very own Girl on Fire Katniss Everdeen with a score of…twelve!"

I hear Haymitch curse under his breath as Caesar continues to babble on about just how fantastic it all is.

"Why did they do that?" asks Katniss and this time Haymitch answers.

"So that the others will have no choice but to target you. Go to bed. I can't stand to look at either one of you."

Katniss and Peeta promptly exit, their faces finally reflecting some sense of shame, not wanting to anger their mentor any further.

Nobody speaks for a while, Haymitch returns to his drinking, Cinna and Portia converse in hushed voices which leaves me sat in the middle feeling awkward having nothing to do.

Strangely, Haymitch is the first to leave for bed though I know that he will be awake for some time.

Cinna and Portia are the next to leave but not to bed. I watch as they go instead to the small space designated for the Stylists, probably to put finishing touches to the interview outfits.

I am also quick to depart for my room as I do not wish to spend time alone in the large room that holds the television.

I spend the next few hours tossing and turning in the dark, completely exhausted but unable to find sleep.

I give up trying and go into Haymitch's room. The lights are off and I can just make out his sleeping form underneath the covers but I can make an educated guess and say that he is not asleep. However, as I crawl under the sheets and nestle into his side, he doesn't move to accommodate me as he normally would so maybe he is sleeping.

I eventually find a comfortable position and after another hour or so of restlessness, sleep claims me.

A/N: Okay, I hope you enjoyed that chapter! I think its length probably made up for its lateness but what did you all think? I have part of the next chapter written up on paper already so I just have to type it up and that should be posted relatively soon. As far as this story goes there will be APPROXIMATELY seven chapters left but there may be more or less, I'm not sure as it all depends if I split chapters up or not or whether I just make them long, I'm not sure. Anyway, please continue to review (they really do keep me writing) and I will see everyone for chapter 25! :)

You truly are the best readers ever! Much love ~ H x