Anonymous requested: "Haymitch is in the hospital and Effie takes Olive to visit him."

The doctors said it was his liver. That due to years of alcohol abuse, the damn thing had finally began to fail. Really no surprise there. He could've told them that. What he hadn't expected was that it would make him feel so sick. So weak. Even to the point where he didn't argue with Effie when she forced him to come to the hospital. He hated them. The hospitals. Machines always whirling and beeping into the early hours of the morning. Someone dying every few hours. It was damn depressing. But they had morphling and it helped. A lot. Especially when his daughter came to visit.

"Daddy!"

Haymitch smirked softly as the seven year old flew into the room, her blonde hair pulled back into pigtails. She smiled at him, so unaware of how ill he was. He and Effie had agreed they wouldn't tell her. Not yet. Not until they knew how much longer he had. The old victor inhaled, a gust of oxygen entering his lungs courtesy of his cannula.

"Hey, Half Pint."

His gaze flickered to Effie who watched from the doorway. He could see the sadness in her eyes, the pain evident in her expression as she looked on at them. She didn't have to act so damn upset. He wasn't dead. Yet. But sometimes it seemed like she already felt that way. His tongue absentmindedly darted out from his mouth and licked his cracked lips. He didn't deserve this type of sympathy. Not from her. Not from anyone. It made him feel so guilty. But he couldn't think of any way to reassure her.

"Guess what?" the young girl's voice broke his train of thought. "I made something for you today!"

Haymitch looked on as his daughter pulled a piece of paper from her backpack. With yellowed hands, he reached forward and took it from her. It was a picture. A drawing of him, Effie, and Olive. The style was crude-the girl had never been the best at drawing-but to him it was a masterpiece. Chuckling softly, he set it down on the little side table beside his bed.

"Thanks, kid," he inhaled, finding it harder to catch his breath nowadays. "I'll have a nurse hang it up for me later. It'll take away from the hideous purple wallpaper."

"It's lavender, dear," Effie corrected, but her voice trembled as she spoke.

"Have you been lonely, daddy?" Olive asked, climbing up onto the edge of his bed. "I've been thinking about you a lot while in school. I wish you could have come to see our play. I was a tree. Uncle Peeta said I was one of the best trees he'd ever seen. You think he meant it, daddy?"

"I'm sure he did, kid," Haymitch said with a weary smile. "I wish I could have been there too."

The familiar sharp ache throbbed in his gut and Haymitch couldn't help but wince. His hand flew up, pressing weakly on the spot as he waited for some relief. Damn liver. He couldn't enjoy a simple moment with his daughter without it flaring up. Almost immediately Effie was at his side, pumping the pain medication button until the warm flow of morphling drowned out the agony. A sigh escaped from his lips, his head turning to meet the worried gaze of the woman.

"I'm fine," he tried to assure Effie. "I don't need you to go calling a SWAT team of nurses in. Just a little irritating pain. That's all."

He knew she realized he was lying. After being together for so many years, she finally was beginning to pick up on his tricks. But for now she was letting him be. Maybe for the sake of Olive. It wasn't like either of them wanted her to see a rush of medics come in and poke and pry at her father with needles. Silently, he reached over at took Effie's hand in his own, giving it a quick squeeze. He could see the tears forming in her eyes. That was the last thing she needed to do in front of their daughter.

"I could use some ice," he told her quietly.

She seemed to understand his code and nodded. "Alright," she whispered, "I'll be right back."

Haymitch watched as she disappeared into the hallway only to have his attention redirected when someone tapped his knee. He turned, Olive's suddenly solemn expression coming into his path of vision.

"Daddy," she said quietly. "I know you're really sick."

It was something that made his stomach twist in another form of pain. Regret. Olive was intelligent. Really intelligent. Something he credited his own genetics for. Perhaps she realized more than he and Effie liked to let on. Surely not everything, but she definitely was not entirely oblivious to what was happening.

"Oh?" He mumbled, unsure of what else to say.

"Yeah," she nodded, "I heard mama talking on the phone with Ms. Hawthorne." A look of fear flashed across the child's face. "You're going to be alright, daddy. Right?"

Should he lie? Be truthful? As a mentor, he had always been blunt when it came to his tributes. Honest that he felt they wouldn't make it. Never sugar-coating the horrors that awaited them. But this was different. This was his child. And her life wasn't endanger. Only his.

"Yeah," he finally said, reaching forward pat her knee. "'Course I am. Just need to rest here until your mother decides to let me come back home. That's why you should always clean your room. She'll send you here if you don't."

It was a stupid joke and by Olive's lack of laughter, he felt a little ridiculous. But that was soon forgotten when she leaned forward and pressed her face to his arm. He stiffened, an unfamiliar lump forming in his throat.

"I love you, daddy," she told him. "And I want you to get better fast. I need you to come home and help me with the geese. No one will help me herd them back into the pen at night."

"I'm sure Peeta would help you if you asked," Haymitch said. "He likes the geese."

"But I want you to help," Olive explained. "Not Uncle Peeta. The geese are our thing."

The morphling was starting to pull him under as it always did during a high dosage. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to fight it so easily as he used to. Haymitch settled back against his pillows as Effie re-entered the room with a cup of ice. Setting it down, she turned to Olive with a small smile.

"Come," she told her. "Let's go home and let your father have some rest. We'll come back tomorrow."

Olive nodded sadly, "Okay." Haymitch mumbled something incoherently as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek. "Good night, daddy. I love you. I'll come back tomorrow. Maybe you'll be feeling better then."

Carefully, his daughter slid off the bed and made her way towards the door. Almost completely consumed by unconsciousness, Haymitch could only slightly nod when Effie joined him at his side. Gently, she pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"I'll come back later tonight," she assured him. "Hazelle agreed to watch Olive tonight. If anything comes up, you have a nurse call me, alright?" She reached down, taking his hand as he had done to her previously. "Get some rest."

Haymitch sighed softly, his eyelids growing heavy as the comforting sensation of morphling welcomed him with open arms. As he faded away, he could've almost sworn he heard the honks of geese and the laughter of an overjoyed girl. He could picture them in his mind. How much home seemed so distant and yet so close. The hospital machinery beeped rhythmically into the still air as the mentor gave way to sleep. The thoughts of his daughter journeying with him until he was gone.