Where have you gone?

The beach is so cold in winter here

Surprisingly, my body wakes itself up the next morning. I think it's because I've had horrible nightmares all night, full of the most awful scenarios. I watch Madeleine burn to death in a house fire and there's nothing I can do to help her because the white sleeves of the Peacekeeper uniforms are holding me back. I watch myself die by Haymitch's hand in the arena.

Haymitch. I sigh, his name echoing over and over again in my head as I roll out of bed and into the shower. As I smother my hair with various shampoos and conditioners, I replay our little scene last night in my head.

We were about to kiss. We were going to kiss, and what did I do? I instantly recoiled and began to cry. I remember vaguely that we stayed, wrapped in each others arms till one in the morning, until Marianna barged in and sent us both off to bed.

But there's no point to it, is there? Haymitch and I liking each other this way. Because the cold reality of it all is that we'll have to kill each other. Maybe not as soon as we get to the arena, but eventually we'll be forced to fight to the death face-to-face. I dread the thought.

When I'm out of the shower, I let the fancy Capitol machines automatically dry my hair. Then, I pull on an ivy green tank top and black pants. I practically race down to the dining room, in fear of Marianna making an appearance and shouting at me. Again.

Like me, the others seem to be just waking up. They're stuffing their faces with food but practically everyone at the table looks exhausted, yawning and scratching their heads. I take my usual seat next to Haymitch.

Whilst I'm munching on a cereal bar, Brandon begins talking.

"Tonight is the televised interviews," he tells us slowly, like we're all small children who have yet to grasp this. "We want you to be the best you can be, so today, you'll each have four hours with Marianna for presentation, and four with me for content." He looks over at me and Haymitch."You two will be with me until lunch time, while you two-" He nods at Trey and Astrid. "-will be with Marianna. And then we'll switch. Everyone happy with that?"

We murmur assent through mouthfuls of food. Then, we're whisked from the dining room. Haymitch and I begin to follow wherever Brandon wants to coach us, and Marianna trots off in the opposite direction with Trey and Astrid in tow.

"This way," Brandon says, leading Haymitch and I into a pristine white room.

It's large, with a beautiful view of the Capitol. Morning is just breaking over the horizon, but I know that most Capitol citizens don't get up till noon. There are white leather chairs.

Haymitch and I sit there, staring blankly while Brandon examines us with his dark blue eyes, like he's pondering about what we should do in our interviews. His forehead is creased and his fingers start tapping a strange beat on his thigh. It's very distracting.

"Let's start with you, boy," Brandon begins after what seems like forever. He shifts his gaze to Haymitch and takes a deep breath. "So, I already have an angle worked out for you. I want you to play up the arrogant act."

Arrogance? Haymitch isn't overly-arrogant, but he isn't too modest, either. I figure Brandon didn't have to think too hard about an angle for my district partner.

Haymitch doesn't say anything. He stays quiet and observes Brandon, like he knows he's going to elaborate.

"You're going to be cocky," Brandon continues. "Like the fact that you're going to die in a few days doesn't faze you in any way whatsoever. Add some wittiness in there, too. Think you can do that, boy?"

"It's what I've been doing all my life," Haymitch sneers, but I can tell he's happy with his interview angle.

Brandon looks relieved. "Well, that was easy. Now onto you, Blondie." He turns to me.

I lean forward, eager but also rather frightened to find out what my mentor has to say. Because whatever he's come up with, I'm going to have to act that way in front of the entire country.

"I'll admit, it wasn't easy for me to think up an angle for you," he tells me. "Will you be innocent? Brutal? Funny?" He shakes his head. "No, you're none of those things. Maysilee, your angle is going to be sexy."

I want to laugh and cry and throttle Brandon all at the same time.

"No!" I blurt. I can feel my face turning red as I speak. "I...I mean, no! I'm not going to act like a whore on national television! Not in front of my family!"

Brandon rolls his eyes. "Blondie, it's a television show. The people want to see what the people want to see. And what they want to see is you strutting your pretty little self on top of that stage tonight. Am I clear?"

I grit my teeth. "No. Absolutely not. I understand that this is...this is all a television show, Brandon, but it's a television show where I'm going to lose my life! I mean, can't I at least retain a little dignity? What else have I got left to care about at this point?"

Brandon looks me in the eye, clenching his fists. Finally, he lets out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. We'll come up with a new angle for you, Blondie, if it means that much to you." He narrows his eyes. "What would you like your angle to be?"

I chew my lip. "Can't I just be myself? I mean, do I have to turn myself into this completely different person?"

"How about this," Brandon negotiates, "Your angle can be...nice. Cute, humble, good-hearted."

I nod my head. "Okay. That's all right, I guess."

Brandon sighs again. "Right."

After that, Brandon spends the next few hours quizzing us on questions that have come up in past tribute interviews. What's life like back home, what's impressed you most about the Capitol, everything. Haymitch and I answer each query according to our respective angles, but I pale in comparison to him. He's arrogant and witty and everything the Capitol wants out of a tribute. And what am I, exactly? A girly, silly little tribute from District 12. Haymitch will be the one who gets all the sponsors, I know it.

Then, lunch time comes and we stuff our faces with Capitol food. I try hard to ignore the fact that this will be one of the last few times I'll ever have a proper meal.

Haymitch leans over to me and whispers, "I don't know why you refused to play up the sexy thing."

I roll my eyes. "I don't want to degrade myself like that, thanks very much."

"Prude," Haymitch mutters under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear.

I glare at him and his face softens slightly. "Sorry. Actually, I kind of respect you. For... not going along with it. I wouldn't have."

A smile creeps onto my lips. "Thank you, Haymitch."

He shrugs and goes back to eating.

After lunch, Marianna brings us into a room identical to the one we were in with Brandon. Except this time, there's a suit and a formal gown waiting for us.

"Um," I say stupidly, hoping she doesn't intend to put us into those things.

"Put them on, dears!" she trills, picking up the dress and the suit and thrusting them into our individual arms. She directs us into two small rooms to change.

When we're all dressed up, Marianna directs us how to act when in these sorts of clothes. Haymitch, apparently, has a tendency to slouch when sitting, so the first thing Marianna does is address that. I, however, cross my arms a lot. Marianna informs me matter-of-factly that, in the Capitol, crossing your arms means you don't want to engage in conversation. It's rude, she says. So, she slowly but surely eases me out of that habit.

It seems like days rather than hours have passed, but after, we're separated and brought to the Remake Center. I'm in the hands of my loud, obnoxious and frivolous prep team once again.

They spend two hours on both my hair and makeup respectively. It's torture, because I'm so nervous I'm finding it hard to block out their mindless gossip, something I did so easily before.

Unfortunately, both Bree and Accalia still harbour their little crushes on Haymitch.

"He's going to look gorgeous tonight!" Accalia squeals as she curls my hair with a strange, heated contraption.

"God, I'm practically swooning at the thought of him in a suit!" Bree giggles, adding a touch of blush to my already-rosy cheeks.

"You know, there's been some rumours going around between the two of you!" Accalia tells me.

"W-What?" I blink.

"Yes!" she continues happily. "A little birdie told me you and him were cuddling on the couch together last night!"

By 'little birdie,' she could only have meant Marianna. I clench my fists. I know that woman's a gossip – most Capitol people are – but who exactly has she told about Haymitch and I? My prep team will surely spread it around even more than Marianna has.

"Really?" I mutter flatly, trying to contain my anger. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear, Accalia."

"Oh, don't be silly, Maysilee!" Bree chirps. "This came from an actual eye-witness! In fact, I heard..."

I roll my eyes and tune them out, which I'm finding rather easy now, because I'm not nervous any more. Just overcome with anger.

When my prep team deem my hair and makeup flawless, Fabian arrives and kisses me on both cheeks in welcoming. I'm slightly apprehensive now, wondering about what my dress could be like. But unlike last time, Fabian doesn't allow me to see my outfit before I try it on. He simply makes me close my eyes, raise my arms up, step into a pair of high heels, and directs me towards the full-length mirror.

The only thing that registers in my mind is that I look beautiful. More beautiful than I've ever looked, or will ever look. The dress is a stunning baby blue number, strapless and bedazzled in all kinds of glittering jewels and shimmering crystals. It brushes the floor, thankfully. My hair is shiny, full of big, glamorous curls and God knows how many different sprays and shampoos. The colours of my eye makeup go perfectly with the gown.

"What do you think?" Fabian says quietly.

"Oh, Fabian," I breathe, so grateful that I can even speak, "Thank you...so much!" I suddenly turn around and hug him. He pats me on the shoulder.

"All the pleasure is mine, dear Maysilee." He smiles at me widely.

Soon enough, I'm leaning up against a concrete wall in the middle of a corridor. The other tributes are lined up in front of me, some pressed against the wall looking bored, others chatting animatedly amongst themselves. Right ahead of us is the door that leads onto the stage where our interviews will be taking place.

Trey and Astrid are standing behind me, but none of us feel like talking. Astrid's dressed in a cute pink frock, and Trey's been forced into a bright blue suit, his hair gelled back. And Haymitch still hasn't arrived.

Thankfully, though, Haymitch soon makes his big entrance, sauntering down the corridor towards me. He looks absolutely gorgeous in his tuxedo. His dark hair has been left natural, tousled and wavy. Just the way I like it.

"Hi," I whisper as he comes over, casually leaning his shoulder on the wall. I notice a couple of the female tributes giving him double takes and giggling, but I try hard to ignore them. "You look..." I'm struggling to find the right words, which is almost impossible. "Really nice."

"So do you, sweetheart." He grins, touching my chin with his thumb. "Actually, you look a little more than 'really nice,' but I don't think I have enough time to continue."

I roll my eyes, but I'm laughing. "Bet you say that to all the girls."

He smiles at me before the TV hanging on the walls flickers on. Caesar Flickerman's hair is dyed hot pink this year, complete with a matching suit. He calls the name of the first tribute, the girl from 1, and she struts onto the stage.

It's interesting, I think as the interviews progress, to see all the different angles the other tributes have chosen. The blonde girl from 1 is witty. The older boy from 2 is confident and loud. The boy from 4 is vicious. The girl from 6 is flirty. The boy from 9 tells crappy jokes.

It's when the final boy from 11's interview begins that I really begin to get an awful surge of stage fright. I resist the urge to bite my nails out of nerves, simply because I know Blaze would skin me alive for ruining his perfect manicure. But I'm terrified. What if I mess up? What if I trip over my own feet on the way to the stage? The ridiculous possibilities race through my mind like marathon runners.

Then Caesar calls my name. I swallow hard. Haymitch nudges me and whispers, "Good luck, sweetheart," in my ear. His words of comfort make me feel slightly better.

I walk down the hallway, out onto the stage. The bright lights almost blind me, and the cheering and clapping of the Capitol audience is deafening. I blink madly as Caesar beams at me, thinking that I really need some sunglasses right about now, as his teeth are unbelievably bright.

"Why, aren't you easy on the eyes!" Caesar hollers, taking me by the hand and leading me to my seat opposite him. I sit down, taking care not to cross my legs.

I smile, remembering to show my teeth. According to Marianna, I barely ever do that.

"Maysilee, you certainly made an impression upon us during the Opening Ceremonies!" Caesar says. "That costume!" He gives a low whistle. "I'm sure you'll be getting quite a few male sponsors, my dear."

I give a laugh, but I'm sure the Capitol audience don't realize it's a completely fake one, because they chortle along with me.

"But we don't want to hear about your costume, my dear, we want to hear about you!" Caesar continues. "So, tell me. What's life like back home?"

Internally, I want to scream at him and confess that I don't want these people to know anything about me. I don't want them to know my life, my family, my hopes, my dreams.

But I know that won't help me gain sponsors of any kind, so I reply, "Oh, life in 12 is very simple, Caesar. My parents are jewellers, you see. And I have a twin sister called Madeleine." My voice cracks at the end as I add, "She means the world to me. I...I love her more than anything."

The audience sighs sadly, but a couple are giving me encouraging shouts of sympathy.

Caesar pats my hand in comfort, and moves on. "What about your friends, Maysilee?" He turns to the audience and gives them a big wink. "Have a boyfriend?"

I hope my blush isn't too noticeable under all the makeup. I giggle. "No, Caesar. Sorry to disappoint!"

Caesar shakes his head, as if denying this, and shouts, "Beautiful girl like you? Not a chance! I bet the boys back home fall at your feet, begging for a date! Seriously, Maysilee, some boy must have you on his arm."

I smile. "Well, I don't have a boyfriend, I'll admit that." My next words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. "But...I do like someone."

The audience 'oohs' and Caesar says, "I knew it! Spill, spill, who's the lucky fellow?"

I desperately want to go back in time and make everyone forget I ever said that stupid thing, but that's impossible. I have to finish what I started.

"Well, I'm not going to name any names," I continue, still smiling at the audience, like a blushing school girl. "But I've...had a crush on him since I was fifteen."

The audience sighs again, but this time, it's not out of sympathy. It's because they understand. They can relate to what I'm saying, which is good. It'll get me sponsors.

"And he's not from the same social class as I'm from," I say. "So I learned to ignore my feelings for him. I...blocked them out. But recently, they've been coming back."

Caesar smiles at me. "Maysilee, that is a very romantic story! So, what is it about this boy that made you fall for him? Why could you never let him go?"

I stop myself from pursing my lips in disgust. Brandon was right; it's all a big television show to these silly Capitol people. They want to know all they can about the tributes' lives. The last thing I want to do is blurt out my reasons for liking Haymitch to the Capitol, but what can I do?

But then, mercifully, the buzzer sounds, declaring my interview over.

The audience begins to boo and some of them shout, "More time! More time!" but Caesar eventually calms them down so that he can bid me goodbye.

"All the best of luck to you in the arena!" he shouts, taking my hand and lifting me out of my seat. He raises our joined hands to the sky and yells, "Maysilee Donner, tribute from District 12!"

I walk away, waving to the audience. When I'm backstage, an Avox directs me into a separate room, not the corridor I was in before. It's a medium-sized room, complete with a plasma screen TV and a black leather couch. Brandon and Marianna are there, lounging on the couch, sipping champagne from glasses.

They wave me over to the couch, and I sit uncomfortably in the middle of the two. Neither of them seem to be on the sober side. I watch anxiously as Haymitch's interview unfolds before me.

Caesar welcomes him graciously, and I can see Haymitch is brilliant at playing up the arrogant side of him, because he swaggers onto the stage with confidence, winking at the women.

"So, Haymitch," Caesar jumps right in, "What do you think about the Games having one hundred percent more competitors than usual?"

"I don't think that'll make much difference," Haymitch replies. "They'll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual."

Caesar and the audience burst into laughter, and I can't help but chuckling a little, myself. Haymitch really is good at this.

After that, comes Astrid's interview. She's very sweet, which is all part of her angle, but I can tell she's not just pretending to appeal to potential sponsors. She's genuine.

Trey's interview is full of him cracking jokes. Good ones, not like the ones that came out of the boy from 9's mouth. The crowd loves him, but he doesn't have the same wit that Haymitch did.

The interviews are finished, then, with Caesar reminding Panem to tune in tomorrow for the very first day of the 2nd Quarter Quell. The plasma screen switches off automatically. Brandon and Marianna, who have indulged in yet more champagne as the interviews progressed, are now flat-out drunk. Their words are slurred, and they can barely stand up, so I call for two Avoxes to come and haul the pair off to their rooms.

I roll my eyes a little at my mentor and escorts lack of class – and to think, Marianna was lecturing me about manners! – and hurry off to my bedroom.

The first thing I do when I get there is wash off the layers of make up in the shower. I step out, slip into a light night gown, and crawl into bed. I pull the blankets up to my chin, snuggling my head into the pillow, but it takes me about five seconds to realize that I'll never fall asleep. And on the off chance that I do, I'll surely be tossing and turning all night, wondering about tomorrow.

I get out of bed and pull on a robe over my night gown. I stand up straight, surveying the darkened room. I step out into the hallway, shutting the door as discreetly as I can behind me. It's not as though it's illegal for me to be out of bed, but I'm sure the Capitol doesn't exactly enjoy the idea of tributes roaming the corridors the night before the Games.

I walk directly into the living room, which is just as quiet as my bedroom. I should find this constant silence eerie, but I don't. It is more of a comfort to me, however strange that may sound.

As I daringly progress a little further, I am shocked to see I am not the only one here.

On a slightly raised platform that overlooks the Capitol city streets, sits Haymitch. Weirdly, he hasn't noticed I'm also in the vicinity. He stares out the window, completely oblivious to my presence. That's how I know he's out of character. He's normally so alert.

I go over to him, and whisper, "Hey."

He startles a little, but his widened eyes calm once he sees it's only me. "Oh, hey."

"Guessing you couldn't sleep either, huh," I murmur, sitting down in a cross-legged position opposite him.

I gaze out at the night. The Capitol is so different at this time of the day. The city lights are blinding, twinkling amidst the darkness. I arch my neck so I have a clear view of the sky; no stars. I stop myself from sighing – yet another thing I hate about the Capitol. Back home, the stars are always visible. They are one of the few objects of beauty we have in 12. Taking a closer look, I see that there are people out in the street. Dancing. Laughing. Cheering. Drinking.

Of course. I almost forgot that the night before the Games is a big deal here. It is full of anticipation for what is to come. I turn away, disgusted at their excitement for tomorrow.

"Impossible," Haymitch mumbles back. I see that he, too, is glaring down at the Capitol citizens celebrating, with utmost disgust. "Are you scared?"

"Yes," I say. I can feel tears welling up at the back of my eyes. "I...I'm terrified. I mean, I could be dead by this time tomorrow!"

"You won't be," Haymitch assures me. I stare at him. He sounds so sure of this, so positively convinced that I will get through the first day. I can and will never understand his faith in me.

"That's bullshit," I scoff. "I wouldn't be surprised if I'm the first death at the bloodbath."

"No, Maysilee." He shakes his head. "You're strong. You'll make it. As for how far... well, that I couldn't tell you, but I guarantee that you will survive the first day, at least."

I bite my lip, knowing that whatever I say, Haymitch will counter, and we'll end up arguing. And as stupid as it sounds, I don't want to spend my last...normal night with him caught up in a petty argument.

"So," he says after a few moments, "What'd you think of my interview?" He seems like he genuinely wants to know, maybe because he's self-conscious? I shake that thought from my mind. Haymitch is confident.

"I liked it," I reply. "You were very... arrogant. Which is a compliment," I add hurriedly. "The crowd adored you."

"And what about your interview, sweetheart?" Out of nowhere, Haymitch's usual cockiness is back. I can hear it in his voice. He smirks at me.

"What about it?" My voice can barely be called a whisper. I can feel my heart beating twice as fast than usual, and I just know that he's aware I was talking about him in my interview. I feel like an idiot for thinking that he wouldn't bring it up.

"Well, I believe I recall you saying something about a crush..." He fixes his gaze firmly on me, and his expression is unusually soft, for just a fraction of a second. "Anyone in particular?"

"No," I choke out. I can feel a blush rising in my cheeks, and I'm praying that it's too dark for him to notice. "You...you wouldn't know him."

"Wouldn't I?" he says. He's enjoying this a little too much. "Then tell me about this guy. I want to know all about him." He smiles at me innocently, and I wonder how he can be acting this way when he will most likely come face-to-face with death tomorrow morning.

I close my eyes in exasperation and take a deep breath. "Haymitch," I say flatly, "Why are you torturing me into telling you my feelings for you?"

"Because it's more fun that way, sweetheart," he whispers, scooting over to sit beside me. He doesn't wrap his arm around me, or touch me in any way. Just looks me in the eye. "So, have you really had a crush on me since you were fifteen?"

I swallow. "Maybe."

He laughs quietly, but it quickly dies down. "But you... tried to push your feelings away?"

"I did," I admit. "I mean... I told Madeleine that I...that I liked you. But she teased me about it because you're from the Seam." I flush a little. "That doesn't matter to me, though." I meet his eyes. "At all. But I knew that despite that, it'd be impossible for me to have any kind of future with you. So I forced myself to stop liking you."

There's a long, drawn-out silence before he speaks again. When he does, his voice has all but lost its cocky edge. "But you still do?"

"Yes," I mumble. "I..." My next few words tumble out of my mouth so quickly I barely realize what I'm saying. "Ever...ever since we were reaped, my feelings have been coming back, Haymitch. And I...I can't stop them."

I can really feel the tears coming now, dripping down my cheeks, like raindrops. I gasp as Haymitch's hand cradles itself on my cheek, pulling me closer to him, so I have no choice but to stare directly into his grey eyes.

"Then don't," he whispers. I can feel his cool breath on my face. I gape at him like an idiot while he brushes the tears from my face with his thumb.

"I have to, Haymitch," I breathe. "I can't...w-we can't carry on like this, not when..." He knows what I'm about to say. That we can't ever truly be more than friends, because of our tragic circumstances.

"Ssh," he murmurs. "We still...we still have here. We still have now."

Before I can respond, he leans in and presses his lips to mine. The feel of his lips against mine is heavenly. I'd always imagined kissing him would be a rather rough thing to do – the things that come out of his mouth are so harsh and cold, I figured his kissing skills would be roughly the same. But his kissing me feels nothing like I thought it would.

He kisses me softly, tenderly, allowing me the chance to kiss him back before he goes any further. And so I do. He forces my mouth open with his tongue, as I do the same to him. We sit there for what seems like forever, our arms wrapped around each other. It's pure heaven, but I know it can only last for so long.

A low moan escapes the back of his throat, and his hands begin to travel further, all over my body. I gasp, and he pulls away instantly.

"Sorry," he mutters, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Kind of ruined the moment there, didn't I?"

I blush, because he mistook my gasp as a sign that I wanted him to stop. The truth was, I didn't. I wanted him to continue. So badly.

"It's okay," I whisper.

He takes his hands in mine, making little circles on my palm with his forefinger.

"Haymitch," I say. I feel my vision blur slightly, my eyes watering because of what we've just done. "What...what are we going to do?"

"I don't know, sweetheart," he mumbles, forcing a tight smile. "I...I don't know."

It's the first time Haymitch has never been sure of himself.

A/N: Yay, they finally kissed! :) Thank you to all who answered the question I posed in that last A/N, I really appreciate it. I'm still slightly conflicted about whether or not they should form an alliance from the very beginning, but I think I've more or less made up my mind now. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)