Remember the day

'Cause this is what dreams should always be

Haymitch is gently shaking me awake the next morning, at dawn. I've noticed my body shifted a little during the night – my head is lying on Haymitch's chest, my hand locked in a tight fist around his waist.

I jerk awake, pulling away from him.

" 'Morning, sweetheart." He smirks at me. "Sleep well? You certainly seemed to enjoy last night, anyway."

"So did you," I mutter, pointing at the slight bulge in his trousers. Despite my remark, I'm blushing furiously.

I look up at him through tangled strands of hair, expecting him to be embarrassed. But he only throws back his head, guffawing. "Thank you for noticing, sweetheart." He's quick to change the subject, though. "So, what's for breakfast?"

"Er, some bread, I guess," I reply, shrugging as I pull out the loaf of bread from our pack. I pass him two slices of bread, and give myself an equal amount. We dig in immediately, since we're both starving.

"What happens when this bread runs out?" Haymitch wonders absent-mindedly, picking crumbs off his trousers.

"Guess we try to hunt for food," I answer through a mouthful of bread. I swallow loudly. "There's also sponsors."

"Sponsors?" Haymitch repeats slowly, as if tasting the word, like it's foreign to him. "You really think we have any?"

"Well," I sigh, "You do."

"Aw, come on." He grins, nudging me with his elbow. "You really made an impression on those Capitol men. Remember that sexy Opening Ceremonies outfit?"

I groan, burying my head in my hands. "God, don't remind me. Please." I raise my head, hair swishing behind me. "I could say the same thing about you, you know. All those women were falling at your feet."

"Maybe." He shakes his head, looking me in the eye. "But only one of those women matter."

I look down, sure that my cheeks are turning rosy pink. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I wasn't exactly 'falling at your feet,' if I remember correctly."

He scoffs. "Please, I was talking about Marianna."

I chuckle. "Obviously. How silly of me."

He gives me a small smile before moving on. "So, what's the plan for-"

But he's interrupted by the boom of the cannon in the distance. Actually, it doesn't sound so far away, which makes me flinch nervously.

"Wonder who that was," he mumbles.

I don't want to know.

"Think we should move out?" I suggest.

He nods assent, and we pack up our few belongings. We silently head east, without even needing to discuss what direction to take. Our instincts tell us which way is best, and I can only hope that they are right.

Unfortunately, they are not. A couple of hours later, we're only metres away from the mountain that dominates all other life forms in the arena. It's unbelievably huge – I have to crane my neck to get a good look at it.

"Haymitch," I whisper, "Should we be here?"

He shakes his head, transfixed by the mountain. He meets my eyes. "Let's go on up. See what we can find."

"What?" I gasp. "We can't!"

"Why not?" he demands, confused.

I stare up at the mountain again, a sickening feeling slowly developing in the very pit of my stomach. "I've just got a bad feeling about it, Haymitch. I...I can't explain it."

Haymitch purses his lips. "Trust me?" He looks at me with those gorgeous grey Seam eyes pleadingly. It's as if he knows I have a weakness for them.

I sigh, biting my lip. "I trust you."

He grins and holds out his hand to me. I take it reluctantly, closing my fingers over his, smiling slightly. And together, we hike up the mountain.

It's funny, isn't it, how easily the human mind can be convinced into doing something, all because of the beauty or the compulsion of their friend/love interest?

That's the excuse I use for Haymitch getting us into this mess.

We're almost halfway up the mountain now, the hot sun beating down on our faces. Sweat pours down my cheeks, my arms, everywhere. I strip off my jacket, tie it round my waist, and watch as Haymitch does the same.

"Water," he heaves, scratching the back of his neck, "Need...water..."

"Tell me about it," I mutter, because that's the only kind of sound my vocal chords can muster. My throat is dry, my tongue a barren desert, completely devoid of moisture.

My head is pounding, and has been ever since I woke up – I merely failed to notice. I can barely think, because the pounding is so fierce, so violent, that I can't do anything but suffer from it.

The only clear thought I can form is that I must be dehydrating. And if I – we – don't get water soon, the hopes of District 12 having a victor will surely rest on Trey's shoulders.

"Maysilee," Haymitch croaks, pulling me back as I attempt to take one agonizing step further. There's very little trees up this high, but somehow, he manages to conceal us behind one.

"What?" I hiss.

He doesn't reply. I see his Adam's apple bobbing nervously as he points off to the distance. I look in that vague direction, and my heart almost stops at the sight.

We've walked right into the Careers base camp.

They're all there, all the tributes from 1, 2, and 4. Excluding one of the older boys from 4, who may have been the one who died this morning, or simply chosen to leave the Careers.

Some of them are scarily huge, others unremarkably small, but the one thing they all have in common, is that infamous sneer plastered upon their faces. Most of them brandish weapons, swinging them around like they're children's play toys, laughing.

There's six tents set up around the remnants of a camp fire, along with most of the valuable supplies I caught brief glimpses of at the Cornucopia.

I turn back to Haymitch, and open my mouth, whether to scream, cry, or say something logical, I don't know. He covers my mouth with his hand. His face is determined. Defiant, almost. But the genuine terror in his stormy-grey eyes cannot be ignored. Not that I blame him for being scared.

Any of those monsters – even the smaller ones – could kill me with a mere twist of my neck.

I clasp my hand around Haymitch's wrist and gently tug his hand away from my face. "What do we do?" I whisper, my voice shaky.

Once again, he doesn't respond. I feel him breathing heavily beside me, so different from last night, and the cool air he exhaled in my ear.

Finally, though, he gives me an indication that he has not suddenly gone mute.

"Do you trust me?" he says, so quietly that I have to strain to hear.

"Of course," I breathe.

He cups my cheek in his hand, pulling me close. His left hand runs itself through my hair, and I can see his eyes are firmly focused on my face, as if he's trying to memorize it. Permanently etch my image in his mind.

Then, he kisses me on the cheek, takes my hand, and we scamper down the mountain.

I can hear the Careers' footsteps behind me. They're just metres away, chasing us, screaming in delight because they've finally found someone to kill.

My heart rises up into my throat as they grow closer, but I don't dare look back. I don't want them to see that I'm terrified of them. I don't want to give them the satisfaction.

I scream as someone throws a spear in Haymitch's direction. He doesn't see it coming, but his head swiftly dodges the spear's sharp end.

I want to vomit, seeing how close he came to death, but I manage to keep running. A small part of me knows they won't kill us from a distance. I know from past Games that the Careers like to kill up close and personal.

We reach the end of the mountain, panting and sweating even more than before. I watch with wide eyes as the Careers form a circle around us. They've got us surrounded, all ten of them.

Some of them smirk at us, clutching their weapons, licking their lips greedily. A couple are hooting appreciatively, congratulating each other, like they've already killed us.

Haymitch keeps a firm grip on my hand, and I squeeze his hand so hard that I'm sure I must be cutting off the circulation to it. But it doesn't matter, because we're both going to die.

I only hope it'll be quick, for my family's sake. But these are the Careers, and they don't do fast, painless deaths. They draw your death out, torture you. They give the audience a show.

"Well, well," one of the girls from 1 begins, stepping toward us, "You must have death wishes, huh, 12?"

She glowers at Haymitch and I in turn. I don't break down and cry. I don't show any kind of emotion. I stare her down, because if I'm going to go down, I want to go down bravely.

"Who do you think you are, anyway, strutting into our base camp?" A boy from 4 growls. He's got a hooked nose and eyes so dark they look almost black.

"Suicidal maniacs, that's what they are!" a girl from 2 cackles.

"Shut up," Haymitch snarls. I can't stop myself from letting out a little gasp. I knew Haymitch had nerve, but I never thought he was this gutsy.

"What did you say to me?" the girl snarls, her green eyes dangerously darkening.

"I said," Haymitch repeats, "Shut. Up." He smirks. "Geez, I knew you lot from 2 weren't the brightest bunch, but..."

One of the boys from 2 – the one who stabbed Astrid, who clearly wanted to kill me – grabs Haymitch by the scruff of his collar, forcing his hand free from mine, pulling him away from me.

"No!" I screech, lunging forward, but a short blonde boy from 1 shoves me up against a tree. He presses a knife to my throat, holding me back.

"Please!" I whimper. "Please don't hurt him."

"Why do you care what we do to him, 12?" the boy from 2 demands gruffly. He's pointing a sword to Haymitch's chest with one hand, the other clutching his collar.

My voice falters, but I manage to get out, "Because he's my ally."

The boy laughs. "He seems like a lot more than just your 'ally,' honey."

I flush stupidly and the Careers laugh amongst themselves. One of them says, "Good one, Zach," which I presume is the boy's name.

"Don't call me 'honey,' " I growl.

"Ooh, I'm so scared!" Zach rolls his eyes. "What, is your little boyfriend only allowed to call you that?" He comes a little closer, and I feel sick as he starts to stroke my cheek, in the very same spot that Haymitch did not a few minutes ago.

"Get your hands off her!" Haymitch shouts, running up from behind Zach. He grabs his shoulders and shoves him to the ground. He then appears to go completely mad; repeatedly punching Zach in the face.

The other Careers pin Haymitch to the ground. One keeps their boot firmly pressed down upon his wrist, restricting his movements. Another does the same, only to his other arm.

I gasp and run forward, but the others are too preoccupied with Haymitch to even notice that I've escaped their clutches. They form a circle of tall, muscular bodies around him that I have no chance of breaking.

Tears running down my cheeks, I pull out my blow dart gun and shoot as many of them as I can under a matter of seconds. I watch as the poisonous blue liquid from the darts splatter across their backs, and they fall to the ground.

Thankfully, the pair of girls who had my district partner pinned to the ground with their boots have fallen, too. I rush forward and grab Haymitch, pulling him upward with as much strength as I can. And so we set off running into the forest again.

As we scramble away, I notice Haymitch's entire body weight is leaning on my shoulder. He's weak. And I can see that his eyes are drooping, which immediately sets alarm bells ringing in my head.

When I decide we're far enough away from the Careers, I prop him up against a nearby tree. He's unconscious, and the left side of his face is smothered in scarlet blood.

Fresh tears threaten to spill over in my eyes, because the prospect of losing him is just so unbearable. But I manage to hold myself together, remembering that he's not dead he's not dead he's not dead.

Because there's been no cannon.

Taking deep breaths, I pull the first aid kit out from our pack. It's ivy green, with a white cross on the front. I open it, and begin to rummage through the resources I have at hand, praying that there's something in there that will help Haymitch.

Pills, cream, medical scissors, plastic tweezers, a thermometer, antiseptic wipes, and...bandages!

I sigh in relief, and begin to clean Haymitch's wound with a clump of antiseptic wipes. As I carefully wash away the blood, I begin to get a clearer view of the wound.

It stretches from the top of his ear down to his jaw, and the cut is rather deep, but not so much that it's life-threatening. With that in mind, I begin to calm down a little.

After I'm satisfied that it's more or less clean, I begin to coat his wound in bandages. I stop myself from using up the entire roll of gauze bandages, since I know we will need to keep cleaning and reapplying yet more bandages to his wound over the next couple of days.

And then, I'm finished. I straighten Haymitch up against the tree, because since I've began my attempt to nurse him back to health, his body has began to slump.

I purse my lips, deciding what I should do. I could carry him and move him to a safer place, but that's pretty much out of the question. Although Haymitch is from the Seam, he's stands tall and strong –much too big a load for me to carry.

I look around me, scanning the surrounding area for a suitable place to hide him. Then, I see it.

Directly across from me, lies a tree with a hollow opening at the base of the trunk. It looks big enough for perhaps one or two people to stay in, and it's inconspicuous.

I guess that's my best bet.

So I grasp my hands under Haymitch's armpits, and tug him over to the tree. It's not the best way to handle an injured, unconscious person, but what other options do I have?

Finally, I've got Haymitch lying face-up beside the tree. I'm breathing heavily, due to the weight of carrying Haymitch, and the sweltering sun. I wipe away a trickle of sweat running down my cheek, and haul him inside the hollow of the tree.

I rest him down on the pine-needle infested ground, set our pack next to his head, and shove my gun into my back pocket.

And now all I can do is wait for Haymitch to regain consciousness.

I gaze down at him, taking in his sleeping form. He looks so young, so innocent; not at all like the cocky seventeen year old boy I know him to be. I brush a loose strand of hair away from his forehead.

I decide that I should probably start concealing the entrance to the tree. I'm reluctant to leave Haymitch so vulnerable, but I promise myself I won't go too far.

I step outside – or crawl outside, more like – and begin to search for some wood, mud, anything that will cover up the fact that I've got an unconscious Haymitch hidden in a tree hollow.

About an hour later, the entrance to our tree is perfectly camouflaged. I've managed to conceal the entrance with countless layers of tree bark, leaves, and mud from the riverbank not far from here. It's brilliant. And I can easily slip in through a small opening at the side.

I'm just stepping back to admire my work, when a pristine white parachute floats right by me. It hovers away, and I race over, stretch my hands high, and catch it.

I smile so wide it must look more like a grimace, but I don't care. I actually received a gift from a sponsor! We actually received a gift from a sponsor!

With eager hands, I unfold the white cloth and inside lies a portable water purifier. It's a small, black container with a thin transparent pump attached to it. It must be a very advanced kind, as most purifiers can remove only dirt and filth from water.

It's priceless.

"Thank you, Brandon," I say as loud as I dare. And I truly am appreciative beyond belief. Thanks to this miraculous contraption, we can drink the water here without desperately waiting for rain to come.

I slip inside the hollow, and I sigh disappointedly, seeing that Haymitch is still unconscious. I'm looking forward to him waking up – because although he's only been dead to the world for a few hours, I'm starved for human contact. More specifically, contact with him.

I shove the water purifier inside our pack, burying it deep down at the bottom, because I'm suddenly terrified of losing it. The likelihood of us getting any rain is small, so this purifier might be our only chance at survival.

I hear the anthem beginning to play outside, so I rush to the opening of our tree. Through the cracks, I can just make out the seal of Panem high in the sky. The faces of a girl from 1, a boy from 1, a girl from 2, a boy from 4, and a boy from 6 appear, and the sky goes black again.

My breath catches in my mouth as I realize that I killed the girls from 1 and 2, along with the boys from 1 and 4.

I guess that makes me a murderer.

I turn away, only to find Haymitch stirring awake. He's wiping his eyes and attempting to sit up, but he's undeniably weak.

"Haymitch!" I gasp, rushing over to him. I help him into a sitting position, one hand on the small of his back to support him. "Are you okay?"

" 'Course," he mumbles drowsily. "Never better." His hand goes to the left side of his face. "You..."

I manage a smile. "I fixed you up."

He blinks, touching the bandages. "You...you did?" His mouth slowly stretches into a smile. "Thanks, sweetheart. W-What happened? How did we..."

"Escape?" I finish. He nods. "I...I shot some of them. Not all of them. And we ran off, but then you passed out. And uh, here we are."

He grins. "You saved me?"

I blush a little. "I guess so. You are the damsel in distress and all."

"Hey!" he protests, elbowing me playfully. His face takes on a serious expression, and he takes in his surroundings. "So, this place is nice..."

I sigh. "It was all I could find, on a short notice. I camouflaged the outside, though, so hopefully nobody will be able to tell we're in here."

He nods again. "Thank you, by the way. For saving me."

I smile. "Well, you saved me. I had to pay you back, didn't I? You are my ally, after all."

"According to that idiot from 2, I'm 'a lot more than that,' " he murmurs.

"Haymitch," I whisper, a wave of guilt coming over me, "Let's...let's not talk about that. Not right now."

He picks at his cuticles. "I don't want to talk about that, either, sweetheart." His voice lowers, and he leans in so close I can feel his breath on my face. "In fact, I don't want to talk at all."

Haymitch's lips collide against mine, and my stomach suddenly turns into a butterfly mosh pit. This time, I'm the one who deepens the kiss, and he allows my tongue to press open his mouth. I wrap my arms around his neck, and one of his hands go to the curve of my waist, whilst the other wanders downward.

He plays with the end of my shirt, fingering it for a moment. Then, his hand goes inside, up to my defined hipbone. As I'm kissed almost violently, he strokes my hipbone. I shudder at his touch, his cold, cold hands. A moan that doesn't sound like it came from my mouth escapes me.

"Haymitch," I groan.

But then, he clearly desires to touch more of me than I'm comfortable with, because his hands travel further up the inside of my shirt, up to my chest.

I break the kiss.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Got a bit carried away."

I'm shocked to see that he's blushing, which is probably the first time I've ever seen Haymitch Abernathy's cheeks redden out of embarrassment.

"You think?" I smile at him.

"No, I-I'm really sorry, Maysilee," he continues hurriedly. "I mean, that was...stupid of me. I shouldn't have tried to go further than..." He sighs. "Than what was appropriate."

"No," I whisper, touching his cheek with the tips of my fingers. "I liked it. I did. It's just...not right now."

He nods in understanding. "It's okay."

He stays quiet after that, and I can't shake the feeling that he's...disappointed in me, somehow.

"Have you ever?" I blurt out without thinking.

Haymitch looks at me. "Have I ever what?"

I pinch my lips together, wondering why I bothered to say anything at all. "You know..." I swallow. "It."

"You know, the word 'sex' isn't taboo here, sweetheart." He grins.

I hold back laughter. "Well, have you?"

"Yeah," he says quietly. "It was a mistake." A crease forms between his eyebrows. "I just... I wanted it to mean something, you know? I always did. But it didn't."

Nobody says anything for a moment, but then he whispers, "Have you?"

I feel a blush creeping onto my cheeks. "No. I mean, Madeleine has, but she was always a lot more..." I search for the right word. "Outgoing than I am. More confident. Prettier."

It's the first time I've ever admitted this to anyone, how jealous I really am of my sister. I can feel her careful eyes on me, all the way from District 12.

"I mean," I continue, "She's got her sights set on the mayor's son. She's going to make our parents proud, bring... honour to our family." I meet his eyes. "And look at me. I'm going to die any day now, and I...I like you."

"And they're disgusted with me," Haymitch mumbles. "I get it."

"No!" I gasp, moving closer. I wrap my arms around him. "Haymitch, if there's one thing I couldn't care less about, it's...our differences. I don't care that you're from the Seam, Haymitch. I don't."

He looks at me for a moment, his eyes penetrating mine. I'm about to turn away, when he unwraps my hand from his arm. He takes me by the wrist and lines our hands up together. It's the first time I've really noticed our contrast in terms of skin colour, tan against pale.

"Look at you," he whispers, so softly I can barely hear. His fingers run along my hand. "So...soft and pale and-" He grins at me. "-blonde."

"And look at you," I tease, chuckling. "Tanned and black-haired. So different..."

"Different?" He raises his eyebrows. "Different how?"

"Because all those merchant boys," I say, "They were all the same. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Good-mannered. But you..." I smile at him gently. "You were unique. You looked different, and you acted different." I laugh quietly, remembering the fights Haymitch was famous for getting into at the back of the school. "I mean, sure, you were rough and boisterous and loud...but that's what drew me to you in the first place."

"I thought you were pretty," he admits. "But I never thought for one second that we'd..."

"End up together?" I murmur.

"Yeah," he says, sighing. He looks at me with sad eyes. "And we never will be. Not properly."

I bite my lip. "Well, we still have now, don't we? We can...t-try to make it last."

He smiles at me ruefully. "Come here, sweetheart."

He climbs into the sleeping bag, and I crawl in after him. I curl up next to him, wrapping my arm around his chest. He pulls me in close to him.

A/N: Thanks for reading! :) Oh, and by the way, I was bored as hell, so I made a playlist for this story, the link to which you can find on my profile, if you want to listen to it. ;)